Below are some suggestions for those who are new to philosophy. Many of them come from anecdotal experience, but, in general, I have found them most helpful:
1. Make outlines
Wittgenstein once said that reading philosophy is a certain sort of agony. Like a lot of people who do philosophy, I find discussing and thinking about the subject matter rewarding and exciting, but reading can, in some cases, be a pain. Making outlines of your reading helps you in several ways: (i) it forces you to pay attention to what is being said, looking for a core argument and the important supporting points; (ii) it gives you something to refer back to after you've done the reading, since people, generally, tend not to retain the bulk of what they've read; and (iii) it improves your sense of how philosophical writing is structured and organized (and your sense of what counts as bad philosophical writing). Not taking notes is a bad idea; if you do not, expect yourself to zone out and forget what is being said.
2. Look things up
We are most comfortable learning things within the confines of what is familiar to us. Suppose Peter's only philosophy class has been a course on Descartes. Now suppose he enrolls in a course on Aristotle. He asks himself, as he is reading a passage from one of his works, "Is Aristotle a dualist?" Dualism is a term that comes from Descartes, but it really has nothing to do with Aristotle. Peter is trying to understand Aristotle in terms that are familiar to him, but he needs to leave those terms aside and learn new ones if he is to gain a better understanding of what is going on in the text.*
This is why it is important to look things up. Jot down the terms and ideas that are unfamiliar to you and Google them later. Check out the entries in the Stanford and Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Ask your professor what things mean, like "pro tanto" or "quiddity". Part of his or her job is to tell you. The more sophisticated your working vocabulary, the better you will become at assimilating new ideas and engaging in philosophical discussion.
3. Learn to write an essay
A good philosophical essay follows many of the same principles as any piece of college-level writing. Your primary task is to construct a clear, well-organized argument supporting a central thesis statement. While some variation is allowed, I often stick to the following rubric in my own work (as always, it is helpful to outline!):
i. Introduction. A good introduction usually does two things: (a) it states the main problem/question/issue/mystery that the paper will be dealing with, and then poses a solution/answer/resolution. The latter is the thesis statement.
ii. Background/exposition. Before diving into your main argument, give some background on the important terms, concepts, and/or discussions that you are addressing. Is your thesis intended to resolve a debate? Briefly tell us what the debate is. Are you going to reject skepticism? Give us an overview of the skeptical hypothesis. Pretend you are writing this for an intelligent reader who has no exposure to the subject-matter. Don't just summarize; analyze. Look for implicit premises or veiled assumptions behind the topic you are addressing that might not be obvious.
iii. Main argument. The body of your essay should consist of an argument that defends your thesis. Think of your thesis as a conclusion, and the body of the essay as a detailed set of premises in support of the conclusion. Be careful to avoid fallacies. N. B.: not all good arguments are valid. You may omit unimportant premises, or, depending on the needs of your thesis, use inductive logic.
iv. Objections and replies. This is not always required, but it is often helpful to entertain, and respond to, an objection or two to your argument. Don't pick weak ones; ask yourself what are the best objections you can think of. Make the strongest, most charitable case for them that you can. Then present your response. You may find that the best response you can come up with is not fully satisfying; where necessary, show modesty and admit the shortcomings of your argument.
v. Provide a conclusion that gives an overview of what your paper has accomplished, restating your thesis and the general trajectory of your argument. Think about what the reader should take away from the essay once she has put it down. You may also use this section of the paper to raise additional thoughts or concerns that may be of interest, but are beyond the scope of your paper.
4. Take a course or two in basic logic
In the previous section, I mentioned premises, conclusions, validity, and inductive reasoning. These terms should be familiar to you if you have taken a course in logic. Most universities that have a philosophy department offer such courses. While you do not need to be an expert logician to do well in philosophy, proficiency in the basics can help a person immensely and is crucial if she intends to major. Informal logic introduces one to the structure of argumentation (premises and conclusions), validity, deductive and inductive reasoning, and informal fallacies, which are crucial to assessing the strength of an argument and to be avoided in your own work. Symbolic logic introduces you to the rules of inference, which you can employ very fruitfully in your own work, and, in my experience, improves one's cognitive abilities. It also gives you a way to simplify and assess deductive arguments.
