What Is It Like to Be a Philosopher?

In this interview, Yujin Nagasawa, H.G. Wood Professor of the Philosophy of Religion and co-director of the Birmingham Centre for the Philosophy of Religion at University of Birmingham talks about growing up in Tokyo, IBM, baseball, Shinto and polytheism, rhinoceros beetles, Osamu Tezuka, pro-wrestling and his buddy Chris Hero, moving to the states to study at SUNY Stony Brook, Compuserve, being inspired by David Chalmers’s book The Conscious Mind, going to grad school at ANU to study philosophy of mind, how his interests shifted to philosophy of religion while working on the dissertation, omniscience, Daniel Stoljar, Frank Jackson, afternoon tea parties, Being John Malkovich, Gamera, landing two postdocs and not experiencing summer for 2 years before finding himself at the University of Birmingham, his wife and his ikizama, his dog, the relationship between philosophy and religion, theodicy, the ontological argument, the problem of evil (for atheists), David Benatar and anti-natalism, the Global Philosophy of Religion Project, pierogies and pizza…

[12/23/2021]

So, where did you grow up?

I was born in Tokyo in 1975, and I lived there until when I moved to the US at the age of 21. Tokyo has a population of 14 million, so I grew up a city boy, but now, I prefer to live in a quieter place. I feel quite overwhelmed whenever I visit Tokyo these days.

What was your family like?

My father was an engineer at IBM in Japan, and my mother was an English teacher. I did not like English as a child, but people assumed that I liked and spoke English well because of my mother’s occupation. In reality, I almost flat-out refused to learn English, and I would always say that I did not need to learn it, as I would be happy living in Japan my whole life. I never dreamed that I would spend more than half of my life in an English-speaking part of the world (the US, Australia, Canada, and the UK). At the time, my brother, who now works for the American company Oracle in Japan, was much more Americanized than me; he liked listening to American music and watching American films. I was not like him at all. Speaking of America, my paternal grandfather Fujio Nagasawa was the first in my family to visit the US. He was one of the earliest professional baseball players in Japan. In the early 1930s, he was recruited as a member of the All-Japan baseball team and went to the US to play against Major League All-Stars including Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and Jimmie Foxx.

Amazing! Religious household?

Japan is a religiously pluralistic country. If you surveyed Japanese people, most of them would probably say they are not religious, but they are actually more spiritual or religious than you would imagine, and there are marks of religion everywhere in the country; there are so many Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines, even in the center of Tokyo. The Japanese also like to celebrate Christmas as well as the festivals of other religions. One thing that I remember vividly is that my maternal grandfather had both a tiny Buddhist altar and a household Shinto shrine at his house, praying to each of them every day. Meanwhile, his wife, my grandma, would attend a Catholic mass every weekend. These kinds of practices are relatively common in Japan. Japanese people do not think praying to different gods or buddhas is contradictory. This is an example of the religious pluralism or syncretism in Japan. I myself went to a Presbyterian school at the age of 13, where I attended a service and read the Bible every morning even though our family was traditionally and nominally Buddhist. Maybe my multi-religious approach to philosophy of religion is a product of the pluralistic environment in which I grew up.

Often, religious worldviews seem incompatible with other religious worldviews. How does Japanese culture deal with that logical tension?

Shinto is Japan’s indigenous polytheistic religion, the core of which is belief in kami (or gods). After Buddhism was introduced in Japan in the sixth century, scholars developed the honji suijaku theory, according to which Buddhist deities came to Japan manifesting themselves as Shinto gods, who were more familiar to the Japanese, so that they could save as many people in Japan as possible. However, this may simply be a philosophical theory trying to resolve the tension you mention. I would say that most people in Japan are not aware of this theory and instead think that if, as Shinto says, there are all sorts of gods—gods of trees, rocks, mountains, waterfalls, or even gods of toilets (!)—then there is no reason to reject gods from other religious traditions.

Plausible hypothesis! As a little kid, what were you interested in?

As a child, I was passionate about collecting insects and fossils. I feel lucky to have grown up at a time in which the environment was safe for children to play. For example, when I was young, I would venture out into the forest with my friends early in the morning around 4 a.m., when it was completely dark, to catch shiny rhinoceros beetles. Our parents did not need to accompany us because it was safe. I was also a member of a fossil collectors’ society, and I was able to take a train by myself to attend society meetings. This is when I was around 10. I was the only child at the meetings, but the other members were kind to me. I also wrote articles about insects and submitted them to a newsletter for amateur entomologists’ society. Looking back, I find it funny that what I now do as a grownup academic—joining a group of researchers, attending conferences, submitting papers to journals, etc.—is not very different from what I used to do as a 10-year-old kid!

How were you similar to and different from the rest of your friends and family?

My brother always liked cars, trains, and airplanes, while I always liked toys like LEGO figures and stuffed animals. My parents think this explains why my brother chose to study mathematics and went into the IT industry, while I chose to study philosophy and pursue an academic career in the humanities. However, I wonder if that is entirely correct since I also studied applied mathematics, and I am still fascinated by technological gadgets.

As a teenager, did you get into any trouble?

This may sound somewhat boring, but I was always a “good kid,” and I did not get into any trouble as a teenager. Even now, I cannot drink alcohol. I wish I could, but my body just cannot tolerate alcohol!

Favorite subjects in high school?

