Research on Western Philosophy Problems

Author: Zhang Zhiwei et al
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2003-11-01
Features: As a problem-oriented history of Western philosophy, it is undeniable that we can study and interpret Western philosophy from different perspectives or levels. However, the graduate course "Research on Problems in Western Philosophy" does not merely approach Western philosophy from a single angle or aspect. The guiding philosophy behind this course is based on the idea that the history of Western philosophy is ultimately a "problem-oriented history." Thus, "problems" are not merely an angle of studying Western philosophy but rather its living "soul" and source, constituting its basic overall characteristic. In other words, only by viewing the history of philosophy as a "problem-oriented history" can we fundamentally grasp the essence and spirit of Western philosophy.
It is undeniable that philosophy itself is a "problem." In all human knowledge, philosophy holds a unique position: on one hand, its history is as ancient and enduring as that of other sciences, perhaps even more so, and it is considered the source of all scientific knowledge. Consequently, for a long period, it was revered as the queen of sciences and the highest form of knowledge. On the other hand, it has never been able to demonstrate the universal necessity or even relative universal necessity that other sciences possess. It has been observed that almost all aspects of philosophy are fraught with debate, with various theories and doctrines offering conflicting views, making it difficult to reach a fundamental consensus. As a result, people often doubt whether philosophy is even a science, let alone a branch of knowledge. This awkward position forces philosophers to repeatedly defend the legitimate status and significance of philosophy as a science. However, their defenses, though seemingly reasonable, often fail to dispel the doubts in people's minds. Consequently, we find that philosophy is at most theoretically a science, but practically, it never possesses the minimal scientificity that a science should have. This phenomenon suggests that if we still regard philosophy as a "discipline," we must reassess its meaning and status.
Based on this reasoning, we believe that the significance of philosophy lies not—or not primarily—in "knowledge," but in "problems." In other words, the history of philosophy is not a history of knowledge accumulation but a history of problems.
This situation compels us to return to the origins of philosophy to reflect on its meaning. Perhaps we can find the reason in the original meaning of the term "philosophy," which derives from the Greek word philosophia, meaning "love" (phileo) "wisdom" (sophia). Although people later regarded it as a universally accessible form of scientific knowledge and the highest science for a considerable period, its original meaning reveals that early philosophers were not as "arrogant" as this suggests; rather, they were deeply humble. They understood that human life is finite, while wisdom is infinite. As Plato stated in the Phaedrus, speaking through Socrates, "Wisdom" is too grand a term—it is suitable only for the gods, while terms like 'love of wisdom' (philosophia) are more fitting for humans. Human finitude determines that we cannot fully possess wisdom, but this has not stopped us from loving and pursuing it. Although we may never reach the ideal of wisdom in our lifetime, the love and pursuit of wisdom are an inherent responsibility and mission of being human. We should and can regard it as the highest ideal of life. Clearly, the "wisdom" the Greeks spoke of differs from our understanding of "knowledge." Wisdom is an infinite, free, and supreme ideal, while knowledge typically deals with finite, concrete things. Knowledge, or scientific knowledge in general, is a tool and means of our existence, valued for its "usefulness," whereas the love and pursuit of wisdom have no other purpose—its own existence is the purpose. Therefore, Aristotle called philosophy the only "free discipline" among all disciplines.
Both Plato and Aristotle pointed out that philosophy originates from "wonder" (thaumazein), which can also be understood as philosophy originating from "problems." It is undeniable that not only philosophy but all our knowledge arises from problems. If we do not feel curious about something or realize our own ignorance, we would not seek knowledge. However, general scientific knowledge is concerned with specific, finite, and definite objects, so through some concrete, finite, and definite methods, we can always find at least a relatively certain answer, thereby forming our knowledge. The history of science is a process of knowledge accumulation, and acquiring knowledge is the primary goal of science. If a science primarily gives us problems rather than knowledge, it would contradict the nature of science and thus lose its significance. Philosophy is different. Our pursuit of wisdom is not to understand finite, concrete things but to transcend them and even our own finitude. Therefore, philosophical problems are often fundamental, basic, and sometimes even transcendent. Since these problems often transcend our experiential boundaries, they cannot be solved through general scientific methods. In a sense, they may not have ultimate answers. Of course, philosophers have once dreamed of finding a scientific method for philosophy, but this ideal is impossible to realize.
