Philosophy

Philosophy

For it is in examining the people like Dr. King, that we can see how yoga can not just make us feel calmer and more peaceful, but can really affect change in a world that is in deep need of healing. By his words, and more importantly his actions, Martin Luther King Jr. showed many of the principles that are central to and deeply embedded in yoga philosophy.

For the first time, speech has been decoupled from consequence. We now live alongside AI systems that converse knowledgeably and persuasively-deploying claims about the world, explanations, advice, encouragement, apologies, and promises-while bearing no vulnerability for what they say. Millions of people already rely on chatbots powered by large language models, and have integrated these synthetic interlocutors into their personal and professional lives. An LLM's words shape our beliefs, decisions, and actions, yet no speaker stands behind them.

I am using the word pragmatism in a specific sense. I am not speaking about being pragmatic as a political tactic; deciding what issues should be given priority and what battles to choose, or a willingness to compromise, or a recognition that there are limits to what can be accomplished at any time. I am writing now about pragmatism in a meaning closer to its philosophical origin in the writings of William James-that truth is not found in abstract principles or beliefs,

At a time when geopolitical certainties of old are crumbling away, it has become the go-to quote to make sense of the current moment in all its seeming senselessness. The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters is a line attributed to the former Italian Communist party leader Antonio Gramsci. Over the last two months alone, it has been quoted and often mangled by a rightwing Belgian prime minister, a leftwing British political leader, an Irish central banker and in the title of the most recent BBC Reith lecture, given by the author Rutger Bregman.

Cicero, the Roman Stoic, once wrote to his friend Varro, pending a visit to his home: "If you have a garden in your library, we shall have all we want." This same desire for good books and natural beauty is at the heart of Byung-Chul Han's In Praise of the Earth, in which he reflects on gardening as a form of philosophical meditation.

A drawn circle is at least something physical. You can see it, touch it, erase it. The skeptic can still say, "Circles are grounded in physical reality. Justice is different; it's just an idea in your head." So let's talk about the number two. Point to it. Not two apples, not two fingers, not a numeral on a page-that's just a symbol.

When British author Karen Armstrong won the TED prize in 2008, she used the money to convene a group of religious thinkers from a wide range of faiths to craft an updated version of the Golden Rule for the 21st century. What emerged was the Charter for Compassion, which calls on people around the world "to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the center of our world and put another there, and to honor the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect."

Kensington, for those not from Philly, has long had a reputation for potent but affordable street drugs. Interstate 95 and the Market-Frankford elevated commuter train line provide easy access to the neighborhood for buyers and sellers, and abandoned buildings offer havens for drug use and other illicit activity. St. Francis Inn Ministries, which was founded by two Franciscan friars in 1979, serves sit-down breakfast and dinner for thousands of people each year, many of whom suffer from poverty, homelessness and substance use disorder.

Walking through a field one day, a 17-year-old schoolteacher named George Boole had a vision. His head was full of abstract mathematics - ideas about how to use algebra to solve complex calculus problems. Suddenly, he was struck with a flash of insight: that thought itself might be expressed in algebraic form. Boole was born on November 2, 1815, at four o'clock in the afternoon, in Lincoln, England.

I'm finding it difficult living up to my morals where is the line between compromising a little, versus becoming complicit in what I don't agree with? I'm one of those people who believes we can each take a role in solving big problems, and that we should try to make things better where we can. For this reason, I've ended up working in public service and try to reduce how much meat I eat. I'm vegetarian 60% of the time, which is not perfect, but I believe doing something is better than doing nothing.

We don't often call people stupid. Unlike its sibling concepts of dumbness and idiocy, stupidity isn't really a personality trait. Of course, you might think someone is stupid, but when we use the word, we tend to limit it to moments of stupidity. We say "Well, that was a stupid thing to do" or "You're being stupid." Stupidity is a blip.

The singularly most important question we will ever ask is, "Who am I?" Generally speaking, we are not taught how to answer that question. We don't commonly even ask it. That is, until we reach a place where we are screaming into the abyss, waiting for the sound of an echo. And then, we want to know. But do we have to get to the edge of the abyss before we can even think of asking that question?

