Graduate 119: Socratic Meditations
I do not know whether the question troubles every philosopher, though I expect that each must deal with it at least once in the course of his or her career. For what is philosophy useful? What is the purpose or value of philosophy?
Many people have a high-flown but decidedly vague notion of what philosophy is. It has something to do with the meaning of life or questions about what exists or the rational foundations for beliefs or doubting everything. Basically it explores all the "deep" questions that nobody in the course of normal life comes across or has time to deal with or is really interested in. I wonder sometimes if people don't have a bipolar view of philosophy and philosophers--as extremely bright and intelligent and thoughtful and insightful on the one hand, and as almost completely useless on the other.
Now, in one sense, the fact that the average person on the street is not conversant with contemporary philosophical questions and debates should not be surprising or alarming. Theories of scientific explanation or models of intentionality or the constitutive norms of assertion are simply not immediately relevant to most people. The academic discipline of philosophy is similar, in this respect, to most of the higher-level sciences. I have a friend who builds statistical models for a medical-equipment manufacturer. Most of the people that use the equipment probably do not understand the relevance of his statistical analyses to what they are doing. Still fewer patients have even the foggiest idea of such work as my friend does being involved in their treatment at all--and they don't need to. The fact that the significance of what my friend does is not widely appreciated does not prompt anxious thoughts in him concerning the value of his work. Likewise, to be irrelevant, in this sense, should raise no problems for practitioners of philosophical inquiry.
But is there another sense in which philosophy can either succeed or fail to be "relevant"? Is there a way in which philosophy should be immediately relevant? These are questions that I find myself prompted to consider as I begin to work as a teaching assistant. For two hours each week (for three more weeks of this first UCR summer school session) I get to meet with thirteen students who are taking Introduction to Philosophy and try to help them process the material that they are receiving in Lecture.
The course begins where philosophy--as practiced in the Western tradition--roughly begins, with Socrates (469-399 BC). Socrates lived during the "Golden Age of Pericles" (450-430 BC) as well as the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BC). It was during the height of Athens' success and prosperity that Socrates began to practice philosophy. And what did this practice consist in? Roughly, it consisted in pointing out to those who were content and satisfied with themselves the reality of their inadequacy and deficiency. Be they politicians, poets, orators, teachers, or craftsmen, Socrates would speak with them, determine from them what they did know--or, more often, what they didn't know--and expose that for all to see.
All this was part of his relentless pursuit of wisdom (philos - sophia). As Socrates tells it, he began doing this after learning that the Oracle at Delphi had identified him as the wisest of all men. Since he did not claim to have wisdom or (principled) knowledge about anything, Socrates was perplexed by this pronouncement and endeavored to test its veridicality by searching high and low for a man with greater knowledge and wisdom than himself. But every interview only served to confirm that Socrates, because he at least recognized his lack of wisdom, really was the wisest of all men.
From this, he concluded the following: "that in fact the god is wise and... his oracular response meant that human wisdom is worth little or nothing, and that when he says this man, Socrates, he is using my name as an example, as if he said: 'This man, among you, mortals, is wisest who, like Socrates, understands that his wisdom is worthless.' " (23a-23b)
For Socrates, the pursuit of wisdom was of utmost importance because to acquire wisdom was to acquire all the other virtues (courage, temperance, and justice, as well as piety and others). The great irony is that though Socrates claimed to completely lack any knowledge of these things, history has judged him to be among the most courage, temperate, and judicious (and pious) people of all time. How are we to account for this contradiction? How can it be that the man who claimed to lack knowledge of virtue--and who seemed to think that such knowledge was necessary to being a virtuous person--was one of the most virtuous men in history?
The key, I think, must lie in the pursuit. Time and again, Socrates is confronted with people who think that they have the knowledge but do not; and in some cases they are unwilling to take up the pursuit with Socrates. "Some other time," says Euthyphro (one example), "for I am in a hurry now, and it is time for me to go." (15e) Socrates, by contrast, continues, in spite of his lack of knowledge, to pursue the goal. Indeed, it seems that the pursuit is indispensable. Now one might wonder whether attainment of full knowledge of the virtues is possible. One might also wonder, given this fundamental dubiety, whether the pursuit is worthwhile.
