The mise en scène of philosophy, as depicted by Norman Melchert, is a “great conversation” in which we interact not only with each other, but with the great thinkers of history who have also interacted with each other in the search for truth via an ongoing exchange of ideas and arguments about humanity’s deepest and most importunate concerns. I see the pursuit of philosophy as one’s personal quest for truth couched in the language of a pilgrimage which will continue for the remainder of one’s life. The seeker of truth engages in the great conversation during the course of their journey, administering critical thinking as one encounters the truth claims posited by the remarkable (and not so remarkable) intellectuals of both past and present.
The writings of Plato depict the pilgrimage of Socrates: a mission to find truth which began when Socrates learned that the Oracle of Delphi declared that no one was wiser than he (Apology 21a). Confused by the Oracle’s proclamation, Socrates put this claim to the test by seeking out those who claimed to possess knowledge. His dialoguing with the experts did not so much bring Socrates closer to the truth as it revealed the ignorance of the experts, demonstrating (according to Plato’s telling of the tales) that they were not experts at all. Socrates concluded that the Oracle’s words must be true, but only in that the wisdom of Socrates is that he, unlike the self-proclaimed experts, recognized his own ignorance. Socrates said of himself, “what I don’t know I don’t even think I know” (Apology 21d7).
Socrates’ habit of questioning brought many to shame, which consequently led to his execution. Even after he had been convicted by the jury of 501, Socrates refused to give up his pursuit of the truth. Refusing to accept exile from Athens or a vow of silence as his penalty, Socrates favored death over abandoning philosophy. He maintained that participation in the great conversation of the fundamental issues of life and virtue is an intrinsic part of valuable human existence. Socrates affirmed: “The unexamined life is not worth living” (Apology 38a). This, as I mentioned before, was his true heresy.
A life worth living then, according to Socrates, is the examined life: the pilgrimage towards truth; involvement in the great conversation of history; the application of critical thinking; the pursuit of wisdom; a habit of asking questions grounded in the presumption of objectivity. One cannot learn without asking questions, and one cannot learn when one’s prejudices distort the answers one may find to the questions; therefore, one’s life must be examined with dispassionate reason.
Dispassionate reason, which I have referred to prior as the presumption of objectivity, does not imply apathy; rather, it implies the discarding of preconceived notions and bias so that one may seek truth, follow the argument wherever it leads, regardless of what one might discover the truth to be.
Many people are unwilling to subject their beliefs to rational scrutiny, forfeiting the examined life to settle for that which makes them comfortable. My friend Clayton once asked me the following question: “What causes a person to be so tied to a belief that they feel a personal attack when one of their beliefs is questioned?” My answer is three-fold:
Firstly, people have a desire to understand. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that people desire certainty. Even those of us who enjoy mystery still prefer to know how it all turns out eventually. When we cannot find the answers, pretending to know the answers becomes for many an acceptable alternative. Problems arise when one who is convinced they have certain knowledge is confronted by questions and criticisms of their beliefs. Questioning a belief one holds with confidence when that person does not have sufficient reason (or any reason) to adhere to that belief can lead to embarrassment. No one likes to be wrong, and certainly no one likes to be proven wrong. Remember what happened to Socrates.
Secondly, people have a desire to feel significant. Many beliefs people hold give them a sense of purpose, direction or meaning which they embrace passionately; thus, to question one’s beliefs is to question their life’s meaning, even one’s value as a person. Not surprisingly, this elicits a negative reaction from such a believer.
Thirdly, people have a desire to belong. Humans are communal creatures who make associations with others based on some sort of commonality. We feel the need to connect with others. When our favorite sports team wins, we say, “WE win.” We don the colors of our favorite team. We meet up with others who share the same love for the team to watch the game. “Our team” is a commonality upon which we base our associations with others. Naturally, this leads to rivalries – even conflicts – with those who dare like a different team.
Beliefs are another commonality upon which we base our relationships. The most obvious example is religious belief. Considering in the case of mutual faith what I have said about our desire to feel significant, that which satiates the desire to belong fulfills the longing for significance as well. The result for many is a strong emotional attachment to both the belief and the community of believers such that in their minds they are one and the same; thus, many interpret the questioning of their mutual faith as an attack not only on the essence of who they are, but on the significance of the fellowship to which they belong. Such a reaction is contrary to the practice of dispassionate reason, and such believers would prefer to avoid the Socratic Method altogether.
Speaking of the Socratic Method, Clayton asked me a second question that day: “Can holding to the Socratic Method defeat the Socratic Method? As an example, do we question the need to question?”
The Socratic Method is not self-defeating; on the contrary, to question the Socratic Method is to affirm the necessity of the Socratic Method; that is, to question the Socratic Method is to employ the very thing upon which the Socratic Method is based: namely, the asking of questions. One cannot question the act of asking questions without engaging in the act of asking questions. Similarly, one cannot doubt the premise, “Sometimes one should doubt the truth value of a premise” without affirming that sometimes one should, in fact, doubt the truth value of a premise. Consider this brief exchange between Bill and Ray:
Bill: “Everyone should use the Socratic Method.”
Ray: “Why?”
Bill: “Exactly.”
Dead-Logic 