Generally, scientific problems have relatively definite answers, sometimes even a unique one. Although the progress of knowledge is also boundless, scientific problems cannot have an ultimate answer either. However, theoretically, if humanity could continue indefinitely, we would gradually approach "truth" through the accumulation of knowledge. Unlike this, although philosophy also progresses and develops, its movement is not a "linear movement" of knowledge accumulation but a "circular movement" that constantly shifts "bases" while pointing toward the same "center." Therefore, strictly speaking, philosophical problems are not "problems" but "challenges," as we cannot provide an answer to them but can only adopt various different solutions.
Of course, not all philosophical problems are purely speculative, abstract, or transcendent. We can broadly classify them into two categories: one involves questions about the unity of the universe, nature, or the world, such as metaphysics, religious philosophy, and similar issues. Regardless of how we view or answer these questions, they remain purely speculative, abstract, and fundamental. The other category is relatively more concrete, such as epistemology, ethics, and historical perspectives. However, since the latter category of problems in philosophy is also "meta-problems" or "fundamental problems," they still cannot yield universally necessary, definite answers through general scientific methods. In Western philosophy, classical philosophy primarily concerns the first category of problems, while modern philosophy is more concerned with the second. However, regardless of which category, they have not yet reached a definitive conclusion to this day and have never achieved universal consensus among philosophers. Clearly, all this reflects the unique nature of philosophy, which differs from scientific knowledge.
Nevertheless, under the inspiration of the great achievements of natural sciences, the idea of making philosophy a science has held an extremely strong "appeal" for philosophers for millennia. Over the centuries, they have devoted their wisdom to transforming "the love of wisdom" into "the study of wisdom," creating an indelible "scientific complex." The depth of this influence is evident in the fact that people to this day have not abandoned the ideal of making philosophy a science, though all their efforts have ended in failure. This historical scene provides powerful ammunition for critics of philosophy and a deep humiliation for its defenders, who have struggled tirelessly to redeem it. In reality, they may have misunderstood the nature of philosophy. The objects and problems of philosophy are not on the same level as those of science. Measuring philosophy by scientific standards is meaningless, and desperately trying to maintain its scientific status is equally futile.
Someone might ask, if philosophy is more about problems than knowledge and its problems are largely insoluble challenges, why must we persist in asking them?
In a sense, philosophy—or the love and pursuit of wisdom—originates from humanity's awareness of its own finitude and the desire to transcend it. Once humans emerged from nature with reason, intellect, or self-awareness, they faced an insurmountable chasm between finitude and infinity, relative and absolute, reality and ideal, and this and . Fundamentally, philosophy embodies humanity's attempt to transcend this boundary. Although, as finite natural beings, humans can never practically reach the infinite ideal, as rational beings, this ideal is crucially important to them, making it their highest ideal, which they love and pursue unwaveringly. Here, infinity and finitude have a qualitative difference, so we cannot cross the boundary between them through the accumulation of finite knowledge or the generational continuity of humanity. Additionally, because the "essence" of this rational existence lies in its infinite openness, always in the process of becoming, the ideal of wisdom is also infinitely open, and we can never fully concretize or limit it. Therefore, the significance of philosophy does not lie in providing, like science, some definite knowledge, solving specific problems, or giving us the power to improve our living conditions. In short, the significance of philosophy does not lie in its usefulness. Philosophy primarily embodies humanity's pursuit of a supreme ideal, representing the "ultimate concern" of life. Thus, what is often seen as philosophy's greatest flaw—its uselessness—may actually be its greatest strength. If philosophy were to possess practical value like science, it would no longer be philosophy. Clearly, there is no need to sacrifice philosophy's own meaning to make it a science. In other words, philosophy as a "discipline" is not a science, and this is not its flaw but rather its extraordinary advantage.
Therefore, philosophy is different from science or knowledge in general. Today, people may possess more knowledge than ancient times, and medical students certainly know far more than Hippocrates, the father of medicine. Yet, no one dares to claim that we are wiser in philosophical thinking than Plato or Aristotle. In summary, for us, philosophy is and can only be a series of "problems," not a form of universally necessary "knowledge." In other words, philosophical problems are "challenges" that humanity has eternally pursued but cannot obtain ultimate answers to. We can only propose or adopt various solutions to philosophical problems, never arriving at a definitive, final answer. This seemingly fatal weakness of philosophy is actually the source of its eternal charm.
Thus, learning philosophy is different from learning scientific knowledge. The history of science is a history of knowledge accumulation. Generally, we only need to understand its new achievements without knowing its history to utilize it for our purposes. But philosophy loses all meaning without its history. Because philosophy is composed of problems and various solutions, no single theory or doctrine can represent the entire philosophy. Only by "synthesizing" all past, present, and future solutions to philosophical problems can we paint a relatively complete picture of philosophy. Therefore, we say that philosophy is philosophy's history, and learning philosophy requires learning philosophy's history. Only through studying philosophy's history can we truly learn philosophy.