To answer this, I recall a quotation from Dietrich Bonhoeffer--one of my favorites--from The Cost of Discipleship: "At the end of a life spent in the pursuit of knowledge Faust has to confess: "I now do see that we can nothing know." That is the answer to a sum, it is the outcome of a long experience. But as Kierkegaard observed, it is quite a different thing when a freshman comes up to the university and uses the same sentiment to justify his indolence. As the answer to a sum it is perfectly true, but as the initial data it is a piece of self-deception." (p. 51) There really is something indispensable about the pursuit (the process, the journey). The only other way the effect might possibly be duplicated is by direct apprehension of the form of the thing itself (wisdom, justice, etc.) and it is not obvious that even that would do the trick.
This begins to get at the question of the significance and value of philosophy. Philosophy should be immediately relevant to people's lives insofar as it is concerned with the pursuit of (practical) wisdom (again, philos - sophia) and the attainment of the life of virtue. But there are still a number of factors that stand in the way of Philosophy succeeding in this. One of the main ones is Philosophy, itself. Fewer and fewer philosophers, it seems, are concerning themselves with this most important and fundamental problem of philosophy. Of course, there is nothing incoherent about the idea of a philosopher who treats a wide variety of topics including that of virtue and the good life. But many may be treating a wide variety of topics while neglecting that of virtue and the good life. And, if Socrates is right, apart from that pursuit one cannot hope to gain that good life.
One other challenge (that I will not treat in this blog entry) has to do with the existence of people who seem to live fulfilled, worthwhile, and good lives without engaging in rigorous philosophical reflection. Now the fact that such people exist does not undermine the value of philosophy--just as the fact that people that do not engage in higher-level statistics exist does not undermine the value of that discipline. However, as a teacher whose classes may include both students with a natural aptitude for philosophy as well as students for whom philosophical questions simply are not engaging, it is important to think about how philosophy relates to all sorts of people.
The final challenge which I will consider here has to do with the fast-paced and unreflective nature of our society. I think most people would be willing to acknowledge we are often dominated by a Euthyphro-type mentality. There is not time to think about the deep questions and doing so is often uncomfortable and troublesome. But if Socrates is right--and on this point I think that he is--this kind of uncomfortable reflection--at least in our society--is indispensable.
(I acknowledge that there is a bit of tension between this claim and my claim with respect to the preceding challenge--that there are people who live good lives without engaging in rigorous philosophical reflection. Ultimately, I think, my conclusion on this point is that some kind of sustained reflection is indispensable; however, I am not convinced that the particular kind of reflection that Socrates advocated is the right path to take. However, I do think that Socratic reflection is particularly well-suited to address the kinds of complacency that arises in cultures like that of Periclean Athens (or in contemporary America). More needs to be said on this point but I will save that for a future entry.)
I asked my students, in Discussion last week, how many of them admired Socrates. Almost all the hands went up. I then asked my students how many of them would like to be Socrates. No hands went up. Students might agree that Socrates lived a good life--in spite of being disliked, charged with impiety, brought to trial, and finally executed. They might admire him. But they wouldn't want to emulate him. Now there are two ways of interpreting this apparent discontinuity. One is fairly innocuous: No one wants to be disliked, falsely accused, tried, and executed; given the choice between the good life with hardship and the good life without hardship, it makes sense that one should prefer the latter. But the other interpretation digs a little deeper: Perhaps the students are not really convinced that the life of virtue really is good. The kind of life that Socrates led really is radically different from the kind of life that most of us do. I think this can be illustrated by considering how we (you/me and Socrates) would respond differently to a situation described by the character Glaucon in Plato's dialogue, Republic.
Republic treats such questions as, What is justice? Is justice a virtue? and Is justice better than injustice? In book I, Thrasymachus tries to argue that injustice is superior and to be preferred to justice. In other words, he argues that the better life is had by the person who can take unfair advantage of others and make great gains at low costs and get away with underhanded activities and exert power over others than by the person who always and only acts in accordance with justice and fairness. In one place, Thrasymachus tells Socrates: "A just man always gets less than an unjust one. First, in their contracts with one another, you'll never find when the partnership ends, that a just partner has got more than an unjust one, but less. Second, in matters relating to the city, when taxes are to be paid, a just man pays more on the same property, an unjust one less, but when the city is giving out refunds, a just man gets nothing, while an unjust one makes a large profit." (343c-d) Socrates attempts to refute Thrasymachus' position and show that justice is superior to injustice, but in book II, Glaucon is still not convinced.
