The conclusion to the Sceptic’s arguments is that, given our lack of knowledge, we should refrain from assenting to the truth or falsity of any belief. In all cases we should withhold our judgement and say only ‘I don’t know’.
Is there such a thing as knowledge? ‘I don’t know.’ Are my beliefs true or false? ‘I don’t know.’ How do I know if my beliefs are true or false? ‘I don’t know.’ Do I exist? ‘I don’t know.’ Am I thinking? ‘I don’t know.’ Does 12×12=144? ‘I don’t know.’ Do I have feet? ‘I don’t know.’ Are there limits to reasonable thought? ‘I don’t know.’ Does the Sun move around the Earth? ‘I don’t know.’ Are there two cups in front of me or am I drunk? ‘I don’t know.’ Is this my cricket bat? ‘I don’t know.’ Does God exist? ‘I don’t know.’ Is there such a thing as virtue or justice or right and wrong? ‘I don’t know.’ How should I live? ‘I don’t know.’
You get the idea. It’s a simple message, at least, and takes little practice or skill to put into practice.
Like I say, to my mind scepticism is too easy. It can be a kind of cop out; a way of avoiding thinking hard and making hard choices; a philosophical shrugging of the shoulders. But for all my obvious negativity, there is one small window of therapeutic opportunity for Scepticism to provide us with a way of living that might serve some good purpose.
Because the Sceptics do recommend a certain art of living and there are benefits to the denial of all knowledge. By refusing to accept or assent to the truth of any perception or opinion, you can free yourself from any source of trouble.
I perceive something fearful: is it really fearful, and should I fear it? ‘I don’t know.’ I feel pain: am I in pain, and is pain bad and should I avoid it? ‘I don’t know.’ A loved one has died: is this bad and should I grieve? ‘I don’t know.’ I am about to die: is death bad and should I grieve? ‘I don’t know.’ And since you don’t know whether these things are really bad, you have no reason to feel bad about them. You are free to be indifferent to what might trouble you.
The Sceptic fixes their attention on the uncertainty of any perception or opinion. In this way the Sceptic learns to respond in the same way to any difficulty, which is: without feeling anything at all. They are fearless in the face of fearful things, not knowing them to be fearful; they are indifferent to pain, not knowing pain to be bad; they are untroubled by sickness and death, not knowing them to be harmful. The resulting state is that of being free from fear, pain, disturbance, trouble, and harm. It is similar to the Epicurean ideal of ataraxia or ‘tranquillity’, and many ancient sources would use the same word to describe both the Epicurean and the Sceptic’s ideal state of being. But I (and most others) would say that the Sceptic’s ideal differs from the Epicurean’s in an important way. Because whilst the Epicureans want to be free from what troubles them, they do not want to be free from all feelings, happily accepting the reality of pleasurable and painful perceptions and holding firm to their knowledge about how to go about maximising pleasures over pains. By contrast, the Sceptics reject the reality of both pain and pleasure. They don’t just want to feel less pain and more pleasure; the Sceptics want to feel nothing. And that is why a later word comes into the philosophical vocabulary to characterise this ideal state of being: apatheia, or ‘without feeling’.
The Stoics will pick up this word and run with it, but they make subtle changes to its meaning as they adapt it to their purposes and so it would be a mistake to send their version of the word back in time to attribute to the Sceptics. I think it’s clear that there is a true Sceptic ideal to be found in the origins of the school of thought, worthy of the name ‘apatheia’, and it is different enough from both the Epicureans and the Stoics. This is made clear enough in the descriptions of the lives and behaviours of Sceptic philosophers. Whilst it might be an artistic caricature, we are told that Pyrrho refused to assent to the certain reality of any perception, up to and including his perception of wagons and cliff-edges, and was so Sceptically indifferent to these dangers that his friends had to intervene to save him from falling into them. When his Sceptic companion Anaxarchus fell into a pond, Pyrrho walked past without batting an eye, totally indifferent to his friend’s peril. Apparently Anaxarchus, having dragged himself to safety, praised Pyrrho for his Sceptical indifference and lack of feeling. The point is not so much whether these stories are true, but that they are told with the intention of capturing the distinctive quality of the Sceptic’s way of living: a non-committal indifference to anything and everything, believing nothing, feeling nothing. The Sceptics are the embodiment of apathy.
We are told that Pyrrho endured un-anaesthetised surgery without showing any sign of feeling any pain. We are told he was calm and untroubled when facing a storm at sea. We are told that Anaxarchus, on account of his untroubled temperament, was called ‘the happy’. Later in life he attracted the anger of a tyrant, and the tyrant ordered that Anaxarchus be put to horrific death by being beaten with iron pestles in a giant mortar. Anaxarchus responds to this prospect with Sceptical indifference, saying: ‘You can beat the bag of Anaxarchus, but you can’t beat Anaxarchus himself.’ The tyrant, further angered by Anaxarchus’s defiant lack of fear, orders that his spiteful tongue be cut out; to which Anaxarchus responds by biting off his own tongue and spitting it at the tyrant. These stories paint a picture that accords with the Sceptic’s philosophical ideal.
I am not convinced it is a worthy ideal, on the whole, but perhaps it is a worthy part. For me, what is admirable in the Sceptics can be found in other schools of thought. I think if you see the Sceptics in the context of Socrates (know that you don’t know as much as you think), Plato (break your chains and escape the dark cave of ignorance), the Cynics (society can be a corrupting influence), and the Stoics (you are free to be indifferent to external things), then you will find that scepticism plays an important part in any philosophy worthy of the name. The point is not to stop with scepticism, as the Sceptics do, but to find a way to move beyond it. Socrates adds that nothing is more important than virtue; Plato adds that you must govern yourself according to your reason; the Cynics add that you must align your will with nature; the Stoics become a hybridised culmination of all these strands of thought, completing the picture of a philosophical ideal. And so, to my mind, it seems to me that Scepticism is an incomplete picture. But I will leave it to your judgement.
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