1. Of what was Socrates accused, and what was the formal charge against him in court?
2. Why did Socrates say fear of death is not wisdom?
3. What close connection is characteristic of Socrates and Plato?
4. Wisdom consists in what, for Plato (acc'ing to Russell)?
5. What, acc'ing to Goldstein, marks Plato's thinking as a pivotal stage in humanity?
6. What "singularity" created the conditions for philosophy in ancient Greece?
7. Plato often betrays a horror of what?
8. What did Plato insist on, rather than final answers?
- Does it matter, philosophically, whether Plato's portrayal of Socrates is historically accurate or if he's just using Socrates as a "mouthpiece of his own opinions"? 84
- Do you think Socrates was wise? Why or why not? 86
- Who plays the role of Socratic "gadfly" in our time, if anyone?
- Do you think a university education should "corrupt the youth"? (Bear in mind the etymology of the word: from cor-‘altogether’ + rumpere ‘to break.’)
- Are you persuaded by Socrates that "those who think death is an evil are in error," and that "clear thinking is the most important requisite for right living"? 89
- What do you think Socrates meant by his inner divine "voice"? 90
- Given the description of Socrates' physical appearance and indifference to the elements, would he be taken in our time for a vagrant? Should we pay more attention to the vagrants among us now?
- Socrates said he had "nothing to do with physical speculations," being more concerned with how to live ethically and well. Should philosophers leave physical speculations entirely to credentialed physicists?
- What do you think of Goldstein's Ethos of the Extraordinary? 8
- Do you agree with the ancient Greeks that a lasting reputation is "the only kind of immortality for which we may hope"?
- COMMENT: "to philosophize is to prepare to die." 13 (See below *)
|Little Histories (@LittleHistoryof)|
From an old post-
Quiz on Little History of Philosophy-"The Man Who Asked Questions" (no need to take this quiz, but feel free to comment on any of the discussion questions)
1. (T/F) For Socrates, a conversation that ended in everyone realizing how little they knew was a failure.
2. (T/F) For Socrates, wisdom consists in knowing lots of facts.
3. Plato's parable of the cave was intended to illustrate the distinction between appearance and reality, and to introduce his Theory of ______.
BONUS QUESTIONS from PB podcasts:
- Does M.M.McCabe prefer to teach by lecturing Socratically?
- Who said Eros is the search for your other half?
- What's good about Plato's concept of Eros as contemplation of the Form of Beauty, according to Angie Hobbs? OR, What's bad about it?
1. Do you think the point of conversation is mainly to demonstrate that you already know what you're talking about, or that someone or other in the discussion does? How else might it be possible to think about philosophical conversations?
(If you're discussing politics, religion, ethics, metaphysics, science-vs.-superstition, or some other Big Question, do you presume that one of you is right and everyone else is wrong? Do you consider that you all may be partly right and partly wrong? Do you expect to gain from such conversations or do you shun them? What would Socrates say?)
2. Can an ignorant person be wise? Can a knowledgeable person be ignorant?
3. Do you think ordinary life is a misleading appearance, and reality something most of us fail to perceive? Why or why not? How should we go about seeking to discover reality, if it is in fact elusive?
4. Do you like sitting and listening to long speeches, sermons, and lectures? Do you get more out of them than you do from conversations with your peers? What do you see as the benefit or the deficiency of Socratic dialogue?
5. What's your definition of love? Are you looking for your perfect match? What makes for a good marriage or relationship?
6. Do you like Plato's concept of Eros as Perfect Disembodied Love? Why or why not?
Western philosophy began well before Socrates, but we'll leave the pre-Socratics to themselves for now and pretend that Socrates was indeed the first (western) philosopher. We'll also soft-pedal Bertrand Russell's judgment (later shared by Izzy Stone) that the Platonic Socrates is "dishonest and sophistical in argument... smug and unctuous... not scientific in his thinking... [guilty of] treachery to truth" and so on. If the esteemed Socrates-as-paragon and personification of intellectual integrity ("I'd rather die than give up my philosophy" etc.) didn't exist we'd have had to invent him. Perhaps Plato did.
In the southern part of Europe is a little country called Greece… the Greeks have lived in it for more than three thousand years. In olden times they believed that before they came to the land it was the home of the gods, and they used to tell wonderful stories…
And then Socrates came along to challenge some of those stories. (There actually were some important pre-Socratics like Thales and Democritus already challenging what everybody knew, but we’re jumping ahead in our Little History.) And that’s why, from a western philosopher’s point of view, the Greeks matter.
The old Parthenon must have been lovely, but I think ours is prettier nowadays. And btw, our Parthenon's city ("The Athens of the South") is hot (as in cool) lately.
[There's a new theory about the old Parthenon, btw. "Horses and riders, youths and elders, men and women, animals being led to sacrifice: What is the Parthenon’s frieze telling us?"... more]
Socrates, from Alopece, near Athens, asked a lot of questions. Like Gilda Radner's Roseanne Roseannadanna. Like Bertrand Russell:
Bertrand Russell @B_RussellQuotesJan 31
In all affairs it's a healthy thing now and then to hang a question mark on the things you have long taken for granted.
Did curiosity kill the philosopher? No, a narrow plurality of 500 jurors did. (His unrepentant attitude during sentencing didn't help, either.) They convicted him of "impiety" (atheism) and corrupting the youth of Athens. One more reason I'm lucky to live in the 21st century: I don't like hemlock. I'm like Woody Allen, that way. (But if shocking new allegations are true, hemlock may be too good for him.) Steve Martin (did I mention that he was a philosophy major?) had a go at it too. Here's a good Discussion Question: what would you do, in Socrates' cell?
