Learning as a Mental Exercise

In praise of apathy and learning

Today (at least in the West) we tend to consider apathy a bad thing – we use the term to connote an "indolence of mind" (i.e. too lazy to do anything or think properly). For people in the past, from Hellenic philosophers and early-Christian Hellenistic thinkers to twelfth-century Benedictine monks, however, apathy was a good thing. The Greek work apatheia (ἀπάθεια) comes from a (without) + pathos (emotions). The word derives from the idea in much of Hellenistic and Christian asceticism that there is a state of mind necessary for seeing the world truly (i.e. dispassionately). These philosophers want people to be "apathetic" in the sense that they want people to have the mental and physical conditions to have freedom from overwhelming emotions (e.g. fear, anger, hunger, misdirected love) that cloud our ability to see what is true.

Roman philosophers (especially the Stoics) also liked to talk about the necessity of otium (leisure or "free time") to be able to reflect on their world/ their thinking. We can read people like Augustine of Hippo (in his early Neo-Platonic dialogues) talking about the necessity of retiring to a villa in the countryside to get away from it all ... as a necessary precondition to thinking great thoughts. You should perhaps note what this says about these thinkers – they were elites who had access to money/ resources atypical for their time. Even Thoreau at his Walden Pond retreat had his mom doing his laundry and bringing him food. But it nonethless brings up a good point - that thinking requires a bit of space for yourself.

I bring these up these two traditions in the Western theory of knowledge to highlight that intellectual work requires some mental preparation and some space. "Doing history" is demanding intellectual work. It requires thinking, reflection and mental work. Having some place to do this really helps. Benedictine monks talk alot about the "interior cloister" they need to build inside their head to keep grounded amidst the tumult of a busy monastery. You can do this too but it helps if you have a space (a room, a desk, your bed, a villa in the countryside) where you can think and work. Secondly, you need to prepare mentally for "doing history". Working while filled with dread (of marks, or –you know– of a world-wide pandemic) is not ideal.

In History we are often asked to remain "objective". Mostly people take this means that we should be emotionless. But we shouldn't. No one can be emotionless. We do need to acknowledge them. Love of the subject material can propel us to do really great research and we need to embrace these helpful emotions. Fear can slow us, and we need to be willing to address similar negative emotions too. Try to be aware of where you are emotionally. Talking to your professors and your classmates can be helpful. Even, reading can be therapeutic, allowing us to see how people responded to similar situations in the past and what came of it.

Why am I writing this, you might be asking? I want to make a suggestion or maybe a request. Take 10 minutes a few times a week – away from devices– just to think.

• Think about how you are feeling: what are you excited about and what you are scared about. It doesn't have to be related to the class at all. Just set some time apart to reflect.

And this is also what we want the class space to be – a time in your day when you can tune out what is going on in other parts of your life and focus on the learning at hand.

During class, try to turn off notifications for non-class activities.

Learning online makes having a singular focus difficult. In class, your attention will be pulled in different directions. In Teams alone, you can be part of a private chat, while listening to the professor speak, while posting something to a discussion forum, and responding to a Poll Everywhere poll hosted on the professor's powerpoint slide. This situation is made worse when you get notifications for new emails or your myriad social media accounts.