Remarks

While academic philosophy has a place in philosophy, its method and mode of inquiry constitute merely a subdivision—a species or specification—of philosophical inquiry itself. In many cases, academic philosophy even diverges from genuine philosophical inquiry, particularly as it trends toward increasing specialization. There is a sense in which over-specialization erodes philosophical inquiry, as it shifts attention away from fundamental questioning toward technical refinements that often lose sight of philosophy’s larger aim.

The root of this problem lies in overlooking the domain of discourse of philosophy. Aristotle identified this many years ago in his formulation of first philosophy (prote philosophia) as inquiry into “being as being (to on he on)”. In modern times, this is interpreted to mean that the purpose of philosophy is to study the “big” questions: Why is there anything at all? Does God exist? Why do I exist? What is the purpose of my life? What is the nature of right and wrong? What is knowledge? And so on. 

In contrast, the specialized sciences abstract particular aspects of being and study them in isolation from the whole. They ask not about the whole of that which is, but about some part of it—physical bodies and organisms, quantifiable objects, historical states of affairs, and so on.

Academic philosophy today has become a highly specialized discipline, adopting the methods and structure of the sciences. Yet, philosophy is not a science, and as a result, academic writing often takes on a distorted form—an awkward mimicry of scientific discourse. Unlike the sciences, which specialize according to the nature of their subject matter, academic philosophy specializes by constricting its very mode of inquiry. The resulting discourse becomes insulated, operating within a dialogue that no longer engages with the whole. It fractures into specialized subfields that micro-analyze problems of diminishing significance, often losing sight of any broader framework of truth.

In losing sight of the whole, philosophical inquiry becomes self-referential, producing discourses in which opposing views serve merely as intellectual counterpoints rather than as pathways to truth. Justification is sought not in the larger context of a complete theory, but in the procedural standards of academic scholarship—historical contextualization, citation-based epistemology, and absolute precision of argument. These methods, while having value within definable limits, become ends in themselves, often obscuring the very reality they seek to illuminate (which in some cases even defy precision).

Another fundamental difficulty with academic philosophy is its tendency to abstract from the lived existence of the philosopher. Modern scientific methodology promotes a model of detached inquiry, where the investigator is indifferent to its objects of study. While philosophy indeed values knowledge for its own sake, when this pursuit is severed from its practical and moral foundations, the philosopher risks becoming a lived-contradiction in relation to his or her own philosophical views. A philosopher that remains purely theoretical, divorced from the lived commitments of being a philosopher, fosters a form of hypocrisy—preaching ideas without embodying them. Worse still, once stripped of its moral grounding, the philosopher’s pursuit of truth becomes susceptible to unexamined ideological influences. Unaware of how external moral and social principles shape inquiry, the philosopher may unknowingly steer toward skepticism or dogmatism (being two sides of the same coin), or even nihilistic views, insofar as philosophical questioning has become detached from the existential and ethical grounds that originally give it meaning.

A crucial distinction must in turn be made between academic scholarship and the larger domain of philosophical literature. The academic scholar primarily engages with the opinions of other scholars, analyzing, critiquing, comparing, and synthesizing these views into new ideas. While this process is essential for the refinement of ideas, it often remains confined to critical commentary, rarely advancing beyond ideas of ideas to the examination of things themselves. Scholarship tends to produce isolated theses, each contributing to a growing body of literature but seldom engaging with philosophy as a unified, holistic endeavor.

In contrast, a brief survey of the history of philosophy reveals the rich diversity of literary forms through which philosophers have expressed their ideas. Plato’s dialogues, Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura, Boethius’ Consolation, the Scholastic method of St. Thomas Aquinas, Pascal’s Pensées, Leibniz’s Monadology, Nietzsche’s aphoristic reflections, Wittgenstein’s Tractatus—the list goes on. These works, each unique in style and structure, are widely esteemed among philosophers. Yet, when it comes to expressing our own philosophical thoughts, we turn almost exclusively to academic writing and compel one another to do the same. One must ask: Why do we do this? Is it necessary, or merely a bias of the times?

Genuine philosophical theory as I see it should be grounded in an overarching vision of the whole. It must be free to interrogate fundamental assumptions, to transcend disciplinary boundaries, and to reconnect with the lived reality of the philosopher. Only in this way can philosophy fulfill its true purpose: the pursuit of wisdom, guided by a love of truth that is not constrained by the prevailing modes or fashions of the day, but shaped by the intrinsic demands of human nature and lived existence.

As R.G. Collingwood observed in An Essay on Philosophical Method, “The language of philosophy is therefore, as every careful reader of the great philosophers already knows, a literary and not a technical language” (Martino Publishing, 2014, pp. 206–207). Philosophy, in its literary form, occupies a space between science and poetry. It is not merely the technical writing of the scientist or mathematician, for it carries also the creative thought of the poet. Yet, it is not wholly surrendered to the poet’s passion and imagination. Rather, it dwells in the in-between—a form of prose that seeks to articulate both the graspable and the ineffable. I deeply sympathize with this view.

Yet today, philosophers (myself included) often confine themselves to the rigid imitation of scientific method, as if philosophy were only valid when reduced to critical analysis, the amassing of citations, and technical precision. But perhaps a touch of poetry is needed—a space for wonder, intuition, and the play of thought beyond strict formalism.

So let us poetize a bit and see where it leads. And if we falter, so be it. The ascent of any great mountain is not without its pitfalls. But if we do not climb, we will never reach its highest peaks.