He was “snub-nosed, podgy, shabby and a bit strange,” says our text. "He was ugly," says podcastee Mary McCabe. But brilliant and charismatic too, as gadflies go. Said he had nothing to teach, but those around him (including young Plato) said they learned plenty from him, especially how
to discuss with others in this open-minded, open-ended way that allows them to reflect on what they think and us to reflect on what we think, without dictating, without dogma, without insistence, and without imperative... to be true to themselves: to be sincere about their beliefs and to be honest... and to have some respect for their companion.
If that's not good teaching, what is?
The annotated and hyperlinked Last Days of Socrates is a gripping and inspiring tale, whether or not its hero was really as heroic through all the days of his life as Plato and his other admirers would have us believe. The honored pedestal version of this gadfly remains a worthy ideal for philosophy.
"Plato, they say, could stick it away..." -they being Monty Python. And the late great Hitch sang it too, sorta. But Plato was a serious and sober fellow, in Reality, usually capitalizing that word to distinguish it from mere appearance. The everyday world is not at all what it appears to be, he said. If you want Truth and Reality and the Good, get out of your cave and go behold the Forms. He seemed to think that’s what his hero Socrates had done. I’m not so sure. But read the relevant Platonic dialogues telling the tragic and inspiring story of the last days of Socrates and see what you think.
He also had interesting thoughts about love and eros, as expressed through his constant dialogue character "Socrates" (who may or may not have spoken faithfully for his martyred namesake) inSymposium. Angie Hobbs says Plato rejected Aristophanes' mythic notion that we all have one unique other "half," formerly parts of our hermaphroditic spherical selves, that would complete us and make us happy. But he defended a view some of us find equally implausible, the idea that the true and highest love spurns (or spins upward from) particular persons and embraces the Form of Beauty.
The Form of Beauty "is always going to be there for you," but on the other hand "it's never going to love you back." Unrequited affection is hardly what most of us think of as Perfect Love. There's a myth for you. This really was an early foreshadowing of the phenomenon recently deplored in the Stone, our modern turn to abstraction and virtual experience in lieu of immediacy and reality and touch. ("Losing Our Touch", nyt). Reminds me, too, of Rebecca Goldstein's Plato at the Googleplex: Why Philosophy Won't Go Away.
We romantics (as Angie Hobbs pronounces herself, and as I confess to being too) should know better than to seek a perfect match. We should know better than to think that any enduring relationship can be wholly free of "pain, fragility, and transience." Those are inevitable parts of the story and the glory of human (as against Ideal, Platonic, Perfect) love, no? Just ask Cecil the Butler about Sidney Poitier.
One more thing about Plato, that will be important for understanding how his pupil Aristotle came to differ from his teacher: the famous Allegory of the Cave from Book VII of Plato's Republic.
THE STONE AUG. 29, 2016
As a child, I was terrified of death. It was often in the twilight hours, between the moment of lying down and the imperceptible instant of slipping off to sleep, that the terror would arise. The thought of vanishing completely from the world, of being engulfed in ineradicable darkness, would seize upon me and crush with it the very existence of the world. It was not simply that I would no longer be there. It was that reality itself would collapse, devoid of any point of apprehension. Petrified before a void so vast that it could not be contained within thought, let alone a thinking being, it was impossible to know how long it would take to drift off into the abyss that silently beckoned me.
Religion and spirituality were of little or no solace. Even to my young mind, they struck me as fantasies that had been elaborately constructed and forcefully imposed in order to stave off the horror. Their power paled in comparison with the groundless vacuum that they sought to mask, and my restless mind would have nothing of consolation. As I grew older, the appeal of philosophy was that it opened vantage points to stare into the vertiginous face of death, and to ponder the meaning of living in an uncertain world precariously perched on the absolute certainty of death.
Experience added material realities to these unsettling thoughts. I remember attending my first open-casket funeral and peering down on the docile, lifeless body of Everett, an old farmer whose summer straw scent and peaceful demeanor had left a distinct impression on my inexperienced mind. Then there were stories of others dying around me, and the profound sadness that accompanied them, ranging from Russian roulette suicides to horrific explosions of propane gas.
Growing up on a farm brought with it, moreover, the omnipresence of death, from raccoon and coyote attacks to trips to the slaughterhouse, or winter diseases that had my brother and I chiseling shallow graves for animals into frozen earth as young children. I still recall watching my baby sister holding the lifeless body of a newborn lamb under warm, running water with the confused hope of somehow bringing it back from the precipice. Life was imbued with death.
Today, my eldest child, at the age of 6, has fallen prey to these same fears. With two fingers lodged in his mouth, he pulls down on his lower jaw as if he were trying to hold onto some self-supporting ledge of meaning. He looks up at me from bed in the twilight and asks if everyone will die someday. He wants to know when the scientists will develop a potion that will allow us to live forever. I tell him that I am not certain that it will happen, but I cannot help but subtly acquiesce to the consolation it brings him to imagine one day drinking from an enchanted glass and sharing it with the entire family. Yet the fears are still there, and he senses my uncertainty. He tries to calculate with his rudimentary arithmetic how many years he will have before he dies. Then he interjects that even his awkward sums might not add up because there could be an accident causing him to die before me... (continues)