This is Not a Pipe Podcast: Philosophy Outside Academia

Philosophy works like a drug. It’s mind-altering. It’s addictive. And there have always been certain groups vying to monopolize the market.

If we stick with this analogy, This Is Not A Pipe podcast is a street-corner hustler trying to connect curious passers-by with a potent product. It’s long been a pet project of mine to seek ways of engaging communities that, for various reasons, see themselves as outside the scope of philosophy and social theory. I still vividly remember my desire to pursue graduate studies and thinking to myself, I’ll either get into a program and read books for the rest of my life or I’ll have to find a job and be done with it. Of course, that kind of thinking is problematic. But I doubt I’m the only one who approached philosophy in that way.

Elite universities can look a lot like big pharma in certain aspects. They put a ton of resources into developing new products and then work diligently to patent and copyright everything. It costs large sums to access libraries and databases and receive accreditation. It’s no surprise that many people feel removed from this field and skeptical of the benevolence it purports. It can be intimidating. And it can seem like, if you’re not part of a select group, you might as well not bother.

This Is Not A Pipe tries to make conversations accessible. That’s not to say dumbed-down (or diluted, to sustain the metaphor). I want to demonstrate that if you’re not able to physically sit down with Amy Allen at Penn State to talk about her thoughts on progress or to discuss the meaning of life with Todd May at Clemson, you can still have a seat at the virtual table. This is your opportunity to hear what they have to say in a relaxed and informal setting. No tests or quizzes. That’s not why we’re doing this.

One thing I’ve learned through the podcast is how generous philosophers can be with their time. Many are happy to discuss ideas and talk candidly about hard choices they made while writing their books. The published material is always a small fraction of what they’ve really been considering. Getting to know more about how they’ve approached their work and experienced their daily lives in relation to their theories is fascinating. I loved hearing Stacy Alaimo’s story about visiting Copenhagen each year and describing to environmentally conscious scholars how her Texas neighbors have been busy attaching metal phalluses to their truck hitches and testing how dark they can make their emissions. I learned that Tony D Sampson, a brilliant author working on digital design, doesn’t own a cell phone. He unplugs on his train ride to work rather than let the media he studies consume his every moment.

The philosophers I interview are very impressive. Their work is amazing. But, at the end of the day, Alfie Bown plays Splatoon 2 and Nicholas Greco puts on a Bowie album to unwind. Now, Bown proceeds to see problematic capitalist overtones in the game while Greco considers how Roland Barthes might describe the experience. Not things everyone does during their spare time. But hearing how philosophy and everyday life become intertwined in these ways is an important reminder to me that philosophy is not “out there.” It’s intrinsic to all of us. It’s simply a question, as Harold Innis used to say, of asking why it is we attend to the things we do.

Of course, I’m not the first person to compare philosophy to drugs. Jacques Derrida famously described writing as a sort of narcotic in “Plato’s Pharmacy.” Pharmakon, from the Greek φάρμακον, can refer to a remedy or a poison. In the Phaedrus, writing seems to fit that description. Presenting his invention of writing, Theuth says, “O King, here is something that, once learned, will make the Egyptians wiser and will improve their memory; I have discovered a potion for memory and for wisdom.” The king replies, however, “Since you are the father of writing, your affection for it has made you describe its effects as the opposite of what they really are.” Plato’s vicarious critique of writing stems from the fact that written words can’t answer questions. They can’t provide additional responses or alleviate confusion. That’s why Socratic dialog is so great. Every question or repartee leads to a deeper understanding of the subject. The irony, of course, is that all of Socrates’ conversations would be lost to us if Plato hadn’t written them down.

Today, podcasts are a wonderful way to partake in conversations whenever and wherever you want. They allow us to engage people at the speed of light, regardless of their status or schedule. It’s not without its faults. There is a lot of noise out there. And it’s not the same as walking side by side on the outskirts of Athens with your interlocutor. Sometimes it seems people are simply shouting into the void.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

I decided to start this podcast after staying in a hotel one night and turning on the TV to a Fox News commentator bellowing about something he clearly didn’t understand. I thought, people can’t really be this ignorant. And they’re not—for the most part—except that television benefits from dumbing things down to attract a larger and more susceptible audience. Podcasts are quite the opposite. Now, it’s true that I make about a dollar a month from Amazon’s affiliate program. So it’s not like I’m going head-to-head with major broadcasters. I couldn’t do this without the privileged position of a professorship at a small liberal arts college. But this also means I’m not placating multinational advertisers or scaring people into listening to me.

I can talk about biopolitics, machine learning, Victorian séances, and just about anything else. I can engage in philosophical musings that bring together curious people. Maybe they’re in school. Maybe they never got there. Maybe they hold advanced degrees. Or maybe this is an early foray into the discipline. The most rewarding emails I’ve received are from former students who miss our discussions and now listen to the podcast to get their fix. I also hear from people who stumbled upon This is Not a Pipe and now read the books before interviews, asking if I can find out how Nick Sousanis was able to write his dissertation as a comic or if Patrick Lin et al. would use robot cars if they could. It’s a fun kind of engagement with the audience that keeps me motivated.

Philosophical dialogs are something I’m not ashamed to be hooking people on. Listeners were probably going to try them anyway so why not experiment from the safety of their Bluetooth earbuds or car speakers? If they wind up getting more involved, applying to graduate school or submitting a paper to a conference, that’s great. It’s also fine if they dabble with it occasionally on weekends. Either way, the first episode is always free—actually, they all are.