On the Utility of Philosophy
I spend a significant amount of my free time reading. I read both for enjoyment, and to learn something. It’s fascinating to me that, for the price of a coffee, I can gain access to the innermost thoughts of someone who walked the Earth long before me, yet experienced life and felt the same emotions just as deeply as I do, today. Frankly, it’s a form of telepathy. You might look at me funny if I told you I spoke to ghosts, but it has shaped me profoundly.
Great writers offer perspective. They take eternal human situations, intelligible through millennia, and through careful manipulation of characters, themes, and some intangible magic, imbue their work with a fundamental statement about the world, what they believe to be true in the deepest caverns of their soul. The beauty of this perspective is, however, hidden in the layers of nuance that envelop a captivating story. What good would it be for Hesse to replace Siddhartha with ‘I believe that true self-discovery is an ever-lasting process, aided by nature and mentors?’
Of course, a novel requires a discerning and patient audience, willing to dedicate the time to sit, listen, and understand ideas. In a world where dedicated attention is hard to come by, this audience is growing increasingly thin. The very idea of what it means to experience an event has changed. But, those who have reveled in the sheer joy of an idea expanded, of a story created, of a perspective shared, understand why it is vital that we continue to read, and think.
In sharing stories, writers challenge us to change the way we see the world, or at least to understand their perspective. This is the fundamental reason humans write. Even something as simple as cave art, lines scratched into rock depicting a hunt, were left there to leave a lasting memory that these early humans did indeed exist and had their own views, their own aspirations. We long not to be forgotten, but also to make an impact on those who come after us. Walk through any cathedral in the world and observe the inscriptions on the tombs — a list of actions, positions, and merits follows each name. Not only did this person exist, but their life had meaning, both to them and to us. Our perception changes…
Both consciously and subconsciously, stories are crafted to mold the way we think. From an early age, German children are taught the story of Hansel and Gretel as a cautionary tale to distrust unknown adults, an effective and practical solution to improve situational awareness. Novels, although on a deeper level, are written with this same goal in mind. They subtly encourage us to reflect on our approach to life. When we see ourselves reflected in the pages of some great work, we stop to pick out the modes of thinking that we think we’ll find helpful. With enough time and thought, our philosophy adapts.
Underscoring the importance of literature, philosophy as a field has existed since the 6th Century BC. At its root, philosophy tells us stories about how we should think, what we should think, and how that idea may be practiced in our daily lives. For the Athenians, it was an important point of the education of a young man, slowly but surely outweighing the importance of physical strength in the transition to Higher Education. For the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius, it was the central epithet of his rule. Throughout our history, philosophy has evolved to meet the demands of the day, from Aquinas and Augustine to Camus and Beckett. Whether presented as an essay, a play, or a novel, the influence of their ideas stemmed from the power of their words.
These ideas have indeed influenced generations, even those centuries removed from the lives of the authors. They are unique to their time, offer an outlet for the good times and the hardships of their day, and are conveyed in a convincing manner. When we have understood the author’s intent, and even if we agree with them, the question that pops into my mind becomes: ‘To what extent should I let this influence my the way that I tackle my life?’
To start, I think it is worthwhile to include a quote from Socrates, taken from his trial:
‘The unexamined life is not worth living.’
In context, Socrates is highlighting the ignorance of his jurors, feigning having absolute knowledge but in reality, having none. To him, life is devoid of meaning if we do not take the time to question ourselves and our modes of thinking — otherwise, we are no different from animals, living purely instinctually. Of what use are our lives then, if we have been given such a gift and are not making use of it?
Indeed, having a philosophy to life is essential. What is critical, however, is having a personal philosophy. It is all to easy to read a book, become inspired, and live by its axioms. But, accepting the entirety of a work without any compromises is a sign of a lack of intellectual curiosity — after all, how likely is it that we agree about everything with anyone in the world, let alone on the major issues of how to approach life?
This is where a wide diet of literature works its way in. Read a lot, and read diversely. Treat every work, every author, with the intellectual respect that they deserve. With enough effort, a new set of truths start to emerge: your truths. What you believe to be right and valuable, and axioms by which to lead your own life. Perhaps this is the individualist in me speaking, but I deeply believe philosophy to be a personal endeavor.
There is a trap in the development of philosophy, which is that of over-analysis. Spending so much time in your own thoughts, or debating them with friends, that you forget to actually do. Many times have I caught myself living in a fantasy world version of my life, meticulously pieced together by the collective firing of neurons, instead of living in the world that I actually have. Philosophy has a definite importance in the progression of our lives, but we must not forget that it is fundamentally rooted in action!
There comes a time when you feel abandoned by the beliefs that once propelled you forward. It is expected, and this is why it is vital to have a personal philosophy. In its very nature, it is meant to adapt, to change as your life changes. This is something that I struggled with — how do I reconcile two great works, both of which speak to me, yet seem to be mutually exclusive? The answer is the application of personal philosophy, which has the ability to mold itself to the situation with which you are faced. The key here is that, thanks to a wide breadth of ideas, you know what will work best to tackle the task at hand, and when that view is no longer useful, a different one takes its place.
This is not to say that there is no value in a moral basis upon which to base all decisions, a ground truth that you believe to be true, but merely that no one theory will have all of the answers that are correct for you. There is no formulaic approach to all of this, it’s an ever-evolving process whose destination even you, the metaphorical driver, will never know.
If introspection, reflection, and adaptation of personal philosophy has helped so many great leaders, thinkers, and artists of the past, it must have inherent value. More than a set of rules to live by, it offers humility in success, comfort in hardship, and a strengthening of the mind that will serve you in any path you choose to venture in life.