This is a guest column by James S. Spiegel, professor of philosophy and religion at Taylor University. With Steven B. Cowan, he is the author of The Love of Wisdom: A Christian Introduction to Philosophy (B&H Academic).

The impulse among professional philosophers to make their craft appealing to the masses might be as old as philosophy itself. In the ancient world, as today, motives for this varied. Some acted on a brute desire for profit—typified by the Sophists of the 5th century bc, among whom some, such as Gorgias and Hippias, essentially became celebrities. Others were driven by a self-sacrificing desire for eternal truth. Our exemplar is Socrates (not a true professional, since he consistently refused remuneration for his services). His commitment to taking philosophy to the streets secured his place as the founder of Western philosophy, as well as martyrdom.

In subsequent Western philosophical history, many major philosophers labored to make their ideas more accessible by publishing dialogues (most notably Plato, but also the likes of Augustine, Berkeley, and Hume), while others used alternative literary forms (e.g., Sartre's plays, Camus' novels) or produced shorter, less technical treatises so the common folk could grasp their ideas. Even Kant produced "simplified" versions of his philosophical ideas for a larger audience.

Fast-forward a few more centuries, and in the early 1990s Jostein Gaardner's Sophie's World—a history of philosophy in the form of a mystery novel—becomes a worldwide bestseller (now published in 53 languages). It was just a few years later that the current swell of popular-level philosophy books commenced with the Open Court volume Seinfeld and Philosophy (1999). Since then, Open Court has published more than 75 such volumes, on everything from the Beatles to The Simpsons. Blackwell has since gotten into the action with their own series, now totaling some 50 titles.

So now that the market is saturated with popular philosophy books, most of these about popular culture, what else can popularize philosophy? A philosophy podcast movement? Precisely. Philosophy Bites began in 2007 as a podcast series, featuring 15-20 minute ("bite-sized") interviews of leading philosophers on specific topics, hosted by BBC radio documentarian David Edmonds and Open University senior lecturer Nigel Warburton.

The immense success of the podcast series—over 12 million downloads to date—suggested a market for selected transcripts from these interviews, and the book Philosophy Bites (Oxford Univ. Press, 2010) was born. Reflecting the breadth of the podcasts, it features discussions of topics ranging across the major subject areas of the field—ethics, politics, metaphysics, philosophy of mind, aesthetics and philosophy of religion. In keeping with the Socratic method, Warburton prods his interlocutors to define their terms, and they usually oblige with impressive clarity and precision, whether on tolerance, skepticism, time, friendship, scientific realism, infinity, vagueness, or love.

The book opens with a collection of interviewees' answers to the meta-question "What is philosophy?" The responses are remarkable not so much for what they identify as the essence of the discipline (the most frequent description being critical reflection on important issues) but for what most of them do not mention, namely wisdom, knowledge, and truth. Just a few of the interviewees identify any of these as an aim of philosophical inquiry. The ignoring of wisdom is ironic both for historical and etymological reasons (i.e., philo + sophia = "the love of wisdom"). As for the slighting of truth and knowledge, this is not in itself surprising in our postmodern age. But, as another point of irony, in the 240 pages that follow, every one of the 25 scholars interviewed makes some strong claims regarding what he or she knows to be true—even those who advance relativist or skeptical views.

But most of the contributors are neither relativists nor skeptics. Thus, for example, Peter Singer discusses his position on animal rights, touching on the issues of factory farming, animal experimentation, and the comparative moral status of animals and humans. Singer's views are nuanced (e.g., he is open to the possibility of morally acceptable medical testing on animals and he doesn't believe the duty to be a vegetarian is absolute), but he stands by his contentious claim that some animals (e.g., higher primates) deserve greater moral consideration than some (viz., severally mentally disabled) humans.

A highlight for me is the interview with Wendy Brown (UC Berkeley). Brown discusses the concept of tolerance, noting how although the term today denotes a significant public virtue, the idea of tolerance often functions to cloak and preserve inequalities. Tolerance, she says, "is always about managing some object of aversion" and thus may be "used as a substitute for discourses of justice, equality, or even freedom." Brown's discussion is an example of philosophy at its best—offering insightful critical analysis of an important concept, which provides valuable instruction for our moral improvement. Another highlight is A. W. Moore's analysis of the concept of infinity, which illuminates without delving into mathematical technicality. He concludes with an explanation as to why we find the subject so interesting: "I think our fascination with the infinite comes from a vague sense that there is something out there that contrasts with our own finitude. We feel that we must be part of something much bigger."

What Brown and Moore identify are paradoxes of sorts. As would be expected, numerous other paradoxes emerge in the course of these conversations, pertaining to everything from vagueness (how many grains of sand constitute a heap?) to our love for tragic works of art (how can we find pleasure in psychologically painful experiences?). These are just the sorts of conundrums that draw many of us to philosophy. There is something exhilarating about exploring the limits of our rational faculties. We (or many of us) humans find the topic irresistible—moths of reason drawn to the flame of illogic.

Given the intriguing topics and the articulateness of the interviewees, it is no wonder the original podcasts have been popular and the transcripts have been published. In 2012, the editors mined the podcasts for a sequel, Philosophy Bites Back. But this volume has a historical format, featuring discussions of important themes in the works of major philosophers from Socrates to Derrida. This is not a history of philosophy text using a stock list of canonized thinkers (something I had to remind myself, as one who has taught the subject for 20 years). There are no chapters on Augustine, Hobbes, Leibniz, or Marx, while Montaigne, Adam Smith, Henry Sidgwick, Frank Ramsey, and Friedrich Hayek are included. In this volume the editors, again, select immediately relevant themes for a popular readership: Angie Hobbs (Sheffield) discusses Plato on erotic love, John Dunn (Cambridge) reflects on Locke's concept of toleration, Melissa Lane (Princeton) discusses Rousseau's critique of modern society, and Robert Rowland Smith explains Jacques Derrida's views on forgiveness. While this volume lacks the topical innovation of its predecessor, it features many intriguing biographical tidbits and personal anecdotes which help to personalize the philosophers discussed.

Like the first volume, Philosophy Bites Back begins with a question posed to more than fifty podcast interviewees. The question this time is "Who is your favorite philosopher?" Again, the responses are telling and, I would say, disconcerting. By far the most popular is Hume (with Nietzsche a distant second). Hume was a hyper-empiricist and strong skeptic not only pertaining to religious beliefs but also regarding causation and the uniformity of nature. If we tend to emulate our heroes, this doesn't bode well for the discipline. Fortunately, the contributors are not a representative sample of the contemporary philosophical community, which raises a point of criticism. These two volumes lack geographical breadth. Nearly all of the interviewees are professors at universities in Oxford, Cambridge, London, Princeton, Harvard, or Berkeley. One would expect much more diversity given the podcast format, which allows for easy access to scholars all over the world.

But this is a minor problem relative to the books' considerable strengths. They effectively display the philosophical method, viz., that philosophy involves the rigorous definition of terms, close analysis of language, and careful identification and questioning of assumptions. (These are, of course, distinctives of the Socratic method, which still prevails as a methodological ideal in the West.) They provide non-technical summations of scholarly achievements, philosophical movements, and influential ideas, some straight from the mouths of the scholars from whom they originated. They also show that philosophy can be conversational and relatively easy to follow. Despite some disappointments, in these ways the books succeed. And, in any case, whether the editors are motivated by a Sophistic desire for profit or a Socratic pursuit of truth, philosophy is being taken to the masses.

—James S. Spiegel

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