On Being the Best
On Being the Best
A few years ago, I came to the conclusion that I am the best philosopher who ever lived. It was hard to take in at first. But I had to accept it; I could no longer deny it. It was true. Facts are facts. I kept it to myself for a while and then decided to confess it. The response was mainly silence. But I have come to think that I was wrong. I have revised my opinion. I now believe that I am the best philosopher ever by far. Why do I say this? Compare the Beatles: it is generally agreed that they are not only the best band ever but the best band ever by far. They had it all; no one could compare. Four working-class blokes from Liverpool: the best ever by far. It is not seriously deniable after all this time. The Beatle mania was justified. Even they found it hard to believe. But you just have to look at their output—clearly the best by far. And they only existed for a few short years. I was forced to my own realization by my output of the last few years, written since I arrived (reluctantly) at my earlier judgment—it clearly makes me the best by far. Quantity, quality. No contest.
I hear the screams of protest: what an egotist, narcissist, deluded fool! But, my friends, you have got me wrong: because I am really not that good. Being the best at something doesn’t logically entail being good at it. Being the best is completely relative to a chosen group—e.g., being the best ant high-jumper. My potential rivals all have glaring weaknesses, recognized in hindsight. I won’t enumerate the various failures, limitations, and humiliations (e.g., the pineal gland). It is very easy to be wrong, short-sighted, and tunnel-visioned. Who now thinks that Plato and Aristotle got everything right? This is a familiar story. In fact, I think that the best philosophers were all too aware of their limitations—because philosophy is so hard. We are so confined by our time and place, not to mention our biology. Mistakes are easy to make. The very best philosophers don’t really think they are that good at the subject. I myself am acutely aware of this, though I admit I am actually pretty good. But I can see philosophy in the distance laughing at me—“What, you think you are good at this!” Humans are also quite bad at physics, though some are better than others. So, ok, I’m better by far than my fellow philosophical laborers, big fucking deal. If I am a narcissist (I don’t spurn the label), I am one in the land of the disfigured.
But let me return to “by far”, because that is the interesting question (the rest is obvious). What makes me by far the best? I think there are two main factors: my command of the English language and my refusal of orthodoxy. I really cannot bear to think as others do. And I am vain about my writing style. These are the motors, the mechanisms. (I also value creativity, but that is harder to pin down). I have always had abnormal powers of expression, and I never like to go with the crowd (in fact it makes me sick). When I survey my contemporary rivals, the problem is always a lack of style and a propensity to conformity. I might almost say it is a lack of (healthy) narcissism.
As I read this over, I think what rubbish it really is; but it is a lot better than other people’s rubbish. It is a better class of rubbish. And some of it is not rubbish at all. I am the least rubbishy philosopher ever, by far.[1]
[1] Let’s remember too that I have been doing philosophy continuously for over fifty years—no breaks, no wars. And my lifetime has corresponded with the best period that philosophy has ever had in terms of resources and opportunities, as well as fellow practitioners. I have had the benefit of all this. And someone has to be the best—if not me, then who? Would it be agreed that I am the best philosopher ever who started off as a psychologist? Am I clearly the broadest? Am I the best of my height? Etc.
Then how can you have commented to the Pinker comment, “if psychology were now the way Steve Pinker does it, I would have stayed!” Would you have been the best psychologist ever by far?
I don’t know. I doubt it. I’m not seeing your point.
My point was that your staying in psychology would have been a huge loss to philosophy, and your finding yourself the best philosopher ever by far suggests that you’d agree. But that loss would be mitigated if you’d have been the best psychologist ever by far.
All true, but as a matter of fact at the time of decision I would probably have decided to stay in psychology, because switching to philosophy was such a huge risk.
I asked ChatGPT ot give me a list of “ten best philosophers now.” You were not there, but Judith Butler was #5, so the list was ridiculous. I asked specifically about you, and it said that “in 2012 he resigned from the University of Miami”. Asked to ignore this as irrelevant, it finally focused on “rigor & originality” and “clarity & readability”. In the revised list, you were #4, after Nagel, Nussbaum, and Chalmers. Since you are clearly better than the last two, you are at least #2 now.
A reasonable result. Nussbaum and Chalmers are obviously not even in the running. The difference between Nagel and me has to do with breadth and achievement in the more rigorous parts of philosophy. I base my judgment partly on my blog and I doubt that ChatGBT took that into account. That is where I really stand out. TN is a close friend of mine.
I wonder whether ChatGBT took account of quantity as well as quality.
The criteria it used are not the sole criteria I used: I included breadth and quantity.
I cackled at this part: “But I have come to think that I was wrong. I have revised my opinion. I now believe that I am the best philosopher ever *by far*.” It must have been hard to admit you could be so shortsighted about the full measure of your own greatness.
I would add an additional humble observation. You are one of the few philosophers alive today. In fact, you may be the only living philosopher left (Thomas Nagel might be another). It seems like a highly plausible conjecture that a species of rational aliens with philosophical acumen vastly superior to that of humankind would agree with this assessment.
I admit that I wrote the piece because I wanted to write that line. You are right: how could I have been so stupid as not to recognize my own (relative!) greatness? Just not very impressive. I must have been suffering from a bad case of intellectual modesty–a sickness from which I am now cured. I do spend a lot of time reproaching myself for my stupidity, especially regarding other people.
Surely those astute aliens would so judge. They might even remark, in a tone of perplexity, “But he is the only one even trying to do philosophy!” I think I could persuade Mr. Spock that humans are not all stupid. But here I veer into self-parody.
In the enumeration of your talents you might add in humour. I’m not sure that the Beatles analogy is quite in line though, I think Muhammad Ali might be a more apt comparison.
I think this blog will stand. It will be a pretty good legacy.
In the Cult of Colin (sounds very Monty Python) humor would have a starred place, not least because it led to my execution by the Humorless Zealots.
This blog is my New Testament.
And of course there’s Melville’s preface to Moby Dick: “Give me Vesuvius’ crater for an inkstand! Friends, hold my arms”!
I couldn’t track down that quotation in my copy of Moby Dick, but it is very characteristic. The whale is the biggest animal by far.
Unsolicited advice from an agnostic: switch to religion Colin McGinn. It is much more profitable for the successful founders (no not Jesus, but Hubbard is a good example) and easier than philosophy. Just find the right helpers with the stuff you dislike doing and off you go! You already have the New Testament and a few Apostles too. Almost there given your undeniable wordsmith talents.
Actually, I have had similar thoughts: a new sensible religion.
Apology. Mistaken recollection. That quote from Melville was, of course, not in the preface. I read his great book for an American Literature course I did at Sunderland Polytechnic (as it then was) almost four decades since. It still resonates though. (I love an opportunity to exclaim “He heaps me!”)
(ch. 104 The Fossil Whale. According to The Literature Page.)
I thought so. I like all the cetology stuff.