This resonated with me more than I expected. However, it was not because I came to philosophy the same way, but because I came to philosophy out of necessity and circumstance.
I wasn’t introduced to philosophy in a classroom. I was introduced to it in hunger, grief, and the dissonance between what I was told the world was and what I lived through. Where others found Plato in a syllabus, I found fragments of meaning in stolen library hours, late-night YouTube lectures, and notes scratched between shifts at work.
Philosophy didn’t feel like a field; it felt like a raft. When nothing else held, it gave me something to hold onto: not just answers, but the right questions. I’m not a professor, but I’ve built my life as a kind of philosophical witness. I write, I build, I question systems. And like you, I see philosophy as something that must reach beyond the academy and into the streets, into the commons, into our daily choices.
So I appreciated this piece. Thank you for showing how even through different doors, we may still arrive at the same house.
I've been interested in philosophy since I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance about a hundred years ago. Since then I have read dozens of books on philosophy from histories like Russell's and Durant's to ancient philosophers in the original like Plato and Lucretius and modern's like Dennett and Singer. I felt like it was time to learn some philosophy for real, so I signed up for a philosophy degree with The Open University, thinking it would be a good hobby to have when I retire. Maybe I'll go on to a PhD.
I still love philosophy. I like reading the books and I love writing the essays, but I'm struggling to see the point in philosophy now. There seems to be about one important paper every ten years but the rest of it seems about as important as a game of Sudoku. Reading a paper is still interesting, but it's as interesting as talking about the Experience Machine down the pub with a few friends. I can get really into a subject for about a week if I have an essay to write, but I can't imagine all those philosophers writing paper after 20-page paper in a journal about why Nozick was wrong. Day after day. Year after year.
So now I don't know what to do. Should I go on to do that PhD? Or should I go back to sitting in my armchair and reading Plato?
Your honesty really struck me. I came to philosophy by way of necessity, not curriculum; it was more out of pain than plan. For me, it wasn’t a hobby or a degree. It was survival. And that’s precisely why your post matters.
If you’re wondering what to do with your love of philosophy, I’ll offer this: the world is starving for real thinkers. Not just cleverness, not just argument for argument’s sake but wisdom, insight, conscience. If you have the gift to trace a thought, to ask why when others accept what is then you’re already more than a student. You’re a steward.
In a time when systems are collapsing, when truth is commodified, when despair is quietly growing in so many lives, the philosopher’s work can’t stay in journals. It needs to be where the wounds are. I don’t mean preaching; I mean showing up. Helping people think more clearly, live more meaningfully, and see through what they’ve been told is inevitable. That's not just a good use of philosophy. That might be its highest purpose.
Whether that’s through a PhD or an armchair, I think the answer to your question isn’t academic. It’s moral. What will you do with the clarity you’ve built?
Because philosophers aren’t needed less now. We’re just needed elsewhere.
This resonated with me more than I expected. However, it was not because I came to philosophy the same way, but because I came to philosophy out of necessity and circumstance.
I wasn’t introduced to philosophy in a classroom. I was introduced to it in hunger, grief, and the dissonance between what I was told the world was and what I lived through. Where others found Plato in a syllabus, I found fragments of meaning in stolen library hours, late-night YouTube lectures, and notes scratched between shifts at work.
Philosophy didn’t feel like a field; it felt like a raft. When nothing else held, it gave me something to hold onto: not just answers, but the right questions. I’m not a professor, but I’ve built my life as a kind of philosophical witness. I write, I build, I question systems. And like you, I see philosophy as something that must reach beyond the academy and into the streets, into the commons, into our daily choices.
So I appreciated this piece. Thank you for showing how even through different doors, we may still arrive at the same house.
Thanks, Ben, for sharing your reflections on this piece. Glad it resonated with you.
I've been interested in philosophy since I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance about a hundred years ago. Since then I have read dozens of books on philosophy from histories like Russell's and Durant's to ancient philosophers in the original like Plato and Lucretius and modern's like Dennett and Singer. I felt like it was time to learn some philosophy for real, so I signed up for a philosophy degree with The Open University, thinking it would be a good hobby to have when I retire. Maybe I'll go on to a PhD.
I still love philosophy. I like reading the books and I love writing the essays, but I'm struggling to see the point in philosophy now. There seems to be about one important paper every ten years but the rest of it seems about as important as a game of Sudoku. Reading a paper is still interesting, but it's as interesting as talking about the Experience Machine down the pub with a few friends. I can get really into a subject for about a week if I have an essay to write, but I can't imagine all those philosophers writing paper after 20-page paper in a journal about why Nozick was wrong. Day after day. Year after year.
So now I don't know what to do. Should I go on to do that PhD? Or should I go back to sitting in my armchair and reading Plato?
Your honesty really struck me. I came to philosophy by way of necessity, not curriculum; it was more out of pain than plan. For me, it wasn’t a hobby or a degree. It was survival. And that’s precisely why your post matters.
If you’re wondering what to do with your love of philosophy, I’ll offer this: the world is starving for real thinkers. Not just cleverness, not just argument for argument’s sake but wisdom, insight, conscience. If you have the gift to trace a thought, to ask why when others accept what is then you’re already more than a student. You’re a steward.
In a time when systems are collapsing, when truth is commodified, when despair is quietly growing in so many lives, the philosopher’s work can’t stay in journals. It needs to be where the wounds are. I don’t mean preaching; I mean showing up. Helping people think more clearly, live more meaningfully, and see through what they’ve been told is inevitable. That's not just a good use of philosophy. That might be its highest purpose.
Whether that’s through a PhD or an armchair, I think the answer to your question isn’t academic. It’s moral. What will you do with the clarity you’ve built?
Because philosophers aren’t needed less now. We’re just needed elsewhere.
Thank you, Ben. There's still a lot of reading in my future. Lots of writing too. Maybe i’ll find something significant to write one day.
Check-out Barrett Culmback’s Substack! Philosophical/Spiritual ideas, often humorously presented!