Humans of Philosophy – A Philosopher Who Refuses to Conform [Chew Zhun Yee]

My taste buds felt bland and unstimulated. I could only “taste” what was fed to me—textbook “knowledge” and “recommended readings” to prepare for exams. I followed my teachers’ instructions religiously.

I was taught that studying hard and regurgitating what I learned was a virtue every good student should possess, while doing otherwise was a vice to avoid.

At the Malaysian Certificate of Education (SPM) results day, I began to question this dichotomy of good and bad—when I sensed a lingering emptiness at the back of my mind after receiving my SPM results. Despite earning straight As, I felt hollow. I realized that my five years of hard work had been reduced to just a few letters on a piece of embossed paper. I also realized I had spent my five years of high school operating like a machine; I had never wondered who I was, what I wanted, how I wanted to live, or why I did what I did. My sense of self seemed worlds away from the certificate I held, and the emptiness I felt was so vast it could fill the entire auditorium.

While most of my peers chose to dive straight into higher education, I decided to take a different path. I didn’t have a plan, and I was lost, so I decided to carve my own path. I took a gap year to try out new things that I never thought I would. I mean, you have to try the new dishes to know if you like them or not, right?

The Taste of Life

For the first time in my life, I tasted the tang of life—it was a little nerve-wracking, but mostly exciting and enriching.

I believe everyone experiences life’s essence, or quale, differently (in philosophy, “quale” refers to the subjective or phenomenal quality of an experience as perceived by a person). For me, life feels most alive when I’m breaking out of my own bubble of knowledge—questioning, inquiring, and challenging the status quo.

During my gap year, I explored a kaleidoscope of activities and ventures I never imagined possible when I was “trapped” in what Sartre’s existentialism calls “bad faith.” Sartre describes bad faith as the phenomenon of avoiding personal choice and alternative possibilities by surrendering to societal values or norms, ultimately disowning one’s freedom. One of my greatest discoveries during this time was the beauty of philosophy. I immersed myself in it through meetup groups, philosophical conversations with friends and strangers, and online courses. I vividly remember a discussion on the relativism of moral values. Before then, I had always thought of moral values as “absolutes”—universal and fixed across contexts. And that conversation completely changed my understanding of morality.

The Taste of Passion

Embarking on a philosophy degree, I tasted passion for the first time.

It wasn’t easy at first, but philosophy opened up worlds I hadn’t known existed. I learned to suspend judgment rather than blindly accept what’s presented, to embrace opposing viewpoints and consider alternative perspectives, and to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of arguments. These skills weren’t as easily discardable as the information I once memorized and regurgitated in high school.

Philosophy taught me better critical thinking, decision-making, and problem-solving. When I face obstacles at work, my philosophical training enables me to approach problems with a logical framework—analyzing the consequences of each possible solution to find the most viable outcome that minimizes utility loss.

Many people, including you and me, practice philosophy in our everyday lives—perhaps without even realizing it. From the way we think and the questions we ask to the actions we take, philosophy is embedded in our decisions. For instance, if you’re upset about underperforming at work or school, you might decide to take a break, meditate, or listen to music to distance yourself from the situation. You might tell yourself that you did your best and that outcomes or others’ opinions are beyond your control. Without realizing it, you’re practicing Stoicism’s Dichotomy of Control—focusing on what’s within your control and letting go of what isn’t.

In short, philosophy brought me out of my knowledge bubble and ensured that my journey of learning and living is truly full-bodied.

But it didn’t stop there. I wanted to share the joy I found in philosophy with more people in Malaysia. I believe the Malaysian education system has room to grow in fostering creativity and critical thinking among students.

The Malaysian education system, for those familiar with its corridors, often operates as a linear model where teaching and learning flow in a one-way current: educators disseminate information, and students absorb it passively. Brazilian educator and philosopher Paulo Freire described this as the “banking” model of education, where teachers deposit information into students’ minds like funds into a bank account. But this model is inadequate for preparing students for the demands of the modern world.

Today’s society demands skills vastly different from those of a few decades ago. With the rapid advancement of science and technology, the rise of misinformation and polarization, and the growth of echo chambers, it is no longer sufficient to rely on past knowledge. The ability to learn continuously and think critically is essential for keeping up with constant change and demands of society. This is where philosophy becomes invaluable.

I co-founded the Malaysian Philosophy Society with the hope to instil a culture of critical thinking in Malaysia, creating a space where Malaysians can engage in meaningful discussions, question the status quo, and bridge divides.

Taste of Hope

It was during this time that I first tasted hope—a hope that change is possible in Malaysia’s educational climate. Since the end of 2016, we have held onto that hope as we work toward building an ecosystem of philosophy and critical thinking here in Malaysia. Our approach is to make philosophy practical, using it to address real-world and everyday challenges through our content, events and projects.

Importantly, we are not simplifying or “dumbing down” philosophy. Instead, we make its already practical aspects more explicit by:

• Applying philosophical concepts and views to local issues,
• Applying philosophical skills to everyday life, relationships, and work,
• Making philosophy relevant to everyday life,
• Translating general philosophical thoughts into specific questions related to the local context,
• Collaborating with individuals from various disciplines to explore solutions to interpersonal and societal problems.

In the near future, I hope we can all savor the local flavor of kemajuan (progress) in our country through the lens of philosophy. In closing, I invite you to take a courageous step toward expanding your palate—explore the new stimuli and spices that philosophy has to offer. You may be surprised by the new possibilities it opens up.

I encourage you to give the dish of philosophy a try. Whether or not it becomes a favorite, at least you will have tasted it.