An Introduction to Philosophical Thinking, Part I

Content notes: This series is intentionally opinionated and exploratory in nature. It is not intended as an academic treatment of philosophy, nor as a rigorous defence of particular positions. Instead, it serves as an accessible introduction to a handful of philosophical ideas and ways of thinking, aimed at casual readers who are curious about philosophy but may not wish to engage with formal proofs, technical debates, or scholarly conventions.

At various points in life, we are forced to make decisions without having enough information to be confident in the outcome. We consider advice from others, assess risks to the best of our abilities, and attempt to justify our choices and assumptions—often subconsciously.

Similarly, many disagreements persist not because the parties involved lack information, but because they reason differently. This has been a particularly troublesome issue in the modern era as we are increasingly expected to form opinions on complex topics—scientific, political, or moral—often on the basis of incomplete information and confident assertions made by others we encounter through television or the Internet.

Philosophy becomes useful precisely at this level. Not because it provides answers to such situations, but because it teaches us how to identify the structure of an argument, or even on a higher lever, how to think and reason consciously.

Now, most people will never become philosophers—and that is, of course, perfectly fine.

We do not study maths or physics at school because we expect to become mathematicians or physicists, but because learning how to think clearly, reason carefully, and recognise mistakes in our thinking turns out to be useful in day-to-day life too.

Similarly, learning philosophy—particularly its methods of questioning and argument—can be beneficial in everyday life. Philosophy, however, often arrives late to our lives—if it arrives at all. By the time we encounter it, many of us assume it belongs either to ancient texts or academic debates.

That being said, for those who do decide to pursue philosophy more deeply or academically, well-established paths and abundant resources already exist. On the other hand, people who do not wish to formally study philosophy are left with far fewer options, many of which are not especially accessible to casual readers.

There are a few reasons for this. Philosophy is generally considered a craft that requires many years of practice, which often discourages authors from writing for casual readers. Furthermore, the benefits of familiarity with philosophical thinking aren’t apparent to all readers, resulting in lower demand for such books and papers.

Finally, philosophical ideas are increasingly presented by commentators who claim more authority than they possess, often in simplified forms that appear profound to those unfamiliar with philosophy.

This means that even topics and ideas that could be digested by casual readers are often reduced to oversimplified, or occasionally misleading presentations, that may further prevent someone from learning what those concepts are and how they came about.

Platforms such as YouTube have played a significant role in the rise of this kind of content, enabling creators to earn substantial amounts of money, sometimes with limited incentives to prioritise quality or accuracy.

In this environment, techniques such as sensationalism are frequently adopted, as they tend to be rewarded by algorithms designed to maximise engagement.

It is also worth noting that some celebrity scientists have played a similar role for decades.

Some have built considerable personal brands by adopting tones that depart from academic norms, leaning toward alarmism or sensationalism. Such approaches are frequently justified through appeals to academic authority, despite the fact that the subjects discussed are often contentious even within specialist communities.

About the Series

In this series, the goal is to make philosophy more accessible by focusing on techniques it offers that can be applied to everyday life, drawing from one of humanity’s oldest intellectual traditions.

Although the title may suggest only philosophical discussions—as you will see—it would be difficult to avoid discussing topics such as maths or science whilst going down the philosophy route.

That being said, this series will not make you a philosopher, per se. To become a philosopher, you will have to learn a wealth of knowledge, partly because without knowing what has been discussed before you, it will be very difficult to communicate with others who have studied philosophy.

Think of it this way: anyone can sing. Similarly, you can pick up a musical instrument and start making your own music. However, once you want to engage with the rest of the musicians, you could greatly benefit from knowing at least some music theory.

Sure, it could help you with making your own music as well, but it could become a significant hurdle if you don’t understand basic music theory and have to explain your ideas each time to someone else instead of simply referring to it by its technical name.

In this series we will explore the essence of philosophy—and by extension, some other fields as well—more like a singing session than a lesson on music theory as the intention here is not to make one a philosopher.

What is Philosophy?

Before concluding the first part, it would be appropriate to agree on what we mean by philosophy.

For a long time, I considered philosophy to be the art of asking unanswerable questions. My rationale was that if a question could be answered, then it belonged to mathematics, physics, or another branch of science.

You could also think of it this way, in a more extreme sense: when a philosophical question appears to have a definitive answer, it may be because the question has moved beyond philosophy into a more formal or empirical domain—or because we have convinced ourselves of an answer through imperfect reasoning.

I still believe this is a valuable mindset, as an excessive focus on finding answers^[1] tends to amplify our desire for closure, making our thinking increasingly vulnerable to bias and flawed thinking.

More recently, however, I have come to see philosophy as a discipline governed by strict constraints on methodology and assumptions—constraints that prevent unjustified leaps, category shifts, incoherent reasoning and alike.

Consider a simple example. If someone were to claim that plants are conscious beings, I would accept or reject that claim not according to my own beliefs or understanding of the world, but on the reasoning by which the conclusion was reached.

In other words, my response would depend less on the claim itself than on the reasoning and evidence used to support it.

This is quite the opposite of how debates often unfold in everyday discussions: “I say this because I know it is true, and you are wrong because you disagree with me.”

To think like a philosopher, you must learn how to probe the methods and assumptions on which a conclusion is based, rather than checking those answers against what you already know.

Failing to do so may lead you to adopt what I would call a “read-only” mode of thinking. This refers to electronics, where some types of memory are read-only, whilst others allow their contents to be updated as required.

If you only agree or disagree with others based on what you already know, you are effectively acting like a read-only component in an electronic device and it would be extremely difficult to change your mind through reasonable argument alone.

In Part II, we will compare philosophy with other scientific fields, examining their similarities and differences in order to continue improving our understanding of what it really means to think like a philosopher.

Footnotes

1. Often called The Need for Cognitive Closure (NFC) in psychology. ↩︎