Even in sports that do not literally hand out points for style, the matter of aesthetic value is of discursive import. The most dominant athlete or team in the world can be taken down a peg or two on the moral underpinnings of play style. There are hoops (ethical) and hoops (unethical). You can win, but what is it worth if you do not win beautifully? You can lose, but at least you suffered beautifully when it counted.

In Indra's Net of pearls and jewels, every gem reflects every other, a shimmering image of interdependence. This ancient Vedic metaphor for connection across the cosmos also illuminates what the environmental philosopher Glenn Albrecht first proposed in 2014as 'theSymbiocene': the era after the Anthropocene, in which human technologies take their cues from living systems and work in partnership rather than through dominance.

Making good decisions doesn't merely rely on how much information we take in; it also depends on the quality of that information. If what we've instead ingested and accepted is misinformation or disinformation - incorrect information that doesn't align with factual reality - then we not only become susceptible to grift and fraud ourselves, but we risk having our minds captured by charismatic charlatans. When that occurs, we can lose everything: money, trust, relationships, and even our mental independence.

Fifteen years ago, Egyptians from all walks of life took to the street to demand "bread, freedom, social justice." They were protesting the oppressive 30-year rule of Hosni Mubarak. Egypt had been under martial law for 31 years. This meant that political opposition was silenced, and opponents were often imprisoned and tortured. Police brutality was the norm. Egypt's economy was also weak and relied heavily on foreign aid and loans from the World Bank and International Monetary Fund.

The way most people think about time is wrong. The notion that we share a 'common time' moving in a single direction is a useful illusion but, as physicists have understood since the discoveries of Albert Einstein, it doesn't comport with our understanding of the Universe. However, as the Italian theoretical physicist and writer Carlo Rovelli argues in this short documentary from Quanta Magazine, this doesn't mean we should abandon the concept of time altogether.

I have been teaching Introduction to Philosophy at least once a year since 2012, beginning in my second year of graduate school at the CUNY Graduate Center. Teaching in New York City shaped me in countless ways, and each new iteration of "Intro" has pushed me to refine the course-even if only incrementally. The class I teach now at Binghamton University looks very different from the one I first taught as a graduate student using a borrowed syllabus.

当代儒学发展开始突破传统哲学和思想史范式解读，更注重从宗教属性、文明维度挖掘儒学价值，且强调儒学与公共生活、历史实践的结合，影响日益全面且深入，彰显了儒学强大而持久的生命力。

'Orcas are psychos,' quipped a close friend recently. He wasn't joking, nor was he ill-informed. In fact, he is probably the world's leading historian of whales and people. He had just watched a BBC Earth clip, narrated by David Attenborough, in which three killer whales separate a male humpback calf from his mother in the waters of Western Australia. The video's closing footage, with two of the orcas escorting the naive youngster to his imminent death, resembles nothing so much as a kidnapping:

In The Mattering Instinct: How Our Deepest Longing Drives Us and Divides Us, Harvard philosopher Rebecca Newberger Goldstein argues that human flourishing rests on two distinct 'cornerstones of our humanness': connectedness and the longing to matter. Connectedness—what we often call belonging—is 'the feeling that there are particular others who are prepared to pay us special attention, whether we deserve it or not.' It is unconditional, relational, and necessary. But it is not sufficient.

How do you know anything is real? Some things you can see directly, like your fingers. Other things, like your chin, you need a mirror or a camera to see. Other things can't be seen, but you believe in them because a parent or a teacher told you, or you read it in a book. As a physicist, I use sensitive scientific instruments and complicated math to try to figure out what's real and what's not.

Several years ago, Michael Pollan had a disturbing encounter. The relentlessly curious journalist and author was at a conference on plant behaviour in Vancouver. There, he'd learned that when plants are damaged, they produce an anaesthetising chemical, ethylene. Was this a form of self-soothing, like the release of endorphins after an injury in humans? He asked Frantisek Baluska, a cell biologist, if it meant that plants might feel pain. Baluska paused, before answering: Yes, they should feel pain.

