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When you hear the word "philosophy," what kind of image comes to mind? There are probably many people who think it's "difficult," "I don't know what it's useful for," or "it has nothing to do with me."

In fact, philosophy is much closer to us than we think, and perhaps it is precisely because it is so close that it is difficult to understand. As a clue to thinking about "What is philosophy?", let me tell you about my "original philosophical experience" that I encountered when I was in elementary school.

When I was in the early grades of elementary school, a friend in my class was transferring to a school in Kyushu. We were all sad to say goodbye to our friend, saying, "It's going to be sad that we'll never see each other again." Around the same time, there was a funeral for an acquaintance, and the adults around me at the funeral were also sad to say goodbye to the deceased, saying, "It's going to be sad that we'll never see each other again."

As I attended my friend's transfer and the funeral of an acquaintance, a vague question began to arise in my mind. Is there really such a big difference between "moving far away and not being able to see each other" and "dying and not being able to see each other"? What exactly is the difference? Aren't they the same thing? That was my question.

When I was in elementary school, I felt that there was no difference between the two in the sense that you would never see each other again, and that they were the same thing. I thought that separation due to a change of school and separation due to death were the same in the sense that you would never see that person again. I think this was also influenced by the fact that I had a feeling of dissatisfaction (is death really that sad?) when I saw the grieving adults at funerals.

When I said things like, "Going far away and dying are the same thing," the adults around me denied it with angry looks on their faces, saying, "They're not the same thing." "They're two completely different things," the adults said.

For example, adults would explain that "It's a matter of whether you'll be able to meet in the future or not." You can't meet someone who's died, but you can still meet friends who are far away if you want to... In other words, if you're alive, there's a chance you'll meet them.

I was not a very docile child, so I was not convinced by this explanation. No matter how much they said "You can meet if you want to," if you don't actually meet them (I never saw my friend who moved away after that), then that "not meeting" is no different from "not meeting" a dead person... I felt that way.

I also thought this. Adults say that "the difference is whether or not you have the possibility of meeting," but if it's okay to take "possibility" into account like that, then we can also consider the "possibility of dead people coming back to life" or "the possibility of meeting in the afterlife." So even if we think about "whether or not we'll be able to meet in the future," surely the difference between someone who is dead and can't meet and someone who is far away and can't meet doesn't disappear after all... Because in both cases, there is the same "possibility." In addition to "not actually meeting," the two are not different in the "possibility of meeting," either. When I thought about it like that, my initial intuition (that they were the same thing) returned, and I remember feeling relieved.

This is what I would call my "philosophical formative experience." Of course, now that I've continued studying philosophy and become an adult, I can take my questions even further. For example, can the possibility of "going to the afterlife and meeting" and the possibility of "going to Kyushu and meeting" be called the same "possibility"? Or, far-away friends seem to be in the same space and time no matter how far apart they are, but what about dead people? Or something like that. But let's leave that aside. Even at the stage of this "formative experience," we can extract important points (characteristics) when thinking about "what is philosophy?"

One is to "change one's perspective and turn things upside down." Or you could say "doubt" or "question" in other words. The distinction that adults take for granted (between separation due to a transfer of schools and separation due to death) becomes uncertain when you change your perspective, and even if you try to distinguish it by changing your perspective again, if you change your perspective again, it becomes unclear again... Rather than thinking "straightforwardly" or "smoothly" and trying to finish quickly, you continue to "stumble" and update the scenery you see... In this way of thinking, you can see the original form of philosophy.

The other point is "consciously making twists and turns in one's thinking." When we normally think about things "straightforwardly" and "smoothly," we rarely think about the stages or order of our thinking. However, what is evident in the episode above is a conscious twist and turn, from "different" to "same," from "same" to "different," and back again from "different" to "same." By consciously following such a zigzag path that swings in opposite directions, one's thinking becomes more diverse and broadens. The original form of philosophy can be seen in the way thinking progresses, consciously putting this "swing" into practice.

Philosophy is about relying solely on the ability to continue thinking persistently, tackling questions that may or may not have answers, and about vividly depicting this in practice.

I know from experience that a lot of people ask the question, "What is the use of philosophy?" Let's think about this question itself (a little more philosophically) as we did above.

People who ask "What is the use of philosophy?" are either looking for a specific answer such as "Philosophy is useful for XX" or, conversely, expecting a negative answer such as "Philosophy is useless." However, it seems more interesting philosophically to go in a neutral direction that betrays such expectations and predictions. It might be a good idea to answer a question with a question. In response to the question "What is the use of philosophy?", you could ask back, "What does it mean to be useful?" and "What do you think is the standard for determining whether something is useful or not?" Answering a question with a question may seem unfair, but this is also how philosophy begins.

Many questioners expect answers like "It's useful for acquiring the ability to think logically" or "It's useful for learning about the thinking of wise people in history", or they anticipate being told "Philosophy has no practical use". This means that behind these expectations and predictions, the questioner's own "criteria for judgment", such as "useful means ____", is actually at work. They implicitly believe that they have the criteria (yardstick) to classify what is "useful" and what is not. This is why they try to judge the other person's answer through that criteria (sieve).

