A personal letter on what exactly attracts us to philosophize.
S.R.,
There are a number of conceptions of philosophy, and what it is that we “do” in “doing” philosophy. That it is intellectual rigor. That it is rational discourse. That it is, in a letter of Seneca’s, “good advice” (38.1). And while I agree with all of these notions, and many more (philosophy is, afterall, a multifarious thing), I am charmed by a snippet from Plato,
[P]hilosophy is a charming affair.
Euthydemus 304e4 (my translation)
The “bewitching” quality of philosophy (that is to say, its being protreptic and, for lack of a better term, a pleasing thing) is no less important than rational discourse and intellectual rigour. It is this quality, perhaps, that first attracts many if not all to the discipline. It was, in my own experience, at a fortunate and tender age that I first picked up Epictetus. And then I was charmed by one of the sentiments you’ll find in his Encheiridion,
Don’t demand that things happen as you wish, but wish that they happen as they do happen, and you will go on well. (8)
And before him, Plato,
[A]nd this sound of these words re-echoes within me and prevents my hearing any other words.
Crito 54d (my translation)
Then I saw and felt a beauty ill-expressed, save by poetic images, or intimate moments.
It is this same quality that gives much of the practical application of philosophy its potency, in that the praxis is fueled by a kind of beauty, an aesthetic desire to emulate and “live” philosophy.
Plato depicts Socrates’ bewitching character, putting such words in the mouth of Meno in the eponymous dialogue,
“Even before I met you, Socrates, I was hearing that you do nothing else than puzzle yourself, and make others to be puzzled. And now, as you seem to me, you seem to bewitch and to drugme, and, put simply, charm me, with the result that I am deeply puzzled. And you seem to me entirely, if it is necessary to examine it, to be most like the broad stingray – the one in the sea – both in your appearance and in other regards. For this one always stings the one who, approaching it, is then seized and made numb, and you seem to have done something like this to me – for truly both my soul and mouth have been numbed, and I am not able whatsoever to answer you.”
Meno 79e-80b (my translation)
And Plato does something similar through Cebes in the Phaedo,
“Where, Socrates, will we find a good charmer of these things (i.e., fears of death), since you are leaving us?”
Phaedo 78a (my translation)
In the Meno, it is because of Socrates’ peculiar philosophical method that he is made out to be some kind of charmer – the relentless questions, the twists and turns of the dialogue and of his discourse, his ability to lead his interlocutors into a state of aporia (which I translate as puzzlement, though perhaps one might say impasse).
In the Phaedo(and the other dialogues often referred to as “the last days of Socrates”), his charm is due to his serenity, his countenance – his embrace of death in the pursuit of philosophy.
I am of the mind that these two depictions are deeply interlinked.
The tranquility of Socrates in his last days, though perhaps fictional, though perhaps idealized and mythologized, is brought on by deep reflection on, for lack of a better term, “the nature of things”.
The questions are ones we still wrestle with, even in the face of scientific discovery and human advancement – whether there is a soul, whether the soul is immortal or dispersed like a wind upon death, whether we obtain knowledge from the objects of our sense perception or necessarily elsewhere. Whether there are things that are permanent and lasting amidst this constant flux of the senses.
Setting aside these heavy thoughts, philosophy derives its charm because we are the sorts of things to do philosophy.
We, left to our own devices, must necessarily attempt to make sense of the world around us – in so doing we construct theories and definitions and build vast intellectual edifices. Philosophy is nothing more than the name given to our fondness for thought and intellectual pursuits; it is interwoven with and results from our nature, regardless of whether it is protreptic or purely theoretical, or pleasing to the eyes and ears (and maybe a little pretentious and vain).
It is nothing more than the actualization of our penchant for asking questions in an attempt to get at viable answers – things that we can cling to amidst the vast undulating sea of inquiry and uncertainty.
Above all one can say about why we philosophize, at least it’s charming to seem like a philosopher.
Sincerely,
George