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Everyday Philosophy: Why does it seem like philosophy is dead?
- Welcome to Everyday Philosophy, the column where I use insights from the history of philosophy to help you navigate the daily dilemmas of modern life.
- This week, we explore a question about the apparent lack of major philosophers in modern times.
- We’ll delve into whether philosophy is truly in decline or if it has simply evolved, becoming more integrated into the fabric of our everyday lives.
Oh my, there’s quite a barrel-full of assumptions in this question, Wassan — not least the fact that there are a great many famous philosophers either still alive or in living memory. But I shall take the question in the spirit it was intended, which is to wonder about the decline in philosophy as a discipline more broadly. Where are all the public philosophers? Where is the forum full of bearded men pointing fingers at the sky to press home some decisive point? Where have intellectual maturity and debate gone?
To dig into this question, we’ll have to dig into the nature and history of philosophy itself. To force a semblance of order to things, I’ll steer it into a two-sided debate. First, we’ll consider the idea that philosophy is dying (or dead) and why that might be. Then, we’ll consider the counterargument to argue that not only is philosophy as a discipline thriving, but philosophy as a practice permeates everything we do. In the end, we’ll look at what the facts have to say and drag this column provocatively close to that lab-coated ally known as “evidence.”
Goggles on, philosophers, we’ve got some navel-gazing to do.
Where are all the philosophers?
When philosophers talk about philosophy, they usually divide the subject into two: analytic philosophy and continental philosophy. While the two belong to the same family, they’ll also often scowl at each other across the Christmas table. Analytic philosophy — traditionally popular in the anglophone tradition — is about logic, linguistics, and metaphysics. It’s about carefully presented premises leading to unavoidable conclusions. It can often look like math in a bad disguise. Continental philosophy — popular on the European mainland — tends to be more human. It’s about existentialism, personal identity, religion, and finding our place in the world. It’s often far more readable and accessible than some analytic philosophy. As Captain Holt humorously commented in Brooklyn Nine-Nine, “Any French philosophy post-Rousseau is essentially a magazine.”
When people think “philosophy,” they often think of analytic philosophy. It’s a rigorous and rigid pursuit that takes things very seriously. A few years ago, the philosopher Liam Kofi Bright wrote an essay titled “The End of Analytic Philosophy,” where he said, “Analytic philosophy suffers from a triple failure of confidence… People are not confident it can solve its own problems, not confident that it can be modified so as to do [so], and not confident its problems are worth solving in the first place.” It’s this last issue that I think gets to the heart of Wassan’s question. What’s the point of philosophy? Why did Bertrand Russell and Alfred Whitehead spend 360 pages logically proving that 1+1=2? What point is there in Zeno arguing that a tortoise will never outrun Achilles?
Bright talks about an “applied turn” where philosophy is only popular when it’s “felt that philosophical analysis might be able to have a real-world impact.” It’s in areas such as “injustice, oppression, propaganda, and ideology” that philosophers can find jobs — both in academia and in the real world — as policy advisors or consultants. It’s a utilitarian mindset that judges the value of knowledge — the value of anything — by what it produces. Does it make you money? Okay. Does it improve the world? Good. Does it have no discernible real-world value? Well, stop wasting time and get a “proper job.”
Philosophers lurking around every corner
So, Wassan, it might be that the reason for philosophy’s marginalization is because it’s seen as having no real-world impact. It lacks what the philosopher William James called “cash value.” In a world that demands an omnigrowing GDP and where governments invest only in STEM, what does philosophy add?
There are two problems with this. The first is that not all philosophy is analytic philosophy. The questions that continental philosophy tries to answer do have huge “cash value.” When Friedrich Nietzsche discusses the implications of a godless age, Emile Durkheim addresses the tired frustration we feel in society, or de Beauvoir examines the nature of true love, they are speaking directly to our daily lives. Being human is important to most of us, and it makes sense to ask what that actually means.
The second problem is that worth cannot be measured by output. Yes, philosophy does not build a skyscraper. It does not invent a new drug, improve rocket technology, or develop software. But the value in the skills and knowledge of philosophy never goes away. There is a “Philosophy of…” everything. In the business world, it applies to the virtues of good leadership and corporate ethics. In science, it applies to the scientific method and the nature of proof. In politics, it informs policy and lawmaking. Most importantly, perhaps, is that it helps steer and understand the burgeoning age of AI. Even if you think “philosophy” is pointless, philosophers are not.
Say hello to my little friend: data.
So, what truth is there to what Wassan is saying? If we’re talking academic philosophy, then he’s got a point. Philosophy is seen as less prestigious in universities, where other subjects encroach on traditionally “philosophical” questions. Students are enrolling less and less in philosophy courses, turning to STEM or business-focused courses instead. And it does seem as if the problem is caused, at least partially, by a societal shift — we value science and technology more than we do the humanities.
As someone who studied and thoroughly enjoyed philosophy, that’s a touch demoralizing. But I’m not downbeat about things. When Wassan says, “Philosophy in its various forms seems to be no longer of interest except to its students,” I feel the need to push back. I disagree. Philosophy is not simply about syllabuses and essay deadlines. When Neil stares at the ceiling, hungover, wondering what the point of all these nights out is, he’s engaging with philosophy. When Ellen asks a friend if one person’s testimony is worth more than a hundred scientific papers — that’s a philosophical question. When Fabi cries at the funeral of his mother and wonders what happened to her, he’s being a philosopher.
Philosophy is not something only for spired cities and hushed libraries; it’s in 1 a.m. conversations and couples therapy. It’s in presidential debates and IMDB reviews. Everyone reading this has done philosophy, but they just didn’t know to — or didn’t want to — use the label.
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