What Is Philosophy?

An Essay on the Self-Abolition of a Discipline

A Plea Against Arbitrariness

If you want to know what philosophy is, you might consult Wikipedia. What you find there is rather dispiriting. No clear definition, but a succession of traditions, epochs, schools. There is Western philosophy, Eastern philosophy, African philosophy, feminist philosophy, analytic and continental philosophy. The message between the lines: philosophy is whatever calls itself philosophy. Each tradition defines for itself what it means by the term.

This sounds tolerant, inclusive, open-minded. But it is intellectual bankruptcy.

The Self-Contradiction

The claim that philosophy cannot be defined deserves closer examination. It sounds modest and tolerant. It is a logical disaster.

Let us assume the claim is true. Philosophy cannot be universally defined because everyone who philosophises develops their own view. Then it follows: every definition is as valid as any other.

Let us further assume that a certain Mr Miller philosophises. Mr Miller says: “Philosophy is exclusively the systematic study of blue cartoon characters with white hats. Everything else is not philosophy.”

According to our assumption, Mr Miller is right. It is his view of things, and it is as valid as any other.

But now something interesting follows. According to Mr Miller’s definition, the Wikipedia definition is not philosophy. For it does not concern Smurfs. It concerns the question of what philosophy is – and that, according to Mr Miller, is not a philosophical question.

So we have one definition that claims all definitions are equally valid. And we have another definition that claims only one is valid. According to the first definition, both are equally valid. But the second excludes the first.

This is a contradiction. The position that wishes to permit all positions must also permit the position that does not permit all positions. Thus it abolishes itself – like a chair whose legs are made of ice, in a heated room.

The Consequence of Arbitrariness

If everything that calls itself philosophy is philosophy, then one cannot distinguish philosophers from charlatans. Then the esotericist who rambles about “cosmic energies” is as much a philosopher as Aristotle. Then the ideologue who immunises his worldview against every objection is as much a philosopher as Popper. Then every crank who calls his thoughts “philosophy” is part of the venerable tradition that began with Thales.

The discipline loses all standards. And with them, its reason for existence. Why do we need philosophy if it no longer distinguishes itself from non-philosophy? Why read books? Why examine arguments, if any blogger with sufficient self-confidence can make the same claim?

The relativists’ answer would presumably be: there simply are different claims, different traditions, different truths. But that is not an answer. It is capitulation before the question.

Whoever says “everything is valid” also says: nothing differs from anything. This is not tolerance. It is the surrender of thought.

Back to the Origin

The Greeks, who invented the word, saw things differently.

Philosophy begins, as far as we know, with Thales of Miletus. His question was: what is the world made of? His answer – that everything is water – is wrong. But the question is decisive. It addresses reality, what is, and it seeks a rational answer.

Anaximander, his pupil, asked further: where does everything come from, and where does it go? Anaximenes asked about the fundamental principle of change. Heraclitus investigated becoming, Parmenides being. Democritus developed an atomic theory. All these thinkers posed questions about the world – not about a delimited sub-area, but about the whole.

There was no separation between philosophy and what we now call science. Thales predicted a solar eclipse. Anaximander drew the first world map. Democritus theorised about the structure of matter. This was philosophy – and at the same time what would later be called astronomy, geography, physics. The distinction did not exist, because in essence it does not exist.

Aristotle brought this project into systematic form. In the Nicomachean Ethics he defines Sophia – wisdom – as the combination of Nous and Episteme: rational insight into first principles, combined with systematic knowledge derived from them. Sophia is rational knowledge about “the most honourable objects”, by which he means the fundamental structures of reality. And Aristotle himself wrote about physics, biology, astronomy, logic, politics, poetics – all was part of the same project.

Thus we have a criterion that runs through the entire history of philosophy: philosophy concerns reality. What is. Comprehensively, without exceptions.

This excludes much. Suppose someone researches the social structure of Smurf society. Is Papa Smurf a democratically legitimised leader or a benevolent autocrat? These are certainly complex questions. But they are not philosophical questions. For Smurfs do not exist. Knowledge about fictions is not knowledge about reality – just as a detailed map of Middle-earth, however meticulous, does not constitute geographical knowledge.

The Criterion

So we have a criterion. Philosophy is the rational investigation of reality. But what does “rational” mean? This too is a philosophical question – and it is not trivial.

Here the remarkable self-reference of philosophy comes into play. Philosophy asks not only about the world, but also about the conditions under which we can know the world. It asks: what is knowledge? What distinguishes knowledge from opinion, from belief, from arbitrariness? How can we ensure that our statements about the world actually have something to do with the world?

These questions are themselves philosophical. And the answers have developed historically. We have become better at understanding the conditions of rational knowledge. Philosophy has – in a centuries-long process of self-reflection – sharpened its own standards.

The best criterion we have found so far comes from critical rationalism. And it can be summarised in one sentence: nothing may immunise itself against criticism.

Critical Rationalism

Karl Popper recognised that we cannot verify statements about the world. We may observe as many white swans as we like – that does not prove that all swans are white. A single black swan refutes the statement. But that is precisely the point: we can refute statements. The criterion for meaningful statements about the world is not verifiability, but falsifiability.

A statement so formulated that no possible observation could refute it says nothing about the world. It is not false – it is empty. It immunises itself against reality by securing itself against every possible objection.

Hans Albert extended this thought beyond science. The prohibition on immunisation applies not only to empirical theories, but to every form of knowledge. Whoever claims to know something must be able to state under what circumstances they would be wrong. Whoever cannot or will not do so is not pursuing knowledge – they are pursuing dogma.