However, in order to "think philosophically," it is best not to accept such implicit standards easily. Rather than "smoothly" answering along the lines of the questioner's wishes, it is better to "stumble" at the question stage, stop, and think carefully.

When the questioner is expecting a straightforward answer or intends to complain to the other person for not being able to give a clear answer, the following is actually happening. The questioner's own "criterion of judgment (what is useful?)" is fluctuating and changing, or the stable relationship between the question and the answer is broken, and it is pushed out of the question as if it never existed. The questioner is implicitly thinking that the criteria he or she relies on when asking a question (to distinguish between useful and unuseful) are solid and immovable.

In short, behind the hasty question, "What is the use of philosophy?" lies the assumption (a kind of egoism) that "I" can properly judge what is "useful/unuseful." In this case, "I" does not have to be just one person. It could be "we who live in the 21st century" or "we who want to make money." In any case, the "we" who are asking the question are convinced that they can make the judgment. Philosophy begins when we turn to that "we" and ask ourselves, "Are you really the one who gets to decide what is useful/unuseful?"

If we've come this far, we can try to answer it. Yes, philosophy is "useful" precisely for this kind of "change of perspective." Philosophy is "useful" because it allows us to become conscious of the standards that lie behind the very question, "What is the use of philosophy?", and to distance ourselves from those implicit standards. This way of answering is itself a small sample of the way philosophy is about "thinking in a way that allows thinking to turn back on itself."

There are probably many people who dislike or shy away from thinking in the way I have described here. They would say, "Stop rambling on and give us a clear answer quickly." On the other hand, there are people (both adults and children) who feel it is difficult to live in such a majority environment and feel crushed. Yes, philosophizing can be "useful" even for minority people who feel suffocated by the "norms" of the majority. For some people, thinking philosophically can be a "salvation" that allows them to breathe fresh air outside. However, this kind of "answer" is for a minority, and will not be an "answer" for everyone.

I am an active wrestler who started wrestling at the age of 51 and is also General Manager of my university wrestling team ^(note), and I have always thought that there are similarities between wrestling and philosophy.

Wrestling is a martial art in which opponents grapple in a nearly naked state with the aim of pinning them (putting both of their opponent's shoulders on the mat), so it reveals their "raw physical ability." The verb "wrestle" has a double meaning, meaning "to wrestle" as a specific sport, but also "to grapple" in general, which is included in other martial arts. In other words, wrestling is an established genre, but at the same time, it is also a universal gesture that works in other martial arts.

Unlike other specialized fields (such as history or physics), philosophy fights almost without using specific specialized knowledge or methods, relying only on "bare" thinking. The aforementioned conversation between me as a child and the adults is one small example. Philosophy and wrestling are similar in that they are fights that have a large "bare" aspect. You could say that wrestling tests "bare physical ability," while philosophy tests "bare thinking ability." Philosophy is also a specific subject in the humanities, but it also deeply permeates other subjects and fields, and is hidden as the foundation of other areas. In other words, philosophy is a field, but at the same time, it is also a universal element that penetrates and operates in other fields. In this duality, philosophy and wrestling are also very similar.

Furthermore, unlike debates or fights, philosophical dialogue does not aim to end with a black-and-white conclusion, but rather enjoys the continual reversal of black and white, and seeks for both parties to open up to new dimensions. The aforementioned dialogue between me as a child and the adult, and the exchange about "What is the use?" are just a few examples. In the case of wrestling as well, if we look at the offensive and defensive aspects of sparring that take place as part of everyday practice (not in actual matches), we can see that the pleasure and exploration of "black-and-white reversals" through physical language is at the heart of "wrestle." In this respect, too, philosophy and wrestling are very similar.

In this way, comparing two seemingly disparate things like philosophy and wrestling, looking at them from afar and trying to grasp their commonalities, is also part of the practice of philosophy.

In this column, I have taken on the appearance of explaining philosophy from the outside, but in fact I have suddenly entered the inside of philosophy and have already put philosophy into practice. In order to talk about philosophy, the talk itself must become philosophy. This point can also be said to be one of the characteristics of philosophy. The title of this column is "Let's practice philosophy," but if you have read this far, the act of reading itself should be a "philosophical practice."

Finally, for readers who are interested in philosophy, I would like to recommend two of my books that can be read as "introductory books." If you are interested, please look for them at a library or other facility.

・ Motoyoshi Irifuji, "Misinterpretation of Philosophy: Philosophizing through Modern Japanese for Entrance Exams!" (Chikuma Shinsho)

・ Motoyoshi Irifuji, "Is there a shadow on the sole of the foot? Or not? Philosophical Essays" (Asahi Press)

(Note) See the following URL (Nikkei Business Online).

http://business.nikkeibp.co.jp/atcl/report/16/080500061/081800006/

(Published in 2018)