I liked the more creative subjects, so I enjoyed art. At one point, I wanted to become a manga artist. I was particularly influenced by Osamu Tezuka, who is known as the “Father of Manga.” He published 150,000 pages of manga throughout his life and authored numerous graphic novels, such as Phoenix, Buddha, and Black Jack, addressing philosophical themes, such as the meaning of life and the possibility of immortality. He was both a medical doctor and a manga artist, and he seemed obsessed with themes related to life and death. His work has influenced my thoughts about philosophy.

How?

Like myself, Tezuka loved insects in his childhood because he was fascinated by life. I believe that this fascination motivated him to become a medical doctor. He also became an animator because he liked the idea of bringing his drawings to life. It is interesting to note that the term animation comes from the Latin word anima, which means life or soul! The other side of that same coin was his fear of death, which came from his experience of nearly dying in an airstrike in Osaka during the Second World War. Many of his manga stories were about life and death. For instance, Black Jack is a series of episodes about a doctor who saves many people but also wonders what the point of medicine is if we all die eventually. He concludes that the ultimate goal of medicine should be to allow patients to live a fulfilling life rather than simply prolonging life. Phoenix is a series of stories about individuals in both the past and the future, each of whom searches for immortality. Tezuka believed that we are tiny specks of something vast and eternal and that the phoenix is a manifestation of it. He does not explicitly present any philosophical views, but his work helped me to shape my approach to philosophy, which constitutes a search for ultimate reality and meaning. Tezuka also showed me an example of how to live in a manner devoted to what one really loves. He was a real workaholic and typically had very little time to sleep. He worked on his graphic novels even on planes or in taxis. It may be a cliché that no one has ever said on their deathbed that they wished they could have spent more time at work, but Tezuka’s last words were, “I’m begging you, let me work!” Today, working all the time is considered something negative, but I think there is something admirable too about fully dedicating oneself to what one really loves. I hope that studying philosophy is such a pursuit for me.

What was on your mind as a kid?

I was a happy child, known to always be smiling, but I think I was also a bit nervous as well. For example, quite often, when my mother went grocery shopping and did not come back quickly, I feared that something might have happened to her, particularly if I could hear ambulance sirens in distance.

What were you passionate about, if anything?

I was always passionate about reading. Nearly every day after school, I would go to secondhand bookstores in my town. On weekends, I would regularly go to Jimbōchō, a town in Tokyo with over 170 secondhand bookstores. I still sometimes dream about quitting my busy academic job and opening a little secondhand bookstore in a small town, where I can just sit down and read at the cash register until a customer comes in to buy a book.

Any sign you’d grow up to be a philosopher?

At one point, as a teenager, I was attracted to science, especially astronomy, because I thought it was fantastic to be able to understand what happens in the universe even if it is extremely far away. I had a telescope and enjoyed stargazing every night. However, one day, I read a philosophy book, and it fascinated me even more than astronomy because philosophers seemed to be talking about the nature and structure of everything, even beyond any empirical observations. Many philosophers say that when they were kids, they liked asking questions about everything or enjoyed debating with their friends, but this was not true for me. I was more interested in understanding the world and ourselves. This is linked to my approach to philosophy today. For me personally, philosophy is not so much about disputing difficult issues or persuading others that I am right and they are wrong. It is more about exploring and understanding the wonders of the world and our existence within it.

Same. So, what did you do for fun?

Pro-wrestling was a very popular form of entertainment in Japan in the 1980s and 90s, and I frequently went to wrestling shows and collected wrestling magazines. I also wrestled with my friends for fun. I have followed wrestling up to now even though I tend to be too busy to attend live shows these days. Since I moved to the UK, I have translated for many American and European wrestlers who go to Japan as well as for Japanese wrestlers coming to Europe. One of my best friends, Chris Hero, is a former WWE superstar who is very popular in the US, Europe, and Japan. When he comes to the UK for a tour, we always hang out. I tend to chuckle when I post something on Facebook, and it is liked by both a distinguished philosopher like Eleonore Stump and a wrestling superstar like Chris.

Did you start thinking about what you wanted to do in college, if college was even on the table?

I went to a Christian university in Tokyo that was connected to my high school. I wanted to study philosophy, but they did not have a philosophy department there, so I decided to study law instead. I hoped to specialize in jurisprudence, which I thought was the closest subject to philosophy. However, the professor of jurisprudence there, Hajime Yoshino, was an unusual scholar. He studied logic and the philosophy of language because he had just received a major grant from the Japanese government to build a form of artificial intelligence to emulate a lawyer’s reasoning and decision-making abilities. This was 1994, only a year after the release of Windows 3.1 in Japan, so he was trying to build this system on Unix and MS-DOS! He told me to forget about law and study philosophy and logic instead, which I found both funny and unexpected. I then started to contemplate the possibility of studying philosophy more thoroughly in the US, where my brother was studying mathematics.

Where did you apply?

I applied to universities mainly in the East Coast and the Midwest because my brother was living in Pittsburgh at the time. I remember applying to Michigan, where my application was rejected, as well as some of the SUNY (State University of New York) and CUNY (City University of New York) colleges. I do not remember the rest.

What was the plan?

The plan was to major in philosophy, but at that time, I didn’t fully understand the distinction between continental philosophy and analytic philosophy! I should have chosen a department specializing in analytic philosophy because my interests were in logic and the philosophy of language. Ironically, however, I chose SUNY Stony Brook, which is well-known for specializing in continental philosophy! I just thought Long Island would be a nice place to live and study. Luckily, though, there was a small but excellent group of analytic philosophers there, such as Patrick Grim, Peter Ludlow, and Gary Mar. Patrick and Gary were leading the Group for Logic and Formal Semantics, which aimed to develop philosophical computer modeling, while Peter was working on the philosophical foundation of generative linguistics. This ultimately made it the perfect place to cultivate my interests. It is worth noting that Stony Brook has produced some brilliant analytic philosophers, such as Kathrin Koslicki, Jason Stanley, and Eric Steinhart.

