On Climbing Ladders

Popular practical philosophy is held back by a general ignorance. There are lots of people talking about things that they manifestly don’t understand. Since they all talk to each other, no one is in any position to know any better; but since no one knows this, hierarchies emerge, because the blind can lead the blind if only they brag about seeing.

But ignorance is not the problem. We are all ignorant; some of many things, some of fewer. The problem is a lack of intellectual humility, or sincerity, or authenticity. It is a lack of holding yourself to account.

Philosophy is not an easy discipline and should not be presented as such. Like that old cliché about quantum theory: if you think you understand it, you probably don’t understand it. The wisest of all philosophers says that he knows nothing, and that is why he doesn’t give answers but only asks questions.

But he doesn’t content himself with asking easy questions that have easy answers. He asks difficult questions, even though they are difficult and give no easy answers, because he wants only to ask the right questions in the right way. The truth will tolerate nothing less. This is not an easy road; we choose the narrow way, understanding that everything excellent is as difficult as it is rare. If you understand it, you understand that philosophy is difficult, and excellent, and it requires difficult work to understand properly. If you don’t do this work then you will never make progress.

Academic philosophy revels in this difficult work. It is its business. We take students in and give them the easy stuff, then gradually increase the difficulty as far as they are able, and this progression continues until the highest professors talk about things that can only be relevant to them and in ways that only they can understand. For the sake of climbing high they choose to put themselves out of reach. And being out of reach, they become out of touch. They spend so much time in school that they forget to leave. And they take philosophy with them, locking it away behind the school gates, putting up signs that say: ‘Let none enter who have not paid their fees.’

Popular philosophers are rightly critical of this. Philosophy shouldn’t be that difficult. And philosophy shouldn’t be that inaccessible or out of touch. It is something that anyone can do and that everyone ought to do. It shouldn’t exist only in schools. It shouldn’t be for sale because it is priceless: it costs nothing and is worth everything.

And yet they do not study it. They react so strongly against the academic way that they throw it away entirely. The mistake is understandable. They hear the Stoics say ‘don’t read books about philosophy; do it’, and so they don’t read books. They hear the Stoics say ‘studying technical philosophy doesn’t make you a philosopher’, and so they don’t study technical philosophy. And because of this, they learn nothing; and having learned nothing, they continue in ignorance, blundering about in a world that they don’t understand.

What they don’t seem to realise (perhaps because they have not studied it) is that Epictetus doesn’t say ‘don’t read books’ or ‘don’t study technical philosophy’, etc., but rather ‘don’t only read books’, ‘don’t only study technical philosophy’ and think that that makes you a philosopher. Because it won’t; it’s not enough to know about these things, you must also know how to apply them and then make some attempt at being able to do so, and that practical know-how takes some practical working out. Don’t get stuck in school, only reading and discoursing about philosophy. Take that school-learning and apply it, then you will be a philosopher worthy of the name.

But you must have the school learning in order to apply it. Epictetus has studied technical philosophy and can discourse about Chrysippus and Cleanthes. He has technical knowledge in abundance and because of that he understands that it is not enough. Only because he has that knowledge does he know that it is not enough. He has studied it and can now leave it behind him. His study has equipped him with everything he needs, and so he will set forth and make an attempt at a philosopher’s life.

This is the purpose of philosophical schooling: it equips you with what you need. It is a ladder, used to climb out of a pit, and you can leave it behind once you have made use of it. But you must climb the ladder first, in order to throw it away. If you throw it away before you’ve climbed it then you’ll just be left in a pit without a ladder. And that’s nothing to brag about. The only thing you should say from there is ‘help!’.