Because the history of philosophy presents itself to us as a chaotic scene of conflicting views and disagreements—everyone opposing everyone else—people often criticize its lack of minimal scientificity and dismiss it as outdated and irrelevant, citing the fact that all philosophical theories and doctrines are now obsolete. As mentioned earlier, the significance of philosophy lies not in knowledge but in problems. In terms of its content, the thoughts of philosophers in history are indeed outdated, and people are often discouraged by the simplicity and superficiality of a philosophical proposition like Thales's "the earth floats on water," one of the earliest in philosophy's history. However, the problem he raised—the "arche" (origin) problem of where things come from and where they return to—though no longer the primary focus of philosophy, still represents a typical way in which philosophers addressed naturalistic questions. We believe that while the theories of philosophers may be outdated, the problems they faced and their diverse solutions are not outdated and will never be. Truly speaking, the significance of a philosopher's thought lies in the "problem" they faced and their extraordinary solutions. Therefore, the history of philosophy has never been a linear, knowledge-accumulating history. It presents to us countless different "roads" leading to eternal, unsolvable problems. Although no single road leads to the "other shore," we are inevitably destined to find or choose our own path. In this sense, as Heidegger said, engaging in philosophical thought means "setting out," and the thinking of philosophy is always "on the way" or "in transit."
Therefore, in the sense that the history of philosophy is a problem-oriented history, philosophy is not only historical but also entirely realistic—it is "historical thought." When we say that philosophy is "historical thought," the "historical" here differs from the usual meaning of history. Here, "historical" also carries a meaning of "reality." We say it is historical because philosophy, or the history of philosophy, is composed of the many roads walked by predecessors, and without these roads, there would be no philosophy. We say it is realistic because the problems faced by predecessors are still problems for us, and thus the roads they walked, as different solutions to philosophical problems, each possess an irreproachable eternal value. Of course, it is undeniable that there are indeed inheritances and developments between different philosophical thoughts, and every philosopher engages in philosophical thinking based on the ideas of predecessors. However, the historical significance of a philosophical thought does not primarily lie in its inheritance and development from predecessors but in whether it offers something extraordinary. In this sense, the history of philosophy is not, as Hegel understood it, a single path or merely a process of philosophical development, but rather many paths that have been walked and will yet be walked. Aristotle cannot obscure Plato's brilliance, and Hegel cannot replace Kant's position. The reason is simple: true philosophical problems are forever without ultimate answers, and philosophers can only offer their unique solutions to the best of their ability.
In this context, learning the history of philosophy is also a "dialogue" and "discussion" with the ancients, engaging in the thoughts of others on the same problems.
Philosophical problems are eternal and unsolvable, so the problems of the ancients are still our problems. Although these problems may change in form under different historical conditions, they are fundamentally interconnected. Therefore, in a sense, learning the history of philosophy is a "dialogue" or "discussion" with the ancients from the perspective of today, addressing common problems—a concept known in hermeneutics as "horizon fusion." Here, what connects our thoughts with those of the ancients is "problems." Learning the history of philosophy is essentially retracing the paths walked by the ancients and reflecting once again on their thoughts. We do this not to "revisit the echoes of antiquity" but to continue the path of philosophy, choosing, seeking, oring our own paths. Thus, in our thoughts, the thoughts of the ancients "resurrect," gaining a realistic "life," or perhaps they were always "alive," possessing their own eternal value beyond time. In the "dialogue" between thoughts, reviving the ancients is not "revivalism" but "renewal." From this perspective, the history of philosophy is not a warehouse of dead knowledge or old materials but an organic, living, and ever-open life movement.
Therefore, learning the history of philosophy requires not only grasping the basic ideas of philosophers and foundational knowledge in relevant areas but, more importantly, grasping the living "soul" of philosophy—the "problem." In other words, we must not only know "what" philosophers said but first understand "why" they said it and why they said it one way rather than another. Otherwise, even if we memorize the history of philosophy, we will end up "knowing the what but not the why," and miss the most valuable aspects of philosophy. Therefore, the key to learning the history of philosophy lies in understanding the "problems" faced by philosophers. This can be said to be the gateway or bridge to the realm of philosophy, and a guide that allows us to move freely within the labyrinth of philosophy. In summary, only in this way can we grasp the threads of the history of philosophy, and only in this way can we glimpse the inner sanctum of philosophy.
Thus, learning the history of philosophy should cultivate a "problem consciousness."