Philosophy Belongs to Those Who Practice It

Why the Human Right to Think Cannot Be Credentialed

This is, after all, a philosophy blog.

Recently, someone told me it's “off-putting and self-absorbed” to call oneself a philosopher without academic credentials. This dismissal—delivered with the unquestioned certainty that only institutional validation confers legitimacy—illuminates not just a personal prejudice, but a profound historical theft: the capture of philosophy by the academy.

This isn't merely about who gets to claim a title. It's about something far more consequential—who gets to participate in humanity's oldest intellectual tradition. Who gets to ask fundamental questions about truth, meaning, and how we should live. Who gets to contribute to our collective understanding of reality.

Philosophy began not in lecture halls but in marketplaces. Not in peer-reviewed journals but in public dialogues. Not as a specialized discipline but as the birthright of thinking humans confronting existence. Socrates walked the streets of Athens questioning citizens from all walks of life. The Stoics taught in open colonnades. Diogenes lived his philosophy in the streets, confronting convention with embodied critique. For most of human history, philosophy was not an academic specialty but humanity's shared intellectual heritage—a way of examining life, questioning assumptions, and pursuing wisdom.

The academicization of philosophy represents not progress but contraction—a narrowing of what was once humanity's broadest intellectual enterprise into a specialized technical discipline. This transformation has hollowed philosophy of its vitality, relevance, and revolutionary potential, turning what was once a public practice into a professional credential.

When we accept this theft without resistance—when we concede that only those with institutional approval can rightfully claim the title “philosopher”—we participate in an act of profound intellectual dispossession. We surrender our rightful inheritance: the human capacity to think deeply, to question radically, to seek wisdom beyond convention.

There is something fundamentally illiberal about claiming philosophy belongs primarily within university walls. The liberal tradition, at its core, champions the free exchange of ideas, the democratization of knowledge, and the capacity of individuals to pursue truth independent of institutional authority. When we suggest that only those with the right credentials can participate meaningfully in philosophical discourse, we betray these principles.

The academicization of philosophy has created artificial boundaries around who can legitimately engage in philosophical thought. It has transformed philosophy from a practice open to anyone willing to think rigorously into a professional domain with its own specialized language, methodologies, and status hierarchies.

This transformation parallels what happens to many living traditions when they become institutionalized—they gain methodological consistency but lose vitality and relevance. They become more concerned with internal validation than external impact. They develop languages and customs that function partly as boundary markers, distinguishing insiders from outsiders. They become self-referential, speaking primarily to themselves.

This is not merely an aesthetic preference for one style of philosophy over another. It is about whether philosophy will remain a living practice that engages with the urgent questions of our time or become an esoteric technical discipline disconnected from the concerns of most humans.

The liberal tradition has always recognized that truth emerges most reliably through the free exchange of ideas in an open marketplace of thought. John Stuart Mill argued explicitly that even established truths become “dead dogmas” when they aren't regularly challenged and defended in open discourse. When we restrict philosophical conversation to those with institutional credentials, we weaken precisely the conditions that make genuine philosophical progress possible.

This transformation has exacted costs that extend far beyond academic philosophy itself. As philosophical thinking retreated from public discourse, it left a vacuum. That vacuum hasn't remained empty—it's been filled by cruder forms of ideology, by manipulative rhetoric, by weaponized narratives that thrive precisely because they don't face serious philosophical examination in public forums.

Our current epistemic crisis isn't unrelated to this retreat of philosophical thinking from public life. When we abandoned the public square to marketers, propagandists, and ideologues—when we accepted that deep thinking about fundamental questions should be cordoned off in specialized journals and conferences—we created the conditions for the fragmentation of shared reality we now witness.

In the absence of a vibrant tradition of public philosophy, people hungry for meaning and understanding turn to whatever fills the void. Sometimes that's simplistic ideologies that offer certainty at the expense of nuance. Sometimes it's conspiracy theories that provide explanation without demanding critical thought. Sometimes it's charismatic figures who present performance as wisdom.

Meanwhile, academic philosophy—isolated from the urgent questions facing humanity and incentivized to produce specialized knowledge for specialized audiences—risks becoming increasingly irrelevant to the very crises that demand philosophical reflection: the ethical challenges of emerging technologies, the erosion of shared reality, the search for meaning in an age of algorithmic governance.