Any major world events—political, technological, and cultural changes or trends, etc.—that had a significant impact on your life and worldview before college?

I think the advent of the World Wide Web had a great impact on me as a teenager. Before I went to college, the Internet as we know it today did not exist, and I was using “pre-Internet online services,” such as CompuServe. My first computer was an NEC laptop with a 140-megabyte hard drive. I remember my friend telling me I would never be able to fill up such a massive hard drive, even if it took the rest of my life! This laptop would be very primitive by today’s standards, but I was still able to enjoy basic text-based interaction with people around the world, which was truly eye-opening. This year (2021), we hosted an online conference via Zoom, attended by more than 250 people, including 70 speakers from 27 countries. I have been fascinated by how far information and communication technology has evolved over the last 30 years.

If the guy you were when you graduated high school met the guy you are now, what would he recognize?

I often think to myself that I have changed very little since I was a teenager because what I like and what I do— reading, writing, traveling, and interacting with people with common interests—have not really changed. If my teenage self were to meet my current self, he would probably be pleased to know that I make a living doing what I have always enjoyed. Alternatively, he might be embarrassed to see that I have hardly changed or improved!

What would surprise him?

He would be surprised that I have become a philosophy professor at a research university in the UK. As I have said earlier, I did not enjoy studying English as a child and was never ambitious. I still do not consider myself to be ambitious. I always thought I would be very happy if I could just read and write all the time about what I enjoy.

Was moving to the States a culture shock?

Moving from Japan to the US was a significant cultural change, but nothing really shocked me. I assumed that whatever surprised me could be attributed to the differences between Western culture and Eastern culture. However, after living in Australia, Canada, and the UK, I can now see that some of the things that surprised me were actually quite unique to the US, even compared with other Western countries.

Such as?

How chatty and friendly people generally are to strangers, how much wealth rich people can have, and how large the portion sizes of food are!

Favorite classes and inspirational teachers in college?

One of the first classes I took at Stony Brook was Patrick Grim’s informal logic and critical thinking course. I was really blown away by this course. Patrick masterfully taught us how to correctly analyze and assess arguments in both academic and non-academic settings. I felt that by completing this course, I gained lifelong learning skills, and I was right. Patrick took teaching very seriously and put much effort into developing interesting and challenging exercises and assignments for students. Normally, undergraduates do not enjoy courses related to logic, but my classmates and myself absolutely loved Patrick’s course. He used David Kelly’s textbook The Art of Reasoning, which is still my favorite textbook on informal logic. Patrick was conferred the title of “Distinguished Teaching Professor of Philosophy” a few years later.

Surprises?

I was pleasantly surprised that undergraduate teaching was taken so seriously in the US. Like Patrick, most of my professors at Stony Brook were excellent teachers who really cared about teaching undergraduates. I also loved those thick American university textbooks. I was particularly impressed by science textbooks, which were very detailed with many colorful pictures and interesting examples. I could see that the authors put much effort in stimulating and maintaining students’ interest. I am sure it is not like this anymore, but when I was a university student in Japan, it was common for professors to repeat the exact same lectures using the same old textbooks for decades.

Was the language barrier difficult?

I started my undergraduate studies in summer school so that I could have a good head start. The very first course that I took was an introduction to philosophy, focusing on the concept of love in Plato’s Phaedrus and Freud’s Civilization and its Discontents. That was a tough course, particularly for a non-native speaker of English, but miraculously, I received a good grade in the course. After that, for a while, I tried to mainly take courses on formal subjects, such as logic and decision theory, because I thought they would be less challenging from a language standpoint.

High points?

When I left Japan, I was not sure if I could follow lectures taught in English, let alone graduate from an American university. However, I did unexpectedly well throughout my undergraduate studies, thanks to the help and support of my teachers, including Grim, Ludlow, and Mar.

I thought that the academic system in the US was very fair. In Japan, I felt that how old I was or which school I was from may have mattered, but in the US, people did not seem to care about those things and only looked at and recognized my academic merit. I felt the American system fit me very well and was delighted to be able to graduate with good grades.

Did you consider doing anything other than philosophy?

In addition to philosophy, I studied applied mathematics and statistics, but that was because I thought they might ultimately be helpful in improving my formal and systematic thinking skills in philosophy. In the end, I am glad I studied these subjects. The philosophy of religion, my main research interest, often evokes many “obscure” concepts and claims. I think it is particularly important to ensure rigor and precision in formulating and presenting ideas in this area of philosophy.

What did your parents make of your decision to major in philosophy?

My parents have always been passionate supporters of education and also wanted their children to be cosmopolitan. Thus, they liked the idea of my brother and me studying in the US. They did not object when I decided to major in philosophy. I am sure they worried about whether I would be able to find a job after graduating, but they did not discourage my decision. I think they were quite brave.

What did you do for fun?

My focus during my time in the US was on studying, but I enjoyed visiting New York City on weekends. I also had a host family in Cleveland, Ohio; I visited them every summer. I have always tried to focus on one thing and master it because, given how I am, I knew I probably could not concentrate on more than one thing.

Romance?

