In an era filled with technology—where the internet, smartphones, streaming platforms, and social media are widespread, where scientific progress and our understanding of the universe and our brains are continuously advancing, with robotics and AI approaching our own intelligence—one might question the importance, relevance, and contemporary value of philosophy. What does philosophy have to offer to a world leaning towards democratic, capitalist systems, with varying degrees of state control, a world dominated by energy-hungry powers on the brink of collapse?
What does it have to say to a world witnessing India, China, and Japan joining the exploration of space and the search for powerful and clean energy sources, alongside major European and North American powers? Writing a philosophy book for the general public in such a time is a bold move, both for the writer and for the institution that supports and promotes its publication. It is truly challenging—challenging because it must face the widespread prejudice that philosophy serves no purpose, and because it must compete with many other cultural products that are more widely applicable, more interesting, or more marketable.
Though it may sound cliché or repetitive, it is essential to mention these aspects when writing philosophy because those of us who are dedicated to it and want to make it accessible to a wider audience and spark their interest must confront this problem.
But then, what does philosophy offer the world today? In what way could it be useful or appealing? Without a doubt, philosophy is not as eye-catching as movies, TV shows, or social media. It is obvious that what has been considered philosophy up to now does not build bridges, produce food, or create jobs, at least not directly or evidently. This fact has led some to declare its uselessness once and for all, discarding it without even knowing it. But, on one hand, philosophy is useful, and on the other, our societies are filled with activities and products whose usefulness is doubtful, yet we still consider them valuable. This is the case with works of art, cinema, or music. Music, in itself, does not feed the hungry, nor can it build a bridge or solve unemployment. Yet, we value music to the point of paying for it, attending concerts, and admiring those who create it, even if it is unfamiliar to us. Someone might say that, in that case, music does have utility: its utility is to entertain, please, or express. But if that is so, then philosophy is also useful in that sense because it, too, entertains and pleases some. The difference is that music, cinema, and art can be appreciated much more easily and are more accessible to the general public.
To understand philosophy, one must dedicate time, effort, and patience. The appreciation of philosophy often comes after a lengthy period of engagement. However, since humans seek economy and practicality, we decide not to invest too much time, especially when we have urgent problems and do not perceive a reason to do so. From there, it’s just a small step to declare philosophy useless, and another to disdain it. And when we add to that its inherent difficulty, it’s easy to see why many who approach philosophy for the first time become frustrated, bored, or have an unpleasant experience.
Unpopularity, uselessness, consequences that few care about—all these are reasons why the general public does not like philosophy. Meanwhile, philosophers usually focus on their work and ignore the rest. They write philosophy for philosophers, not expecting another audience to engage with them, but if asked, they will say that their work is for those willing to make the effort to understand. They also often defend themselves by saying that philosophy is for the few, or that it doesn’t matter at all if people understand them. But even if they were understood, it remains difficult for ordinary people to read Plato or Aristotle directly without getting bored. This is another problem with philosophy: with some authors, there is no other way than to make the effort. The same goes for certain topics: some, by their nature, cannot be addressed or presented to the general public unless they have sufficient conceptual background to understand them. Therefore, it’s impossible to make all philosophy appealing and accessible to most people.
However, not everyone will become a philosopher; some just want to read a bit, learn something, broaden their knowledge, and understand. If these are the aspirations of the non-philosophical public when it comes to written works, why not offer them just that: something attractive and interesting so they can understand what philosophy says and has said? I believe that this is both possible and necessary. Philosophers should not only work within their circles, focusing on their respective topics—some dedicated to truth, others to interpretation, persuasion, or expression. They should also work for the public, to improve the image of philosophy and make it accessible to many people. Some philosophers may find this task disdainful, whether due to anti-capitalist or anti-market prejudices, or because they believe doing so would diminish their work. I respect those prejudices, but from my perspective, it’s important to combat error, and what deeply bothers me is the widespread prejudice people hold against philosophy, and the responsibility that falls on many philosophers for not combating that prejudice.
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