phlogma

A young social scientist (with Marxist leanings), Nicole, asks about the difference between philosophy and psychology

The most obvious difference is that psychology considers itself a science. Philosophy is not science. As sciences go, psychology is one of the youngest and, some say, it grew out of a branch of philosophy. Up until very early in the 20th century, in fact, the two were not even separate academic departments, and there were some philosophers who famously practiced both, William James, for example. Perhaps, that is why there is still some confusion about their respective domains. Perhaps, it is because they both purport to concern themselves with the “mind” in some sense.

But their notions about “mind” and what matters or is important about it are radically different. Psychology, like all sciences, stakes out a part of the observable world and says “this is what I study”. Entomologists study bugs. Etymologists study the history and development of words. Ethnologists study cultural groups… Psychologists have chosen to study human behavior and emotions (and belief and thought to the extent they manifest themselves in these) and their interaction. Like all sciences, it can only pretend to study what is observable, can be experimented with, and can be quantified. (Though, it is true, the foundational notions and methods of all the sciences, from physics to biology, all got their start from philosophy.) Psychology is no different.

But philosophy is not so limited in its focus or methods. In fact, when a philosophy begins to harden in it methods, it is on the way out as philosophy: it is on the path to becoming a science. Philosophy is also much, much older. There was a time when it was called the “queen of the sciences” (even before mathematics and theology). There is a case to be made it still is. It is in fact the mother of all the arts and sciences. It was born when our first hairy ancestors began to ask questions: why this, that, and the other? Not merely in the spirit of self-interest. Not just how things happen so he could understand them better or so she could exploit them better. (Out of those impulses grew science and technology.) But just because she wanted it to make sense or because it could be almost painful not understanding or because she could ask and because sometimes it was enjoyable to her imagining what the answers might be and what they might not be. Philosophy is the supreme luxury. When you have enough to eat, and drink, and it does not seem the world is, at that precise moment, out to kill you, and your worry about tomorrow has exhausted itself for the day, you might turn with disinterested wonder to the fact that bugs, words, people, you, yourself exist at all.

The tools of philosophy are not techniques for quantifying. They are the capacities to think clearly, to notice disinterestedly, to imagine explanations, to subject them to criticism, to recognize what is important, to determine what depends on what, to never stop asking, and to be conscious of oneself doing all these things. (All this used to be referred to by the quaint word “wisdom.”) Philosophy subjects itself and every other field of human inquiry or endeavor to constant questions about their respective assumptions. It asks the artist why this is beautiful and that is ugly when what used to be ugly is now beautiful. The scientist why he thinks his theory is right when so many of his teacher’s teachers have died before him thinking the same thing about their, now superseded, theories. It asks the economist why it is better to consume beyond what one needs to stay alive, why money matters so much beyond this to so many. To the politician it poses the question why it is necessary to lie to do his work. To the citizen, “lucky” enough to live in a democracy, why she complains of the politician whose moral capacity so perfectly mirrors hers. It asks the believer why he needs to believe in God. The atheist how come she is so sure. The agnostic why he thinks he can get away with not choosing. It asks of everyone why they just don’t kill themselves tomorrow. It asks those contemplating suicide what they hope to accomplish. And why they have waited so long. And why they bother since if they just wait long enough it will happen anyway. And if they do kill themselves, it asks their friends and relatives why they feel so guilty or why they think that dying sooner is any more selfish than dying later. To the lover, the question why this person of a million others. Of a woman, why do you care about the relations between people to the point where you cease to know who these people are. Of men, what is your real business here—since you are responsible for most of the misery and death in history. Philosophy will torment everyone endlessly… Of the cynic, why so sad, whence such dashable expectations…

Psychology would not distress itself with questions like these. Psychology, if we can believe what we are sometimes told, is not about tormenting, it is about “healing”. So, you see, one mustn’t confuse the two.

Marx had a hard time justifying such excess, he had this luxury.

Certainly, the twist I give the definition of philosophy above does not quite comport with conventional academic philosophy. But when I use the term “philosopher” I have in mind something like “artist” and when I use the term “professor of philosophy” almost always I have in mind something like “museum curator”. Here is how that calling has been defined, “Museum curators are responsible for preparing, researching and exhibiting materials from the natural and cultural world so that they may be better understood by the public. They also ensure that rare or unique specimens or works are preserved for future study and appreciation. In this way they are really responsible for retaining the legacy of a wide variety of selected objects for the future good of humanity.” We need museum curators, don’t get me wrong…

I would be tempted to say the practice of philosophy is concerned with exposing hypocrisy and forgetfulness if whatever the opposite of these terms was not itself of ambiguous value—or even existed. The “true philosopher” like the artist knows no unself-imposed boundaries to his subject or his method. There is only a rhapsody of questions he or she is compelled to ask.

Are all philosophical questions discomfiting? Yes, that might be a distinguishing mark.

Why isn’t philosophy presented quite so baldly in academia? Oddly enough, because only amateurs can be found there—fans, enthusiasts, if you will, people who dabble but rarely beyond the point where questions cease being civil. For they want to eke out a living from a subject which by its nature resists being made use of in that way. Since when do people pay you to unnerve them?

Cf. Luno, Philosophical Notebook XII, sec 152.