I have recently started studying philosophy and found that it is increasingly isolating me from non-philosophically inclined people. I find it hard to stop thinking philosophically even in light conversation and become frustrated when people have simplistic views. It is becoming hard to enjoy mainstream entertainment, because the ideas that the entertainment is based on have a long history, much more interesting than the entertainment itself. Can someone who has been doing philosophy longer than me please tell me how to remedy this situation? I really love philosophy, but at the moment it feels as if I almost have to give up citizenship of the "normal" world. Is this isolation going to intensify through doing more philosophy, or is it at some stage going to become more tolerable? Thanks for any help.

I can't say for sure how typical your experience is, but I can say for sure that I shared it. Starting to study philosophy is a lot like falling in love (which makes sense, given the literal meaning of the word, right?). When a person falls in love, it's normal to be so enthralled with the beloved that nothing and no one else seems worth a thought. Every conversation eventually turns back toward the beloved. Time spent apart is considered wasted. Other, ordinary folk throw up their hands in exasperation -- and the lover cares naught. Just like a person in love, whether this condition persists, worsens or improves is up to you. When I was writing my doctoral dissertation, at the same time as birthing, raising and educating eight children, I suffered greatly from what I called "Mommy-Scholar Schizophrenia." It was so difficult, so painful, to shift gears between ethical theory and Disney coloring books! Finally, I came to see that one of the magnificent things about philosophy is its ability to...

When confronted with so many varied competing philosophical theories in the realms of truth, mind, free will, identity, etc, I find myself lacking the abilities (and the time) needed in order to properly evaluate them and to decide upon my own personal opinions. As such, I end up being a bit of a fence sitter on many subjects, sometimes left with residual beliefs I can’t really justify nor feel able to explain how I got them. This doesn’t bother me much as I’m sure I’m not on my own in this, and it doesn’t really affect my day to day decisions. But in other areas, such as religion, politics and ethics, it would seem I have to stand somewhere. With religion I’ve done lots of thinking and reading and feel fairly comfortable with my position, deciding long ago that time could be better spent thinking about other things (I’m not persuaded by the theistic arguments I’ve encountered and I could spend an eternity exploring all religions). But with politics and ethics I feel a responsibility to hold an opinion...

Whether people need to examine the foundations of their moral beliefs in order to live well depends on what we mean by living well, doesn't it? Socrates said the unexamined life was not worth living, so presumably he'd answer your question with a resounding YES. I suspect many philosophers would, since examining these kinds of things is something we're drawn to...or we wouldn't be philosophers. I'd say yes, as well; I think living well is a matter of living rightly, and living rightly is at least in part a matter of living in a rationally consistent way. So I'd take rational consistency as a kind of baseline requirement for ethical reasoning. How might you go about sorting through the overwhelming variety of theories? Let me share a nutshell version of what I teach undergrads who are compelled to take an ethics class, and see if any of this helps. There is no way to avoid answering the moral question, "What ought I to do?" The answer to this question (let's call it "Q" for short)...

How obliged are we to our friends? If my friend is horribly depressed, how far do the bonds of friendship oblige me to counsel and listen to him constantly, even if I care deeply for him, and even if it's affecting my own health? Ultimately, should we protect ourselves? I feel that I'd be doing something immoral by abandoning him.

To be a friend is going to mean, among other things, wanting what is best for your friend. It's unlikely that abandonment is what's best, which is probably why that option feels immoral to you. On the other hand, if you wear yourself down to the point that you have nothing to offer him (or perhaps anyone else), or that you resent him, then that's not best for him, either. Sometimes doing what's best for another is not the same as doing what the other wants. It sounds to me like your friend needs more help than you can reasonably supply, and the most loving course of action might be to facilitate this, by putting him in touch with a professional counselor. I hope it works out.

When, for example, a man has his heart broken by a woman he loves, why does it sometimes feel like a mini death? Is there perhaps some sort of a parallel between breaking up and dying, between the end of a relationship and the end of life?

Sure, I think there's a parallel, particularly if you consider that a person is not an isolated, self-contained entity, but rather a being-in-relation. Your identity is defined partly by your relationships with particular others, and the more intimate the relationship, the more it contributes to your identity. Intimacy is a matter of sharing first-person perspectives (what the world looks like from your eyes is shared with your intimate, and what the world looks like from hers is shared with you) as well as plans, goals, projects, etc. In fact, in a truly intimate relationship, you'll adopt the plans, goals, projects, etc. of your intimate as your own. When the relationship ends, especially if it is ended unilaterally, all of this that had been part of you is to some extent alienated, which would suggest that your identity is changed. The person you were, in intimate relation with that particular other, doesn't exist anymore. So it is, in an analogous sense, a death. But it's not as complete...

Is courage a virtue or is is simply the ability to conquer fear?

These options needn't be mutually exclusive, right? A common definition of virtue is "a habitual disposition to act in accordance with the good for its own sake." If courage is the ability to conquer fear, and conquering fear is good, then assuming that the ability is a habitual one and not some kind of flash-in-the-pan inspiration, the answer to your question would be "both." Aristotle counted courage as a virtue, and pointed out that virtue is found in the mean between the opposed extremes of deficiency and excess. The ability to overcome fear, if carried to excess, would not be the virtue of courage, but rather the vice of rashness.

