Why We Need Philosophy Communication
An open letter to philosophers
When was the last time you read a snappy op ed by another philosopher surgically dismantling a topical issue or slamming a public figure for shoddy reasoning?
Yeah, I can’t remember either.
This is not to say you aren’t writing occasional missives about the “real world”. But you’re largely doing so in specialist journals or on personal blogs. You’re effectively writing to each other and a tiny self-selected choir rather than to the public at large.
Yet, if philosophy has a practical value (and I feel strongly it has many), it is as a force for clarity. Philosophy can carve the world into thinkable chunks, it can clarify concepts, highlight assumptions and presuppositions that lurk beneath our notice, and tease out sloppy thinking where it taints our reasoning.
In a world informed by popular media brimming with partisan pundits and professional opinionators, philosophy can offer a breath of reason that can bring genuine progress to stalled debates.
Yet philosophers are largely absent from the great popular debates of our times. Issues such as inequality, the future of work, our relationship to nature or religion or technology, understanding cultural identity and ideological conflict, or even just understanding our values and ensuring they actually direct our behaviour, all these are fundamentally philosophical issues.
We have countless politicians, celebrities, scientists, journalists and business people, all weighing in on these issues. But where are you? Where are the philosophers?
Stuck in the tower
There are probably several reasons why philosophers aren’t more prominent in mainstream media.
For one, you’re not rewarded professionally for engaging with a non-academic audience. Here in Australia, as in many other countries, the funding bodies that provide the lifeblood of academia don’t tend to recognise popular writing in their metrics. Only peer-reviewed journals and book chapters — perhaps the odd conference presentation — count towards professional advancement.
So in the hyper-competitive job-starved world of academic philosophy, driven by a publish-or-perish mentality, there is often only cost and no benefit in spending time penning an op ed rather than beavering away on another journal article.
But that can’t explain everything. After all, scientists face the same problem. And yet scientists appear frequently in the popular press, speaking on issues both within their field and without.
My impression is that there is still a culture within academic philosophy that dissuades many philosophers from engaging with the media or the public directly, and that needs to change.
I have noticed something of a cultural resistance to the “vulgarisation” (to use the literal term, in the sense of making something appeal to the “common folk”) of philosophy. An ivory tower mentality that can see any attempt to make the inevitable complexities of philosophy accessible enough to the masses as a debasement of philosophical standards.
Those philosophers who do walk the grounds beyond the tower — A. C. Grayling, Alain de Botton, Slavoj Žižek, among others — are often lambasted by thinkers as being frauds or lightweights.
I have observed many academic philosophers keep their heads down and their sights set on impressing their peers rather than making an impression on the masses.
This may be exacerbated by the tendency to divorce philosophy from matters of real world significance and to retreat into niche technical debates that are largely only of interest to other philosophers (and sometimes not very many, at that).
In 1947, John von Neumann wrote of mathematics:
There is a grave danger that the subject will develop along the line of least resistance, that the stream so far from its source [the “real world”] will separate into a multitude of insignificant branches, and that the discipline will become a disorganized mass of details and complexities.
He might have been speaking of much academic philosophy today.
That said, I’m not suggesting you ought to change what you’re doing. You can work on whatever you please, and whatever gets you funding. There is merit in blue-sky thinking, both intrinsically and occasionally in the form of knock-on benefits (say, inventing a new idea that changes politics forever).
But the point is that much of what you’re doing — like pure maths — is unrelated to the realm of everyday experience, so I’ve noticed that some of you feel unqualified to comment on it.
That seems a shame. Because you do have a lot you can say. And you have the tools to say it well.
Popular science
A couple of decades ago the scientific community was in a similar place to philosophy today. There were only a few “science popularisers”, and many were shunned for rubbing shoulders with the masses. Carl Sagan was famously overlooked by the National Academy of Sciences when it came to doling out Fellowships because of his public profile.
Yet, there was an eventual realisation that science needed to do better at communicating with the general public. Perhaps motivated by the ongoing debate between creationism and evolution, scientific institutions were motivated to make greater efforts towards outreach.
This was further buoyed by the public’s apparent appetite for popular science. Books by Stephen Hawking, Paul Davies and Richard Dawkins became best sellers, and magazines like Scientific American and New Scientist grew fat with subscribers.
