Socratic Soren

Soren Kierkegaard—a Danish philosopher/writer of the 19^th century—found great inspiration in Socrates, who lived some 2400 years earlier in Athens. In fact, Kierkegaard came to view himself as the “Socrates of Copenhagen,” as he applied many of the ideas and practices of his Greek mentor in his thinking and writings.

In an earlier post I described the importance of Socrates’ daemon—his inner guiding voice. What appealed to Kierkegaard about this voice was that it had always guided Socrates in a “negative” sense—never telling him what to do, but simply alerting him against foolish actions... recommending what he should not do. That process leaves open various positive actions that one may ponder and then prudently select, if one takes the time to ponder it.

Another aspect of Socratic teaching that Kierkegaard viewed as essential was the manner in which Socrates engaged in dialog with another person. Although Socrates was regarded as one of the greatest Athenian sages, he never claimed to be wise. Like the voice of the daemon, he never told students or cohorts what to do. Instead he engaged them in a dialectical discussion, that repeatedly challenged them to explain what they believed they knew, as he cleverly dismantled their secure knowledge, step by step.

This form of discourse did not make Socrates very well-liked by Athenians, as he often reduced them to a state of self-doubt, called aporia. (From the Greek word aporos, which means “impassable.”) His interlocutor was literally rendered mentally immobile—having been impelled to realize that what he thought he knew, and was confident of, was fallacious. It created many antagonists among Athens' eminent citizens. This behavior eventually led to his trial and death sentence.

Kierkegaard saw that to apply the method of Socratic examination to one’s self-questioning could lead to a state of self-aporia, which he saw as a pivotal way of improving one's grasp of the truth. Since most of us are not all that clear in our thinking, or are subject to erroneous opinions, we often delude ourselves into believing that we are wiser and more knowledgeable than we really are. It requires a large dose of humility to admit we are wrong—to question ourselves. We could use a Socratic, dialectical approach to demonstrate our own misunderstanding to ourself.

In philosophy, epistemology is the theory of knowledge—particularly the investigation of what distinguishes justified belief from mere opinion. Socrates and Kierkegaard offer an alternative perspective of epistemological analysis. They both maintained that we have the ability to arrive at the truth on our own. We do not require a wise teacher to tell us what to do or think. It's important that we let go of our spurious beliefs after arriving at our own at a state of aporia; which then opens us up to a more valid understanding. We can thus rid ourselves of the “impassable” blockade of faulty thinking, to break through to real insight.

Unceasing Self

There is a tenet in Buddhism—a core principle, in fact—that is challenging for most Western minds to comprehend. It is the concept of “no self.” Many principles of Eastern religions and philosophy are difficult for us in the West to comprehend, because our cultures differ so much. For example, we in the West tend to view events in a linear fashion—we see history unfolding in a straight-line manner, from a point in the past and progressing upwards and outwards into the future. Those in the East view events more cyclically—history is a repetitive, periodic process that reoccurs again and again.

To the Western mind the concept of no self can even appear rather absurd, since we emphasize our individuality and our right to be a unique and autonomous being—while the Eastern mind is more likely to subsume itself into the common whole.

Maybe we could grasp the concept of no self better if we begin with a clear understanding of what the self is. Then we might be in a position to consider what it is not. A dictionary definition of the self is “a person's essential being that distinguishes them from others, especially considered as the object of introspection; or a person's particular nature or personality.”

Now, the Buddha is not strictly saying that there is no self—as if it doesn't exist. That's what many Westerners think and rebel against. We ask, Am I not a specific being, who has a “particular nature or personality?” The Buddhist point is that what we think is our essential being—our feelings, perceptions, and consciousness—is really not what we believe it is.  Sure, you have a material body, but that deeper, innate self that we think of as me is not really what we think it is. Let me try to explain. 

There are, in fact, two aspects of what we Westerners think of as the self, which Buddhism says are mistaken. The first is that we tend to think of our self as being a constant, immutable entity over time. Am I not essentially the same person now—someone whose basic essence is “me”—as I was at 10 years old? Well, no. We are more a process than a thing. That's even true physically—our cells are constantly regenerating. We are constantly in the process of unfolding into a new being.

Our second belief about the self that Buddhism claims is mistaken is that we tend to believe there is an intrinsic self—what we might consider to be our conscious self—that is in control. We can think of it as the executive (or CEO) of our mind that is in charge of it all. We have that amazing prefrontal cortex that we think is in command of it all. Well, no. Modern psychology has repeatedly demonstrated that the unconscious part of our brain—the part that we not only do not control, but are not even aware of—makes decisions on its own, causing us to take actions that our conscious mind was oblivious to. Only after the fact does our executive mind see what we did, and then does its best to make up a plausible story for our behavior.

