Philosophy is an unusually self-conscious academic discipline. Any observer to the history of philosophy will notice that there are very few points on which there is unanimity among philosophers, that old debates continue on, and that views which disappear for some time are often later revived in new forms. Controversies are not resolved, but are abandoned due to all kinds of contingent historical factors. Moreover, philosophical views never enjoy a high level of certainty and always seem open to further questioning. As a result, philosophers often revisit the questions of what philosophy really is, what it should be, and how philosophers should proceed. These questions are all the more urgent today because, amid major slashes to university budgets, the survival of many philosophy departments, and perhaps the discipline itself, is in danger. The case for philosophy needs to be made to ensure its long-term survival.
It is popular in analytic philosophy today to say that philosophy is argumentation or conceptual analysis, and that main duty of philosophers is to produce, analyze, and criticize arguments. This avoids, perhaps, the embarrassment of rarely arriving at stable consensus. However, it is hard to think of an academic discipline or intellectual activity that does not require the production, analysis, and criticism of arguments. It is also not likely that philosophers are especially better at producing arguments than other intellectuals. Moreover, many of the great philosophers, like Plato or Hobbes, produced really terrible arguments, and the value of studying Plato or Hobbes does not lie in what can be learned by reproducing their arguments in the form of two-column proofs.
In his book, Problems of Philosophy, Bertrand Russell seriously considered what the value of philosophy might be in light of the concerns raised by people who are "under the influence of science or practical affairs." One might worry that philosophy consists of nothing more than "innocent but useless trifling, hair-splitting distinctions, and controversies on matters concerning which knowledge is impossible." Russell, however, sees value in the difficulty and uncertainty of philosophy because "it removes the somewhat arrogant dogmatism of those who have never traveled into the region of liberating doubt..." Philosophy changes our intellectual temperament by enlarging our conception of what is possible and reducing the stranglehold of our prejudices:
The value of philosophy is, in fact, to be sought largely in its very uncertainty. The man who has no tincture of philosophy goes through life imprisoned in the prejudices derived from common sense, from the habitual belief of his age or nation, and from convictions which have grown up in his mind.... the world tends to become definite, finite, obvious; common objects rouse no questions and unfamiliar possibilities are contemptuously rejected. As soon as we begin to philosophize... we find... that even the most everyday things lead to problems to which only very incomplete answers can be given.
Here Russell is a mouthpiece for an old piece of Socratic wisdom. Socrates asked his fellow Athenians: What is knowledge? What is justice? What is friendship? What is piety? The people he talked to had confident, but unconsidered, answers to those questions. Socrates interrogated the beliefs of these people, delving deeper into what they meant, and often found hidden contradictions in their answers to his questions -- Socrates showed people that they did not know everything that they thought they knew. Sometimes Socrates ventures his own answers to the puzzles he poses, but just as often the Platonic dialogs end inconclusively, leaving the reader to reflect upon what she might say if she were part of the conversation. The Oracle at Delphi once prophesied that Socrates was the wisest man in Athens, but Socrates said that if he wise it was because he knew that he was ignorant!
Among Socrates' enduring lessons is things which seem obvious may be false, and that there maybe hidden contradictions or puzzles in our beliefs. We should therefore critically examine things which we take for granted, and this will include our attitudes about ourselves and our society. In 1944, Wittgenstein wrote a letter to his friend and student Norman Malcolm, recalling a tense dispute they had. Malcom claimed that it was impossible that there was a British plot to assassinate Hitler because it would be against the national character of the British people. It is worth quoting the letter at length:
...we had a heated discussion in which you made a remark about 'national character' that shocked me by its primitiveness. I then thought: what is the use of studying philosophy if all that it does for you is enable you to talk with some plausibility about some abstruse questions of logic, etc. & if it does not improve your thinking about the most important questions of everyday life, if it does not make you more conscientious than any... journalist in the use of the DANGEROUS phrases such people use for their own ends. You see, I know that it's difficult to think well about 'certainty', 'probability', 'perception', etc. But it is, if possible, still more difficult to think, or try to think, really honestly about your life & other people's lives. And the trouble is that thinking about these things is not thrilling, but often downright nasty. And when it's nasty then it's most important.... You can't think decently if you don't want to hurt yourself.
Here Wittgenstein points out the dangerous naivety of Malcom's ideas about national character. He reminds us that the effort spent raising and addressing esoteric questions about formal logic and epistemology ought to prepare us to confront the yet harder and more important questions of life. For example, the law of the excluded middle and the law of non-contradiction are intuitively appealing principles, ones we might readily accept without argument or much reflection. But, it is possible to give powerful reasons to adopt intuitionist or paraconsistent logics in which these logical laws are not universally valid. Even plausible or common sense ideas about elementary reasoning might turn out to be mistaken, and Wittgenstein would tell us that this lesson about fallibility and prejudice should spill over to other domains, such as pressing moral and social conflicts. Russell would have agreed: "The mind which has become accustomed to the freedom and impartiality of philosophic contemplation will preserve something of the same freedom and impartiality in the world of action and emotion."
At the same time Wittgenstein wrote to Malcom, Einstein corresponded with a young professor at the University of Puerto Rico who wanted to incorporate philosophy of science into his teaching of introductory physics. This is something which is uncommon in physics courses today. Einstein endorsed the project:
I fully agree with you about the significance and educational value of methodology as well has history and philosophy of science. So many people today -- and even professional scientists -- seem to me like someone who has seen thousands of trees but has never seen a forest. A knowledge of the historic and philosophical background gives that kind of independence from prejudices of his generation from which most scientists are suffering. This independence created by philosophical insight is -- in my opinion -- the mark of distinction between a mere artisan or specialist and a real seeker after truth.
Einstein, much like Russell, thought that philosophical training cultivates independence of judgement and helps free students from the common prejudices of their times. He once said that his most capable students, "those who distinguish themselves by their independence of judgement and not just their quick-wittedness," cared deeply about epistemology: "They happily began discussions about the goals and methods of science,
and they showed unequivocally, through tenacious defense of their views,
that the subject seemed important to them." In my experience as a graduate student in physics, I have found that many bright and serious scientists light up whenever fundamental questions about science are raised. Nevertheless, despite Einstein's advice, methodology, history, and philosophy of science are often not part of one's scientific education.
These titans of intellectual history teach us that much of the value of philosophy lies the way its study cultivates independence of judgement, consciousness and suspicion of accepted ideas, the ability to look forthrightly at possibilities which are uncomfortable or unpalatable, and the way its openness undermines the false self-assurance which haunts even our most cherished views. Nietzsche warns, "A very popular error: having the courage of one's
convictions; rather it is a matter of having the courage for an attack
on one's convictions." This piece of Socratic wisdom is the perennial
lesson of a philosophical education. It is a lesson which, as Einstein and Wittgenstein testify, we can bring to other intellectual projects or even urgent moral, social, and existential questions. Acquiring the intellectual humility,
honesty, and courage that is the mark of a truly philosophical cast of
mind is what makes philosophy worth studying, and what earns its place
in our institutions of higher learning.




