Think: In Defence of a Thoughtful Life (Polity) by Svend Brinkmann, translated by Tam McTurk
Thinking is a hot topic, just not in relation to humans. Instead, it’s artificial intelligence that prompts daily discussion. Svend Brinkmann’s stimulating book invites the reader to reflect on the human ability to think, rather than the growing capabilities of machines. He argues that thinking is “fundamental to living a good human life” and that contemporary culture is degrading our capacity to think well. Like air, the quality of everyday thought is typically unnoticed, but it can also suffer from environmental decline.
The issue of how to think well might not make headlines but the problem of low-quality thinking is the subtext to endless stories about the harms of social media. For Brinkmann, smartphones are only one of the hazards of a modern culture that is too fast and too thoughtless. Brinkmann points out the irony and the futility of the remedies (“seven-step guides” and “weekend retreats”) proffered by a speed-obsessed culture. The “thoughtful life is a slow fix” and can’t be achieved by “ten minutes every night before bed”. Most of us, at some level, know this, but what is to be done? Brinkmann encourages the reader to engage with the discipline that he thinks is at the heart of the human potential for a thoughtful life: philosophy.
If meditation can increase mindfulness, Brinkmann suggests, then philosophy can increase thoughtfulness. Thinking, as he puts it, “isn’t just a matter of solving intellectual problems” but can also “be a way of existing in the world”. There might not be straightforward answers to questions such as “What is love?” or “What would the ideal society look like?” but that’s part of why exploring them adds such depth to existence. The path to living an examined life isn’t through following a set of instructions like a computer but in allowing the mind to wander. Life is diminished if there is no time for dwelling thoughtfully in the world and for “daydreaming and reverie”.
Think presents a variety of viewpoints from western philosophical traditions as well as from psychology, anthropology and sociology. Brinkmann echoes the common complaint that the academic has changed from being a “custodian of collective, public knowledge” to being an “exerciser of technical expertise in very narrow fields”. Writing for the public allows psychology professor Brinkmann to follow his intellectual interests wherever they lead. However, the way that he combines ideas is sometimes unsatisfying. For example, he draws heavily on both the American philosopher John Dewey and the German philosopher Martin Heidegger. Dewey is famous for his love of instrumental reasoning, while Heidegger is famous for his loathing of it. Yet Brinkmann claims both thinkers as major influences without exploring the obvious tensions between them. As a result, his own position borders on incoherence. Perhaps inconsistency is the price of eclecticism. The book is so unqualifiedly positive towards any thinking going on at all that the basic message seems to be: Yay to thought!
What should we do if thought quality, like air quality, is in crisis? Brinkmann’s main idea, as we have seen, is to encourage philosophy as a way of life. This is idealistic but admirable. His more specific proposals are of limited help. For example, he emphasises the importance of “rearranging our surroundings to avoid temptation”. I think many of us know this already and still waste too much time on our phones. In the book’s least inspiring passages, the tone is mainly that of weary complaint about the modern world. Brinkmann is inevitably drawn into social and political questions because he thinks that life is increasingly inhospitable to the kind of philosophical activity that he loves. But, rather like William F Buckley’s famous description of the conservative, all he can do is stand in front of history and yell, “Stop”.
Despite all this, the book is redeemed by Brinkmann’s obvious and abundant passion for philosophy. Think is not organised carefully like an academic text but it’s not dry like an academic text either. If it’s a bit random at times, it’s also enjoyably free-ranging. The prose is a pleasure to read – credit is due to translator Tam McTurk. In fact, for all its flaws, Think is a rewarding introduction to philosophy, and I recommend it if you are new to the subject or looking to acquaint someone else.
Nonetheless, if we are to improve our collective environment, and build a society that encourages citizens to lead thoughtful lives, many will be left with the feeling that advocating for philosophy is not enough.
This article is from New Humanist’s summer 2024 issue. Subscribe now.
