Reflection 5
PHILO-SOPHIA IS A WAY OF LIFE
In the previous Reflection I suggested that philo-sophia can be seen as a witness to the possibility of living life differently. Life need not sink into the triviality and pettiness and conformism into which it often sinks; it need not succumb to the temptations of self-centeredness and consumerism; it need not be swayed by the brute economical forces that seek to control us; it need not buy into mass-produced vogues and movie images. Philo-sophia implies that despite these rampant psychological and societal powers, it is possible to rise above them and be a fuller human being.
For me this means that philo-sophia is not a profession, as unfortunately it is often viewed, but a way of life. A profession engages a certain portion of my time—9 to 5 at my office, for example. It also involves limited aspects of my being, mainly my relevant talents, and brackets off the rest of my personality and life as irrelevant. If, for example, I am a banker, then my marriage problems are supposed to stay outside the scope of my job, and it would be regarded as most improper if I nevertheless bring them in. A profession also means that my time and effort are convertible to certain benefits: to a salary, health benefits, privileges, status, power. Furthermore, a profession commonly involves a distinction between those who are qualified and those who are not. Often, after a training period the person is granted a certificate or diploma, and is now regarded as an expert, a professional. The electrician, pilot, teacher, and philosophy professor, if certified, presumably have sufficient expertise to take responsibility over tasks in their field. Consequently, they relate to each other as colleagues: They may exchange learned views in conferences, but each of them is an autonomous worker.
It seems to me that philo-sophia is fundamentally different. Being a seeker of wisdom is not something I do in my office from nine to five, after which I retire to my private affairs. It is not limited to exercising some specific talents that are distinct from the rest of my personality and life. Nor does it make sense to talk about expertise or professionalism in wisdom, or about a diploma that certifies that the person is now an expert in its ways. One may be an expert in the history of philosophy, or in writing philosophical articles, or in teaching, but who among us is more than a beginner in philo-sophia? Who is already beyond her ‘training period’ so that she can claim to have reached proficiency in wisdom, which entitles her for financial benefits?
In short, philo-sophia is not a profession. It involves everything I do and am, from the way I tackle ethical dilemmas and political choices to the way I react to my personal misfortunes, or treat my spouse, or behave in a neighbors’ dispute, or comport myself at a social dinner. No moment is too small for it. Philo-sophia is not a task within life, but a way of living life.
To see this, try to bring to mind somebody you think is a wise man or woman, whether an actual acquaintance, a literary character, or even a mere imagination. What is it about such a person that makes him or her wise?
Clearly, the person need not possess much knowledge, as a scholar does. A simple fisherman may be a wise man, even if he knows very little about science, world literature, history and the like. Nor need the person be smart in the sense of quick problem solving or logical thinking. Indeed, a person who possesses much knowledge and cognitive skills might still be self-absorbed, unreflective, petty, self-centered, narrow-minded, bigoted. We would obviously not regard her as a wise person.
This suggests again that wisdom is not a matter of possessing some cognitive faculty of mind, but of the person’s way of being. Pettiness and self-absorption and bigotry are obstacles to wisdom (though not to being smart or knowledgeable) because wisdom is a matter of one’s attitude to one’s self and world. If I am imprisoned in my self-centered and limited world, I am far from wisdom because greater wisdom means that my world is broader than the world in which I am the center, that my perspective is wider than that of my personal concerns and experiences. It means that I take part in a bigger world, a world greater than myself. Wisdom involves openness to the endless horizons of human reality.
I therefore find it regrettable that already from the beginning of the practical philosophy movement, we practitioners have been attempting to turn the new endeavor into a profession—with training courses and certification, clients, calling cards, offices with a shingle and professional conferences. We wanted to make the new endeavor respectable, to elevate it to higher levels, but instead we belittled it. By imitating the world of professionalism, by adopting the standards of the job-market, we are in danger of turning philo-sophia from a way of being into a nine-to-five job, and from a personal journey into a mere profession.
Those of us who are motivated by the Platonic Eros—the yearning for connecting with the real through wisdom, should, I believe, work to retrace our steps from the path of professionalism and find new paths. Let us not place ourselves in the position of experts who sell pieces of wisdom for fifty or eighty dollars an hour. Our mission is first of all to engage in our own personal search in the ways of wisdom. Before we start counseling clients, let us remember our own philosophical journey—not because we are self-centered, but because our capacity to give to others and inspire them depends on our following our own yearning. If my yearning is no longer alive in me, I may be a good philosophical technician, but not a guide and companion in the philosophical ways of life. I can be a philosophical counselor only if I too am on the way, searching and learning and trying new avenues, and often fumbling in the dark.