Scientists came to realise the media had an important role to play in communicating science. The media could not only inform the public of new discoveries, but it could educate them about the scientific method, and it could boost the visibility, esteem and trust of science as an institution.
Then came the advent of “science communication” as a profession unto itself. These were scientifically literate communicators whose sole purpose was to bridge the gap between academia and the general public. There is now an entire industry around science communication, with post-graduate degrees, and science communicators are employed in most major scientific research institutions.
I’d suggest philosophy needs a similar awakening to the importance of outreach, and a similar commitment to what we might as well call “philosophy communication.”
Popular philosophy
That said, there are likely to be a few significant differences between science and philosophy communication.
The primary function of science communication is to report the latest scientific discoveries to the public, from the observations of space probes through to the latest efforts to cure cancer.
Philosophy communication can perform a similar function to science communication in this respect, particularly reporting on areas with a close connection to contemporary issues, such as ethics or artificial intelligence. But the public will probably be less interested in the latest discussions in metaphysics or in rival interpretations of Wittgenstein’s later works.
Rather, the primary function of philosophy communication is to bring philosophical thinking to bear on contemporary issues. It can apply the tools of philosophical discourse to debates that are currently bogged down in partisan bickering or corrupted by sloppy thinking. It can help peel back the rhetoric to reveal the substantive arguments (or lack thereof) underneath.
Through philosophy communication, you can resume your role as the social gadfly.
In doing so, philosophy communication can also act as an exemplar of a different way of conducting discourse. It can demonstrate by doing that debates need not be laced with personal invective, that views can (and should) be contingent on evidence and reason, and that certainty itself is often a sign that something has been over-simplified.
There’s no question this is a tough ask. There is no shortage of irrationality or cynicism today that will work counter to the ends of philosophy communication. But to take that as cause not to engage is to give the high ground to those who deserve it least.
Crucially, philosophy communication can also help elevate trust in the institution of philosophy itself. Philosophy is currently perceived by many to be irrelevant. That it has been superseded by science. Philosophy departments around the world are shrinking — or closing — as limited funds are diverted elsewhere.
Philosophy should be taken seriously. You should be respected as valuable members of society, not have to hide or apologise for your profession at parties (as I have done more than once). So you can prove to the public the genuine worth I know you have simply by talking to them more.
Roles
If you’re interested in getting involved, here are a few roles you might take. I’ve bundled them into four categories, although they’re hardly exclusive or exhaustive.
The first is the Opinionator. This differs only slightly from an op ed writer, except it brings a lot more rigour to the role.
The Opinionator presents their views, but does so in the form of an argument. That view might be advanced strongly, but only in proportion to the strength of evidence and reason supporting it. The Opinionator attacks the views and arguments of others, but never the people holding those views.
Another role is as the Clarifier. This isn’t about expressing new ideas as much as helping us better understand existing ones. Instead of arguing for or against legal recognition of same-sex marriage, for example, the Clarifier might tease apart our definition of marriage, or the significance of legal recognition.
In this way, the Clarifier is somewhat akin to the “explainer journalist” of philosophy. Except instead of drawing on history and theory to give context to some story in the media, the Clarifier draws on philosophy to reflect on the concepts, definitions and arguments being presented in the press.
Then there’s the Stirrer. This is more like the traditional gadfly: someone who deliberately seeks to stimulate debate by injecting notions that are currently out of bounds in the current debate.
You can think of the Stirrer as seeking to shift the Overton window. If the current debate on same-sex marriage is restricted to whether the state ought to recognise it or not, the Stirrer might interject and suggest the state ought to have nothing to do with marriage at all.
Finally, there’s the Thinker. They explore and reflect on ideas that don’t receive enough attention in our fast-moving media cycle. They pause to consider deeper issues, challenge us to think or perceive things in different ways or just offer up conceptual nuggets to chew on.
Some of the most popular science writing is about matters of little practical significance, but which are intellectually stimulating. Few of us need to know what Pluto’s mountains are made of, or what creatures populate the bottom of the ocean, or what dark energy really is. But knowing — even trying to know — can be enriching. Likewise the nature of time, reflections on personal identity or the mysteries of consciousness.
Doing it
If you’re a philosopher and you’re interested in getting involved in philosophy communication, here are a few tips to help get you published.
