Over the past few years – having made an attempt to pursue philosophy as a way of life, to take it seriously and digest its lessons and not only treat it as an academic discipline – I’ve come to see new depths in old ideas.
One example of this is the cynical little detail in Plato’s ‘Allegory of the Cave’. There, Plato suggests that these poor souls – imprisoned in a dark cave of ignorance and only able to look at the shadows on the wall in front of them – would esteem those who are best at discerning the shadows on the wall, best at remembering the order in which they appear, and so best at predicting which will come next. Those who can do this well are considered the most able among them and they are awarded prizes.
The standard ‘academic’ telling of this story contrasts these cave-dwellers with Socrates, who, being preoccupied with trying to escape the cave of ignorance, neglects the game of shadow-spotting and cares nothing for the prizes on offer. As a result of this neglect, Socrates would not perform well in this game.
This is much the same line of reasoning that Callicles presents in the Gorgias, and it explains why Socrates wasn’t rich or powerful or successful or able to defend himself successfully in court; and we assume that these are all excuses that Plato (the student) would want to make on behalf of his dead teacher (Socrates).
The point of the story is to show and explain a difference between philosophers and non-philosophers: philosophers chase what matters and so neglect what doesn’t, but non-philosophers neglect what matters and so chase what doesn’t.
‘I care nothing for what most people care about: money-making, administration of property, generalships, success in public debates, magistracies, coalitions, and political factions… I did not choose that path, but rather the one by which I could do the greatest good to each of you in particular: by trying to persuade each of you to concern himself less about what he has than about what he is, so that he may make himself as good and as reasonable as possible.’
Socrates in Plato’s Apology
‘Socrates makes me admit to myself that, even though I myself am deficient in so many regards, I continue to take no care for myself, but occupy myself with the business of the Athenians.’
Alcibiades in Plato’s Symposium
All of this is true, but now I would say that there is more to it than that. Don’t look at what is said, on the surface, but look to the effect that Plato is trying to provoke. What is he trying to get you to realise?
He is trying to show you that shadow-chasers are fools and you do not want to be one of them, or play their game, no matter what prizes they offer.
Because shadows are not real. Shadows are only a faint representation of reality, and it’s reality that you really want.
Reality and its Representations
There is a difference between a reality and the representation of it: that much is obvious. Ordinarily we value the reality more than its representation, and we are right to do so. You can’t feed yourself on a picture of food.
There is a reality about my marriage, for example, but there is also a certificate that represents this reality. Clearly a marriage means more than any piece of paper can show. Almost nothing depends on this representation, because it means nothing in comparison to the reality that it represents. If we were to discover that we’d never actually been married all along, it wouldn’t make the slightest difference to our relationship.
How absurd it would be to chase the representation and neglect the reality! To preserve the piece of paper but neglect the marriage.
There is a reality about athletic ability: put it to the test in a competition and you will see it for what it is. There is a representation of this reality, a shadow cast by it, in the form of medals and trophies. If you walk into someone’s house and see a display of these, you make a natural inference.
‘Winning’ a contest is also a kind of representation, because it’s only a reflection of the relative ability of your opponent. If you always choose competition weaker than yourself, you will rarely lose, but it’s clear that winning more against weaker competition doesn’t mean as much as winning less against stronger. To compete with and perhaps once beat the best in the world is a mighty achievement, far exceeding the achievement of beating a thousand novices.
Wouldn’t it be absurd to chase the representation and neglect the reality? If you found that someone hadn’t won their trophies but bought them for display? Or if someone sought more wins, not by improving themselves, but by finding ever weaker competition? Or, of course, if they cheated?
There is a reality about being a good person: right-minded and acting rightly. There is a representation of this reality, a shadow cast by it, in the form of our reputation: how we are perceived or thought of or judged by others. These judgements are the source of praise, or blame.
How absurd it would be to chase the praise whilst neglecting the cause of it. But this isn’t so easy to see. Praise is alluring: it makes you think that it matters; it makes you forget that what really matters is being worthy of it. But in chasing praise, you end up chasing the shadow of goodness and not goodness itself.
