Passion for the Climb
On Insomnia … the Good Kind

By Reid Blackman


In his research, philosopher Reid Blackman, who specializes in meta-ethics and moral psychology, is keenly interested in providing an account of what grounds our reasons for emotions. A visiting assistant professor of philosophy at Colgate since 2009, he teaches Ethics, Philosophy of Mind, Environmental Ethics, Social and Political Philosophy, and Introduction to Philosophy. Having completed his BA at Cornell, he earned an MA at Northwestern and a PhD at University of Texas at Austin. (photo by Andrew Daddio)

I transferred out of Colgate after my sophomore year. I know, I know, I’m sorry. But, in my defense, I’ve returned; this time, as a professor. Colgate pushed me forward. And in a circle. This is at least partly due to Colgate philosophy professor–induced metaphorical vertigo and literal sleep deprivation, for which I am grateful.
    In the interim — between my first semester at Colgate and my return — came my senior year of college. The first question I asked myself: “Should I go to graduate school in philosophy or law school?” The second question immediately followed: “If I go to law school, this will be my last year doing philosophy; is that OK?” And a prompt response, delivered in a tone of incredulity: “Have you lost your mind, Reid?! — of course that’s not OK! You’re going to grad school in philosophy, and I don’t want to hear another word about law school! Idiot.” So, one of the biggest moments of my life was, in at least one important sense, not a choice at all. To not pursue philosophy would have been an act of betrayal against myself.
    Now, you might wonder what there is to get so worked up about. Most people think philosophy is an area of inquiry with no answers. But this is nonsense. If anything, the problem is that there are too many answers. Others complain that people doing philosophy are just expressing their opinions, so everyone is equally right. This is equally ridiculous; anyone who is even minimally reflective has recognized at one point or another that he or she was wrong about some important issue. It could be on something as abstract as the nature of a good life, whether God exists, or the relations between the mind or soul and the body, or as concrete as whether abortion, capital punishment, and euthanasia are morally permissible, or whether individuals or countries have obligations to stop worldwide poverty.
    There are those rare individuals who think they have never been wrong or mistaken in their reasonings about any of these issues, that they are perfect when it comes to contemplating these matters. Anyone who recognizes the possibility of error in this arena, though, and has attempted to think through any of these issues finds error not just possible, but highly probable.
    Some will say, “Yes, well, when you change your mind about an issue, that doesn’t mean you are more right than you were before; it’s a change, but not an improvement. And the same holds for disagreeing with other people. It’s just a matter of opinion; no one is more right than anyone else.” But those who say these kinds of things are unaware that 1) they are offering a position on a philosophical issue; that is, the issue of whether there are truths to be discovered about these issues, 2) their answer is that there are no truths about these matters, and 3) they think their position on this philosophical issue is true! And they think someone who disagrees with them on this is equally right! So, their view is self-undermining, and it also requires one to believe one thing, while at the same time believing that the contradictory view is also right!
    In short, they are deeply confused, and should realize that anyone who attempts to provide a reason for thinking that philosophical discussions are merely a matter of expressing opinions on issues about which there is no truth is going to have to do some philosophy. In fact, in thinking about what I’ve written in the previous paragraphs, you’ve been doing philosophy. Thinking about philosophical issues, and getting others to think about them, is what I love.
    In my first semester at Colgate, philosophy professors taught me there are at least two worlds to explore. The first is a philosophical landscape. Sometimes someone can ask us a question that shows us that there is a part of the world of which we were previously ignorant. Philosophy begins with those questions.
    Doing philosophy, though, is a rigorous exploration of those new landscapes. Each possible answer is a feature of that philosophical landscape, and as it turns out, much of it is constituted by very crumbly rock. The second world is oneself. Because in doing philosophy, one holds before oneself one’s deepest-held convictions about the world and oneself, the sort of beliefs by which we lead our lives, the sort of beliefs that constitute our respective identities. And then one attacks. The beliefs and views one is given as one grows up are subject to the light of rational scrutiny, and, most often, found wanting. One wants to settle for a view that makes one feel good, or at least just settle for some view or other so one can feel as though one is standing on steady ground. But the philosophical spirit forbids comfort and complacency.
    I once wished I were an astronaut, or an inventor, or perhaps an explorer in, say, the 1400s. But doing philosophy, it turns out, is an activity of (self) exploration, discovery, and invention. I’ve been engaged in such activities for more than a decade, and the fact that it is only the beginning — that after another decade or two, I’ll find more faults with my views and get a deeper, more accurate understanding of myself and the world — well, it keeps me up at night.



Read more essays from our Passion for the Climb series, or see how you can submit your own essay, at www.colgateconnect.org/scenepfc