Listening to the critics
There may be no intellectual activity more misunderstood and wrongly maligned as philosophy. The great American historian Henry Adams once characterized the entire endeavor as consisting of nothing more than “unintelligible answers to insoluble problems.” As far back as the 16th century, the prominent French essayist Michael de Montaigne proclaimed that, “philosophy is doubt.” And, of course, who enjoys doubt? It’s often uncomfortable. It can even be scary.
The 19th-century philosophical wild man, Friedrich Nietzsche, took it one more step and characterized philosophy as “an explosive, in the presence of which everything is in danger.” So, then, it really comes as no surprise to see Nietzsche’s predecessor, the English poet John Keats, worry about all the questions and doubts encouraged by philosophers and ask, “Do not all charms fly at the mere touch of cold philosophy?”
In ancient times, the Roman statesman and author Cicero even complained, “There is nothing so absurd that it hasn’t been said by some philosopher.” Of course, he too was “some philosopher.” But then there are many other very smart and even truly wise people who adopt the label of philosopher with pride. It may be revelatory to understand them and how they see their distinctive activity of the mind.
Philosophers? Crazy! Philosophers? Otherworldly! Philosophers? Gloomy! When we hear the word, we tend to have a modern image come to mind of badly groomed academics, carelessly dressed in tweed sport coats, wrinkled shirts, badly rumpled pants, and old scuffed up shoes, who go through life coated with chalk dust, stroking their beards, bearing scowls on their faces and arcane thoughts in their heads, all the while writing on blackboards or whiteboards in capital letters such weighty words as “DEATH,” and “DESPAIR.”
In 1707, Jonathan Swift wrote the following comment:
The various opinions of philosophers have scattered through the world as many plagues of the mind as Pandora’s box did those of the body; only with this difference, that they have not left hope at the bottom.
In the century approaching our own era, the widely read American journalist and literary critic H.L. Mencken once went so far as to announce, “There is no record in human history of a happy philosopher.” (But, hey, he never met me.)
So what’s the deal here? Philosophy, done right, should be the opposite of all this gloom and doom stuff. It should be stimulating, exciting, liberating, provocative, revelatory, illuminating, helpful, and fun. Philosophers themselves should be great company, the life of any party, a hoot and a half. (Okay, maybe I’m getting a little carried away here.) Even Cicero, despite his occasional grumblings about the wilder philosophers of his day once proclaimed, “If wisdom be attainable, let us not only win but enjoy it.”
I must admit that I know of at least a few great thinkers I’m glad I don’t have as neighbors. And some of their books can be … well, should I say, “less than scintillating”? And, all right, as long as I’m trying to be as candid here as possible, I should be willing to acknowledge — without naming any names, of course — that I have actually met a few exceedingly peculiar social misfits who seem to be fish out of water in ordinary life, and whose only discernible accomplishment appears to be an academic doctoral degree in philosophy from a major university. Along with, perhaps, several unintelligible publications bearing their names. And, unfortunately, a teaching position that places them as ambassadors of philosophy in front of classrooms full of bewildered and yet sometimes bemused undergraduates. But things are not always what they seem. As the ancient poet Caecilius Statius once reminded us: “There is often wisdom under a shabby cloak.”
The enterprise of philosophy itself, philosophy as a genuine human activity, can and should be great. Not to mention the fact that philosophers can be our friends. They often enjoy being taken out to dinner, or for a celebratory libation or two. On this topic, I should perhaps quote the great poet John Milton, who wrote:
- How charming is divine philosophy!
- Not harsh, and crabbed as dull fools suppose,
- But musical as is Apollo’s lute,
- And a perpetual feast of nectar’d sweets,
- Where no cruel surfeit reigns.
In other words, good stuff indeed.
The same Cicero who loudly voiced his irritation at bad philosophers didn’t shrink from praising a good one. He once described Socrates as “the first man to bring philosophy into the marketplace.” In many ways, it’s the example of Socrates that will be followed in this book. Philosophy can be brought back into the marketplace of ideas that are seriously contending for your attention. Some pretty lofty ideas can be pulled down to earth and examined for their amazing relevance to our day-to-day lives. The goal in this book is to help you get clearer on some of the issues that matter the most, but that you may ordinarily tend to think about the least.
I hope that together we can be explorers of the spirit, charting our way forward in new depths of awareness as we go. We take a close look at some exciting ideas, quite a few amazing questions, and several new perspectives for everything we think and do. We can’t nail down a definitive answer for every question that may arise, but if you stick with me for the duration, you’re likely to find yourself making more progress in appreciating and understanding these topics than you may at first imagine. I might sometimes ask some strange-sounding questions, but I promise you that, as you consider the answers, those queries can help you attain some pretty amazing perspectives on this life that we’re living. Our goal, throughout, is nothing less than a quest for wisdom itself. And that’s a vitally important matter, since, as the American philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson realized, “Life is a festival only to the wise.”
Consulting Socrates on What Counts
The original public philosopher, Socrates liked to walk the streets and go to parties, along the way engaging anyone he could in philosophical dialogue. For him, philosophy was not a dry, intellectual subject, a game for pedants and scholars, but a requirement for living well. He even famously proclaimed the following axiom:
- The unexamined life is not worth living.
But what in the world does this statement mean? Everyone knows what it means to say, “This car isn’t worth $80,000,” or “This shirt isn’t worth $150,” or “The tickets to this concert aren’t worth $125 each.” But what exactly does it mean to say about a certain form of life, a particular lifestyle — what Socrates is calling “the unexamined life” — that it’s “not worth living”?
Essentially, an item is “worth” what it costs if the value or benefits that you derive from it are equal to or greater than the price you pay for it — which is ultimately the same value as the underlying effort or energy that you put into obtaining the resources required to pay that price. Whenever I think about making a certain purchase, I always ask myself whether the item is truly worth the asking price: Is it worth that amount of money? Is it worth the work it took for me to earn that amount?
A pair of shoes that a wealthy individual could see as a “very good deal” might be perceived by a person of more modest means as far too extravagantly expensive. The less well-off shopper may need to work far too hard or too long to earn that amount of money. He may then conclude that the shoes aren’t worth the cost.
But how exactly does this commonplace sort of judgment relate to Socrates’ famous claim? What is the cost — or the worth — of “the unexamined life”? Well, first we need to understand what Socrates means by this phrase.
What is “the unexamined life”? Unfortunately, it’s the form of life far too many ...