The Transformative Power of Philosophy

Democrat or Republican? Pro-life or pro-choice? Back the blue or defund the police? Support drag shows or homophobic ideas? News, social media, and laypeople sound as if we have to choose between being for or against something. As if there is no nuanced third position. As if there is no middle ground. Many of us are stuck in echo chambers. Our society is polarized.

Philosophy can save us. When calculators were made publicly available, some people questioned the point of learning to do arithmetic by hand. Now that ChatGPT and other LLMs exist publicly and readers can’t distinguish humans from machines, some people are questioning the point of learning how to think for oneself. In my light, the existence of a category of being that can think (algorithms) does not undermine the importance for other beings (humans) to think. Humans are the creators and users of self-driving cars, smart TVs, and other algorithmic systems; thus, it is our responsibility to think critically about AI ethics. We don’t need to ask, “Can AI think?” Wrong. Now that AI can think, we have more need for human thought.

Here, I’ll highlight my pedagogical goals and strategies, and some challenges I face teaching philosophy.

Teaching critical thinking is my main intention in all my philosophy classes, whether it’s environmental ethics, logic, or philosophy of religion. Every person should learn the meaning, value, and practice of critical thinking. Teaching critical thinking fits my other goals, such as fostering open-mindedness, promoting intellectual humility, motivating people to diversify their perspectives, and encouraging empathy. These are my pedagogical goals because I believe that philosophy (and other humanities courses) should humanize students.

I teach my students theories, theories that contradict those theories, and nuances in between. And I do not share my personal views on any of it with my students. Philosophy professors teach Kant even though he is racist, and we teach Aristotle even though he defended enslaving humans. We teach Nietzsche, Fanon, Frege, Heidegger, and Schopenhauer, despite these famous philosophers being morally flawed as persons. We separate the person from the philosopher. There is value in learning the big ideas divorced from the philosopher’s personal biases. There is value in learning false ideas. Similarly, philosophy professors should separate their personal beliefs from what they teach in their roles.

Some scholars argue that it’s not a problem for professors to reveal personal views to students because professors do not have the power to indoctrinate students. I disagree.

By teaching only one side of a topic or what we believe, we risk inadvertently misshaping minds. We need to prepare our students for the future. The future inevitably includes topics unfathomable to us currently. By teaching students how to think instead of what to think, students can employ their thinking skills after graduation to solve problems that don’t yet exist.

By teaching only two sides of a topic, we risk further polarizing society, leaving people vulnerable to mental manipulation through false dilemmas and other similar logical fallacies. Another risk with bothsidesism is that students may conclude each position is equally reasonable.

Teaching students how to think without telling them what to think equips them with mental skills to become curious about the right kinds of things, ask the right kinds of questions, to the right people, at the right time, in the right way, and scrutinize assumptions to the right extent and pursing wisdom for the right reason. When done well, philosophy is a transformative experience; to me, that means teaching at least three ways to see each topic.

Philosophy professors can transform society one student at a time by teaching students how to charitably articulate differing views on controversial topics and to empathize with people who hold differing views. By making students better philosophers, we’re making them better human beings.

Leading by example is my main strategy for teaching my students how to philosophize. I model critical thinking for my students by speaking my reasoning aloud.

For illustration: a student asks, “What is epistemology?” On the classroom computer whose images are being projected for the students, I pretend it’s my question and search “epistemology” in Google. I read the search results aloud. Step by step, I explain aloud why I ignore the result that is “sponsored” and why I select the “.edu” compared to the “.com” to learn more. Students learn how to think in their own minds by hearing me think.

I employ the same strategy for questions about race, gender, abortion, drag shows, religion, and other topics that spark strong reactions. Start by entering the topic into a search engine and analyze the sources themselves before selecting one to dig deeper. Take the frame of mind of three different people; and through each lens, find ways to compliment and critique each position. Students will learn how to uncover and question assumptions regardless of the content being contemplated. Regardless of the content, students become critical readers, writers, and thinkers.

The emergence of AI has not led me to delete essays from my assessment tools. To inspire students to think for themselves, I lead by example. In class, I log into OpenAI. I paste my homework assignment into ChatGPT3. I read the results aloud and grade it according to my rubric. I verbally notice insufficiencies. I show my students how to translate the results into their own words, leading by example. Students realize that we could change the paragraph’s entire meaning by changing a few words; each word matters.

The first of three challenges I face is that some students lack effort. My goal becomes to ensure these students do not impede the learning of others.

A second challenge is poor attendance. Philosophy can be a transformative experience, but expanding the minds of students requires their presence. Consider my week on religion. Monday, I teach an argument against God’s existence. Wednesday, I teach an argument for God’s existence. Friday, I teach an argument that you should believe in God regardless of whether God exists. A student who skips one day risks bothsideism, or onesideism by skipping two days. The magic that happens during class is not replicable by a toneless email response to “What did I miss?“.

Diversity in terms of ethnicity or religion is helpful for achieving my goal of inspiring students to engage with ideas that are different than one’s own. But what about diverse levels of preparedness?

A challenge I embrace involves teaching a class comprised of students with diverse learning styles and academic backgrounds. Imagine a class where one student could excel in advanced philosophy courses at prestigious institutions but opts for community college courses to manage expenses, another student is a fifty-year-old returning to school embarking on a career change, and a third is a sixteen-year-old dual enrollment student.

I am committed to meeting the unique needs of each student while striving for a uniform educational experience. My strategy for accommodating less prepared students includes summarizing assigned readings in concise videos which I post on my YouTube channel. Students can adjust videos for slower viewing, captions, and translations, and students can take screenshots to reduce extensive notetaking while learning. This strategy accommodates different learning styles as well as diverse levels of preparedness.

Being a philosophy professor is truly fulfilling work. When done well, philosophy transforms students. Every day I enter the classroom or log into it, is a gift. One student at a time, I’m making the world better.

Sahar Joakim

Sahar Joakim is Assistant Professor of Philosophy at St. Louis Community College. Prior, Professor Joakim taught at St. Louis University, Southern Illinois University (Edwardsville), and Jefferson College. Beyond teaching, she tends to her research and her YouTube Channel.