The Balckwell Guide to Philosophical Beginnings

June 13, 2025

As in all disciplines, no matter where you start with philosophy, you’re always jumping right into the middle. Even if you attempt to “start with the Greeks,” you will find these Greeks responding to other Greeks whose works have long been lost, who were in turn responding to philosophers and philosophies so ancient that we can’t even name them. Philosophy has never and will never move forward in a straight line, and while there are certainly recognizable trends, there are always individuals bursting forward or leaping backward from the time and place they call home.

What this does not mean is that any starting point is equally as good as any other. However, it does mean that no matter where you start, it will take some time to find your bearings. What you are essentially doing is entering a room in which several people have been passionately arguing for several days. If you ask any one of them to catch you up on what’s happened, they will give you an entirely different story than their opponents would. Some of them will refuse to provide a history altogether, claiming that there is no reason to bother with these other blockheads, and instead simply lay out their own opinion as if it was the first ever conceived. As unintuitive as it may seem, the latter are the people you want to listen to.

All philosophers are responding to someone, or some idea, but they are more or less explicit about who or what this is. Plato, for example, literally includes the people he is responding to as characters in his dialogues, where they lay out exactly what they think before their oh-so-pleasantly-structured ideas are dissected into meaninglessness by Socrates, the World’s Most Annoying Man. You’ll find that a lot of philosophers find delight in naming (or alluding to) their opponents and even casually insulting them as they tear down their arguments. This is part of the fun of the whole thing!

Rene Descartes is the opposite. Although obviously well-versed in the philosophies that came before, he made an explicit attempt to write (and think) as if no one had ever thought philosophically before. This, in a certain sense, shows an even greater arrogance than those mentioned above, but on the other hand, it certainly makes his work more palatable to a beginner. He’s not a personal favourite of mine, but he would definitely make a good starting point, especially if you just want to jump straight into modernity without having to deal with a bunch of old weirdos.

Keep in mind, however, that no matter where you jump in, you are going to be dealing with a bunch of weirdos. That’s just the nature of the game.

Another interesting starting point, and where I found my humble beginnings, is David Hume, particularly his Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding. What makes Hume so great is that he asks an extremely interesting question that he then absolutely fails to answer. This question concerns a fundamental aspect of how we view, interpret, and think about the world around us. Even if you don’t like his answer (and you probably won’t), this work will encourage you to start thinking philosophically, wondering how exactly you would go about answering his question.

This is exactly what happened to Immanuel Kant. He credits Hume with opening his eyes to the inadequacy of all prior philosophy, and his attempts to answer Hume’s skepticism formed the basis for German idealism, a movement that includes such famed philosophers as Schelling, Schopenhauer, and, yes, Hegel.

More important than where you start, however, might be how you start. Philosophy rewards an innate curiosity and willingness to go with the flow, following a bizarre person’s bizarre train of thought all the way to its terminus station. You might get there and realize that you’re quite far from where you ever wanted to be, and that this new world makes absolutely no sense. At that point, you should ask yourself, “How did I get here?” By piecing together your journey step by step, you are engaging in critique, and perhaps by doing so you will find where you believe this particular conductor went completely off the rails. At that point, you are no longer merely reading philosophy, but actively engaging in it. Already, you are a philosopher. Congratulations!

Since all philosophy occurs in a particular place and at a particular time, neither of which may be the particular place or time in which you reside, sometimes one must reckon with authors who are working from unfamiliar premises and biases. In the Western tradition, a fundamental barrier for the modern reader might be Christian theology. Even if the author doesn’t explicitly mention it, it has a tendency to sneak its way in there. Believe me, you won’t get very far in your journey if you refuse to engage with these works in good faith. Often, you may discover that you can find a way to agree on almost all points, simply by modifying a few concepts or even words to fit your own worldview.

It is perfectly reasonable and in fact recommended to create your own worldview out of what you read! You do not need to be a Hegelian, a Kantian, a Cartesian or even a Platonist. Most of the people who describe themselves this way in fact disagree with their particular hero on a wide variety of points, or at least feel the need to modify their hero’s terminology or refine their arguments. J.G. Fichte insisted that his philosophy was exactly identical to his progenitor, Immanuel Kant, only re-framed with different words and arguments. Most modern scholars now agree that Fichte was, in fact, creating his own thing.

Each individual has particular needs or desires that they are trying to fulfill with philosophy, meaning that there’s no one syllabus or reading list that will work for everyone. There are certain philosophers with an out-sized importance, who seem to constantly be referenced by almost everyone that follows, and these will become clear quite quickly once you begin. No matter how widely or closely you read, you will always have blind spots, so its best not to worry too much what other people are talking about, and follow your own heart. If an author is continually being referenced in such a way that piques your interest, by all means start — or continue — with their work. But I wouldn’t spend too much time forcing yourself to read philosophers who are grappling with questions that you have never even thought to ask — and which, when asked, don’t spark your curiosity. That’s a surefire way to lose interest completely.

In the end, philosophy is a means of encouraging and, to a lesser extent, satisfying curiosity. If you don’t care, then that’s that! It’s not the kind of thing everyone needs or wants to be involved in. But if you do find yourself asking the kinds of questions that philosophers love to try to answer, you will find your efforts in this discipline generously rewarded.