The Philosophers' Cocoon

This post's title is intended to be tongue-in-cheek. Following some comments at this Daily Nous post, I don't think one has to "love philosophy" in order to enjoy it, make a successful career out of it, and so on. I also can't give a how-to manual for loving philosophy. Still, I'd like to say a little bit about the topic for a couple of reasons.

First, as a number of comments on the above Daily Nous post indicate, there appear to be a fair number of people out there who have "fallen out of love" with it, or at least academic philosophy–people who find "most philosophy published in journals [to be] hopeless and depressing" (comment #5), "the deep sense of inadequacy I get every time I stick my neck out in front of relatively senior philosophers" (comment #6), "the pressure to publish half-baked articles that make one or two small nit-picky points" (comment #7), and so on. 

Second, as I explained several years ago, I once fell out of love with philosophy but was eventually able to find my love for it again. 

Because I can honestly identify with those who are disillusioned in the above ways–I was once really disillusioned with the "academic game"–I would like to briefly share a bit more about my experience and offer an encouraging word to those who find themselves disillusioned. For although I cannot offer any silver bullet to cure disillusionment, I want to suggest that there may be significant things one can do to surmount it.

Here, in brief, is my story. Before college, I never had any passions. There were things I liked: baseball, psychology, and music. Still, there was nothing I "lived for"–nothing of great meaning for me (besides, of course, my family). Then I found myself taking an intro to philosophy course with Dan Dennett, and everything changed. I fell for philosophy, and fell hard. I found it the most interesting thing in the world, seemed to be pretty good at it, and basically knew from the start that it was what I wanted to do for a living. Then came grad school. At first, grad school was even better. Holy jeezus, I was hanging around really interesting people doing philosophy all day, staying up late at night talking shop in our apartments or the local pub, reading and thinking about super-interesting books and papers, etc. It was awesome.

Alas, as I got further along in grad school, the "professional" aspects increasingly began to crowd out my passion. There was the jockeying for attention, pressure to publish in top journals, harsh referee comments, pressure to write papers on one or two nitpicky points, etc. And it was no fun at all. I started grad school loving philosophy–feeling confident in my abilities, doing work I found exciting, passionate about talking shop with others, etc.–but then increasingly found myself despising it: not because my grad program was bad (far from it!), but simply because academic philosophy seemed like a game played according to rules that were anathema to my interests and self-conception. In short, I simply didn't like the game.

Now, maybe I was an idealist (what young person isn't?). And maybe every line of work has its downsides (probably!). Still, I was frustrated–and I regret to say, I didn't handle it well for a while. I lost my passion. I spent more time on hobbies than doing research (I wasn't alone!). Eventually, though, I found my way out: I fell in love with philosophy again. I fell in love with it again because, much to my surprise, I found I was not powerless in the face of the game. I found, as a number of commenters note at the aforementioned Daily Nous post, that there are real choices one can make: choices to not worry about "the game" so much, and pursue philosophy in the way one likes or used to love. I found one doesn't have to write small, nit-picky papers to publish. I found one doesn't have to worry about publishing in places like Phil Review so much, and that one can simply try to write the best philosophy one can, on issues and arguments one finds inspiring, and find outlets to publish it. I also found that one can come to love teaching, finding great value in it. And so on. 

In short, while I don't have a silver bullet for loving (or even liking) philosophy, I would simply like to encourage those who are disillusioned–those who are precisely where I was a number of years ago–to consider the possibility that there may be a viable alternative. One doesn't have to give into disillusionment. One has a choice–indeed, many choices. One can just try to have fun at philosophy again, enjoy talking with getting to know other philosophers for its own sake (rather than for "networking), write papers on ideas that inspire you, and so on. For, who knows: it just might work out. It might just transform your outlook (it did mine)–and, in any case, it just might be better (in my experience, at least) than disillusionment!