What's particularly striking about philosophical gatekeeping is how it contradicts philosophy's own teachings. Philosophy at its best teaches us to question authority, to examine assumptions, to look beyond conventional boundaries. To dismiss philosophical work because it lacks institutional validation is to prioritize credentials over substance—a decidedly unphilosophical approach.

The gatekeepers who would restrict the title “philosopher” to those with academic credentials are betraying the very tradition they claim to protect. They are privileging institutional power over intellectual substance, confusing the trappings of philosophy with its essence.

True philosophical commitment should lead us to evaluate ideas based on their coherence, insight, and utility rather than their institutional source. It should encourage us to recognize philosophical thinking wherever it occurs—whether in university departments, public writing, community discussions, or practical problem-solving.

When academic philosophers dismiss non-academic philosophical work as “not real philosophy,” they reveal more about their own insecurities than about the work they're dismissing. They show themselves to be more concerned with protecting their professional status than with the pursuit of wisdom.

Hume himself—perhaps the greatest of Enlightenment philosophers—was never employed as an academic. He wrote for the educated public, not specialized scholars. His revolutionary insights about causation, the is-ought gap, and the limits of reason emerged not from academic disputation but from deep engagement with the intellectual currents of his time. His clear, accessible prose sought to communicate complex ideas to thinking readers, not to impress colleagues with technical virtuosity.

What made Hume a philosopher was not academic standing—indeed, he was denied university positions due to suspicions about his religious views—but his unflinching commitment to following reason wherever it led, even when it challenged conventional wisdom. His courage in questioning fundamental assumptions, his intellectual honesty in acknowledging reason's limits, his ability to make complex ideas accessible without sacrificing rigor—these are what define philosophical excellence, not institutional credentials.

In our current moment—characterized by epistemic fragmentation, technological disruption, institutional decay, and profound questions about human flourishing—we need philosophical thinking not just in academic journals but in public discourse. We need conceptual frameworks that help people navigate complexity, maintain meaning, and exercise moral judgment amid chaotic information environments.

This work requires philosophical approaches that academic institutions often don't provide: engagement with contemporary concerns in accessible language without sacrificing conceptual rigor; integration of insights from multiple domains rather than maintaining strict disciplinary boundaries; acknowledgment of both empirical realities and normative questions, spanning the fact-value divide.

This isn't a rejection of academic standards but a recognition that different contexts demand different approaches. The philosopher in the public square faces different challenges and responsibilities than the philosopher in the seminar room. Both are engaged in legitimate philosophical work; both deserve recognition for their contributions.

Rather than apologizing for engaging in philosophy without institutional affiliation, we should be reclaiming philosophy's essential public role. This means democratizing access to philosophical concepts and methods without sacrificing rigor, building bridges between academic philosophy and broader cultural conversations, applying philosophical thinking to urgent contemporary challenges, and modeling philosophy as a practice rather than merely a profession.

Andrea Hiott captures this spirit in her essay on philosophical gatekeeping: “Philosophy is a way we open to different patterns and scales, a way we can dance with our many contrasts so as to find the places of resonance. In so doing, we begin to learn a way of thinking that helps us better navigate and share our unique, winding, entangled paths.”

My own philosophical approach—which I call “postmodern naturalism”—embodies this commitment to liberating philosophy from unnecessary constraints. I draw from multiple traditions to create a distinctive perspective that holds tensions rather than eliminating them.

My work recognizes that postmodernism and naturalism, often seen as opposed, can be understood as complementary insights. Postmodernism's focus on social construction mirrors Hume's insight about the is-ought gap—both show that values emerge not from empirical facts alone but from human communities negotiating meaning together. This doesn't lead to relativism but centers human agency in creating meaning.

I embrace what I call “the praxis of normative harmonies”—the idea that human flourishing emerges not from the victory of one value system over another, but from the productive tension between seemingly opposing forces. True flourishing comes not when reason dominates emotion (or vice versa), but when they are integrated in dynamic balance.

My philosophical method employs mimesis—using form to embody content, allowing arguments to function on multiple levels simultaneously. I engage with cultural references not as mere illustrations but as conceptual tools that help us understand complex ideas.

