A personal letter on skepticism, intellectual hubris, and ‘good’ philosophical traits.
S.R.,
A moment ago, you struck a chord in me.
“What makes a good philosopher?”
I had, with a not-so-slight smugness and pomp, begun some convoluted diatribe while reflecting upon my undergraduate studies in philosophy.
And in a moment I’d been stopped in my tracks.
Allow me to put forth a few characteristics of what I think characterizes the ‘good’ philosopher, if I might be so bold as to do so.
Cicero, in his Tusculan Disputations, claims an undogmatic approach to philosophical pursuit:
“But let everyone defend his views, for judgement is free: I shall cling to my rule and without being tied to the laws of any single school of thought which I feel bound to obey, shall always search for the most probable solution in every problem…”
Cicero, Tusculan Disputations IV. 4. 7, translated by J. E. King.
I’m particularly fond of that phrase, which I’ll translate here,
“what in each case is the most the probable.”
Part-and-parcel of ‘good’ philosophy, if there is such a thing, involves a degree of flexibility in one’s positions, i.e., we admit a degree of skepticism in our assertions, something that amounts to a tacit, “X, but maybe not.”
And so, Hermogenes in Plato’s Cratylus,
“That is quite probable – at least until some more probable notion gets into your head – which it probably will.”
(Plato, Cratylus 407c4–5, trans. by C. D. C. Reeve, redacted)
Socrates, in the Phaedo, shows a charming reluctance to let anything go, saying,
“Oftentimes I resume [sc. the same point, argument, inquiry] on purpose, lest anything escape us.”
(Plato, Phaedo 95e2–3, my translation)
Likewise, I think one of the key characteristics of the philosophical mindset is the indefatigable resumption of perhaps hackneyed positions.
Often review your beliefs, your assertions, lest any one thing you intend to posit go unexamined.
All of our beliefs, even if held tacitly, implicitly, unbeknownst to us, say something of the world outside of ourselves.
The repercussions of failing to do this, though these seem quite banal and miniscule (“So what?” I can hear someone say, quite easily) if not utterly trivial, really amount to this: in failing to question everything, we jeopardize an honest attempt at truth.
And in that there is no levity.
Likewise, don’t be so quick to cede to every position that seems, or could seem, plausible.
As Socrates in the Crito,
“Know well that I seem to hear these things, dear Crito, just as Corybants seem to hear the flutes and in me the sound itself of these arguments echoes, and makes it so that I am unable to hear any others: know how convinced I am of these arguments, that, if you speak, you will speak in vain. Nevertheless, if you have something more to say, certainly do say it.”
(Plato, Crito 54d1–6, my translation)
The Corybants here mentioned were the mythologized worshippers of the Greek-Phrygian goddess Cybele; their worship involved a dance, in armour, accompanied by drums and flutes.
The analogy, I think, is this: the din of discourse, if our beliefs are held tenaciously enough, with enough conviction that they are true, if we have sufficient reason to uphold them in the face of arguments to the contrary, is akin to the din of drums and flutes – we, like the worshippers, follow the measures and the dance, and yet don’t lose grasp of our rapture with the truth.
Despite this image of the Corybants, Socrates does permit fallibility, though without losing sight of his claims (i.e., in the Crito, that it is just to uphold the laws of the city, even when faced with his own execution):
“Nevertheless, if you have something more to say, certainly do say it.”
There is, I think, a charming reluctance, a bit of hubris, and a touch of irony.
In summation (as if there were any way to close on a topic so vast and immeasurably complex), ‘bad’ philosophical pratice is to let slip, to leave unexamined, any of our claims, and likewise a reluctance to take, as it were, ‘a stand’.
In my last semester of college, on the last day of a particular class, our professor essentially had us take stock of our beliefs (we had spent the semester looking at different metaethical theories), and proceeded to take a tally of who believed what, and where, and why.
She often used that phrase, ‘a hill to die on,’ and to her I owe more than a little gratitude.
Nick is still wrong for being a noncognitivist about moral claims.
“But perhaps I‘m just talking nonsense.”
(Plato, Cratylus 401e2–3, my translation)
Sincerely,
George