It’s been said that philosophy can help develop useful critical thinking skills, and analysis of argument, concepts, and hypotheses, etc. seems to be much of what philosophers do. But what about the creative aspect to their work? Can studying philosophy help us to better hypothesize, speculate, generate more and better ideas or problem solve generally? Critical thinking can be studied separately from philosophy, but are there resources for exercising this creative aspect? It would seem to me that this area is just as useful and transferable to other disciplines as critical thinking, yet not much seems to be said of it. Or is it that creativity is something that a person just has (like a talent) in a certain area and it’s not easily transferred form one area to another? For example an artist can be very creative with her paintings but stumped when it comes to generating ideas for resolving her business problems. How do the really good philosophers come up with the great unifying theories, persuasive...

Studying philosophy can indeed encourage the development of synthetical skill as much as analytical skill. Very often philosophers will apply a concept or way of thinking common in one area to another, just to see what will happen. A historical example might be Thomas Aquinas applying Aristotelian metaphysics to Christian theology. It seems plausible that intellectual creativity and certain aesthetic creativities (visual or tactile, for example) would not be interchangeable; people are generally more comfortable in some media than others. But if one's media is thought, ideas and propositions, it can probably be transferred across disciplines (from philosophy to, say, literature or geology). It also seems plausible that intellectual creativity is a talent that people possess in varying degrees, though it can be cultivated, just like any other. How do the really good philosophers come up with their ideas? Wish I knew; then maybe I could be a really good philosopher, too :) In most cases...
Sex

My question relates to Second Life and sex. Many people in Second Life gender-swap - that is, men create female avatars and women create male avatars. It is estimated that up to 80% of the "women" in Second Life are actually men. Some heterosexual men who engage in sex in Second Life worry about having sex with female avatars who are actually men. Is this logically and philosophically consistent? Given that Second Life is a virtual world and that nothing is real, is there any point in worrying about the real sex of an avatar? If your male avatar is attracted to a female avatar, what is the point in considering the real sex of that person? Shouldn't the relationship be taken at face value, the same as the rest of the (virtual) environment?

This is, I think, an utterly fascinating area of philosophical inquiry, and some new work is tackling this very issue. (David Velleman, for example, has a paper draft on virtual agency that considers what it means for an avatar to do things we ordinarily ascribe to real people, like "have sex" or "be attracted.") I think a virtual relationship (or a real relationship in the virtual world, which may not be equivalent) needs to be understood in the context in which that relationship exists...as you say, "at face value." But as a matter of actual fact, the reason and will behind the avatars belong to someone else, who then have a kind of derivative relationship. So we can understand what's going on in three ways: what are the avatars doing; what are the real people doing; what are the real people directing the avatars to do? The relation of these two relationships -- virtual and actual -- to each other is something that needs exploration, and this exploration may well alter our more general...

Generally student-teacher romances are frowned upon, but what about this? The facts: He (male) is 56. I am 59. I'm not in a degree program, as I already have a BA and an MA, too-- taking classes in music for fun and personal enrichment. We're both single. I'm widowed and he is recently divorced. There is definitely chemistry and a terrific vibe between us. Lots of "Oh yes, THAT'S my favorite book/food/movie, too!" He has same number of pets as me. He has shared favorite poems with me even. He is THE best teacher in his particular field, and I will want to take at least three more courses with him. (One each semester, as I work also.) Does anyone see any ethical obstacles to our dating before I finish taking all of these classes?

The general proscription against teacher-student romance is based first on the power differential in their respective roles. Even if both parties claim that the relationship is one of mutual consent, the presumption is that the teacher may direct it to his/her own advantage, because the student needs the teacher more than vice versa. That you're both not only adults, but more mature adults, ameliorates this presumption somewhat, as does the fact that you already have an advanced degree. Still, it is a factor. A second basis for the proscription is the potential for the teacher's partiality toward his/her romantic partner, which would be unjust to the other students. Even if there is no actual favoritism, the perception could damage the ethical environment of the classroom. I think most professors would agree that it's a matter of simple prudence to avoid becoming romantically involved with a current student. Afterwards, of course, is fair game, and many successful romances had just this...

What is the definition of Death?

Like many terms, there is a variety of definitions, and which is most appropriate would depend on the function or context of its use. A classical definition of death is "separation of the soul from the body." But to someone who denies the existence of an immaterial soul, it would probably be something more like, "Cessation of bodily processes, including those on the cellular level." More fundamentally, death would be the absence of life where there once was life. But then, of course, you'd need a definition of life. Philosophy has always been concerned with proposing, criticizing and defending definitions (as opposed to asserting them), so these should be taken as opening round suggestions.

Are the concepts of omnipotence and omniscience mutually exclusive? God is generally considered to be both omnipotent and omniscient. Let’s say he created the universe. At the time of creation he knows how everything is going to play out. Doesn’t that limit his options to intervene in the future? In order to maintain his omniscience, he can’t intervene in a way that he didn’t know he was going to do beforehand. And if his actions are limited by this constraint, can he be omnipotent?

I think the difficulty here lies primarily in understanding God's knowledge and power as sort of "supersized" versions of our own knowledge and power. God's attributes are analogical at best. But the key to breaking through this kind of puzzle has to do more with the concept of time than of either omniscience or omnipotence. It's a commonplace of theology and phil of religion that God is "outside time." In other words, God's experience is not sequential, like ours is, but is eternally and universally present. So it makes no sense to talk about what God may or may not do "in the future" and what he knew "beforehand." Of course, what it means to be outside time is just as much, if not more, of a puzzle than the one you originally set out, but it seems to be closer to the target of inquiry than concerns about whether God's knowing or acting "comes first."

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