Why Philosophy?
Crafting a Philosophy of Life Is Key to Living Well
In English, the word “philosophy” seems to function in at least two ways. On the one hand, it serves to define a field of thought—one which typically addresses the “big” questions that other disciplines cannot answer. Is there a god? What is the meaning of life? What do I owe others? And so on. On the other hand, we use the word “philosophy” to characterize a person’s general approach to life.
In this Substack,
and I have focused on the first conception of philosophy: we’ve asked contributors to explain how they conceptualize the discipline, how they were introduced to it, and the philosophical questions that have attracted them. Here, however, I wish to pause and consider the second use of the term “philosophy.”What does it take to craft your own philosophy of life?
Much of contemporary self-help discusses how to manage your life: how to better navigate relationships, how to optimize time management, or how to limit stress. Philosophy can help us with these topics. For example, in her recent bestseller, The Let Them Theory, Mel Robbins advises a saner approach to family relationships, friendships, and romantic connections. Along the way, she draws on the Stoic principle that other people lie outside of our control, and, as a result, we must let go of our efforts to manage their lives. We need to let them…
What is often missing is the metaphysical “backbone” supporting such life advice. Take Epicureanism, according to which the world is composed of atoms and void, with gods not taking an active role in human affairs. It would make sense that, according to such a worldview, neither fearing the gods nor fearing death—to take two key components of this school’s teachings—is paramount.
In my opinion, if you want to dig deep and lay down ethical foundations likely to last, then you must address the more fundamental question: what is your worldview? Just as René Descartes famously claimed that you need to build your belief system on secure grounds, so too, I would argue, you must do the same in shaping your philosophy of life.
While this is easier said than done, this is where philosophy, in the sense of a field of thought, can inform your worldview. That’s why I recommend reading texts from a plurality of philosophical traditions, such as Stoicism, Epicureanism, Buddhism, Existentialism, and others.
Ultimately, the answers you come up with must resonate with you. Studying an assortment of theories without testing them in real life will lead you nowhere.
I know this first-hand. As I describe in an earlier essay, in my thirties, I experienced an existential crisis, which raised the question for me: why live? I scoured a range of texts—classics like Tolstoy’s account of his turn to faith in A Confession and Camus’s secular defense of life’s worthwhileness in The Myth of Sisyphus—as well as contemporary works, such as Susan Wolf’s writings on meaning in life and Lars Svendsen’s on boredom. In the end, the answer that helped me the most was one I found in William James’s pronouncement: “Believe that life is worth living, and your belief will help create the fact.” For me, the prospect of contributing to something larger than myself, even if such a prospect was founded on faith more than fact, helped me reclaim my will to live. Thanks to his essay “Is Life Worth Living?”, I saw that crafting a life of purpose would lend me the strength to go on despite the tragic aspects of the human condition: death, evil, and the like. Once I gained greater insight into the meaning of my life, I could return to the more mundane task of improving how I lived.
My point in describing this experience is not to foist James upon anyone. Rather, it is to show that reflecting on your worldview—addressing issues like the existence of a god or gods, the problem of evil, the significance of your mortality, or your relationship to others—is the first step in creating a life worth living. Philosophy as a field is rich in insights on these topics. In the end, however, it is up to you to respond to these issues and answer the question: What is your philosophy of life?
As much as this resonates, I think I want to stick up for the idea that people with no inclination to craft a philosophy of life--people who never went through anything like the existential crisis you did, and who stick pretty close to the values and priorities they picked up through osmosis from family and/or community--can have lives perfectly well worth living.
Perhaps there's some version of "don't scratch what doesn't itch" that applies here. For somebody in the predicament you described, I think the kind of advice you're offering here may be just what's needed. But for somebody who is already happily pursuing various projects, and hasn't subjected their goals to any sort of philosophical critique, I'm not at all sure I'd expect they'd typically be better off if they did so.
Excellent post! Now to read William James's essay!