Why Philosophy?

I’m a philosophy lecturer, and whatever justification there might be for such a job, it isn’t immediately obvious. After all, we don’t generally build bridges, cook omelettes or cure headaches with philosophy. With so many demands on our time and resources, why do philosophy? Come to that, what is philosophy?

Taking “What is philosophy?” first: philosophy investigates, through disciplined argument, questions about the nature of existence. Philosophical topics can include the purpose of existence (if any), the nature of morality and moral obligation, the uses of logic, the nature of knowledge and the structure of the world. Philosophy is primarily a discursive and conceptual subject, not a directly observational or experimental one, but any serious philosophy has got to be informed by developments in other disciplines, (whether sciences or humanities). If philosophy was ever an exclusively armchair pursuit, those days are gone. These days, philosophy has got to keep itself and its students informed about practical issues.

As to “Why do philosophy?”, I favour two answers: a) philosophy can help provide the most-generally applicable training a mind can get, and b) philosophy can illuminate an astonishing range of topics. Further to a): in an age not short of dangers, no one can afford to fall for sloppy, biased or authoritarian thinking. Learning to think critically and independently isn’t a parlour-game or a jolly alternative to work but a potential life-saver. Further to b): every area of enquiry offers fascinating philosophical issues. We all have to ponder the rightness of our actions, the source of our obligations, the organisation of society, the claims of science, the existence (or otherwise) of God or gods, the nature of our selves and the world we live in. I don’t claim philosophy can solve all such problems. Still less do I want everybody thinking like me, heaven forbid. However, I think anyone who cares about such subjects ought to see what philosophers have said about them. Even if you don’t specialise in philosophy for your degree or career, philosophy can change how you behave and what you think. At very least, even if it doesn’t change your beliefs, philosophy can still help deepen your sense of why you believe what you believe.

Learning that there are such things as right and wrong ways to reason, and that not every conclusion can be supported convincingly, can help reinforce one of the deepest philosophical lessons of all: namely, that other people are valuable and worthwhile in their own right. Learning to think critically is a vital aid to thinking tolerantly. A good way to wind-up a philosophy lecturer is asserting confidently “Of course, there are no wrong answers in philosophy.” Well, maybe there are. There are views advocating slavery, genocide and rape, to name but three. No one’s offered convincing arguments for any of these and I bet no one ever will.

Where do I stand philosophically? I don’t advertise my religious beliefs, or the lack thereof, but I find philosophy of religion fascinating. Issues of faith and belief seem as relevant as ever, as does the interplay between religion and science. In philosophy of science, I’m what philosophers call a "scientific realist": I believe that our most successful scientific theories are (probably) approximately true. Still, I believe in a distinction between epistemic and moral justifications of science. I’m pro-science epistemically (i.e. as a way of investigating the world), but fully accept that science poses moral hazards. However, I believe the answer to the moral challenges science presents is (at least partly) better understanding of scientific concepts. The best antidotes to racist and misogynist pseudo-science are proper science and a bracing dose of realism. To take one example, so-called “Social Darwinism” was both a scientific crime and the father of still worse crimes. But part of the reason why it was a crime is that it was scientifically bankrupt – Darwinism, properly understood, sets no special value on any race, gender or species.

The realist idea that there is a world outside and independent of our constructions is a very humbling and corrective one. If realism is correct then we can all be wrong pretty much all of the time. But if realism is false, then why do our best-confirmed theories manage to work at all? I look to Karl Popper as a good exemplar for how philosophy of science can work. I respect Popper, not because I have any enthusiasm for his politics or his history of science, but because his methodology for science was friendly to intuition and metaphysical speculation, but deeply hostile to authoritarianism. Not who invented a belief or where it comes from, but how that belief can be tested, is Popper’s hallmark for the scientific.

I’m also increasingly an objectivist about ethics: for example, I think the wrongness of racism, sexism, murder and rape are demonstrable facts. I see moral beliefs as significantly different from social constructs or matters of personal taste. I love Ben and Jerry’s "Cherry Garcia" frozen yoghurt, but I wouldn’t dream of treating this preference like a moral principle and prescribing for others accordingly. There’s nothing prescriptive in how "Cherry Garcia" strikes me. However, there’s something inherently prescriptive in how murder or rape strike us. Our access to moral facts may be difficult to describe, but then so is our access to perceptual facts like the greenness of grass or the hotness of fire. Some people seemingly lack moral concepts but then some people lack concepts like pain or colour. Difficulty of access or disagreement about facts doesn’t mean there’s nothing out there to get to grips with. People’s moral beliefs are often strikingly convergent across cultures and times.

Finally, I call myself a philosophy lecturer, not a philosopher. Why? I think "philosopher" is a success-word, like "inventor." You don’t have to have founded a school (like Plato or Aristotle) to be a philosopher but being a philosopher requires a lot of originality and constructive insight. Put it this way: David Hume and Mary Wollstonecraft were philosophers; I give philosophy lectures. I don’t feel entitled to call myself a philosopher yet and I may never do. Still, you never know.