Is the art of social philosophy relevant to cafe society?

Philosophy—as an academic discipline—is in serious trouble. Graduate student numbers are non-existent, whole faculties are threatened with extinction. There is little room in the economic rationalist’s vision of a university system for knowledge-for-knowledge’s-sake, for the ancient ‘love (philos) of knowledge (sophia)’, for the art of cultivated reflection.

Which is a shame if we ever turn out to want a ‘deliberative democracy’—a democracy in which public judgment means more than public opinion, a democracy in which informed citizens consider matters and vote according to their careful deliberations. The age of serious thinking appears to be over, at least in popular culture (gone, perhaps, are the days of the ‘gentleman-scientist’, and Homer Simpson’s ‘doh’ has triumphed over Shakespearean epithets—few pick up the philosophical allusions scattered throughout the cartoon series). We live in the age of the ‘dumbed-down’, the sound-byte, short-termism, and too-glib ‘solutions’—when ‘the way forward’ is more important than what the past has to teach us. Perhaps we missed the boat on a deliberative demos, and we shall have to wait for the next millennium, when the zeitgeist turns, and thinking, serious thinking, is once more in vogue.

And yet.

For more than two years, I have been running—once a month—a gathering known as a Philosophy Café, in Fremantle, Western Australia. The gathering is held in a local café/grocer, and a professional philosopher is used, where possible, as a facilitator. The discussion is on a topic chosen by the group, from classic philosophical problems to any other topic. Examples: "What does it mean ‘to live a good life’?", "What is a fact?", "Is Happiness Possible?".

The gatherings are free. When a professional philosopher is not available—as is more often than not the case, a point to which I will return—I step in to facilitate the discussion.

The record attendance at one of these affairs is 183 people; regular attendance tops 50.We were standing room only for the visit of Daniel Dennett, the philosopher-scientist from the US, stolen from the University of Western Australia for a night of free philosophy in front of the pasta shelves. Numerous ‘splinter’ groups have formed, some in people’s houses, some in other venues, and new community networks have been born.

For the last three months, we have been running twice a month, and I have been running a series entitled "Great Thinkers of the Twentieth Century". The regular group for this series totals about 25, and is growing. So far, we have discussed Wittgenstein, Simone de Beauvoir and Michel Foucault. The email list for Philosophy Café reminders now stands at some 137 people.

In September this year we took the Café back to the University, with a Café run for the University Extension Service. Eighty people attended, and the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. No one came from the Philosophy Faculty. Another Café will be run for the University’s Summer School—without, again, the involvement of the university philosophers.

The apparent sustained success of Philosophy Cafés tells me that people do want to learn and think about deep issues. They do want more than sound-bytes and glib ‘solutions’. They are willing to take the trouble to get up and get out, to read in advance for an informal gathering of like-minded folk, to express their opinions, to join with others in learning for the sheer love of knowledge.

Why then are Philosophy Cafés growing even as our Philosophy Faculties decline? What lessons are here for us?

Significant change is upon us: The way in which people connect and learn has changed. The way in which communities function is shifting, and our sandstone institutions ignore these changes at their peril.

It was, of course, the now-famous Professor Robert Putnam who spoke to the heart of the shifts when he spoke of America’s precipitous decline in civic engagement as "bowling alone".

The news Putnam brought from his research efforts was dismal: Americans (and others around the world) were no longer engaging in ‘civil society’, no longer joining with their fellow citizens in making a contribution to ‘social capital’ and the common good. Community life was dying, and the age of rampant individualism and ‘cocooning’ in home theatres was upon us.

And yet.

My experience—with Philosophy Cafés, and precinct systems, and ‘community consultations’, and Internet sites—is that people do very much want to participate, and be heard, and they do want to learn, and talk to others, and form networks and bonds, and they can take account of the ‘common good’ and they will help others to enter the dialogues, and they still have a love of community that befits us ‘social animals’. In that sense, little has basically changed in human society.

What people need is new channels. Not new TV channels. Not news channels (was it Thoreau who said ‘All news is gossip’?) Not force-feeding of low-quality infotainment via satellite from the heart of America. Real channels—communication structures that allow people to have their say, and report it unedited, un-‘spun’ to those of influence. Structures that allow people to gather at a moment’s notice, to use their limited time effectively, to know that what they express will be heard, and will make a difference to the domain in which they are engaged. Structures that offer ease and equity of access, and informality, and are supportive and non-judgmental.

Structures are not buildings; structures are concepts, containers, systems, processes, programmes, gatherings, meetings. Structures are precinct systems, philosophy Cafés, websites. And structures, these days, must meet certain criteria, certain rules that match the shifts in the ways people connect and inter-relate, if they are to offer true participation. And they must offer true participation if they are to attract and retain people, students, citizens.

Philosophy Cafés work as participative community structures because they offer equitable access—people from all educational backgrounds and life experience attend the Cafés—and there are no financial constraints to entry. They offer a ‘nutrient-rich environment’—that is, some serious thinking and discussion (and great coffee and pasta!). They offer an informal environment, free of long-term commitment—people are not attending to gain a degree, they have fulfilling careers, perhaps, but simply like to get together with others; they like to talk, to express what they have learned through the years, and be taken seriously. Philosophy Cafés offer community—that is, citizens being cared for, not customers receiving service (creeping ‘managerialism’ has a lot to answer for).

In the current age, people still get together, still express themselves, still consider the ‘common good’, still attend community gatherings, and still network (maybe more than ever). But those gatherings have fundamentally altered from the Rotaries, Apexes, and ‘bowling clubs’ of earlier days. Today’s gatherings reflect the spirit of the times—they allow ‘dipping’ (attending when time and inclination permits – much as high-rating ‘soap operas’ do—making them harder to pin down as formal ‘participation’), they don’t cost much, they don’t stand on any formality. These gatherings are very far from the formal lecture structures of university courses (supported, it must be said, by the overly formal attitude of some of our academics).

Of course, attendees at Philosophy Cafés are not expecting to depart with a degree in Philosophy; and such a degree requires sustained (but not necessarily continuous) commitment and some amount of formal structure. Yet there is a pressing need for our formal institutions to find new ‘channels’ for the delivery of education, of participation, of inclusion. Governments need new channels for citizen inclusion in decision-making (including new types of websites, and new face-to-face forums); universities need new education delivery channels (including online education, and new structures for face-to-face delivery). This is known; what is less certain is whether they realise the extent of the changes needed.

It comes down to trust. The formal institutions that lead this country need to trust the people—the people of this country are more than capable; of expressing philosophical views (in Cafés or elsewhere), of learning, of considered judgment, of reasoning, of exhibiting common sense. The days of erecting structures that constrain people to certain restricted roles within restricted processes are over. Participation—like information—needs to be free.

Once we free the channels, get the participative structures right, Philosophy will rise again. In the Cafés, and the streets. And, yes, in the universities.