5. Put down the ax
Perhaps you have heard the expression "He has an ax to grind." This expression describes a person who is so obsessed with a certain opinion or topic that he brings it up even when it is not relevant. Consider a student in a bioethics class who feels very strongly about moral relativism. Throughout the class, the student continually voices his conviction that ethical claims are completely relative to a given society or individual. This frustrates his professor and peers, since they are interested in talking about bioethics, which has little to do with moral relativism. It also hurts the ax-grinder himself, since it makes him unwilling to learn about the important ideas in bioethics: paternalism, informed consent, justice, respect for autonomy, etc.
Putting down the ax involves several crucial skills, such as: (i) knowing what is and isn't relevant to a given discussion; (ii) a willingness to learn and discuss things outside of one's comfort zone; (iii) a willingness to listen to other people whose opinions are different from one's own. All of these are important to a student's philosophical progress.
6. Be cautious of easy answers
Beware of simple, catchall answers to philosophical questions. Though perhaps biased by my own opinions, certain forms of radical skepticism, subjectivism, and relativism are all instances of what I mean by easy answers. Suppose your professor asks you to interpret a specific passage from Plato, and you reply that it is impossible to interpret the passage because nobody knows anything. Congratulations, you have just earned an F! You have also shown a complete unwillingness to engage in philosophical thinking, which is what easy answers tend to do (tip #5 is relevant here).
7. Be polite
Philosophy is a polarizing subject. On occasion, people who find themselves in philosophical discussions will raise their voices. They might become hostile or shout at each other. Sometimes they will even say mean things to each other. While this behavior may sometimes be natural, it is bad behavior and should always be discouraged. Hostility hurts philosophy; it discourages shy students from participating, makes people uncomfortable, and, most important, is rude. Courtesy always supersedes the value of philosophical discussion. If someone you are talking to is raising his voice or being insulting, it is acceptable to withdraw from the conversation. Doing so sends an important message. Don't be that person.
In addition to staying calm, do not be dismissive, pompous, or derisive in your interactions with others. Listen to what they have to say and respond in ways that are respectful and show that you value their membership in the discussion.
8. It's not about being smart
When I began my Ph.D program, I was constantly worried that I was stupid. This was an unproductive attitude, and I have since stopped caring. Historically, people have often fallen victim to the stereotype of the philosopher as a genius who spouts profundities and impresses his audience with wit and insight. Such stereotypes are harmful. Among other things,
(i) They distract you from what should be your goal as you do philosophy: careful argumentation and close reading are replaced by an urge to impress your professor and/or audience with cleverness and flowery language.
(ii) They are discriminatory. It has recently come to light, especially thanks to the efforts of feminist philosophers, that the stereotype of the brilliant philosopher is, by and large, a white male. By subscribing to this stereotype, people are more likely to perceive women and minorities as less intelligent. This has brought about a climate problem in philosophy; fortunately, in recent years, a valiant effort has been underway to fix that climate problem. Demolishing the stereotype of the brilliant philosopher has been part of the effort.
(iii) They breed arrogance. If you think you are really smart, chances are you think you are smarter than other people. This will cause you to dismiss others' work, ignore criticism, and be derisive and pompous (see #7).
(iv) They intimidate people. Shy or modest students may be more gifted than they realize. Being in the presence of arrogance prevents these students from participating in class discussions and developing confidence. If your goal is to intimidate people, then you are a bad person.
*I looked back at this post a year and a half after writing it, and--now that I've had some time to appreciate De Anima--I've come to reconsider this claim about Aristotle and dualism. My point still stands, though I probably should have used a better example.
