I do believe in the pursuit of truth. And I do appreciate the power of debates in uncovering the truth. But this world is a tough world—and not everybody is prepared to enter the world of philosophical debates.
Much of what philosophy is about is “being sure about what is really there” (facts) and differentiating it from “what we want to be there” (subjective values). To be honest, being very sure about what is really there is not really that necessary in living “a good life”. Some of the happiest people are not necessarily the most philosophical. You can die happy even if you lived an unexamined life. You can die happy even if your entire belief system is built on a lie. This, I think, is even the norm. Most people will be able to go on with life even without challenging their assumptions about the world.
But for a select few, understanding what is “truly there” has a profound influence on their sense of well-being. They need to know the facts before they define their values and, therefore, before they define their actions. This, they think, is what a life of integrity is about: knowing what you are doing and why you are doing them. And integrity, for these people, is an essential ingredient for a good life.
I sympathize with them. I was once asked by a friend why I even bothered asking questions about life and existence. He asked what I was trying to achieve from it. Why not just live and let go of all the thinking? I did not expect someone to question my intentions in being philosophical. As far as I could remember, I was naturally inquisitive about the “deep stuff” ever since I was a child. It is what I have been doing even before I learned the word “philosophy”. It made me happy and lessened my anxiety knowing that I understood the world I was living in. It is a personal preference that I feel uncomfortable justifying to other people.
But I also get why my friend was asking about my intentions. People who are philosophical need to be scrutinized for their intentions. Why are they spending all their energy thinking about problems that may never even be solved? And why do some of them feel like it is their greatest crusade to show people how wrong they are?
I think it is natural for us to share our truth—to make other people know our truth so they can finally get to “see us”. I feel the same way. But there is a difference between speaking your truth and evangelizing it to the point that you feel that it is your divine mission to put the other on an opposing side.
Some people do this, and while I sincerely think that they are doing it with good intentions, they are probably welcoming more unnecessary stress in their lives than they can possibly handle (not to mention the stress they put on others).
The truth is, we can never truly convince anyone. People convince themselves. What we can do is either force them to convince themselves or facilitate that transformation through the careful and subtle expression of our innermost beliefs. This is why I am thinking about exploring how I can express my ideas about the world through poetry, personal essays, and fantasy fiction, instead of direct language in contexts like philosophical debates.