I’ve often thought there’s something absurd about a philosopher shouting from the sidelines of society, accusing everyone of being miserable. Most people seem quite content to go about their business; they don’t seem particularly tormented by being in ordinary society; it’s only the philosopher that is. Who is more miserable here? The one who is happy in the world or the one who lives outside of it?
But then I look at the brief biographies of famous and successful people, or our leaders, the great and good, the paragons of ordinary society, the pictures of success, and although it is only a brief summary of a life no doubt full of ups and downs, I see failed relationships, affairs, and divorces, shattered families; I see lawsuits and litigation; I see debts coming from riches; I see exploitation and abuse; I see drugs, alcohol, and rehab; I see depressions, therapy, and too many suicides. These are the best that ordinary society can offer, in terms of pictures of success; these are the ideals that we aspire towards. Is it a happy ideal?
And to the extent that we replicate that ‘ideal’ in our own lives, what do we see there, but more failed relationships, affairs, divorces, shattered families; litigation; debts; exploitation and abuse; alcohol and drugs, whether medication or recreation; depressions, anxieties, and still too many suicides. We live in a technological age where it has never been easier for human beings to satisfy their basic human needs and yet we seem to be as miserable as we have ever been. We are luxuriating ourselves into destruction; our luxury is literally killing us. The absurdity of this is intolerable. We have an obesity epidemic and a food crisis, at the same time and in the same place. Perhaps the philosopher is right to shout, even if only from the sidelines.
Shouldn’t we question the anxiety levels of a generation educated to chase good grades above all else, for the purpose of getting a place at a good university where they can chase more good grades to get a good degree so that they can get a good job and earn good money, not once pausing to question whether any of these things are really ‘good’ in themselves or only a means to an end? And to what end? And can we call that end good, when all it seems to bring about is further anxiety and depression?
Similar is true when I see pictures of success in contemporary academic philosophy: often they are pictures that I can envy but I cannot admire. The impression is of people who have achieved great reputation through their work but in doing so have lost sight of their purpose for doing it; they have lost sight of what really matters, led astray by what doesn’t. Even philosophy itself is something that leads the philosopher astray, if by ‘philosophy’ you mean the kind of grade-chasing academic philosophy that we see in schools and universities. The academic world is ruled mainly by the values of reputation and prestige, place and status, renown. This ‘philosophy’, far from being a medicine for the soul, is just another symptom of infection.
Those in this world tend to end up just as Diogenes the Cynic would call Plato the Academic: arrogant, all puffed-up with glory, fat with a sense of their own self-importance. See how they parade and cover themselves with honours! See how they flinch when their reputations are insulted! See how they sulk and strop when they are offered a pay rise at a level beneath what they feel is fitting! And, ultimately, whether they realise it or not, see how utterly dependent they are on the good opinions of other people. Sometimes these opinions come from a place that might mean something, as the virtuous model of academic peer-review would assume, but too often academics depend on the good opinions of people who are not in a position to know the first thing about whether and why they might be worthy of their subject; such as students or the general public (who have yet to learn enough of the subject to understand what is valuable in it) or managers in universities (who never bothered trying to understand because they’re too busy looking at spreadsheets).
But there is no way around this, in the profession, and so we end up chasing these good opinions, whether or not they are worthy. And a certain arrogance must follow, because if you can’t convince yourself that you’re worth listening to, how do you expect to convince others?
Like it or not, academics are often enslaved to their status and reputation. See how they react when it is taken away and you will see how much it matters to them! But philosophers, of all people, ought to know better. And so whilst I can envy them for their success, I am not sure I would be happy to pay the price required for it. Not anymore, at least. But as Epictetus would say, people sell themselves at different rates. At the moment I am unwilling to sell everything I am in exchange for the passing good opinion of a man in a suit.
What’s easy to lose sight of, in all this vicious Cynicism, is the positive impact that philosophy can have. There is nothing stopping us from encouraging our children to question what really matters in life, and nothing stopping us from teaching them how to investigate this question well. Perhaps more philosophers should be doing this, rather than withdrawing to their academies and fussing about their reputations and remunerations, or else cynically shouting from the sidelines.
Read more: Think Well, Live Well: A Free Introduction to Philosophy
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