My initial encounter with JP might be considered unusual. At some point, YouTube, for reasons unknown, directed my attention to a hearing in the Canadian Senate regarding Bill C-16. It wasn’t the content of the hearing that struck me but rather how JP presented himself. Surrounded by politicians, experts, lawyers, etc., he defended himself, counter-attacked, argued, and provided information. To me, it seemed as if a group of exceptionally intelligent individuals pooled their intellectual might and yet faltered before a single individual. While I recognize that IQs don’t sum, the cognitive load certainly does increase. A similar astonishing feat comes to mind: Magnus Carlsen’s 2013 chess match where he, blindfolded, played simultaneously against ten Harvard lawyers and won. JP’s eloquence, vocabulary, calmness, and concentration genuinely impressed me. He seems to respond so comprehensively and articulately that he dominates any exchange of words. However, this domination arises mainly from his structured responses; he speaks as if he’s reading a meticulously prepared script, supported by theses, arguments, evidence, and examples. Or he might point out the careless use of an ambiguous term, often causing the foundation of an argument to crumble when both parties realize they essentially mean the same thing. Even now, after my intensive reading and writing during my philosophy studies, I feel he speaks more structured than I can write. If only I could communicate with others as effectively as he does!
This leads me to my second reason for my admiration and respect for JP: Searching for communication tips from JP himself, I found a video where, as a University Professor of Clinical Psychology, he was approached by a student seeking guidance. Thanks to the mysterious YouTube algorithm, I next came across JP’s interpretation of the tale of Achilles and the multi-headed serpent. Though I read Homer years ago and was familiar with this heroic story, I never contemplated its psychological interpretation. Achilles would sever the monster’s head, and two new ones would sprout. We solve one problem, thinking we’ve achieved peace, only for new challenges to emerge. I quickly reply to an email. The sender, pleased with my swift and informative response, poses an even more complex question. A life without problems is unattainable; they are an integral part of our existence. Sometimes, new information or insights excite me so much that I immediately jot them down, hoping for an opportunity to share them. Naturally, many topics, like my study of formal logic, are of interest to only a select few. However, JP’s knowledge captivates audiences ranging from my mother to a fellow student, given its utmost practical significance. Similarly, I recently felt this way about Jürgen Drewermann’s interpretation of “Hansel and Gretel.” By the way, I regard Drewermann’s intellect and creativity as highly as JP’s. In a multi-hour lecture about depression, Drewermann stands on a stage, modestly dressed, touching the lectern lightly, his face full of emotion, eyes constantly teary, speaking without any “uhms,” without a script, or teleprompter, at a calm pace, emphasizing each section of a text he visualizes.
At the very least, the interpretation of the Hydra myth raises questions about JP’s primary discipline. Nowadays, I’d argue that, besides psychology and literature, it also spans history, philosophy, biology, etc. Of course, he isn’t equally knowledgeable in all disciplines. With the explosion of information and ongoing specialization within fields, it’s nearly impossible to be an expert in everything. Still, phenomena and problems aren’t confined to disciplines – they simply don’t care. In “General System Theory,” for instance, Günter Ropohl inquires about how a person becomes who they are. Responses from various disciplines would lead to a mere collection of lexical contributions. Ideally, an individual well-versed in many fields would form a synthesis. JP represents such an individual to me. This is also the rationale behind the frequently cited lobster example concerning the justification for bravery. Even in biology or biochemistry, there are significant insights. JP scours all areas relevant to a question, gathering information and insights, and eventually combines them into a non-lexical answer. Ropohl describes this approach as synthetic philosophy or General System Theory. In “12 Rules for Life,” JP embodies this synthesis, reducing and recombining knowledge in a novel manner, something that, at least to me, has been unparalleled and is of immense value.