Glaucon puts the challenge to Socrates in a number of ways. One involves appealing to the "Myth of Gyges". According to the myth, Gyges was a shepherd in the service of the ruler of Lydia. One day he found a magic ring that turns the wearer invisible. With this ring, Gyges succeeded in infiltrating the palace, seducing the queen, killing the king (with her help), and taking over the kingdom of Lydia. Now there's nothing in the story to indicate that Gyges was a particularly vicious person in general. So Glaucon suggests the following: "Let's suppose, then, that there were two such rings, one worn by a just and the other by an unjust person. Now, no one, it seems, would be so incorruptible that he would stay on the path of justice or stay away from the marketplace with impunity, go into people's houses and have sex with anyone he wished, kill or release from prison anyone he wished, and do all the other things that would make him like a god among humans." (360b-c) And most people, I think, feel the strength of Glaucon's intuition. Most of us (if we're honest) can think of things that we might do, if we possessed such a magical ring, that we would not consider doing without it. Not all of them might be so dissolute or debauched. (Maybe you'd be content with free admission to Disneyland.) But the fact that most of us can envision making some change is enough to make the point.
The interesting irony, I think, is that Glaucon is raising this challenge to the one person who would not be tempted by the ring of Gyges. At least this is the impression of Socrates that I get from reading Plato's dialogues and my students seemed to agree. Socrates would not be tempted to use the ring to gratify his appetites or acquire power or abuse his enemies. In a very real way, the ring has nothing to offer Socrates. For one who is pursuing power, wealth, comfort, or pleasure, the ring offers much. For one who is pursuing virtue and wisdom, the ring offers nothing. And we know that Socrates desires the latter because he was willing to die rather than compromise that pursuit.
It is not enough to say that we admire Socrates. To admire Socrates is to recognize a deficiency in my life because I am not as Socrates is. I know that I am not as Socrates is because I feel the pull of the ring of Gyges in a way that he does not. My aims are not the same as Socrates' aims. I am not pursuing the same things that Socrates is. And there is no way, apart from the pursuit, of acquiring what he has. The pursuit really is indispensable.
More needs to be said on the exact nature of that pursuit. I do not think that the pursuit of abstract "wisdom" is enough. After all, wisdom does not exist fundamentally as an abstract form but is part of the character of Almighty God. But this is a good starting point for thinking about that pursuit and also helpful for understanding the significance and relevance of philosophy in general. The rest will have to wait for another blog entry.
--
God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.
Many people have a high-flown but decidedly vague notion of what philosophy is. It has something to do with the meaning of life or questions about what exists or the rational foundations for beliefs or doubting everything. Basically it explores all the "deep" questions that nobody in the course of normal life comes across or has time to deal with or is really interested in. I wonder sometimes if people don't have a bipolar view of philosophy and philosophers--as extremely bright and intelligent and thoughtful and insightful on the one hand, and as almost completely useless on the other.
Now, in one sense, the fact that the average person on the street is not conversant with contemporary philosophical questions and debates should not be surprising or alarming. Theories of scientific explanation or models of intentionality or the constitutive norms of assertion are simply not immediately relevant to most people. The academic discipline of philosophy is similar, in this respect, to most of the higher-level sciences. I have a friend who builds statistical models for a medical-equipment manufacturer. Most of the people that use the equipment probably do not understand the relevance of his statistical analyses to what they are doing. Still fewer patients have even the foggiest idea of such work as my friend does being involved in their treatment at all--and they don't need to. The fact that the significance of what my friend does is not widely appreciated does not prompt anxious thoughts in him concerning the value of his work. Likewise, to be irrelevant, in this sense, should raise no problems for practitioners of philosophical inquiry.
But is there another sense in which philosophy can either succeed or fail to be "relevant"? Is there a way in which philosophy should be immediately relevant? These are questions that I find myself prompted to consider as I begin to work as a teaching assistant. For two hours each week (for three more weeks of this first UCR summer school session) I get to meet with thirteen students who are taking Introduction to Philosophy and try to help them process the material that they are receiving in Lecture.
The course begins where philosophy--as practiced in the Western tradition--roughly begins, with Socrates (469-399 BC). Socrates lived during the "Golden Age of Pericles" (450-430 BC) as well as the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BC). It was during the height of Athens' success and prosperity that Socrates began to practice philosophy. And what did this practice consist in? Roughly, it consisted in pointing out to those who were content and satisfied with themselves the reality of their inadequacy and deficiency. Be they politicians, poets, orators, teachers, or craftsmen, Socrates would speak with them, determine from them what they did know--or, more often, what they didn't know--and expose that for all to see.