First, when considering what you want to say, think about what kind of role you want to play, and what kind of medium would suit that best. Sometimes you need a couple of thousand words in a glossy magazine to get your Thinker point across. Most of the time 700 words on a news website will have far more impact if you’re an Opinionator or Stirrer.
Daily papers may have prestige, but they’re also in decline. Online outlets may seem “cheaper”, but they’re growing and often have significantly larger — and global — audiences.
One of the most important things is to consider the outlet’s audience. Picture a stereotypical reader of that outlet and think about what they know, what they don’t, what they’re interested in and how they might respond to what you want to say. Then write your pitch to the editor.
Some publications might accept unsolicited stories, but most prefer to receive a pitch first, so the editor has a chance to shape the story before it’s written. So I always recommend pitching before writing.
When pitching, write two to three sentences max. Frame it in terms of how it’ll appeal to the publication’s audience and its relevance to them — because I can guarantee that’s what the editor will be thinking about when they’re reading your pitch. If you help them in that task, your pitch is more likely to succeed.
Then, do what the editor wants. In time, as the editor comes to trust you more, you might be able to push back if you have a different approach in mind. But, at least at first, just do what the editor wants. If you deliver what they want, on deadline and on word count, you’ll already be doing a better job than most professional writers (believe me, it’s true), and the editor will love you for it.
Over time, you should build a relationship with the editor. Become a dependable source of quality copy for them. Deliver what they want, and they will begin to turn to you with ideas of their own, and trust your judgement when you pitch something wild.
And if an editor ever asks you do write something you don’t think you can deliver, then decline it. Turning down an opportunity is not a big deal — writers do it all the time — but delivering something half-baked or overdue can be fatal to your relationship.
Some outlets pay. Others don’t. Online portals rarely do. That sucks. But in this respect, you’re in the same boat as everyone else. Don’t be afraid to ask for a fee, but don’t be surprised if there is none. If that bothers you, then don’t write. But if the satisfaction of inserting a solid think piece into the day’s conversation is enough, then consider any fee you do get a bonus.
If you want to pursue philosophy communication as a career, that’s different. But until philosophy communication is even a thing, you’ll just be a freelance writer with a twist, and you’ll be fighting over the same shallow pot of money. And this article is primarily targeted at philosophers, not professional writers.
When writing, tell a story. Give it colour and life. Fill it with your voice, with verbs, imagery and metaphor. Don’t force it though. I find picturing myself chatting to the stereotypical reader at the pub over a beer to be a good benchmark for tone and language for most outlets.
And never, ever use passive voice when you can use active voice instead.
Once published, do your utmost to promote it yourself through social media. Editors will appreciate that.
Engage with readers in the comments (if the story has them). Comments can be a cesspit, but ignore the trolls and respond to the genuine questions from interested readers. If someone rips into you because they’ve misunderstood what you’ve said, correct their misunderstanding but don’t try to defend yourself.
Don’t spend too long in the comments (for your own good), but a few measured and constructive replies can do wonders to your reputation with readers and the editor.
Time
We need philosophy communication. One day I can imagine it being held in the same esteem as science communication. I can see it being an industry unto itself, if not at the same scale as science.
But none of this will happen if it doesn’t get a start. Even then it’ll likely take decades; science communication is still fighting an uphill battle to be heard over the cries of the dogmatists, conspiracy theorists and the pseudoscience brigade. But it pushes on, and we’re better off for it.
So, to the degree that you care about the calibre of public discourse, to the degree that good ideas and good arguments matter to you, then you ought to care about philosophy communication. Support it, write it, promote it.
Because, no matter what issue is being debated, it’s made harder when we don’t think clearly about it. No matter what problems we’re confronting, they’re easier to solve when we view them through the lens of reason. You can benefit the world by helping it see through that lens. And hey, you might even get paid while you’re at it.
Dr Tim Dean is a Sydney-based journalist and editor with over 18 years experience in the media. He is currently Science and Technology editor at The Conversation. He also has a PhD in philosophy and recently received the Australasian Association of Philosophy Media Professionals’ Award for helping to promote philosophy in the popular press. He recently launched the philosophy group blog, Cogito, through The Conversation. He tweets at @ockhamsbeard.
This article is based on a talk delivered at the Australasian Association of Philosophy 2015 Conference held at Macquarie University in Sydney on in July 2015.
