A friend of mine went to the tenth reunion of his high school class, and in response to the standard question, “What have you been doing since high school?” the good-looking gymnast answered, “I’ve created a philosophy of living.” People were impressed.
When you think of the effort many organizations go through to form their statements of vision and values, or wonder how many person-hours have been invested in committee meetings to create this or that program, you might imagine a time when a raging forest fire of people will be looking for a philosophy of living. It will become a fad. Everyone will be expected to have one. They will put it in abbreviated form on their Facebook pages, tweet summaries to their friends, and symbolize it in things they wear.
In a materialistic age, the tendency is to use reflective thinking mostly to figure out how to get what we want on that plane. But ours is by no means a totally materialistic age. Selfishness and materialism are inherently destructive to self and others, and people tend to learn such lessons the hard way; we see the destruction going on around us. After an age dominated by those errors emerges a climate that is far more open to thinking about a wider variety of things.
I discovered depth of thinking in Dostoevsky. When I was in high school, an English teacher introduced me to philosophy, and week after week, Henry Cheetham, the minister at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Unitarian Church in Charlottesville, Virginia, put a lovely array of world religions and arts in a moral and idealistic context. Then in college I discovered Plato, then the power of analytic philosophy, then Husserl and Hegel, and I was launched on my career. It was a passion, an all-consuming interest, which few people can be expected to share. In college my big question was ethical: What ought I to do? Later the big question was spiritual. Then the philosophical and spiritual inquiries played leap-frog: one would leap over the other, and then allow the other to take a new leap forward.
As my book approaches completion, I ask how I will promote it. I’m even more interested in promoting the very quest for a philosophy of living and the quest to develop the kind of truth-beauty-and-goodness thing that I’ve been fascinated with since grad school.
Given my passion for this, it’s hard for me to step outside and think how to interest others in it. So this time I’m asking you for help with more explicitness and urgency than ever in this blogpost.
I’ll kick off what I hope becomes more than a monologue (smile) with a summary of an article reporting on 31 responses to an American Philosophical Association survey on the benefits of their philosophical education they found useful once they were working—outside the academy. (The categories under which I report these results are my own.)
Skills of reason: understand what others mean, master difficult material, identify difficulties, formulate questions, think of analogies, carry out research, analyze issues, make distinctions, discern what information is important, analyze arguments, recognize fallacies and fuzzy thinking, recognize the often rigorous “logic of the consumer,” detect and display the logical structure of a passage, exercise argumentative skepticism, evaluate reasons, recognize and evaluate alternatives, analyze abstract concepts and their relationships, speculate, edit, formulate strategic purpose, formulate policy, organize ideas for concise, clear, and persuasive writing and speaking; explain difficult material to those who are not philosophically oriented.
Appreciations of value: become sensitive to ethical issues in the workplace and in daily life in a more aware society; develop compassion for others; be sympathetically aware of human limitations; learn to respect diverse viewpoints, especially regarding justice, equity, and human rights; learn to detect and confront non-relevant discriminatory practices; learn to work well with academics; be open to criticism and evaluation.
Development of perspective: desire to enlarge one’s personal perspective; develop a philosophy of living; balance the analytic and synthetic functions of thinking; form commitment, e.g., to truth/inquiry, peace, love/caring; developing one’s own voice as an author.
What are the benefits of having a philosophy of living?
What dangers of philosophy should we enthusiasts remember?
What benefits of philosophy do you observe in yourself or others?
Thanks!
(The research was presented in Careers for Philosophers, authored principally by Robert Aude and Donald Scherer, and printed originally in Proceedings and Addresses of the American Philosophical Association (vol 58.2, November 1984).
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Since I believe that philosophy is the highest form of thinking, might even be considered super thinking when compared to the average manifests thoughts that we observe, it is apparent that intellectual maturity must occur, not to mention a shift away from purely material values in order for philosophy to become that “rage of a forest fire.”
In my own experience, I never became interested in philosophical thought until I encountered that experience where there was a disconnect between what I thought and what I did. I guess in this case, what meager philosophical thought processes existed in my mind were dedicated to explaining why I was living the way I was living and not too much if any explanation of what I should be striving to live.