I had a girlfriend for four years while studying at Stony Brook. She was also a student from Japan majoring in French and economics. We lived in an apartment in Port Jefferson. We had a beautiful view of the port, but the apartment smelled like dogs because there was a pet shop called “Yuppie Puppy” downstairs. Even so, we did not mind it because we were both animal lovers. Port Jefferson is a small tourist destination with many nice restaurants as well as bed and breakfasts. I really enjoyed my time living there.

Overall, in college, how did you grow as a philosopher and how did your views change?

In college, I was still very much a “student of philosophy” rather than a philosopher. I did not have any specific philosophical views about any subjects at that time. However, I thoroughly enjoyed learning new things during my four-year stay in the US, and, looking back, I think I was absorbing everything (particularly related to philosophy) with excitement, just like a sponge. I think that may be one of the advantages of being young. I wholeheartedly encourage young people to explore the world, try to cultivate new skills and knowledge, and pursue their passions.

How did you evolve (or devolve) as a person? What were your life goals at that point?

I knew I wanted to be an academic. At the time, I did not really consider other options. I did not have an ambition to become a leading researcher or anything like that because I did not think that would be remotely possible. However, I wanted to become an academic who could make a living from thinking, reading, and writing about interesting topics. I thought that that would be the ultimate luxury for me.

When did you decide to go to grad school? Where did you want to go and why?

I started to prepare for my graduate studies during my final year at Stony Brook. At the time, I was mainly interested in the philosophy of mind. David Chalmers’s first book The Conscious Mind, which revolutionized the debate on consciousness in the philosophy of mind, was published when I was an undergraduate. Many philosophy students at that time were influenced by the book and wanted to study the philosophy of mind. I was one such student. I hoped to study in Australia because I thought Australia was a fascinating country, which has, despite its relatively small population, produced many of the greatest philosophers of mind, including U.T. Place, David Armstrong, J.J.C. Smart, Keith Campbell, Frank Jackson as well as Chalmers.

Where did you apply? Where did you go?

I applied to the Australian National University (ANU) and the University of Sydney. Both offered me a scholarship and allowed me to enroll in their research-only PhD program without having a master’s degree. That was unexpected. I was attracted to Sydney, which many consider one of the best cities to live in the world. However, I ultimately decided to attend ANU in Canberra instead because ANU was well-known for having one of the very best philosophy programs in the English-speaking part of the world. While I was there, from 2000 to 2004, there were truly outstanding scholars at all levels. Senior professors included Frank Jackson, Michael Smith, Philip Pettit, Bob Goodin, Geoffrey Brennan, Martin Davies, and Kim Sterelny; midcareer scholars included Daniel Stoljar, Karen Jones, Richard Joyce, and Peter Godfrey-Smith; Karen Bennett, Michael Ridge, Andy Egan, and Laura Schroeter were postdocs there at the time. J.J.C. Smart and David Lewis often hung around as well. I am sure I have omitted many more distinguished names. One of my fellow PhD students at ANU was Lisa Bortolotti, who has been my colleague at Birmingham over the last 15 years. Birmingham had vacancies for two junior posts in 2005, for which we both applied. We said at the time that we might end up getting jobs in the same department, but that was only a joke. Landing a permanent post in the same department with Lisa was one of the most delightful surprises I have had in my career!

Was grad school what you expected?

I feel very fortunate to have studied at ANU. The philosophy program at ANU was an unusual place where all the faculty members had research positions and did not have teaching duties apart from PhD supervision. It was also unusual in the sense that there were always many first-class visiting researchers who stayed in the program on a relatively long-term basis. This was an intellectually rich environment for PhD students like us because we worked very closely with our supervisors while also receiving useful feedback on our work from visiting scholars from all over the world. The nice weather and friendly atmosphere also helped with building bonds within the philosophy community at ANU. I had not expected to complete my PhD in such a wonderful environment.

Favorite classes/teachers? Who was your dissertation advisor?

The PhD program at ANU did not involve any coursework, so I did not take any classes there. My supervisory panel consisted of Daniel Stoljar, Frank Jackson, and Martin Davies. Frank and Martin were already distinguished senior scholars at that time. Frank held a major managerial role at the university when I arrived in Canberra, and Martin had just moved from Oxford to ANU to accept a professorship. I mainly worked with Daniel, who was still a young researcher in his early thirties. I did not know much about his work, but at our first meeting, I immediately knew that I wanted to work with him. I presented my ideas about externalism and memory to him. I was not able to present them very well, but he quickly grasped my argument and wrote it down on the whiteboard. He then analyzed the structure of the argument and explained to me how I could improve it by modifying one of its premises. At that moment, I felt I had never met anyone so smart—I realized that he could see things I could not see!

What was Frank Jackson like?

He was obviously very sharp as a philosopher but also gentle and kind. I really admire people like Frank. I was honored to co-edit a book collecting papers on his knowledge argument against physicalism, which was published by MIT Press in 2004.

What was the dissertation on?

My initial plan was to focus on the philosophy of mind. However, while working on the dissertation, I developed a research interest in the philosophy of religion as well, and in the end, I decided to write about the concept of omniscience in relation to issues concerning consciousness in both the philosophy of mind and the philosophy of religion. In my dissertation, I claimed that arguments against the physicalist approach to consciousness in the philosophy of mind, such as Jackson’s knowledge argument and Nagel’s bat argument, are structurally parallel with traditional arguments against the existence of an omniscient God and that this parallel structure can be helpful in developing compelling responses to arguments against the physicalist approach. After several years of revision, the dissertation was published as a monograph entitled God and Phenomenal Consciousness: A Novel Approach to Knowledge Arguments.

