A commenter asked what made me say that ‘anyone who talks like this doesn’t belong in the modern university‘?
In that lecture, to explain something about what philosophy is and does, I naturally appealed to the intrinsic value of the discipline. But the measures of value in the modern university are all extrinsic and instrumental. That essential mismatch of what matters is what makes me say that this kind of view doesn’t belong in the modern university. It is out of place and out of time.
University managers, as well as students (and the parents of students), ask in so many ways: ‘What’s the point of studying philosophy?’
It’s not enough to answer by appealing to the intrinsic value of the discipline; they want an answer that appeals to the value of something beyond the discipline.
If I were to answer by talking ‘like this’, appealing to the intrinsic value of the subject, saying that it will deepen your understanding of yourself and the world, etc., that it will teach you how to think well and so equip you to govern yourself by good judgement, etc., not to get a good job and earn more money but only to be a better person and live better aligned with whatever truth there is, etc., echoing Socrates by saying that ‘the unexamined life isn’t worthy of a human being’, etc.; if I say those things, they give me a funny look.
They want (and need) some economic payoff, especially since it’s costing them so much money. Philosophy needs to pay its way like everything else. But once philosophy gets caught between ‘managers’ and ‘paying customers’, it’s almost impossible to escape the trap of defining the value of things in economic terms. That definition has dire consequences, particularly for philosophy: I suspect that is why so many ancient philosophers refused to charge fees for their teaching.
I would say that philosophy is priceless: it costs nothing but is worth everything. If you put a price on it, you make it something less than it is. And what is priceless should not be sold. And if you don’t think it should be sold, you shouldn’t sell it.
It’s not just about money: it’s about what the discipline is and does. I used to joke that a philosophy degree is the only degree where you leave knowing less than when you started. It is a joke, because obviously a philosophy degree requires a lot of learning. But since philosophy is the pursuit of wisdom (not necessarily knowledge), this is Socrates’ point: it is wiser to know your ignorance, rather than be ignorant of your ignorance.
I don’t think you can learn that by sitting back passively in a lecture theatre, let alone watching a video. You need to put your thoughts to the test, and that requires a kind of sincere engagement that the ‘paying customer’ model of the modern university tends to discourage. It is not essential to it; it is only a tendency; there are exceptions to the rule. But most of the time (and increasingly) students come to expect you (as a lecturer) to do something for them (because otherwise what are they paying for?), and in this they misunderstand the activity: they have to do it for themselves, they have to learn how to do it for themselves, or else it’s not really philosophy.
All they can reasonably ask you to do, as a lecturer, is to embody the discipline for them; to show it by lived example. But what is it we embody, when we strut about in the lecture theatre (or record videos), or write obscure technical publications, or market the degree on the basis of its potential to increase your lifetime earnings? Not philosophy, I think.
Related articles: My Last Lecture, Demarcation, The Death of the University, Philosophy in Education, The ‘Noseeum’ Value of Philosophy
Read more: Think Well, Live Well: A Free Introduction to Philosophy
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