And though I am not a philosopher by training, have never taken a course in philosophy, my reflection has helped me to understand that gap between what I propose to do and what I am doing and has helped me to narrow that gap between the two . It can be very easy to self deceive when you are doing something that you enjoy, even thought it may not be good for you.
Dr. Wattles you have influenced literally hundreds of thousands of students in your position as a Professor of Philosophy, not to mention those you interact with in other areas such as this blog. I know you have helped me to clarify my thoughts on the many topics you have introduced. Your work is not in vain. We never know fully what effect our interactions have on others, but every interaction with another changes those who interact in some way. It may be for the better or for the worst, but a change occurs. Years later, which I am sure you have experienced, we sometimes become pleasantly surprised to know the depth of influence that we have had on other lives.
I am reminded of the Parable of the Sower.
Dr. Perry
Beloved brother Dr. Perry, I appreciate your encouragement. I estimate that I have led over 3000 students through experiential projects in truth, beauty, or goodness; most of them made significant personal breakthroughs during the semester; and there would have been repercussions to the persons in their affect range.
You, too, have had a positive influence in countless numbers of persons whom you have blessed–directly and indirectly–in various ways, physical, intellectual, and spiritual over the years. That’s what happens in a life marked by decades of living devoted to high ideals. Are we not privileged, are we not grateful, to have had the thrill to struggle and sometimes succeed in this venture!
Since I believe that philosophy is the highest form of thinking, might even be considered super thinking when compared to the average manifests thoughts that we observe, it is apparent that intellectual maturity must occur, not to mention a shift away from purely material values in order for philosophy to become that “rage of a forest fire.”
In my own experience, I never became interested in philosophical thought until I encountered that experience where there was a disconnect between what I thought and what I did. I guess in this case, what meager philosophical thought processes existed in my mind were dedicated to explaining why I was living the way I was living and not too much if any explanation of what I should be striving to live.
And though I am not a philosopher by training, have never taken a course in philosophy, my reflection has helped me to understand that gap between what I propose to do and what I am doing and has helped me to narrow that gap between the two . It can be very easy to self deceive when you are doing something that you enjoy, even thought it may not be good for you.
Dr. Wattles you have influenced literally hundreds of thousands of students in your position as a Professor of Philosophy, not to mention those you interact with in other areas such as this blog. I know you have helped me to clarify my thoughts on the many topics you have introduced. Your work is not in vain. We never know fully what effect our interactions have on others, but every interaction with another changes those who interact in some way. It may be for the better or for the worst, but a change occurs. Years later, which I am sure you have experienced, we sometimes become pleasantly surprised to know the depth of influence that we have had on other lives.
I am reminded of the Parable of the Sower.
Dr. Perry
Beloved brother Dr. Perry, I appreciate your encouragement. I estimate that I have led over 3000 students through experiential projects in truth, beauty, or goodness; most of them made significant personal breakthroughs during the semester; and there would have been repercussions to the persons in their affect range.
You, too, have had a positive influence in countless numbers of persons whom you have blessed–directly and indirectly–in various ways, physical, intellectual, and spiritual over the years. That’s what happens in a life marked by decades of living devoted to high ideals. Are we not privileged, are we not grateful, to have had the thrill to struggle and sometimes succeed in this venture!
If you don’t mind I’d like to answer your questions somewhat idiosyncratically. I have always been interested in questions about the good life — about what happiness is, how to give honor and respect to living my life, and how to cope with the bad parts. I thought I would find answers to these problems in psychology, but I did not. Perhaps like all of us who were bitten by the philosophy bug, it was through the methods and ideas of philosophy that were most helpful in addressing what it is to live and live well. Not long after my first philosophy class I took an upper level course on contemporary philosophy, which is where I first encountered Sartre and Heidegger. I was immediately taken with Sartre, and as you know I would keep him close for many years. For a long time existentialism was my defacto philosophy of living, but in many ways it was incomplete. In part my romance with existentialism expressed more of what I thought I should be than with what I really needed. When I was honest with myself I found that the Aristotelian tradition gave me the greatest satisfaction, and the best tools to cope with forging a philosophy of life, or as I have referred to it, an art of living.