I just have to ask this because you seem like the person to ask: If God exists, can God be sure that God is God, and not just a delusional human being?

Many theists believe that the way God acquires knowledge is different from the way we do. A related theory that I explored in God and Phenomenal Consciousness is that God has infallible, non-discursive, “intuitive” knowledge. According to this theory, since God intuits everything, God’s knowledge cannot be decomposed into the components of truth, belief, and justification. It is not as if God can first form a belief and wonder if such a belief is true or false, justified or unjustified. If God exists, God knows God is God!

Got it! Was grad school in general, or writing the dissertation, challenging?

Writing a dissertation was obviously daunting for me as a new PhD student, but Daniel gave me good advice: write papers on topics that interest me without thinking too much about the dissertation. I followed this advice and wrote several papers on consciousness and omniscience. Throughout the first two years of my PhD, I was not sure exactly where my project was going, but one day, I came up with a good idea and was able to clearly identify how these papers could be seamlessly connected with an overarching theme. Today, I often give the same advice to my PhD students.

Any other advice for graduate students?

I think clarity is the most important part of writing in the field of philosophy. Graduate students often write papers quickly without a clear, coherent narrative or without a logical structure. I spend a substantial amount of time revising my writing because I want to ensure that readers can follow along with my work without any difficulty. I like it when people tell me that my writing is clear. I do not mind so much when people tell me that they disagree with me because that means that they have at least understood my ideas. Without understanding my ideas, they would not even be able to disagree. There are scholars who claim that they can just type up their ideas and publish them, but with the exception of real geniuses, I do not find that to be feasible. It is common for me to revise a draft 20 or 30 times before publishing it. Daniel once told me that when he revises his drafts, sometimes he changes the font so that he can look at his drafts from a different angle. He is one of the smartest people that I know, but even he puts forth such effort with his writing. Conversely, I think that unclear writing can be an obstacle for philosophical progress. It is a shame that some people have to spend years or even a lifetime trying to determine what great philosophers in the past were trying to say through their texts. If their writing had been clear, such efforts would have been unnecessary.

Were you encouraged to publish?

Yes, we were encouraged to present our papers at conferences and submit them to journals. Josh Parsons, a fellow PhD student who was two or three years ahead of me, was a brilliant metaphysician until his passing in 2017. I remember when I first arrived at ANU, I saw that he kept a stack of offprints of papers he had published in his office, which I thought was very impressive. I tried to follow his path and publish papers while completing my PhD. I was enamored with the idea of my work being published and read by people around the world.

What were your fellow grad students like?

My fellow students at ANU who still work in the field of philosophy include Lisa Bortolotti, who I mentioned earlier, Ben Blumson (now at the National University of Singapore), Campbell Brown (now at London School of Economics), Yuri Cath (now at La Trobe University), Philippe Chuard (now at Southern Methodist University), Daniel Cohen (now at Charles Sturt University), Akira Inoue (now at the University of Tokyo), Dan Marshall (now at Lingnan University), Martin Smith (now at the University of Edinburgh), and Nic Southwood (now at ANU) just to name a few. When I arrived at ANU and met these people, I felt quite overwhelmed because they were all very smart and knew much more about philosophy than I did. However, they were extremely friendly, and there was no sense of competition among us. We exchanged ideas and gave each other feedback regularly; many of us have even written and published papers together. I have personally collaborated with Campbell to published three papers in Synthese, the American Philosophical Quarterly, and Ratio, respectively.

What did you do to unwind?

The philosophy program had a tradition of hosting morning and afternoon tea times on the balcony of the Coombs building, where all the faculty members, visitors, and students would gather.

Really?

My fellow PhD students and I would hang out there all the time. We played badminton on the university campus and drove to the seaside together. One of my favorite activities was a regular “philomosophy night,” where we would meet at someone’s house to watch and discuss philosophical films, such as Memento or Being John Malkovich.

In grad school, how did you change, philosophically?

As I progressed through my PhD studies, I felt more confident in exploring and developing new ideas. Through my teachers and fellow students, I learned what types of building blocks exist in philosophy and how to construct successful philosophical arguments. This allowed me to feel intellectually liberated because I realized that in philosophy, we are allowed to develop and defend any idea, even if it might seem extraordinary or even crazy to ordinary people, as long as we have arguments to support it.

Personally?

I am not sure if I personally changed in any way while completing my PhD. I took my PhD studies very seriously because I was still under the old Japanese perception that a doctoral degree should only be granted to outstanding scholars who devote nearly their entire lives to academic research (In Japan, it is common for smart kids to hear the saying, “you will be a minister or a PhD one day”). As a result, I did not take any holidays and did not go back to Japan to see my family for almost five years. Now, I realize that this was too extreme, but it did allow me to maximize my time in Australia.

High points?

The most exciting point was, of course, when I completed my PhD. The PhD examination process at ANU did not involve any oral exam, and PhD theses were only examined by external examiners through written communication. My examiners were the American philosopher of mind Torin Alter and the Australian philosopher of religion Peter Forrest. Daniel selected them because my PhD thesis covered both mind and religion. I was having coffee with my friend at a popular café in Canberra called Tilley’s when Daniel called me to tell me that I had passed my PhD. It was a delightful moment. Looking at the positive and kind reports from the examiners the next day, I felt as if I had been granted a license to pursue an academic career. More superficially, I also liked the idea of having the title “Dr.” because as a kid, I loved watching old Japanese science fiction films featuring giant monsters (Godzilla, Gamera, Mothra, etc.); in these films, there was almost always a smart-looking “doctor” who tries to save the world.

