I don’t have many recordings of myself lecturing, but one of the few that I do was captured just before the falling of the first in a line of dominoes that would ultimately lead me to leave academia. I view it now with a degree of nostalgia, because everything after this point would not be the same.
You can watch a clip here: https://youtu.be/dD3rRT0iErM
I see someone trying so earnestly, still caught up in the idea that this was a worthwhile activity. Soon I would not feel that way.
What I also see is a visible discomfort at naturally saying things that I know don’t belong in this place. I’m embarrassed by my idealism. It’s as if I’m scared of being found out.
Which is no surprise. When I used to describe what I did when I was lecturing, I kept coming back to the word ‘smuggling’. I tried to smuggle in as much ‘real’ philosophy as I could get away with, knowing that it was fundamentally incompatible with the ideals of the modern university.
The lecture is the introductory session to a module on the problem of evil, and because of that there is not much of much interest in the content. It’s mainly outlining the course and practical matters.
But since this was immediately post-first-covid-lockdown, there were more practical matters to attend to than normal. Most teaching had shifted online – this lecture being one of the rare sessions ‘in person’ – and the students were understandably annoyed about this. They hadn’t signed up for an online course and recorded videos were not the same as live ‘in person’ content.
I agreed with them, though I expect for different reasons. In fielding their complaints, I found myself wanting to explain something essential about philosophy that I think has become increasingly difficult to see.
Transcript from Lecture, Sept. 2020
‘Honestly though, I’ve found this, shifting to recorded stuff: it gives a very different tone to things, a very different tone. And I’m doing something with the first years at the moment actually (which might not be the best idea but), genuinely asking them to reflect on this idea that, as we move into this more online space, there are some differences that I think really, really matter. They change the dynamic of how philosophical education works. And it pushes it much more, inevitably, much more towards the idea that what you’re doing when you are learning philosophy is that you are learning about philosophy. You are learning information about what someone else has said at some point; and my job is to deliver you that information in the clearest, most engaging kind of way.
So when I’m doing these videos (I’m doing these pre-recorded things for the first years): very obvious that you cannot do anything other than just give the information. And it ends up being much less than, I would like to think, a lecture, even a lecture situation is capable of.
Obviously, the point is – and this has reminded me of a whole load of stuff that lots of philosophers were talking about, muttering about, complaining about already: this is already problematic. The fact that I’m standing here at the front and you’re all sitting there looking at me makes it seem like I’m the one with the authority and I’m the one telling you how it is. And your job is to sit there and listen to me and just take it as being the right answer. And this is not how philosophy works, this is never how philosophy works.
So the problem is, it seems like just the way that we are doing things now cannot help but reinforce that idea that that’s how it works. But philosophy is meant to be different; it is meant to be an active thing. All these clichés: “philosophy teaches you how to think not what to think”, “philosophy is something you do, not something you learn about”, you learn how to do philosophy you don’t just learn about philosophy. And all of that requires an active role on your part which this, even this situation [gestures towards lecture room] discourages you from. Because it’s too easy to sit there not taking an active role.
How much easier is it to sit there watching a video and not take an active role?! Much easier! This is the default, to be honest: you’re never going to ask a video a question because you know it can’t talk back. You wouldn’t even think about “what questions do I have to ask about this?”.
Obviously I want to say, and this is drifting into a different topic now [looks at watch], this is not something fundamental, it’s not essential to it, but we are facing this problem right now that we need to try to find ways around it. Obvious recommendations: more discussions, more online forums, more seminars, if that has to be done by video chat then fine, but I still want to say that’s a slightly trickier way of doing it because it is easy to mute yourself and your video and then not take an active role. It’s too easy to opt out.
[Takes a question about how the delivery of the course will work if such and such happens, as part of which there is a mention that the student considers themselves to be paying a lot of fees and expects to get something in return.]
I can’t guess what’s going to happen in a few weeks time, but at least we can hit the ground running with the best version of things that we can. I don’t want to get too distracted into this but, again, this is feeding the whole thing about… Obviously it focusses the mind on the fact that you are paying for something, and that you are paying for a thing that is now different. And so the immediate thing is: well, change the product, change the price!
To my mind, we’ve already now forgotten – and I know that no one chooses to pay fees, and you shouldn’t be paying fees in the first place, that’s the basic idea. But the problem is that as soon as you are paying fees you then think that (not to get too arty-farty about it but) knowledge has a kind of financial value, as if the reason to get knowledge is to earn more money in the long run. And this is a real shame. What about, you know, the idea of knowledge as being intrinsically valuable? It’s something that becomes really hard to hold on to when the focus is all on whether you are getting value for your money.
So I’m completely on your side: if you’re going to be paying then you want your money’s worth. But I think it’s a massive shame that we’re even thinking in those terms, in terms of “is it worth the money?”. Is what worth the money? Philosophical understanding? What’s more valuable?
[Gets uncomfortable and shuffles about…] Now I know obviously I’m, you know, I’m biased, because I’m a philosopher person. But genuinely I think it’s a shame that the subject loses this idea that it is intrinsically valuable. It’s not about money. It’s not about “employability”, it’s not about…um, yeah. Well let’s not get too lofty about it.
So I’m on your side but I think it’s a shame that all this stuff focusses, forces us into a mode that we were resistant to drifting into anyway. We were already drifting that way, but we were resistant to doing so, and this has just pushed it, a little push, further. And I think there has to be a little bit of resistance from people like me, to say that: I’m not ok with the idea that philosophy just becomes a packet of information that we package in a nice, well-presented way, and then we give it to you as a product that has a price on it. I think that should be resisted in some way.’
Reflections
I’m proud of what I said here, and also how I said it and why. Content aside, it captures a kind of off-the-cuff ability and authenticity that I couldn’t rise to now if I tried: I’d be too ring rusty, for one, and I’m not sure I’d care to try. I’d probably just say ‘it’s not my business’, because it’s not.
Anyone who talks like this doesn’t belong in the modern university.
Related articles: The Death of the University, Philosophy in Education, The ‘Noseeum’ Value of Philosophy, Demarcation
tobybetenson.com 