I’ve found out lately that a number of people I know in health care were philosophy majors in college. Probably not unusual, but certainly interesting. They often reveal this charming little secret surreptitiously, first in slight hints, such as a brief quotation by Hegel (or other classic sages) murmured under their breath. It’s just a quick quip, mind you, not meant to call attention to itself. But if you choose to pick up on it, then a full and revealing confession often follows. Some seem embarrassed by being flushed out in the open this way and I can understand why.
Once upon a time, as a college student, they had eyes opened to a journey that promised the intellectual keys to the kingdom. Along the way something happened and that something led them to here, the present. But deep down, they still cling like an adolescent lover to that first rush with PHILOSOPHY. Often mixed with this practiced admission is a grudging recognition of the status of philosophy in the “real world”, which is to say, zero. Thus, the slight embarrassed shyness that accompanies the tale.
My own student background was in political THEORY, which I’ve always considered to be a kind of blue collar philosophy. So I sympathize with the confessions of our more philosophically-minded members of the health care community– especially when a quiet remark about the “petit bourgeoisie” reveals their inner Marx.
But I was recently reminded that philosophy and theory are still quite important, especially when they conspire to dethrone PHILOSOPHY and THEORY. This reminder came in the form of some rather comic reflections on French philosopher Michel de Montaigne by Alain de Bottom (see my earlier post). Although quite learned, Montaigne held the contrarian position that if we allowed GREAT BOOKS to “define the boundaries of our curiosity,” they would hold back the development of our minds. These authors were “too clever for our own good,” having said so much that they always “appeared to have had the last word.” They inhibited the “sense of irreverence vital to creative work in their successors” (that’s us). Thus, after the GREAT BOOKS, everything else is just notes in the margins.
“There are more books on books than on any other subject: all we do is gloss each other. All is a-swarm with commentaries: of authors there is a dearth.”
And this was written in the 16th century.
Pondering these issues got me navel-gazing about blogs. In the health care blogosphere, we have our great THINKERS. And although constantly discussed, they find little respite from critique. Blogs are definitely “a-swarm” with irreverent commentary, much of it by everyday folks. Montaigne would have liked that:
“Were I a good scholar, I would find enough in my own experience to make me wise.”
“We are richer than we think, each one of us.”
On the other hand, much of this discussion occurs in an echo chamber, so we are still subject to his lament that “of authors, there is a dearth.”
But I’m comfortable with that. The scale of the healthcare blogosphere is so huge, that it’s sort of like Little League for writers– we are nurturing a few truly great players out there. These blogs are a training ground, of sorts, where “many are striving for wisdom, but never far from folly.”