Low points?

I was anxious about the prospect of landing an academic job, but apart from that, I am hard pressed to think of any low points, as I thoroughly enjoyed my time in Australia.

What was your first time teaching in the classroom like?

While doing my PhD, I had a temporary lectureship position at Macquarie University in Sydney to cover Tim Bayne’s philosophy of mind and philosophy of religion courses while he was on research leave. I remember feeling nervous about lecturing, but the experience was rewarding. It was enjoyable to interact with bright students who were genuinely interested in the subjects that I taught.

What was the market like when you finished?

I finished my PhD in 2004. I would say that the philosophy job market was already dreadful. I was told that there were over 500 applications for one of the tenure-track positions that I applied for. Having said that, the market at that time was not as difficult as it is now. I remember someone telling me when I was a PhD student that if I wrote a solid PhD thesis, published a paper or two in leading journals, and obtained strong references, I would likely land an academic job. Sadly, that is no longer true.

Job market horror stories?

In my first year on the market, I applied for more than 60 jobs, and I had a few preliminary interviews at a conference of the Eastern Division of the American Philosophical Association. I did not have any experience that was particularly unique or bad but I still remember some of unpleasant interviews that I had there. One of them was held in a guest room in the hotel where the conference was being held. It was not a spacious suite with a proper meeting space but rather a room where one of the faculty members was staying. They asked me to sit down on a chair placed at the corner of that small room, and four or five professors surrounded me, as if to ensure I would not run away. They asked me questions about my writing samples in a rather aggressive manner. I felt intimidated but assumed that this was how an academic job interview was supposed to be conducted. This kind of practice was common at that time, but it is not considered acceptable today.

Did anybody help you out a lot during this period?

There were no online portfolio services, such as Interfolio, back then, and we mostly had to prepare and submit hard copies of our job applications. I did not mind making 60 copies of my application materials myself, but someone else had to collect confidential reference letters from my referees, make 60 copies of them, insert them into envelopes, and sign and seal them. Di Crosse, an administrator in the philosophy program at ANU, kindly agreed to do this tedious, time-consuming job. Administrators are often forgotten by academics, but I am grateful to Di and the many other administrators who have helped me throughout my career.

Totally. Where did you land your first gig? Surprises?

I received two offers for postdoctoral fellowships: one at the Centre for Applied Philosophy and Public Ethics at ANU and the other in the Department of Philosophy at the University of Alberta in Edmonton, Canada. When I was a PhD student in Australia, many philosophers held two positions at the same time. For example, Daniel Stoljar had positions at ANU and the University of Colorado and was going back and forth between Australia and the USA every few months. I thought that sort of arrangement was brilliant because you could belong to two departments and have the experience of living in two different countries. Thus, I negotiated with ANU and Alberta, and thankfully, they agreed that I could stay at each university for six months every year. A mistake I made was that I alternated between Canberra and Edmonton during the winter, instead of summer, so I did not experience summer for nearly two years!

After the stint at Alberta and ANU, you ended up in Birmingham, where you are to this day. Professional highlights at Birmingham?

One of my professional highlights was that I was appointed to and served as the president of the British Society for the Philosophy of Religion from 2017–2019. I was particularly humbled to succeed Mark Wynn, an outstanding philosopher as well as a wonderful person, in this role.

Another professional highlight was when I was conferred the title “H. G. Wood Professor of the Philosophy of Religion.” This title means so much to me because the H. G. Wood Chair was previously held by some of the pioneers of global approaches to the philosophy of religion whom I admire, such as Ninian Smart (J.J.C. Smart’s brother) and John Hick. I am grateful to David Cheetham, who was the head of our school at the time, for his support.

How was your personal life?

The best thing that has happened to me is my wife Sylwia. I had divorced a few years prior to meeting her. My academic work around that time was not great, reflecting the turbulence in my personal life.

Sylwia is not a philosopher or even an academic, but she understands my ikizama (a Japanese aesthetic or spiritual concept that is often translated as a form of existence or way of life) as a philosopher more than anyone I know. She is originally from Poland but, like myself, has been living in the UK for over 15 years.

We have a 165-pound “child,” an 11-year-old Newfoundland dog named Kazan. He is a true gentle giant who is also very intelligent. I learn much from him.

Regrets?

I have made many mistakes in life, but I do not have any regrets. One of my life principles is that I should try to make careful and informed decisions about all important matters. If the decision turns out to be the wrong one later, I do not regret it or blame myself because I know I did my best when I made the decision.

You do philosophy of religion, obviously. What is the difference between philosophy and religion exactly? Does this difference not create a tension between religion and philosophy, or is it a perfectly harmonious relationship in your mind?

I guess the worry that you have in mind is that some religious philosophers do philosophy only to justify their religious beliefs. In other words, they already have a conclusion based on their beliefs before doing philosophy. This seems to go against the principle, “follow the evidence wherever it leads.” I certainly do not do philosophy in that way, but I am not entirely sure if this is a serious problem for philosophy from a broader perspective. As I have mentioned, what is unique and liberating about philosophy is that you are allowed to defend any idea, no matter how crazy it might sound, as long as you have an argument that you are willing to subject to scrutiny. Suppose someone defends an argument based on their religious beliefs. Other philosophers can assess it, and if they find a flaw, they reject it. The religious philosopher may refuse to accept the failure of the argument, but that is this individual’s problem, not a problem for philosophy. I think the same reasoning applies to beliefs about anything—politics, ethics, metaphysics—not just religion.