There have been several articles lately addressing the upsurge of relativism among grade-school students. Relativism has always been in the background for many young people, and perhaps it was my assumptions about relativism that initially and in part provoked my interest in existentialism. As I have come to realize, subjectivism and then nihilism are only steps away from relativism, and once these impoverished modes of life are adopted there is really little reason to do anything. So what is the value of a philosophy of life? One existentialist – Kierkegaard – has the answer in part: commitment. Committing to a mode of life is essential, I have come to believe. But that is not all. One then needs the tools or means to continually reflect on and construct a life. I like the idea of an art of living as it carries with it the metaphor of creation. We pull from others who seem to have mastered life. We find wisdom in religion and philosophy. We use these ideas and work them in our life, creating ourselves.
Not having a philosophy of living is like confronting a blank canvas with only the belief that this potential work of art can be anything. That might be a lovely thought, but it will not produce anything of beauty. Beautiful art is a mix of an idea, skill, the right tools, and correcting mistakes, among other things. A philosophy of living is a means of making life beautiful and meaningful and hopefully of value to oneself and others.
Let me think about the dangers of philosophy a bit more. Initially, this might be with misinterpretation, and the politicization of certain philosophies. For example, the other day I was said to have said something similar to Allan Bloom in his polemical work against postmodernism, The Closing of the American Mind. Americans are very partisan and are quite astute in sniffing out political sides. But let me think about it a bit more.
If you don’t mind I’d like to answer your questions somewhat idiosyncratically. I have always been interested in questions about the good life — about what happiness is, how to give honor and respect to living my life, and how to cope with the bad parts. I thought I would find answers to these problems in psychology, but I did not. Perhaps like all of us who were bitten by the philosophy bug, it was through the methods and ideas of philosophy that were most helpful in addressing what it is to live and live well. Not long after my first philosophy class I took an upper level course on contemporary philosophy, which is where I first encountered Sartre and Heidegger. I was immediately taken with Sartre, and as you know I would keep him close for many years. For a long time existentialism was my defacto philosophy of living, but in many ways it was incomplete. In part my romance with existentialism expressed more of what I thought I should be than with what I really needed. When I was honest with myself I found that the Aristotelian tradition gave me the greatest satisfaction, and the best tools to cope with forging a philosophy of life, or as I have referred to it, an art of living.
There have been several articles lately addressing the upsurge of relativism among grade-school students. Relativism has always been in the background for many young people, and perhaps it was my assumptions about relativism that initially and in part provoked my interest in existentialism. As I have come to realize, subjectivism and then nihilism are only steps away from relativism, and once these impoverished modes of life are adopted there is really little reason to do anything. So what is the value of a philosophy of life? One existentialist – Kierkegaard – has the answer in part: commitment. Committing to a mode of life is essential, I have come to believe. But that is not all. One then needs the tools or means to continually reflect on and construct a life. I like the idea of an art of living as it carries with it the metaphor of creation. We pull from others who seem to have mastered life. We find wisdom in religion and philosophy. We use these ideas and work them in our life, creating ourselves.
Not having a philosophy of living is like confronting a blank canvas with only the belief that this potential work of art can be anything. That might be a lovely thought, but it will not produce anything of beauty. Beautiful art is a mix of an idea, skill, the right tools, and correcting mistakes, among other things. A philosophy of living is a means of making life beautiful and meaningful and hopefully of value to oneself and others.
Let me think about the dangers of philosophy a bit more. Initially, this might be with misinterpretation, and the politicization of certain philosophies. For example, the other day I was said to have said something similar to Allan Bloom in his polemical work against postmodernism, The Closing of the American Mind. Americans are very partisan and are quite astute in sniffing out political sides. But let me think about it a bit more.
For me, one of the greatest values of having a philosophy of living is that it allows me both a kind of stability (along the lines of the sense of commitment that Charles discussed) combined with intellectual flexibility. In my better moments, it allows me to be able to look at an issue from various perspectives while still maintaining an intellectual center. It has made me far more consistent in my thinking and acting in relation to my highest values, and in being clear about what those values should be. Before I became serious about philosophy, in the way of many children and teenagers, I did more than a little careening between the high and the (now) embarassingly low, usually with little sense that there was any inherent conflict in this at all.