There is a reality about health and strength or fitness. There is also a representation of this reality, a shadow cast by it, in the form of physical attractiveness: the ‘picture of health’. Wouldn’t it be absurd to chase the shadow and neglect the reality? To chase physical attractiveness at the expense of our health? But now I’m describing something that is commonplace.
Chasing Shadows
I fear so many of us are caught in our own chains of ignorance, chasing shadows. The alarming thing is that we often don’t realise until it’s too late. We need something to snap us out of it. Is this a philosopher’s role?
Look to philosophy then, and to the professional philosopher, and you will see a peculiar kind of shadow-chaser. They fret about their reputations and remunerations; they work for publications, titles, prizes; they try to win the argument. They chase the shadows cast by philosophical wisdom – written and spoken lines of reasoning, good lessons, intricate technical understanding – and then they pat themselves on the back and call themselves philosophers. Their preoccupation with shadow-chasing causes them to neglect the obvious: they are doing everything that a real philosopher would not do.
This was my realisation: that I was chasing the prizes and the esteem that comes from playing with these shadows, and that in this I had neglected what was real. When I realised this, I was ashamed.
I wasn’t chasing philosophy: I was chasing the shadows of philosophy.
And now I see this everywhere. Many people chase money. In this world, money is the clearest representation of worth and value. Some people take that to be axiomatic of ‘the way the world works’, but it is not so necessary as people think. It was not always and everywhere the case, and it remains quite obvious that many very valuable things have no monetary value attached to them.
What people really want is real worth and value, not the shadows of it. But by doing worthless things to get money, they trade the reality for the shadow; they trade real value for the appearance of value. They neglect what matters in favour of what doesn’t.
I call it what it is: shadow chasing. You don’t chase what has value but the shadow of what has value.
Real Value
In all these things that people chase – such as reputation or wealth – what’s valuable is the good reason for it, to the extent that it is good. It’s not your good reputation but the reason for your good reputation that matters, and only if that good reputation is deserved, because reputation is only a representation: a shadow of something really valuable. It’s not your wealth but the reason for your wealth that matters, and only if that reason is a good reason – for instance because you have worked hard or done something worthwhile to rightly earn it – because wealth is only a representation: a shadow of something really valuable. If you stole your wealth or inherited it or won it by chance, there is not much to be proud of. Or if you trick people into thinking well of you, managing your reputation by making a big song and dance about every good thing that you do whilst hiding all the bad or blaming it on someone else. In each case you’ve caught the representation of worth, the shadow of value, but nothing more. You haven’t caught anything that really matters.
You’ve made a bad trade, because in chasing these shadows, you’ve neglected the reality. You’ve lost what matters in your pursuit of what doesn’t.
You value pleasure but you chase indulgence, not realising that pleasure is better achieved by cultivating your sensibilities to get more out of what you already have, and is better held on to by being tempered by self-control. You value health but you chase physical attractiveness and make yourself unhealthy in the process. You value self-reliance but you chase money and sign yourself away to the passing opinion of a man in a suit. You value goodness and virtue but you chase praise, not realising that people often praise what isn’t praiseworthy. You value good fortune but you chase good luck, not realising that true good fortune is what you make secure to yourself.
If you chase shadows, even when you win, you lose, because you have only caught a shadow of a thing. You catch wealth but always seem to need more. You catch indulgence and you suffer the consequences. You catch physical attractiveness and remain ill. You catch your boss’s good opinion and become dependent on it. You catch praise then realise it wasn’t warranted. You catch good fortune but then that wheel turns against you and lays you low.
I caught academic success but I realised that it did not make me a philosopher. Exile made me a philosopher. This taught me a good lesson. Once I chased shadows and caught only the shadow of a thing. I will try not to do that again.
Note: Both of the quotations featured in this post are from Pierre Hadot’s Philosophy as a Way of Life, translated by Arnold I. Davidson. They are idiosyncratic translations.
tobybetenson.com 