The best argument for the existence of God?

My favorite argument for the existence of God is the ontological argument, which I encountered as a teenager. This argument is definitely not popular today. Robert Nozick once said that the ontological argument is the “most famous of all fishy philosophical arguments,” and Schopenhauer said that the argument was a “charming joke.” However, it has attracted some impressive supporters throughout the history of philosophy, including Avicenna, Anselm, Mulla Sadra, Descartes, Leibniz, Gödel, and Plantinga.

The modal version of the ontological argument derives the actuality of the existence of God from the possibility of the existence of God by appealing to system S5 of modal logic. I do not think that this argument is proof of the existence of God, but I do think that it is a good argument. The argument is formally valid, so the conclusion cannot be false if all the premises are true. All the premises do seem to me to be true; I cannot think of any obvious refutation of them. Thus, I think that the argument is no less compelling than many other philosophical arguments that are considered compelling. The argument purports to establish the existence of God as “that than which no greater can be conceived” or the greatest possible being. It is, of course, a matter of further debate exactly what this being might be.

So then, the odds that God exists are…

According to the modal ontological argument, if the existence of God is possible, then it is necessary and therefore actual. This means that all theists need to do is establish that the existence of God is at least possible. If they can establish it, they can simply plug it into the modal ontological argument and derive, as a matter of logic, that the existence of God is actual. In other words, we no longer need to rely on traditional arguments for the existence of God, such as the cosmological argument, the teleological argument, and the moral argument, which aim to establish the actuality of the existence of God.

I do not think we can assign a specific value to the probability that God exists. However, if the ontological argument is sound, either God necessarily exists or God necessarily does not exist. Thus, the existence or nonexistence of God is a matter of necessity, rather than a matter of possibility or probability. The typical claim by atheists that “the existence of God is possible but very unlikely” does not make sense according to this understanding. If the existence of God is possible, then God necessarily exists.

Do you believe in miracles? Best evidence of a miracle, as it has traditionally been understood, has occurred?

I think reality is much broader than the realm governed by the laws of nature, which are only contingent, so, in this sense, I am a supernaturalist. Therefore, if we define a miracle as a violation of the laws of nature, then I believe that miracles can take place. However, I am not aware of any strong empirical evidence for specific miraculous acts, such as instantly turning water into wine or curing “incurable” diseases in a few seconds. In any case, these acts are not always religiously significant. The Buddha, Jesus, and many other leaders of the world’s great religions explicitly warn against dependence on miracles because they want their followers to focus on more important acts. Violating the laws of nature may easily impress people, just as performing a magic trick might, but it does not, in itself, make the act worthwhile.

I’d be impressed! Will we ever figure out which religion or religions are right? Are any religions clearly wrong, in your estimation?

You can find all sorts of people making all sorts of claims in each religious tradition, so it is almost certain that no religion is absolutely right in terms of the truth claims they make. There are also religions that are clearly wrong in a moral sense. For example, when I was a university student in Japan, there was a terrorist attack by a doomsday cult group called Aum Shinrikyo. They released nerve gas in the Tokyo subway, killing 14 people and injuring more than 6,000. The group’s teachings were based on a mixture of skewed interpretations of Buddhism and Hinduism as well as some elements of Christianity. The claim that all religions are right may sound pleasing, but I think it is simply incorrect.

Is religion political?

Do you mean to ask religion have political implications? I think it does, and it is important to address them. However, my research interests in the philosophy of religion are mostly metaphysical, and I rarely address political issues in my work.

Proudest academic accomplishments? That is, if you could pick a couple papers as a writing sample right now, that would they be and why?

There are two papers of my own which I like most. One is “A New Defense of Anselmian Theism,” which was published in the Philosophical Quarterly in 2008. In the paper, I defended the concept of “maximal God,” which refers to the understanding of God as a being that has the maximal consistent set of great-making properties. I tried to show that by appealing to this concept, theists can develop an economical way to undercut nearly all existing arguments against the existence of God at once. The other paper is “The Problem of Evil for Atheists,” which was published in Nick Trakakis’s edited volume for Oxford University Press in 2018. In the paper, I introduced a version of the problem of evil that raises a challenge not only for theists but also for atheists. Moreover, I argued that theists are at an advantage relative to atheists with respect to this problem.

These two papers are also my works that have attracted most attention. The Anselmian theism paper was awarded an essay prize, and the problem of evil paper has been translated into Persian, Arabic, and Swedish. The papers have also attracted some responses in publication. This is encouraging because when I write papers, I often wonder if anyone will ever read them.

Most plausible solution to the problem of evil? Is it ultimately convincing, in your mind?

The problem of evil is one of my main research interests, not only because it is an interesting intellectual puzzle, but because it raises existential questions that have really challenged me. I do not believe there is an obvious solution to the problem of evil. Theistic philosophers have tried to show that the existence of God and the existence of evil are compatible because, for example, evil is an outcome of human free will, or evil is necessary for realizing the greater good. I do not think these “theodicies” explain away all instances of evil. However, I also believe that the problem of evil is a much deeper problem, which can create a challenge not only for theists, who believe in the existence of an all-powerful, all-loving God, but also for proponents of alternatives to theism, such as pantheism, panentheism, axiarchism, and even atheism. This is a topic that I am currently working on for my next monograph, which is tentatively entitled The Problem of Evil for Non-Theists.