So neither Buddhism nor modern psychology claims that the self literally does not exist. It's more that what we believe to be the self is not the fixed, encased thing we consider it to be. No, it's not that self at all. No self. It's more a process, more like a verb, than a noun. It's a flux… a flowing. Open your mind up to you being something much more vast.

Love Leads

I believe that, deep within, each of us inherently knows love is a meaningful and valuable virtue. I say this, despite the evidence that there seems to be an abundance of loathsome and dreadful behavior taking place on the part of humans, all over the world. The propensity for the media—as well as every one of us—is to put an inordinate amount of attention to the harmful things we humans do, rather than to our caring and helpful side. Negative press (or gossip about a neighbor) is noticed far more than positive press.

I do not think that our species would have survived to this point, had not love been a natural instinct of ours. Every one of us desires to experience love and willingly offers it, particularly in positive and healthy relationships. Similarly, we inherently prefer peace to violence—given the choice. I am convinced that only confused, fearful, and deluded people commit violence and act with hatred. People who are happy and fulfilled to not do these despicable things.

As a result of what I believe to be that innate potential to lean toward love and peace, we have established communities and religions that emphasize these virtues. At the core of every legitimate religion is the conviction that peace and love are vital virtues. These values have for millennia provided sustenance and moral support, which have helped their adherents to thrive and survive. No rightful religion teaches hatred and violence.

So why, one might reasonably ask, is there so much suffering and evil going on in the world? Why do the media feature so much of what seems to be bad behavior? Why do some supposed followers of various religions commit such atrocious actions against believers of other religions? I have no definitive answers to provide. These are perennial questions that philosophers, sociologists, civil authorities, and theologians have pondered and debated for eons.

The human record is not a pretty one. Aside from the media's fixation on violence, we have engaged in countless wars and destroyed so many of the structures, societies, and institutions that were lovingly and beneficially created. Our negative attributes have so often seemed to overshadow our positive attributes.

It appears to me that what's going on is that something gets in the way of our acting upon what I consider to be our natural and beneficial instincts. What might that be? I believe that fear is the primary barrier to wholesome behavior. Those in power—who wish to maintain their grip on power—find it useful for them to sow fear, which is an emotion that is often augmented by anger, selfishness, ego, and laziness.

It is a ceaseless struggle that we humans seemed doomed to face. Do we go to the dark side—fear, anger, hatred—or do we encourage our inspired and instinctive side? The jury seems to be currently deliberating on the opposing faces of humanity.

Defective Design—Part 2

The human body's most troublesome defect is the “design” of our spine. We humans have evolved from ancient primates that moved around on all four legs, with the spine in a horizontal position. The spine evolved to protect the body's organs and support their weight—being slung below and suspended from the backbone. All four-footed animals today still demonstrate the efficacy of that horizontal spine. It works very well.

A few million years ago our hominid ancestors began to stand upright on two legs. It gave them a few advantages over their horizontal cousins—such as to be able to spot predators farther away and carry items in their forearms. So they prevailed and their horizontal cousins disappeared. We have remained upright ever since. Although we were successful, that horizontally-evolved spine didn't do so well in a vertical position. All the weight of our internal organs, as well as our upper spine, now burdens the lower vertebrae and causes perennial backaches. It's a rather defective structure—but there's no going back for a redesign.

As my second example, two tubes run parallel down the throat of most all animals. One—the trachea or windpipe—funnels air to and from the lungs. The second tube—the esophagus—transports food into the stomach. The esophagus for horizontal, four-footed critters lies below the trachea. Thus food—being heavier than air—naturally drops down from the mouth to the esophagus and wends its way to the tummy. 

Here is yet another problem brought about by our decision to stand erect. In our vertical orientation, we must be very careful to control our glottis (the entryway to our trachea and lungs), so that we don't inhale our food into the lungs. Furthermore, the subsequent development of our voice mechanism added to the complexity and confounded the problem. As a result, we are very prone to choking, and sometimes require someone to perform a Heimlich maneuver on us, lest we choke to death.

I will stop with these two defects at this point, but there are several other shortcomings of the human physiology that demonstrate faulty design—such as goose bumps, hiccups, and an overactive amygdala.  Once they performed useful functions that today are either not needed or are problematic. (For example, we need the amygdala for some functions, but the hyper fear that it causes often gets us into trouble.) The human body—like that of all critters and plants—is a marvel, but it ain't perfect. Any competent biologist could do a better job, with today’s knowledge.