Why do the Cynics shout over the choir? Why do they so visibly show themselves walking the walk of the philosopher’s life? It is to teach us a lesson. What lesson? That virtue is all that really matters and everything else is a matter of indifference. In this they presume an important idea: that virtue can be taught. In their case they think it is something best taught by example and learnt through experience.
Whether or not virtue can be taught was a hotly-debated topic in ancient philosophy. It is an idea that can be challenged. Ancient philosophers would point out: if virtue can be taught, why is it that good and great men do not necessarily have good and great sons? Why wouldn’t these good men teach their sons what they know? Presumably it’s not for lack of trying. And yet many good and great kings leave us with tyrannical princes. Cities rise and fall on these waves of fortune and there seems to be little that good education can do about it. If virtue really can be taught, why isn’t it learnt by those who are given every opportunity to learn it?
The Cynic answer is straightforward and clear: virtue can be taught, but only to those who are willing to learn. You cannot be made to learn it. You must choose to take the lesson and then you must work to make yourself worthy of it.
This is why the Cynics behave as they do, publicly. All their shows of haughty philosophical disdain are invitations. They are offers, but no more than that. It’s up to you to take the offer or not. They will not chase you for your acceptance; that’s your business, and besides it’s beneath their dignity to chase your approval. If you want the lesson, take it and learn it and benefit from it; if you don’t want the lesson, that’s your loss, not theirs.
But if you do take the lesson, learn it, and apply it in your life, you will be left with a gift that keeps on giving, an investment with endless returns. Because once you understand philosophical virtue and get some knowledge of it, that knowledge never goes away and cannot be taken away. Once you have it, you cannot lose it, so long as you live and can think. Unlike material wealth, whose worth is always subject to good or bad fortune, the wealth of wisdom only ever increases its worth. It doesn’t rot or degrade; it can’t be stolen or defrauded; it isn’t taxed. It is a wealth that can be passed on to future generations, if they choose to receive it. It costs nothing but is worth everything. Why would you refuse such an offer, at any price?
Of course, to say philosophical knowledge and understanding costs nothing is somewhat misleading. I don’t mean a material cost, obviously, despite the it-would-be-funny-if-it-weren’t-so-tragic absurdity of philosophy in our age being too often hidden behind an elitist paywall of the University. (And in the age of the internet, no less! When anyone could publish anything they like for free for all to see…)
No, what I mean is that philosophical knowledge and understanding is hard earned. As the Cynics would say, it is a kind of work. We need to earn it. And we do this by investing, not money, but time and effort. But small efforts yield exponential rewards over a lifetime, with continual dividends. You should take the offer and invest.
Read more: Think Well, Live Well: A Free Introduction to Philosophy
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