I don’t think that having a pronounced philosophical approach to life is necessary for having good values, since values are at least as much perceived/felt as reasoned out, and in any case I’ve known many not-all-that-reflective people with good values, and many logically-oriented people who are not that spiritually perceptive. Nonetheless my experience is that for those who stick with the intellectual struggle, spiritually perceptive people with a good basic philosophy of life are noticeably more stable in relation to those values over the course of a lifetime than those without. I’m not sure if that’s exactly the same as Kierkegaardian commitment, but there must be some relationship.
There’s also a pleasant sense of “a place for everything and everything in its place” to having a philosophy of life. Not that I come anywhere near having everything figured out, of course, but ideas and problems at least have a workable place to call home. And then there’s the simple fact that philosophical reasoning can be such a pleasure in itself.
As for dangers, one is that some of the same intellectual skills that can make one a good reasoner can make one a good rationalizer. Ayn Rand’s rationalization of her smoking habit is a stock example, and it’s not hard to find others. There’s also the problem of becoming so enamored of the power and beauty of logic and formal systems that we disvalue the rich but messy empirical world. This often leads to inventing entire universes (and rules for their administration) from our philosophical armchairs.
The last danger that comes to mind is related to what Charles called “politicization.” It is not be philosophy per se, but it passes for philosophy. I think that a considerable amount of what is called philosophy is in fact “an expression of politics by other means” as Clausewitz might put it. My observation is that most humans, including most intellectuals, are motivated more by political and economic concerns than genuinely philosophical (or scientific or even religious) ones. Much of what is called philosophy does not stem from genuinely philosophical intentions.
Carl, this is a superb contribution to this inquiry. I am in your debt, and I’m sure I speak for other readers, too.
For me, one of the greatest values of having a philosophy of living is that it allows me both a kind of stability (along the lines of the sense of commitment that Charles discussed) combined with intellectual flexibility. In my better moments, it allows me to be able to look at an issue from various perspectives while still maintaining an intellectual center. It has made me far more consistent in my thinking and acting in relation to my highest values, and in being clear about what those values should be. Before I became serious about philosophy, in the way of many children and teenagers, I did more than a little careening between the high and the (now) embarassingly low, usually with little sense that there was any inherent conflict in this at all.
I don’t think that having a pronounced philosophical approach to life is necessary for having good values, since values are at least as much perceived/felt as reasoned out, and in any case I’ve known many not-all-that-reflective people with good values, and many logically-oriented people who are not that spiritually perceptive. Nonetheless my experience is that for those who stick with the intellectual struggle, spiritually perceptive people with a good basic philosophy of life are noticeably more stable in relation to those values over the course of a lifetime than those without. I’m not sure if that’s exactly the same as Kierkegaardian commitment, but there must be some relationship.
There’s also a pleasant sense of “a place for everything and everything in its place” to having a philosophy of life. Not that I come anywhere near having everything figured out, of course, but ideas and problems at least have a workable place to call home. And then there’s the simple fact that philosophical reasoning can be such a pleasure in itself.
As for dangers, one is that some of the same intellectual skills that can make one a good reasoner can make one a good rationalizer. Ayn Rand’s rationalization of her smoking habit is a stock example, and it’s not hard to find others. There’s also the problem of becoming so enamored of the power and beauty of logic and formal systems that we disvalue the rich but messy empirical world. This often leads to inventing entire universes (and rules for their administration) from our philosophical armchairs.
The last danger that comes to mind is related to what Charles called “politicization.” It is not be philosophy per se, but it passes for philosophy. I think that a considerable amount of what is called philosophy is in fact “an expression of politics by other means” as Clausewitz might put it. My observation is that most humans, including most intellectuals, are motivated more by political and economic concerns than genuinely philosophical (or scientific or even religious) ones. Much of what is called philosophy does not stem from genuinely philosophical intentions.
Carl, this is a superb contribution to this inquiry. I am in your debt, and I’m sure I speak for other readers, too.