When you find yourself fixated on an idea in philosophy--a better definition of justice, an error in Hume's logic, or the result of some paradigm shift between one philosophical era and another--do you become a moron? It would be pretentious to call myself a philosopher, but I spend quite a bit of time reading and trying to figure out whether or not my favorite philosophers made as much sense as they seem to at first glance; the more headway I make, the more often I stare blankly at the microwave trying to figure out what buttons to push to heat up my coffee. Do real philosophers go through this? Or do you function better in the world when you have been wrestling with brain puzzles?

Thanks for your good question! In answer to, "Do real philosophers go through this?", the answer is yes, definitely. Any intellectually challenging problem tends to make a person less able to get along practically. This has been observed as far back as in Ancient Greece with Aristophanes making fun of the philosophers in _The Clouds_. This is true of philosophy but I suspect it is equally true of other demanding fields like mathematics. Just as cell phone users tend to be unsafe drivers, philosophers who are deeply engaged with a problem do well to refrain from things like operating heavy machinery, perform surgery, operate microwaves, make marriage proposals, and so on. Most of use who have been through graduate school in philosophy have stories to tell about our professors who violated this rule. One of mine left his car engine running for four hours while he was in his office. Luckily for him the thing just ran out of gas rather than overheating. Anyway, I suggest you make your meals...

Dear established philosophers, I would like to be an established, professional philosopher some day, by which I mean I want to teach philosophy in a university. I have studied history at degree level but realised in my last year that philosophy is for me. I have been accepted to study for an MA in History of Philosophy at King College London. I have heard that the road to being an academic philosopher can be a difficult one. This question may be unanswerable to any of you for any number of reasons, but what should my next step be? What should I being doing in the run up to, and during, my MA to improve my chances? Is a PhD the best, or only, thing to do after an MA? Any advice would be greatly appreciated!

Thanks for your question. KCL is an excellent program. If your aspiration is to become a professional philosopher in a relatively traditional sense, meaning teaching and doing research in a university, then I'd say the best things to do are the following: 1. Read voraciously, and *actively*, so that you are always thinking of ways in which one might challenge the author's position. Think of reading philosophy as a conversation, not as an activity in which you're at the receiving end of information. 2. Surround yourself with other students who are passionate about philosophy and spend lots of time discussing issues--before or after class, in pubs, on walks, etc. At least half of what you'll learn is in conversation with peers. 3. Make sure that at least six days/week, you have three or four hours of uninterrupted thinking time to read and/or write about philosophy. (Writing is a central part of your craft, and you should be doing it constantly. And then do it some more.) 4. Go...

Is it significant that great modern philosophers like Descartes, Leibniz, Spinoza, Hume, Kant, Hegel, and Wittgenstein were all unmarried? Is there an incompatibilty between major philosophical standing and the state of matrimony? Once a guy has savored the consolations of philosophy, does the idea of a wife leave him cold?

You're not the first one to observe a negative correlation between being an eminent philosopher and being married! If there's an explanation for this, I suppose my armchair sociology would lead me to expect it has to do with the fact that philosophy is both fascinating and challenging, and has a way of making its practitioners obsessive. In this way, it's perhaps a bit like mathematics. Both are topics that it's quite hard to just forget when you leave the office or study. As a result, it might not be so much that the idea of a spouse leaves one cold, but that one doesn't have the energy to pay attention to a spouse after wrestling with a philosophical problem for days or months. On the other hand, Berkeleywas married, Locke never married but was involved with Damaris Cudworth, and Mill was married. More recently, Quine and Rawls were married. At any rate, my point is that there are plenty of exceptions to your rule, and many of us who have savored philosophy also find great of appeal in...

Is it that philosophy is competitive or is it just the way in which we (as humans) have come to be in general that is competitive? I'll try and spell out the distinction. My professor seems to vie for his idea. Descartes defends his position. Hobbes attacks Descartes' idea. Spinoza attacks both. There are dissertational "defenses". These are just a few examples of competitiveness in philosophy. Are humans just competitive? But if we are trying to get at truth, how does competition help? I can't understand why I feel the need to be the smartest person in my class. If I am not, I feel anguish and despair. Is it that anguish and despair come from losing and philosophy for me is just a competition and for other people it is not that way at all? But that is not true. Does philosophy harbor competition, and if it does, is it intrinsically flawed? Would art be a better way to get at truth? But art is competitive too! Is existence, then, a Schopenhauerian nightmare--endless striving to overcome, when...

As with any other academic discipline, limited resources (salary pools, tenure, endowed professorships and the like) make for competition. I doubt that philosophy as a field is more competitive than many others that are current. Further, when in the past philosophy was practiced outside of universities, competition could also be discerned just as was the case, at that time, in mathematics, astronomy, and other emerging fields. (Just think of how much European jealousy Ben Franklin provoked with his advances in the study of electricity.) However, I don't see that any of this justifies Schopenhauerian pessimism. Rather, the pervasive endeavor to improve on the work of others is, at least in some cases, motivated by the drive to get better answers to enduring questions. I don't see anything inappropriate about that. Of course it is possible to get caught up in the chase, and to get obsessed with what, in at least one translation, Plato refers to as "outdoing". On the other hand, a nagging...