The way injustice often undermines our agency is by shrinking the horizons of what we think is possible. We simply accept that things cannot be any other way than they are. The kind of critical thinking central to philosophical education allows us to question how things are and, often, to realize that how things are is not how they have or ought to be. Bertrand Russell, in his own impassioned defence of philosophy, wrote that “Dogmatism is an enemy to peace, and an insuperable barrier to democracy. In the present age, at least as much as in former times, it is the greatest of the mental obstacles to human happiness.” Those who most benefit from pushing back against dogmatism are those who are unfairly treated by the system as it is – our imagined protagonist and all of those who start off already disadvantaged just because they were born in the wrong neighbourhood, with the wrong skin colour, with the wrong gender or sexual orientation. Philosophy, far from being an intellectual diversion for the elite, can be central to the empowerment of those who are so often disempowered outside of the classroom. It is, therefore, one of the ironies of our current times that an increase in inequality has been accompanied by a systematic attack on the humanities.

To encourage students to be critical thinkers, we push them to ask questions, to rigorously examine their assumptions, to unearth weaknesses in arguments. Consider the questions our protagonist could ask herself: Why should she have to take out student loans to finance her education? Why can she only find jobs that don’t pay a living wage? Do her children have an equal opportunity to succeed? What might her life be like if the world was more just? To what extent are her actions explained by her situation? Do these explanations undermine her responsibility? How does her gender or race shape her identity? Why do the answers to these questions matter? When you’re tired and busy and overwhelmed with worry, you often do not have the luxury to consider these questions. You simply accept the challenges in front of you as those you must overcome. But in many cases these challenges are the result of your actions, the actions of others, social and political institutions, or a combination of all of these. Therefore, the first step in this kind of philosophical education is to shake students out of a complacent and uncritical acceptance of the world as it is.

There is a third kind of answer that, without competing with the previous two, demonstrates the value of philosophy, even (perhaps, especially) for students like our imagined protagonist: philosophy is the antidote to the uncritical acceptance of the world and ourselves as we are. This answer falls squarely within the classical tradition of philosophy as an ethical and political enterprise. And if it is right, it is students like the one imagined above, with little time and few resources, who have the most to gain from philosophy, because it is they who stand to lose the most if the world stays as it is.

In order to do this, we encourage students to develop critical thinking skills – to think hard about soundness, validity, necessity, and possibility – but we also ask them to imagine how things could be different than they are. Many introductory philosophy courses, including mine, start with Descartes’ First Meditation. Descartes presents one of the most well-discussed arguments for scepticism – the view that we cannot have knowledge – by asking the reader to consider the possibility that she is dreaming. Instructors (myself included) will teach students how to dissect those arguments into premises and conclusions and how to evaluate them for validity and soundness. In so doing, we teach our students to think clearly and rigorously. Being able to do this, we tell them, will be useful in non-philosophical contexts as well. But, of course, even an only halfway decent instructor will not leave it at that. There is nothing like Descartes’ meditations to spark a vigorous student discussion about the nature of knowledge, evidence, certainty, and truth. Students resist at first: how can it be that we can’t know any of what we thought we knew? We don the hat of the sceptic and push back. If all goes well, students grapple with profound questions concerning knowledge and truth. But, beyond posing these fundamental questions, Descartes asks us to engage in a fantastically unnerving imaginative exercise with him. Imagine that you are actually dreaming. Imagine that an evil demon is controlling your every thought. Imagine that everybody walking on the street is an automaton. When students take this imaginative exercise seriously, they start to feel as discomfited as Descartes himself must have. The ground starts shaking under them. It is at this moment that philosophy starts its work. But, we must not forget that this was only the first step for Descartes. His ultimate aim was to reconstruct the foundation for knowledge. The imagination can be a powerful tool for students to develop their critical fa

To encourage students to be critical thinkers, we push them to ask questions, to rigorously examine their assumptions, to unearth weaknesses in arguments. Consider the questions our protagonist could ask herself: Why should she have to take out student loans to finance her education? Why can she only find jobs that don’t pay a living wage? Do her children have an equal opportunity to succeed? What might her life be like if the world was more just? To what extent are her actions explained by her situation? Do these explanations undermine her responsibility? How does her gender or race shape her identity? Why do the answers to these questions matter? When you’re tired and busy and overwhelmed with worry, you often do not have the luxury to consider these questions. You simply accept the challenges in front of you as those you must overcome. But in many cases these challenges are the result of your actions, the actions of others, social and political institutions, or a combination of all of these. Therefore, the first step in this kind of philosophical education is to shake students out of a complacent and uncritical acceptance of the world as it is.

There is a third kind of answer that, without competing with the previous two, demonstrates the value of philosophy, even (perhaps, especially) for students like our imagined protagonist: philosophy is the antidote to the uncritical acceptance of the world and ourselves as we are. This answer falls squarely within the classical tradition of philosophy as an ethical and political enterprise. And if it is right, it is students like the one imagined above, with little time and few resources, who have the most to gain from philosophy, because it is they who stand to lose the most if the world stays as it is.