1. Make outlines
Wittgenstein once said that reading philosophy is a certain sort of agony. Like a lot of people who do philosophy, I find discussing and thinking about the subject matter rewarding and exciting, but reading can, in some cases, be a pain. Making outlines of your reading helps you in several ways: (i) it forces you to pay attention to what is being said, looking for a core argument and the important supporting points; (ii) it gives you something to refer back to after you've done the reading, since people, generally, tend not to retain the bulk of what they've read; and (iii) it improves your sense of how philosophical writing is structured and organized (and your sense of what counts as bad philosophical writing). Not taking notes is a bad idea; if you do not, expect yourself to zone out and forget what is being said.
2. Look things up
We are most comfortable learning things within the confines of what is familiar to us. Suppose Peter's only philosophy class has been a course on Descartes. Now suppose he enrolls in a course on Aristotle. He asks himself, as he is reading a passage from one of his works, "Is Aristotle a dualist?" Dualism is a term that comes from Descartes, but it really has nothing to do with Aristotle. Peter is trying to understand Aristotle in terms that are familiar to him, but he needs to leave those terms aside and learn new ones if he is to gain a better understanding of what is going on in the text.*
This is why it is important to look things up. Jot down the terms and ideas that are unfamiliar to you and Google them later. Check out the entries in the Stanford and Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Ask your professor what things mean, like "pro tanto" or "quiddity". Part of his or her job is to tell you. The more sophisticated your working vocabulary, the better you will become at assimilating new ideas and engaging in philosophical discussion.
3. Learn to write an essay
A good philosophical essay follows many of the same principles as any piece of college-level writing. Your primary task is to construct a clear, well-organized argument supporting a central thesis statement. While some variation is allowed, I often stick to the following rubric in my own work (as always, it is helpful to outline!):
i. Introduction. A good introduction usually does two things: (a) it states the main problem/question/issue/mystery that the paper will be dealing with, and then poses a solution/answer/resolution. The latter is the thesis statement.
ii. Background/exposition. Before diving into your main argument, give some background on the important terms, concepts, and/or discussions that you are addressing. Is your thesis intended to resolve a debate? Briefly tell us what the debate is. Are you going to reject skepticism? Give us an overview of the skeptical hypothesis. Pretend you are writing this for an intelligent reader who has no exposure to the subject-matter. Don't just summarize; analyze. Look for implicit premises or veiled assumptions behind the topic you are addressing that might not be obvious.
iii. Main argument. The body of your essay should consist of an argument that defends your thesis. Think of your thesis as a conclusion, and the body of the essay as a detailed set of premises in support of the conclusion. Be careful to avoid fallacies. N. B.: not all good arguments are valid. You may omit unimportant premises, or, depending on the needs of your thesis, use inductive logic.
iv. Objections and replies. This is not always required, but it is often helpful to entertain, and respond to, an objection or two to your argument. Don't pick weak ones; ask yourself what are the best objections you can think of. Make the strongest, most charitable case for them that you can. Then present your response. You may find that the best response you can come up with is not fully satisfying; where necessary, show modesty and admit the shortcomings of your argument.
v. Provide a conclusion that gives an overview of what your paper has accomplished, restating your thesis and the general trajectory of your argument. Think about what the reader should take away from the essay once she has put it down. You may also use this section of the paper to raise additional thoughts or concerns that may be of interest, but are beyond the scope of your paper.
4. Take a course or two in basic logic
In the previous section, I mentioned premises, conclusions, validity, and inductive reasoning. These terms should be familiar to you if you have taken a course in logic. Most universities that have a philosophy department offer such courses. While you do not need to be an expert logician to do well in philosophy, proficiency in the basics can help a person immensely and is crucial if she intends to major. Informal logic introduces one to the structure of argumentation (premises and conclusions), validity, deductive and inductive reasoning, and informal fallacies, which are crucial to assessing the strength of an argument and to be avoided in your own work. Symbolic logic introduces you to the rules of inference, which you can employ very fruitfully in your own work, and, in my experience, improves one's cognitive abilities. It also gives you a way to simplify and assess deductive arguments.
