| feelosopher |
Posted
on 19-Aug-01 07:32 PM
Plato was my playmate
What drives someone to become a philosopher? AC Grayling describes how the merciless African sun and a quaint local library led him to discover the joys of contemplative life
When asked my profession, I say that I teach philosophy. Sometimes, with equal accuracy, I say that I study philosophy. The form of words is carefully chosen; a certain temerity attaches to the claim to be a philosopher - "I am a philosopher" does not sound as straightforwardly descriptive as "I am a barrister/ soldier/carpenter," for it seems to claim too much. It is almost an honorific, which third parties might apply to someone only if he or she merited it. And such a one need not necessarily be - indeed, may well not be - an academic teacher of the subject.
When I reply in the way described, I see further questions kindle in the interrogator's eye. "What do philosophers do in the mornings when they get up?" they ask themselves, privately. Everyone knows what a barrister or carpenter does. The teaching part in "teaching philosophy" is obvious enough; but the philosophy part? Do salaried philosophers arrange themselves into Rodinesque poses, and think all day long?
But the question they actually ask is, "How did you get into that line of work?" The answer is simple. Sometimes people choose their occupations, and sometimes they are chosen by them. People used to describe the latter as having a vocation, a notion borrowed from the idea of a summons to the religious life, and applied to medicine and teaching as well as to the life of the mind. No doubt there are people who make a conscious decision to devote themselves to philosophy rather than, say, tree surgery; but usually it is not an option. Like the impulse to write, paint, or make music, it is a kind of urgency, for it feels far too significant and interesting to take second place to anything else.
The world is, however, a pragmatic place, and the dreams and desires that people have to be professional sportsmen, or prima ballerinas, or best-selling authors tend to remain such unless the will and the opportunity are available to help them onward. Vocation provides the will; in the case of philosophy, opportunity takes the form of an invitation, and a granting of licence to take seriously the improbable path of writing and thinking as an entire way of life. In my case, as with many others who have followed the same path, the invitation came from Socrates.
When Socrates returned to Athens from his military service at Potidiae, one of the first things he did was to find out what had been happening in philosophy while he was away, and whether any of the current crop of Athenian youths was distinguished for beauty, wisdom, or both. So Plato tells us at the beginning of his dialogue Charmides, named for the handsome youth who was then the centre of fashionable attention in Athens. Always interested in boys such as Charmides, Socrates engaged him in conversation to find out whether he had the special attribute which is even greater than physical beauty - namely, a noble soul.
Socrates' conversation with Charmides was the trigger that made me a lifelong student of philosophy. I read that dialogue at the age of 12 in English translation - happily for me, it is one of Plato's early works, all of which are simple and accessible; and it immediately prompted me to read others. There was nothing especially precocious about this, for all children begin as philosophers, endlessly voicing their wonder at the world by asking "wh-" questions - why, what, which - until the irritation of parents, and the schoolroom's authority on the subject of Facts, put an end to their desire to ask them.
I was filled with interest and curiosity, puzzlement and speculation, and wanted nothing more than to ask such questions and to seek answers to them for ever. My good luck was to have Socrates show that one could do exactly that, as a thing not merely acceptable, but noble, to devote one's life to. I was smitten by the nature and subject of the enquiries he undertook, which seemed to me the most important there could be. And I found his forensic method exhilarating - and often amusing, as when he exposes the intellectual chicanery of a pair of sophists in the Euthydemus, and illustrates the right way to search for understanding. Presented with such an example, and with such fascinating and important questions, I concluded that there is no vocation to rival philosophy.
For more, http://www.guardian.co.uk/saturday_review/story/0,3605,534812,00.html
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