
Jason Rheins
Philosophy
with President Gutmann and Interim Provost Peter Conn
I am deeply honored to be nominated for this award. When I started
teaching philosophy I was worried that I would have a hard time communicating
to my students what I find so fascinating and valuable about my subject.
No one ever needed to persuade me that thinking about philosophy was
worthwhile. But that’s just me. Unfortunately, it can be difficult
to persuade other people of its meaningfulness and usefulness.
One common justification for it is that doing philosophy helps
one develop keen argumentative and analytical skills, and up to
a point I agree. The thinking skills philosophy helps inculcate
are invaluable, and I try to orient my teaching in a way that will
help students develop these skills. In recitation I encourage them
to formulate objections to the theories we are discussing and have
them debate one another. However, good thinking skills are not unique
to philosophy. Every course and concentration should encourage students
to think clearly, logically, and with an eye to their evidence.
Yet I think that philosophical questions are in themselves worthy
of study. They are more than an efficient way to hone one’s
wits for the LSAT.
My conviction is that philosophy matters, that “the unexamined
life is not worth living”. My goal in teaching is to help
students to see the importance of big ideas. So the challenge that
forms the center of my teaching philosophy is: how do I motivate
my students to take philosophy seriously when it is always so abstract
and frequently paradoxical? Essentially my answer is: make it real,
make it matter, and make it fun.
There are several things I do to try to make philosophy more tangible
and approachable. I never present a definition or complicated formulation
without also providing examples, and I ask my students to contribute
their own examples so that they can see how a theory applies to
reality rather than just tossing around jargon. I also try to present
the connections between philosophy and the rest of human culture.
For example, when students in my Intro to Ethics (Phil 002) recitation
had to write an assignment on cultural relativism and the myth of
the ‘white man’s burden’ I brought them copies
of Rudyard Kipling’s infamous poem “The White Man’s
Burden” which introduced the term. Later, when we covered
the Republic, I summarized Athens’ political and social crises
in the 5th and 4th centuries BCE which motivated Plato’s social
theory.
Similarly, in Evolution of Scientific Thought (Phil 025), a pilot
course I helped Professor Michael Weisberg develop, we cover several
core issues in the philosophy of science as they bear on the history
of western science. Rather than just throwing out the question of
“is it sufficient for a scientific theory to give good empirical
predictions?” we discussed how in the early 16th century the
Ptolemaic geocentric theory and the early Copernican theory gave
equally accurate predictions of the locations of planets. We then
asked our students if there were any considerations besides predictive
adequacy which favored the heliocentric model. Thus, an otherwise
esoteric question became the difference between a true and a false
world system. I hope this helps students to see that the theories
we are discussing have a life beyond the bookshelf. They influenced
and were influenced by the world around them.
But it’s not enough to show students that philosophy affects
the real world; I want them to see that philosophy matters for them.
To that end, I try to relate the issues we discuss to the lives
they are living. When a junior in Intro. to Ethics told me about
her plans to live and work abroad I asked her to consider how she
would relate the views she had expressed in her paper on cultural
relativism to the way she would adjust to living in a different
culture. Would she accept those practices different from her own?
If she judged them to be worse would she try to change them? I did
not push her one way or the other; I just wanted her to see that
the ideas she was studying could be applied to her own life.
Ethical questions such as “how should I live my life”
have obvious practical significance, but it is also possible to
motivate more theoretical subjects for students. For instance, in
Phil. 025 I have two brilliant physics students who started the
course with opposite views about how to conduct scientific research.
One expressed allegiance to a general sort of Pythagoreanism; he
thought that mathematics revealed the basic truths of nature and
that physics could be advanced primarily through the development
of its formalisms. But there was an ambiguity in his thought. In
a series of discussions in and out of class, we distinguished the
view that mathematics accurately represents nature from the view
that mathematical harmony is the order in nature. He recognized
that the properties of a formal system of representation can differ
from the object it represents (e.g. the word ‘unostentatious’
is very ostentatious). He was also moved by historical accounts
of theories that were mathematically valid but posited false physical
mechanisms. He gained a much greater appreciation for the limits
of a purely symbolic, mathematical method. He even raised some anti-Pythagorean
objections to superstring theorist Brian Greene when he met him
at Penn last week.
The other student began the course saying that she was a thorough-going
“experimentalist” and empiricist, yet in discussing
Bacon’s naïve empiricism she came to recognize the important
and inextricable role of theory in guiding observations and interpreting
experimental results. She saw that she needed a more sophisticated
account of the relation between observation and theory, and to gain
new ideas she has started to voraciously read great works in the
philosophy of science. Each of them, I think, has profited from
studying philosophy and has developed a more nuanced and sophisticated
view of scientific research. I hope that their careers as scientists
will benefit from this greatly.
Additionally, I realize that philosophy is a daunting subject,
so I do everything I can to help my students stay interested in
and on top of the material. I fill my recitations with a lot of
humor because I know that if I can make recitation fun then students
will show up, participate, and come to office hours. I also try
to make myself extremely available by holding review sessions for
exams (even if I am the only TA in a course to do so) and meeting
with students to discuss drafts of their papers. Sometimes I discuss
papers for other philosophy courses with past and current students.
Because questions such as “what is justice?” and “am
I responsible for my actions?” are so vital, I think that
anything I can do to help my students grapple with them is something
that I ought to do. Teaching philosophy is a great responsibility,
but for me it’s also labor of love and a damn good time. After
all, there are few things I would rather be doing than discussing
philosophy.
Francis Bacon said, ‘Philosophy, when superficially studied,
excites doubt; when thoroughly explored, it dispels it.’ Reformulated,
this wonderful remark states my philosophy of teaching: ‘Philosophy,
when superficially discussed, induces apathy; when passionately
taught, it evokes enthusiasm.’
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