When one confronts the philosophy major, there are usually plenty of individuals who think that it’s a pretty cool thing to study (which, in my case, is {thankfully} quite skewed towards this opinion), yet at some time in the philosopher’s life (yeah, you too) you’ll be confronted with the ultimate question all philosophers need to deal with: “How will you use your degree? And is it even useful?”

I don’t want to continue on the trope that everyone who asserts that philosophy is a useless career choice is misguided, misinformed, or sometimes misanthropic, which can be summarized as a general distaste for men.

Hell, even this blog’s title is based on a depressed Dane who laments man’s wasted potential! Why do philosophers need to be all doom and gloom? Well, in the vast majority of cases, that isn’t true.

In fact, it’s quite the opposite! Most philosophers can vary on a spectrum, from overqualification to underqualification and from saneness to absolute madness. Philosophy indulges in these extremes, which can frankly dissuade people from the practice. Being a self-professed “optimist” (not in Leibnitz’s understanding, but instead just generally being a good guy), I believe that philosophy can epitomize the human desire for happiness and the multifarious ways one can achieve such happiness. Yeah, you have to deal with some of the more significant problems in life, but a philosopher’s goal isn’t to just dwell on issues affecting others or the world at large, but to instead take those issues, critically analyze, research, and think about them, and view them in a renewed perspective that can offer potential solutions.

Disregarding schools such as the existentialists or the often-demonized nihilists (do stay tuned for more about them!), philosophers can easily meander to the ultimate question of “what does it mean to be happy” and quickly discuss that throughout multiple essays. Through this thorough analysis, more questions can arise than ever, which is a primary reason why philosophy still attracts many aspiring thinkers. There’s always something new to think about!

Well, now that I think about it, I think I’m doing the same thing. What was this supposed to be about? Oh right! Philosophers aren’t crazy people.

Being a philosopher shouldn’t separate you from humanity (sorry, Schopenhauer) but rather force you to realize how human you are. The philosopher might become lofty about their apparently superior knowledge, as would a gnostic priest, but philosophy is the opposite of preserving secret teaching: philosophy addresses the fundamental problems and issues all humans face.

As a consequence, many people can lose interest in reading about old, dead, white men (with the exception of the criminally few women philosophers who just so happen to fall in the accepted syllabus of required readings) because of that disconnect and loftiness. Over time, philosophers have asserted their ultimate knowledge of the world through their prescribed worldview, and despite their best interests or desires, people don’t like being told what to do, and they will ignore you with a passion.

Maybe, then, philosophy should have more Socrates-like figures. Or, better yet, emphasize the thinkers who don’t get the same air-time as other prominent philosophers!

St. Thomas Aquinas, commenting on Aristotle’s Nichomachaean Ethics (yeah, I know I just talked about emphasizing minor philosophers, and now I mentioned the two most prominent names in Western philosophy), gives an anecdote about the archaic and mysterious Thales – the very first person to think about things, apparently – as follows:

“When Thales was leaving his house to look at the stars he fell into a ditch; while he was bewailing the fact an old woman remarked to him: ‘You, O Thales, cannot see what is at your feet and you expect to see what is in the heavens?’”

The easy takeaway from this story, I argue, would be that philosophers can be too over their heads about even the simplest things, and many might agree with this perspective. However, I see this story as a way of not alienating philosophers but making them deeply human.

Thales’ only other action – besides falling into a well, of course – is looking at the sky at the stars. Thales becomes so fascinated by the world around him that he forgets his mortal bearings, and I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. This is distinctly different from thinkers like Schopenhauer, who entirely disregard humanity in that Thales becomes so amazed at the world around him that he forgets his humanity – not rejecting it.

Philosophers ought to behave in the same attitude as Thales regarding viewing the world and others around us, and I argue that if the philosopher even forgets that their humanity is the reason they have an occupation, I won’t listen to them. Why listen to someone who undermines their mind by asserting that the physical mind doesn’t exist?

Now, I’m not saying that I hate everyone who believes they have a soul (I believe that, funnily enough!), but rather that I can hate people who forget they’re human like the rest of us. That’s especially the case for stuffy philosophers.

From Aquinas’ preachings about enjoying the gifts we are disposed to in the world by God’s grace (especially beer, in Aquinas’ case, along with his weirdly devoted philosophers for some reason) to Žižek’s love of raunchy jokes (of which a sample can be found here) our humanity makes an essential part of who we are, since without that this entire field simply wouldn’t exist. We need to admire our humanity in a way that makes us think better about handling the good and evil in our world, not to an Epicurean extreme but instead just to appreciate the fact we’re breathing, reading, or moving in the first place.

Often, the phrase “memento mori” (literally “remember, you must die”) is used with a negative, depressing connotation. But I argue that it can be used to be thankful for our existence and being here. And I think that’s just beautiful to think about. ❧