Any other interesting upcoming projects?

I am also editing, with Mohammad Saleh Zarepour, a book entitled Global Dialogues in the Philosophy of Religion: From Religious Experience to the Afterlife for Oxford University Press. This is a collection of original papers in which leading scholars representing diverse religious traditions engage in dialogues on fundamental philosophical questions.

Cool. So, you keep busy. What drives you, philosophically? How does philosophy influence non-academic aspects of your life?

After so many years, I still feel that my job is not a real “job.” It is more like an extension of a hobby or something that I would be doing anyway even if I was not paid to do it. That is why I do not really need to constantly push or motivate myself. I consider myself extremely lucky in this respect. I am sure many people would find it pathetic, but sometimes, I work more than 12 hours a day. This is partly because I have too many things to do but also because I enjoy what I do. My wife enjoys lacemaking and embroidery, and she can spend hours on these without glancing at the clock. For me, philosophy is similar. Of course, there are parts of my job that I do not enjoy, such as attending long committee meetings or grading a large pile of essays, but still, overall, I love academic life in general and enjoy doing philosophy, specifically. People often worry about work-life balance, but if they really love their job, they do not really need to worry too much about it. I definitely do not mean that other academics need to be like me, but this is who I am.

Wow! What's your writing routine like, exactly? Advice?

My current routine is to wake up at 5:30 a.m. and write at least 200 words for my book manuscript by 9 a.m. You might think that this is very little, but I deliberately set a low target so that I can stick to it no matter what else I have to do. I wake up early because I start receiving many emails related to my administrative, managerial, editorial, and pedagogical duties at 9 a.m. For people who struggle to improve productivity in writing, I recommend Paul J. Silvia’s book How to Write a Lot: A Practical Guide to Productive Academic Writing. I find the tips in the book useful even though I do not necessarily follow all of them.

Best living philosopher or philosophers you disagree with most?

A name that comes to mind is David Benatar. He makes many extremely depressing claims in defending anti-natalism, such as the claims that coming into existence is always a serious harm; that ideally, there should be no people in the world; and that it would be better, all things being equal, if human extinction happened sooner rather than later. I profoundly disagree with him, but I also think that he is a unique thinker and clear writer who offers thought-provoking arguments.

The meaning of life, which Benatar’s work addresses, is a topic that has been neglected in analytic philosophy for a long time. This is not surprising given that in an early phase of analytic philosophy, logical positivists considered the meaning of life one of the best examples of a meaningless question in philosophy. I am glad that scholars such as Benatar and Thaddeus Metz have brought this important topic back to analytic philosophy in recent years.

Most important issues in philosophy right now? How do you see the future of philosophy?

I think the future of philosophy lies in its transformation into a truly global discipline. I currently lead the Global Philosophy of Religion Project, an initiative funded by the John Templeton Foundation. The philosophy of religion has been dominated by philosophers in the Christian tradition in English-speaking parts of the world. I would like to emphasize that their work has consistently been of high quality, but the philosophy of religion cannot be comprehensive in its study of religious beliefs and practice without addressing a variety of religious traditions. Additionally, it would be beneficial to share intellectual resources across distinct religious and cultural traditions to advance philosophical debates. As part of the project, we have organized a variety of activities and events to support researchers and students from diverse religious and cultural backgrounds.

One of the most exciting parts of the project is our collaboration with the production team of Closer To Truth (CTT), the PBS (public) TV series and web archive. CTT is created and hosted by Robert Lawrence Kuhn and produced and directed by Peter Getzels. The show is based on conversations with philosophers and scientists exploring the “big questions.” If you have watched CTT videos you will know that Robert and Peter have perfected a way to create videos that are accessible and visually attractive without compromising philosophical and scientific rigor. They share my vision to explore the big questions from global perspectives, and we have been organizing many exciting collaborative activities.

My focus has been on globalizing the philosophy of religion, but the basic idea applies to other areas of philosophy as well. Diversity is particularly important in philosophy because philosophy is all about exploring new ideas and developing original arguments. It is therefore ironic that philosophy has been less diverse than many other academic disciplines. Globalizing philosophy will be a very long process, but I think it is worthwhile and exciting. For the importance of diverse perspectives in tackling challenges, see Matthew Syed’s book Rebel Ideas: The Power of Diverse Thinking.

What are you listening to nowadays? Reading? Watching?

I am not really a music person, so I do not regularly listen to music. Philosophy is intellectually intense, so it is not always easy to switch off the brain after reading, writing, or teaching philosophy. Consequently, in my spare time, I try to expose myself to things that are irrelevant to philosophy. I often watch silly comedies or documentaries on Netflix or read trashy detective novels on Amazon Unlimited. Another trick that I have discovered is that since I read and write philosophy predominantly in English, I can switch off my “philosophy mode” by watching or reading something in a non-English language (in my case, Japanese). If you speak more than one language, please try this method!

Last meal?

It depends on where I am. Thanks to my job, I have been able to visit many countries around the world and meet interesting people in different cultures. What I have learned is that simple, unpretentious food that local people eat is always the best. Thus, if I were in the US, I would eat American pizza; if I were in Japan, I would eat sushi; and if I were in Poland, I would eat pierogi. We need a global approach to food, not just philosophy!

Thanks Yujin!

[interviewer: Cliff Sosis]