I Think, Therefore I Am Misunderstood

The most common stereotype of the professional philosopher is probably that of the hairsplitter, puzzling away over obscure questions, drawing distinction after distinction but getting nowhere. This stereotype is not entirely groundless. But it is important to understand the origins of this contemporary army of hairsplitters that marches through the Western academy, leaving a trail of oft-neglected books and articles in its wake.

We can trace our lineage back to a man who, while on trial for his life, informed his judges that an unexamined life is not worth living and that he would not stop practicing philosophy as long as he could draw breath. What got him into trouble was speaking truth to power, and he later drank poison rather than betray the principles to which his reasoning had led him.

In the long run, he was victorious: today every educated person knows the name of Socrates, while few know much about the government that executed him. We philosophers can also point out that whatever your most cherished institution or ideal--representative democracy, the free-market economy, even Christianity--it would not exist if no one engaged in the mysterious work of philosophy. I once overheard a student remark that philosophy professors are the "renegades of society."

Philosophy is an inefficient activity; much of it is useless. Yet its products have shaped our world, and millions know the name of its greatest hero. Hairsplitter, truth seeker, renegade: I try to be all these things. And if I manage to pass on something of the legacy of philosophy, I'll have a good answer to the dreaded question if they ask it of me on my deathbed.

© 2006