> Philosophy's purpose is to search not for an answer to the surface questions (and when you're doing it right, everything becomes a surface question) but to dive deeper into questions of what lies beneath those questions, what assumptions we make when we use certain words or claim certain beliefs.
I really see this as a problem. It should be possible to teach critical thinking with more engagement with the world. Anyone can poke holes. It's much harder and more worthwhile to submit patches.
Reminds me of something I recently read:
>If you had gone to Epictetus and said, "I want to live a good life. What should I do?" he would have had an answer for you: "Live in accordance with nature." He would then have told you, in great detail, how to do this.
>If you went to a twentieth-century analytic philosopher and asked the same question, he probably would have responded not by answering the question you asked but by analyzing the question itself: "The answer to your question depends on what you mean by "a good life," which in turn depends on what you mean by "good" and "a life." He might then walk you through all the things you could conceivably mean in asking how to live a good life and explain why each of these meanings is logically muddled. His conclusion: It makes no sense to ask how to live a good life. When this philosopher had finished speaking, you might be impressed with his flair for philosophical analysis, but you might also conclude, with good reason, that he himself lacked a coherent philosophy of life.
I really see this as a problem. It should be possible to teach critical thinking with more engagement with the world. Anyone can poke holes. It's much harder and more worthwhile to submit patches.
Reminds me of something I recently read:
>If you had gone to Epictetus and said, "I want to live a good life. What should I do?" he would have had an answer for you: "Live in accordance with nature." He would then have told you, in great detail, how to do this.
>If you went to a twentieth-century analytic philosopher and asked the same question, he probably would have responded not by answering the question you asked but by analyzing the question itself: "The answer to your question depends on what you mean by "a good life," which in turn depends on what you mean by "good" and "a life." He might then walk you through all the things you could conceivably mean in asking how to live a good life and explain why each of these meanings is logically muddled. His conclusion: It makes no sense to ask how to live a good life. When this philosopher had finished speaking, you might be impressed with his flair for philosophical analysis, but you might also conclude, with good reason, that he himself lacked a coherent philosophy of life.