Why Philosophy Is Not An Option

On the inevitability of life choices.

Let’s begin with addressing the misconception that philosophy is some rarefied activity that conjures images of bearded men in togas yammering away about eudaimonia or some modern equivalent of professors smoking pipes in tweed jackets with elbow patches discussing nuances of the categorical imperative.

Photo by Alex Harmuth on Unsplash

For the purposes of this piece, that is not what I’m talking about.

The resurgence of Stoicism by public figures like Tim Ferriss and Ryan Holiday is some indication that there’s some modern and mass market appeal to philosophy. Like “peak oil”, though we’ve arguably passed the “peak yoga” commodification in the West, global and widespread interest in Eastern systems of thought and spiritual practices such as Buddhism, meditation and the so-called “mindfulness revolution” also underlie perennial interest in philosophy.

We’re all operating on some basis that informs our decisions – day to day, moment by moment – whether we know it or not and whether we would identify ourselves as having an interest in the philosophy of ethics or not. In the way I’m intending the term in this piece, you could think of your philosophy as a life operating system.

How much of that basis is conscious or unconscious?

How do you direct your attention, your time, your resources? How do you spend your precious energy? With whom do you invest your relationships?

Do you know why you do what you do, or is it mere habit, momentum and social convention?

To the extent that self-knowledge is possible, is it even a useful and worthwhile pursuit?

And perhaps most importantly and simply, are you generally happy more often than not? Or to put another way, how much do you suffer?

And while excessive self-reflection is also problematic, our lives are constituted by apparent choices we’re already making so we may as well glean some insight with a modicum of reflection every so often. As Socrates both said and ultimately died for, “An unexamined life is not worth living.”

As a hopefully amusing personal aside, though I’ve had nearly a lifelong draw to philosophy, I had virtually no interest in ethics or morality as a younger man. How dare the world impinge on my perceived freedom and tell me how to behave or how I ought to act? As has been astutely observed, our culture has grossly conflated freedom and licentiousness. 

It seems all so quaint and immature now. It was precisely the guidance I yearned for but didn’t yet possess the humility to sincerely seek and accept. This would have been around the early 2000s, and it wasn’t until many years later I could attribute some of my recurring ennui to postmodernist ideas I was exposed to then. There’s nothing quite like moral relativism to induce a sinking feeling of despondent nihilism.

Another idea that percolated during the creative process of this writing is hypocrisy quotient: the gap between what we think, say and believe about ourselves, and our outer behavior, habits and life circumstances. In a way, it’s practically applying the familiar idea of cognitive dissonance from psychology. It follows then that the more pronounced that discrepancy, the more dissatisfied I would expect you to self-report. We are often pushed and pulled in so many directions that we make little or no progress in any one of them.

I observe that although this piece purports to address our decisions, paradoxically there also happens to be a certain choicelessness in disposition as individual inclinations vary widely. Honestly, I have no idea why I am intrinsically drawn towards philosophy and this is not to persuade you otherwise if you have little interest in introspection.

To the uninitiated, I propose that our default philosophy is some variant of hedonism i.e. seeking out pleasure and avoiding pain. Developmentally speaking, I think this follows. Even at higher levels of executive function, most of the world seems to be running on this simple premise of endlessly chasing what we want and avoiding what we don’t want.

Paraphrasing Maslow’s hierarchy of needs – survival, comfort, social, growth – we’re mostly being run by our emotions and physiological drives – primal drives like hunger, thirst, sleep, and thermal regulation. A layer more sophisticated beyond that might entail sex drive, intellectual stimulation and entertainment, alongside social bonding and connection. Perhaps more abstractly still, we could posit such drives underpinning resource accumulation like wealth, status, fame, power. At the top of the pyramid lies self-actualizing, though late in his life Maslow discussed plateau experiences and self-transcendence, though that seems conspicuously absent in most images.

To elaborate, progress looks like the capacity to exert executive function – moving from the impulsivity of instant gratification and susceptibility to addiction to our capacity to delay gratification. At higher levels of achievement, it may abstract further into gratifications based on identity or affiliation, i.e. deriving pleasure from “being a good person” or “hard worker” or “high performer” or certain class membership (“six-figure earner”) and the set of behaviors that accord with whatever definition the individual accepts, whether explicitly or not. Conversely but also in parallel, this includes avoiding the pain of guilt and shame from the behaviors that fall outside that definition.

Then there are those kinds of people who seem to act virtuously without a second thought or even a hint of seeking external validation. Bless their cotton socks (organic and fair-trade, of course).

As long as we are caught in the churn of immediate gratification and short-term dopamine drips, we will never see and feel the depths of our own dissatisfaction and deeper yearnings. In a sense the capacity to endure unpleasant qualia is a necessary prerequisite before discerning, attuning and undertaking our life's greatest works. This is at the core of procrastination. It is less about managing our time and more about managing the physiological and psychological drives that buffet our mind and attention with its constant pressure of pushing and pulling. And it is less about managing, but rather cultivating our capacity to be with, to clearly see and know how little control we have over the very things we think we control. Remember that the etymology of compassion is to suffer with. So be compassionate with yourself and all your frailties and quirks and idiosyncrasies. Go gently but forthrightly.

Whether it's the loss of a loved one, being diagnosed with a terminal illness, acknowledging the inevitability of aging (if we’re fortunate) and death, or this very moment, these kinds of questions about your life choices will arise. It’s certainly natural to avoid such unpleasant inquiry. Frankly, it is a buzzkill. I would argue it’s worthwhile, but that’s a matter of opinion.