The Münchhausen Trilemma

But how do we know that critical rationalism is the right criterion? Must it not itself be justified?

Here lies a deep insight, also formulated by Hans Albert: the Münchhausen Trilemma. Every attempt to justify a statement leads to one of three problems:

1. Infinite regress: The justification itself needs justification, which in turn needs justification – ad infinitum.

2. Circularity: The justification presupposes what it is supposed to justify.

3. Termination: One breaks off the chain of justification somewhere and declares an unjustified statement to be the foundation.

There is no escape from this trilemma. Ultimate justification is impossible. This applies to every position – including critical rationalism itself.

But critical rationalism is the only position that acknowledges this. It claims no ultimate justification. It says: we have no certainty, but we have criticism. We can subject our theories, our convictions, our methods to examination. We can find errors and correct them. We can improve.

This is not a weakness, but the only intellectually honest position. Whoever claims certainty where none can exist deceives themselves – or others.

Examples of Immunisation

These considerations remain abstract as long as we consider no examples. But the examples are numerous – and they often come from the heart of what calls itself “philosophy”.

Take Hegel. His dialectic is so constructed that contradictions are not objections, but confirmations. If someone says: “That is contradictory”, the Hegelian replies: “Of course, reality is dialectical.” The contradiction becomes proof. Thus the system is immunised against all criticism. It cannot be refuted – not because it is true, but because it is built to absorb every objection.

Or Heidegger. His language is so obscure, so full of neologisms and apparent depth, that one can never be sure whether one has understood him. Criticism is deflected with the suggestion that the critic has not thought deeply enough, is trapped in “das Man”, has not “hearkened” to “Being”. This is not philosophy. It is an immunisation strategy, disguised as profundity.

Or postmodernism in all its varieties. Derrida, Foucault, Lyotard. If everything is text, everything interpretation, everything power discourse – then there are no longer statements about reality, only perspectives. Whoever says: “That is false” thereby proves only that they are trapped in the power discourse. Whoever says: “That is contradictory” has not understood that coherence is merely a Western construct.

This is not a different philosophy. It is the negation of philosophy. It is anti-Sophia: not love of wisdom, but dissolution of every truth claim. The result is not knowledge, but unknowability. Not wisdom, but arbitrariness.

The Irony of Inclusion

Thus we return to the Wikipedia definition and its supposed open-mindedness. One wishes to avoid cultural Eurocentrism. There should be not only Western philosophy, but also Eastern, African, indigenous philosophy. This sounds fair, respectful, inclusive.

But what actually happens? If each tradition defines for itself what philosophy is, then the Western tradition too is merely one among many. Its criteria – rationality, consistency, falsifiability – then apply only to itself. Other traditions may have other criteria. Or none at all.

The result is the precise opposite of what was intended. Instead of genuine intercultural dialogue – which would presuppose that there is something common against which statements can be measured – one gets a juxtaposition of incommensurable traditions. Western philosophy says: “This is rationally justified.” The other tradition says: “That does not apply to us.” End of dialogue.

Genuine respect for other traditions would mean taking them seriously – examining their statements, criticising them, discussing them. This presupposes that there are standards that apply to all. Relativism makes this impossible. It is not respectful, but indifferent. It says in effect: “Your tradition is your affair, ours is ours.” That is not a bridge, it is a wall.

Philosophy Encompasses Everything – But Not Everything Is Philosophy

Let us be clear. The definition advocated here is not restrictive, but liberating. It does not say: philosophy concerns only certain “big questions”. It says: every question about reality, treated rationally, is philosophical.

This means: the empirical sciences are part of philosophy. In antiquity this was self-evident. Physics was “natural philosophy”, biology and medicine belonged to the philosophical canon. Only in the modern era did science emancipate itself from philosophy – or rather: split off. This separation is a historical accident, not a necessary relationship.

Science is empirical philosophy. It investigates reality with the means of observation and experiment. But it requires foundations that are not themselves empirical: logic, epistemology, methodology. And it produces results that must be interpreted: what does quantum mechanics mean for our understanding of causality? What does evolutionary biology mean for our understanding of purpose and function? These are philosophical questions.

The physicist who reflects on the interpretation of their theories is philosophising. The biologist who asks what “natural selection” actually means is philosophising. The neuroscientist who investigates the relationship between brain and mind is philosophising. The boundaries are fluid, because fundamentally there are no boundaries – only division of labour.

But – and this is the decisive point – the criterion remains. Rational investigation of reality. Statements that can be tested. Criticism that is not deflected, but answered. Whoever does not do this is not doing philosophy, whatever they may call themselves.

Conclusion: The Dignity of Philosophy

Philosophy has a dignity that it should not allow to be taken from it. It is the oldest intellectual enterprise of humanity: the attempt to understand the world and to improve in that understanding. From Thales, who asked what everything is made of, to today’s debates about consciousness, free will, artificial intelligence – it has always been about rationally penetrating reality.

This aspiration is demanding. It requires clarity, honesty, the readiness for self-correction. It requires that one state what would count as failure. It requires that one regard criticism as a gift, not an attack.

This excludes much of what today calls itself “philosophy”. It excludes the system-builders who seal their constructions against every objection. It excludes the verbal acrobats who mistake obscurity for depth. It excludes the relativists who consider the very claim to truth a power discourse.

But it includes much. It includes everyone who honestly strives for knowledge – whether at a university or outside one, whether in the Western tradition or another, whether professional philosopher or interested layperson. The criterion is not academic title, not cultural origin, not membership of a school. The criterion is: do you seek knowledge about reality? Are you prepared to be corrected?

If so, then you are a philosopher. If not – then call yourself what you will. But do not claim the name of a tradition you betray.