Mathematician Peter W Stoner tackled this question in his 1960 book Science Speaks, calculating the odds of a single first-century individual fulfilling just 48 of these prophecies by chance. The result was staggering: one in 10 followed by 157 zeros, a number so vast it far exceeds the total number of electrons in the observable universe. To make the math easier to grasp, Stoner began with eight key prophecies, including being born in Bethlehem, descending from David, and performing miracles.

They escaped persecution in the form of violent antisemitism and came to Canada with next to nothing. They built their lives from the ground up and understood, through lived experience, what the normalization of cruelty did to the human spirit, how quickly people can be swayed by the opinions of the day, and how easily one could forfeit the human capacity to stop and truly think about what one is doing.

In Rinrigaku, Watsuji argues that ethics is the study of what it means for us to be human. How we think about the nature of human existence, he says, dictates the ways in which we understand our ethical values. Hence, he criticises Western philosophical conceptions of the modern subject, arguing that the Western rendering of subjectivity is both problematic and foreign

This APA Blog series has broadly explored philosophy and technology with a throughline on the influence of technology and AI on well-being. This month's post brings those themes into focus recounting a vital Washington Post Opinion piece by friend of the APA Blog, Samuel Kimbriel. Samuel is the founding director of the Aspen Institute's Philosophy and Society Initiative and Editor at Large for Wisdom of Crowds. We collaborated on a Substack Newsletter about intellectual ambition, building on his essay, Thinking is Risky.

For Plato, psyche meant something like what we'd now call mind -understood as a complex system requiring governance. The psyche had distinct parts: a reasoning part that deliberates, a spirited part that feels emotion and courage, and an appetitive part that desires. Each part has its own function and its own form of excellence. And crucially, these parts need to be governed-integrated under what Plato called constitutional self-rule.

You're not alone. And you're definitely not rude. Some of us are simply wired differently. We crave depth, substance, and meaning in our interactions. Small talk feels like eating cotton candy when you're hungry for a real meal. Growing up, my family dinners were never just about passing the salt. They turned into passionate debates about ideas, politics, and the meaning of life.

I've interviewed over 200 people for articles, from startup founders to burned-out middle managers, and I've discovered something fascinating: intellectual depth isn't about fancy degrees or knowing obscure facts. It shows up in how we communicate. When certain habits dominate someone's style, it reveals a concerning lack of curiosity and critical thinking that goes beyond just being annoying-it fundamentally limits their ability to engage with the world meaningfully.

Ever wonder why some people seem to crush it in every area of life while others stay stuck in the same patterns year after year? According to Jordan Peterson, clinical psychologist and author of "12 Rules for Life," the difference comes down to one brutal practice: Telling yourself the truth about your weaknesses. Not the comfortable half-truths we usually feed ourselves. The real, uncomfortable, sometimes painful truth.

The German philosopher Martin Heidegger believed that human knowledge, at its most foundational and meaningful, is ineffable. Moreover, it requires stepping beyond what one sees as the established rules and into the realm of the unknown. Think of a master jazz musician or an elite athlete who, after facing an unpredictable moment, would find it impossible to convey precisely how and why they did what they did to deliver a peak performance.

At the outset of the Kalevala, Finland's national epic, a singer bemoans his separation from a beloved friend who grew up beside him. Today, the friends rarely meet "näillä raukoilla rajoilla, poloisilla Pohjan mailla" - lines which translator Keith Bosley renders "on these poor borders, the luckless lands of the North." The Kalevala, a poetic masterpiece of nearly 23,000 lines, first appeared in 1835. Now, nearly 200 years later, those "luckless lands of the North" are an increasingly tense border zone.

On Jan. 28, 2026, Bruce Springsteen released "Streets of Minneapolis," a hard-hitting protest against the immigration enforcement surge in the city, including the killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. The song is all over social media, and the official video has already been streamed more than 5 million times. It's hard to remember a time when a major artist has released a song in the midst of a specific political crisis.