All this was part of his relentless pursuit of wisdom (philos - sophia). As Socrates tells it, he began doing this after learning that the Oracle at Delphi had identified him as the wisest of all men. Since he did not claim to have wisdom or (principled) knowledge about anything, Socrates was perplexed by this pronouncement and endeavored to test its veridicality by searching high and low for a man with greater knowledge and wisdom than himself. But every interview only served to confirm that Socrates, because he at least recognized his lack of wisdom, really was the wisest of all men.
From this, he concluded the following: "that in fact the god is wise and... his oracular response meant that human wisdom is worth little or nothing, and that when he says this man, Socrates, he is using my name as an example, as if he said: 'This man, among you, mortals, is wisest who, like Socrates, understands that his wisdom is worthless.' " (23a-23b)
For Socrates, the pursuit of wisdom was of utmost importance because to acquire wisdom was to acquire all the other virtues (courage, temperance, and justice, as well as piety and others). The great irony is that though Socrates claimed to completely lack any knowledge of these things, history has judged him to be among the most courage, temperate, and judicious (and pious) people of all time. How are we to account for this contradiction? How can it be that the man who claimed to lack knowledge of virtue--and who seemed to think that such knowledge was necessary to being a virtuous person--was one of the most virtuous men in history?
The key, I think, must lie in the pursuit. Time and again, Socrates is confronted with people who think that they have the knowledge but do not; and in some cases they are unwilling to take up the pursuit with Socrates. "Some other time," says Euthyphro (one example), "for I am in a hurry now, and it is time for me to go." (15e) Socrates, by contrast, continues, in spite of his lack of knowledge, to pursue the goal. Indeed, it seems that the pursuit is indispensable. Now one might wonder whether attainment of full knowledge of the virtues is possible. One might also wonder, given this fundamental dubiety, whether the pursuit is worthwhile.
To answer this, I recall a quotation from Dietrich Bonhoeffer--one of my favorites--from The Cost of Discipleship: "At the end of a life spent in the pursuit of knowledge Faust has to confess: "I now do see that we can nothing know." That is the answer to a sum, it is the outcome of a long experience. But as Kierkegaard observed, it is quite a different thing when a freshman comes up to the university and uses the same sentiment to justify his indolence. As the answer to a sum it is perfectly true, but as the initial data it is a piece of self-deception." (p. 51) There really is something indispensable about the pursuit (the process, the journey). The only other way the effect might possibly be duplicated is by direct apprehension of the form of the thing itself (wisdom, justice, etc.) and it is not obvious that even that would do the trick.
This begins to get at the question of the significance and value of philosophy. Philosophy should be immediately relevant to people's lives insofar as it is concerned with the pursuit of (practical) wisdom (again, philos - sophia) and the attainment of the life of virtue. But there are still a number of factors that stand in the way of Philosophy succeeding in this. One of the main ones is Philosophy, itself. Fewer and fewer philosophers, it seems, are concerning themselves with this most important and fundamental problem of philosophy. Of course, there is nothing incoherent about the idea of a philosopher who treats a wide variety of topics including that of virtue and the good life. But many may be treating a wide variety of topics while neglecting that of virtue and the good life. And, if Socrates is right, apart from that pursuit one cannot hope to gain that good life.
One other challenge (that I will not treat in this blog entry) has to do with the existence of people who seem to live fulfilled, worthwhile, and good lives without engaging in rigorous philosophical reflection. Now the fact that such people exist does not undermine the value of philosophy--just as the fact that people that do not engage in higher-level statistics exist does not undermine the value of that discipline. However, as a teacher whose classes may include both students with a natural aptitude for philosophy as well as students for whom philosophical questions simply are not engaging, it is important to think about how philosophy relates to all sorts of people.
The final challenge which I will consider here has to do with the fast-paced and unreflective nature of our society. I think most people would be willing to acknowledge we are often dominated by a Euthyphro-type mentality. There is not time to think about the deep questions and doing so is often uncomfortable and troublesome. But if Socrates is right--and on this point I think that he is--this kind of uncomfortable reflection--at least in our society--is indispensable.
(I acknowledge that there is a bit of tension between this claim and my claim with respect to the preceding challenge--that there are people who live good lives without engaging in rigorous philosophical reflection. Ultimately, I think, my conclusion on this point is that some kind of sustained reflection is indispensable; however, I am not convinced that the particular kind of reflection that Socrates advocated is the right path to take. However, I do think that Socratic reflection is particularly well-suited to address the kinds of complacency that arises in cultures like that of Periclean Athens (or in contemporary America). More needs to be said on this point but I will save that for a future entry.)