This approach isn't less rigorous than academic philosophy—it simply responds to different contexts and purposes. I'm committed to intellectual honesty, conceptual clarity, and the pursuit of truth. But I recognize that philosophy can take many forms beyond the academic paper or technical treatise.

What distinguishes genuine philosophy is not where it happens but how it happens—with rigor, honesty, depth, and a commitment to seeking truth even when inconvenient. Whether conducted in university departments or public forums, philosophy at its best exemplifies the courage to think beyond established categories and to follow questions wherever they lead.

If someone finds it “off-putting” when a person without academic credentials identifies as a philosopher, perhaps the problem lies not with the identification but with an impoverished, illiberal understanding of what philosophy is and has always been: the human activity of seeking wisdom through critical reflection, wherever and by whomever it occurs.

The reclamation of philosophy as a public practice isn't just an intellectual project—it's a political and cultural one as well. It's about refusing to accept the privatization of wisdom, the professionalization of thought, the transformation of humanity's intellectual heritage into a specialized technical discipline.

This reclamation matters not just for those who wish to call themselves philosophers without academic credentials. It matters for all of us who care about the future of human thought, who believe that deep reflection on fundamental questions is too important to be left solely to professional specialists, who see philosophy not as a luxury but as an essential practice in times of crisis and confusion.

The academic monopoly on philosophical legitimacy must be challenged not because academic philosophy lacks value—it doesn't—but because philosophy itself is too valuable, too essential, too foundational to human flourishing to be confined within institutional walls.

So let us reclaim philosophy as our rightful inheritance. Let us practice it openly, honestly, rigorously—but without apology for lacking institutional validation. Let us recognize philosophical thinking wherever it occurs, whether in academic treatises or public essays, whether in community dialogues or artistic creations.

Let us evaluate philosophical work not by the credentials of its author but by its insight, coherence, and capacity to illuminate our condition. Let us judge philosophical arguments not by their conformity to academic norms but by their ability to help us navigate complexity, find meaning, and pursue truth.

And let us remember that philosophy at its best has never been merely an academic discipline. It has been a radical practice of questioning, a relentless pursuit of wisdom, a courageous confrontation with fundamental questions about reality, knowledge, and how we should live.

The greatest philosophers throughout history—from Socrates to Nietzsche, from Hypatia to Weil—have often stood at odds with the intellectual establishments of their time. They have challenged conventions, crossed boundaries, spoken uncomfortable truths. Their philosophical courage came not from institutional authority but from intellectual integrity—from their commitment to following questions wherever they led, regardless of convention or consequence.

It is this philosophical courage we need now—the courage to think beyond established categories, to question received wisdom, to pursue truth even when inconvenient. This courage isn't conferred by academic credentials; it's demonstrated through practice.

Two plus two equals four. There are twenty-four hours in a day. And philosophy belongs not to institutions but to those willing to engage in its demanding practice.

The center must be held—not because it is easy, but because it is ours to hold. And holding it requires reclaiming philosophy from those who would restrict it, opening it to all who would practice it with rigor and integrity, restoring it to its rightful place as humanity's shared intellectual heritage.

This is not just an intellectual stance. It is an act of resistance against the forces that would divide us into credentialed knowers and passive recipients of knowledge. It is an assertion of our fundamental human capacity to think deeply, to question radically, to seek wisdom beyond convention.

In a time of epistemic crisis, of technological disruption, of profound questions about the human future, we need philosophical thinking more than ever. Not just from academic specialists, but from all who would engage seriously with fundamental questions. Not just in specialized journals, but in public forums where ideas can be tested, challenged, refined. Not just as a professional discipline, but as a living practice embedded in our collective struggle to make sense of our world and our place within it.

Philosophy belongs to humanity, not to the academy. Let us reclaim it, practice it, defend it—not just as an intellectual tradition, but as our birthright as thinking beings facing the mystery of existence.

This is our philosophical declaration of independence. This is our reclamation of wisdom as a public good. This is our assertion that philosophy is too important to be left to philosophers alone.

"Philosophy begins in wonder. And, at the end, when philosophic thought has done its best, the wonder remains." - Alfred North Whitehead