5. Put down the ax
Perhaps you have heard the expression "He has an ax to grind." This expression describes a person who is so obsessed with a certain opinion or topic that he brings it up even when it is not relevant. Consider a student in a bioethics class who feels very strongly about moral relativism. Throughout the class, the student continually voices his conviction that ethical claims are completely relative to a given society or individual. This frustrates his professor and peers, since they are interested in talking about bioethics, which has little to do with moral relativism. It also hurts the ax-grinder himself, since it makes him unwilling to learn about the important ideas in bioethics: paternalism, informed consent, justice, respect for autonomy, etc.
Putting down the ax involves several crucial skills, such as: (i) knowing what is and isn't relevant to a given discussion; (ii) a willingness to learn and discuss things outside of one's comfort zone; (iii) a willingness to listen to other people whose opinions are different from one's own. All of these are important to a student's philosophical progress.
6. Be cautious of easy answers
Beware of simple, catchall answers to philosophical questions. Though perhaps biased by my own opinions, certain forms of radical skepticism, subjectivism, and relativism are all instances of what I mean by easy answers. Suppose your professor asks you to interpret a specific passage from Plato, and you reply that it is impossible to interpret the passage because nobody knows anything. Congratulations, you have just earned an F! You have also shown a complete unwillingness to engage in philosophical thinking, which is what easy answers tend to do (tip #5 is relevant here).
7. Be polite
Philosophy is a polarizing subject. On occasion, people who find themselves in philosophical discussions will raise their voices. They might become hostile or shout at each other. Sometimes they will even say mean things to each other. While this behavior may sometimes be natural, it is bad behavior and should always be discouraged. Hostility hurts philosophy; it discourages shy students from participating, makes people uncomfortable, and, most important, is rude. Courtesy always supersedes the value of philosophical discussion. If someone you are talking to is raising his voice or being insulting, it is acceptable to withdraw from the conversation. Doing so sends an important message. Don't be that person.
In addition to staying calm, do not be dismissive, pompous, or derisive in your interactions with others. Listen to what they have to say and respond in ways that are respectful and show that you value their membership in the discussion.
8. It's not about being smart
When I began my Ph.D program, I was constantly worried that I was stupid. This was an unproductive attitude, and I have since stopped caring. Historically, people have often fallen victim to the stereotype of the philosopher as a genius who spouts profundities and impresses his audience with wit and insight. Such stereotypes are harmful. Among other things,
(i) They distract you from what should be your goal as you do philosophy: careful argumentation and close reading are replaced by an urge to impress your professor and/or audience with cleverness and flowery language.
(ii) They are discriminatory. It has recently come to light, especially thanks to the efforts of feminist philosophers, that the stereotype of the brilliant philosopher is, by and large, a white male. By subscribing to this stereotype, people are more likely to perceive women and minorities as less intelligent. This has brought about a climate problem in philosophy; fortunately, in recent years, a valiant effort has been underway to fix that climate problem. Demolishing the stereotype of the brilliant philosopher has been part of the effort.
(iii) They breed arrogance. If you think you are really smart, chances are you think you are smarter than other people. This will cause you to dismiss others' work, ignore criticism, and be derisive and pompous (see #7).
(iv) They intimidate people. Shy or modest students may be more gifted than they realize. Being in the presence of arrogance prevents these students from participating in class discussions and developing confidence. If your goal is to intimidate people, then you are a bad person.
*I looked back at this post a year and a half after writing it, and--now that I've had some time to appreciate De Anima--I've come to reconsider this claim about Aristotle and dualism. My point still stands, though I probably should have used a better example.
Nice, thanks!
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