Doing Philosophy as Knowing Ourselves
By D. Seiple
One of the inspirations behind this journal is the opportunity it brings us to sustain and sharpen our own philosophical thinking, because it provides us a retrievable record of what others in our group think. Philosophy traditionally began in dialogue, and that remains true of doing philosophy even today, even if our discussion partners live only in our own imagination. But there seems no reason to keep our audience imaginary. They can respond to us right here. For that reason, recording our thoughts in writing might be a critical complement to simply talking it all out, if we are to do philosophy in the most meaningful way.
But then of course, that raises the question as to what “meaningful” philosophy
really amounts to. We value tolerance and diversity, and so we might not want to give too blanket an answer to such a question. In the spirit of Socrates, we might not even pretend to have an answer. And very often even Plato, who aspired to an answer beyond the limits of Socratic skepticism, had his Socrates character waver in his various responses to the key questions of his day.
Yet on at least one point, “Socrates” seemed pretty consistent. We are told early on that Socratic wisdom lies not just in knowing what we don’t yet know. It also strives towards a better “knowing of one’s self,” as a starting point for cultivating a better life. Here is where philosophy, at least in the West, has traditionally envisioned its own beginnings.
So, as we continue to observe the springtime of this journal, we might find it useful to ask how this most famous Socratic injunction (“Know Thyself!”) suggests a direction for us here.
Yet even this suggestion of a possible direction might invite controversy. Those of us who share Buddhist or postmodernist sensibilities could balk at this (“contestable”) prospect of discovering the so-called “self.” But would it be wrong to say that even for Buddhists the notion of “self” plays an indispensable role? Even Buddhists (even Nagarjuna!) typically rely on two notions of “truth” (satya), one of which actually encompasses the fundamental elements (skandhas) we might recognize as our deeper (though temporary) selves. Surely some of these are more than just basic creaturely desires, and without them we could not even navigate through life. Some of us, for example, have deep ethical or political or religious convictions which at least appear to give meaning to how we live, and such core elements seem to percolate within our group discussions as well.
As Socrates knew, the best ideas often occur during the kind of dialogue we hope to have in our discussion groups, to which the gregariousness of our larger membership is an open invitation, and the recognition of someone else’s core beliefs can be what drives us to return in two weeks’ time – to hear spoken aloud some ideas we’d never seriously imagined before. How on earth (we might ask ourselves) could someone actually believe that?
So here we are in these meetings, like campers gathered around a fire, watching
the shadows of deeper ideas play across the dim light. And as the discussions
continue, once in a while we may find ourselves imagining something like inspiration breaking through. Later, we turn perhaps to journaling, to see if we can pin down those thoughts, and then wonder if we’re right about our suspicions.
Here's the point then. Even if we finally discover what seems most fundamental to us personally, Buddhists and others might urge us to detach from these discoveries. But should we not discover them first? Even if the Buddhists turn out to be right and letting go turns out to be a great virtue – how can we consciously renounce what we have not even realized we have? Otherwise it remains in our own subterranean sea, ready to cause us mysterious trouble.
So knowing oneself seems to be a requirement even of letting go of self. Otherwise
renunciation would count for very little, like a nefarious game of chess where losing the queen counts for nothing more than losing a pawn.
When we're putting forth our best philosophical efforts, then, we are not just shooting the breeze thoughtlessly. We are not, one hopes, just spouting off to hear ourselves talk, and we’re not just trying to impress our listeners. Are we not reaching for something more important than the rush of adrenaline? Are we not
reaching to express something more interesting and certainly more fundamental
to ourselves than that?
In attempting to discover our own core values, in all their diversity, perhaps here we find a common enterprise. This Journal stands ready to hear what your core ideas might be – or any other philosophical theme you find interesting and worth sharing.
Artwork: Socrates from Raphael, The School of Athens
D. Seiple is the Chief Editor of the NY Journal of Philosophy. He especially enjoys symphony concerts and pre-postmodern art museums. He has a master’s degree in theology (Drew) and a doctorate in philosophy (Columbia), and his publications can be found on PhilPapers.