I asked my students, in Discussion last week, how many of them admired Socrates. Almost all the hands went up. I then asked my students how many of them would like to be Socrates. No hands went up. Students might agree that Socrates lived a good life--in spite of being disliked, charged with impiety, brought to trial, and finally executed. They might admire him. But they wouldn't want to emulate him. Now there are two ways of interpreting this apparent discontinuity. One is fairly innocuous: No one wants to be disliked, falsely accused, tried, and executed; given the choice between the good life with hardship and the good life without hardship, it makes sense that one should prefer the latter. But the other interpretation digs a little deeper: Perhaps the students are not really convinced that the life of virtue really is good. The kind of life that Socrates led really is radically different from the kind of life that most of us do. I think this can be illustrated by considering how we (you/me and Socrates) would respond differently to a situation described by the character Glaucon in Plato's dialogue, Republic.
Republic treats such questions as, What is justice? Is justice a virtue? and Is justice better than injustice? In book I, Thrasymachus tries to argue that injustice is superior and to be preferred to justice. In other words, he argues that the better life is had by the person who can take unfair advantage of others and make great gains at low costs and get away with underhanded activities and exert power over others than by the person who always and only acts in accordance with justice and fairness. In one place, Thrasymachus tells Socrates: "A just man always gets less than an unjust one. First, in their contracts with one another, you'll never find when the partnership ends, that a just partner has got more than an unjust one, but less. Second, in matters relating to the city, when taxes are to be paid, a just man pays more on the same property, an unjust one less, but when the city is giving out refunds, a just man gets nothing, while an unjust one makes a large profit." (343c-d) Socrates attempts to refute Thrasymachus' position and show that justice is superior to injustice, but in book II, Glaucon is still not convinced.
Glaucon puts the challenge to Socrates in a number of ways. One involves appealing to the "Myth of Gyges". According to the myth, Gyges was a shepherd in the service of the ruler of Lydia. One day he found a magic ring that turns the wearer invisible. With this ring, Gyges succeeded in infiltrating the palace, seducing the queen, killing the king (with her help), and taking over the kingdom of Lydia. Now there's nothing in the story to indicate that Gyges was a particularly vicious person in general. So Glaucon suggests the following: "Let's suppose, then, that there were two such rings, one worn by a just and the other by an unjust person. Now, no one, it seems, would be so incorruptible that he would stay on the path of justice or stay away from the marketplace with impunity, go into people's houses and have sex with anyone he wished, kill or release from prison anyone he wished, and do all the other things that would make him like a god among humans." (360b-c) And most people, I think, feel the strength of Glaucon's intuition. Most of us (if we're honest) can think of things that we might do, if we possessed such a magical ring, that we would not consider doing without it. Not all of them might be so dissolute or debauched. (Maybe you'd be content with free admission to Disneyland.) But the fact that most of us can envision making some change is enough to make the point.
The interesting irony, I think, is that Glaucon is raising this challenge to the one person who would not be tempted by the ring of Gyges. At least this is the impression of Socrates that I get from reading Plato's dialogues and my students seemed to agree. Socrates would not be tempted to use the ring to gratify his appetites or acquire power or abuse his enemies. In a very real way, the ring has nothing to offer Socrates. For one who is pursuing power, wealth, comfort, or pleasure, the ring offers much. For one who is pursuing virtue and wisdom, the ring offers nothing. And we know that Socrates desires the latter because he was willing to die rather than compromise that pursuit.
It is not enough to say that we admire Socrates. To admire Socrates is to recognize a deficiency in my life because I am not as Socrates is. I know that I am not as Socrates is because I feel the pull of the ring of Gyges in a way that he does not. My aims are not the same as Socrates' aims. I am not pursuing the same things that Socrates is. And there is no way, apart from the pursuit, of acquiring what he has. The pursuit really is indispensable.
More needs to be said on the exact nature of that pursuit. I do not think that the pursuit of abstract "wisdom" is enough. After all, wisdom does not exist fundamentally as an abstract form but is part of the character of Almighty God. But this is a good starting point for thinking about that pursuit and also helpful for understanding the significance and relevance of philosophy in general. The rest will have to wait for another blog entry.
--
God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.
posted by Metaphysician_delta | 2:52 PM
2 Comments:
You're great, but I have to improve my knowledge of English to comprehend what you have written. I'm a poor eighteenth years old classic scholar
This comment has been removed by the author.
Post a Comment
<< Home