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The
Misfortunes of Philosophy in Antiquity
by Mortimer J. Adler, Ph.D.
With the speculations of the pre-Socratic
philosophers, with the dialogues of Plato, and with
the treatises of Aristotle, philosophy got off to a
good start in three respects.
(1) The Greek philosophers managed to pose, and
to pose quite clearly, many of the fundamental
questions of philosophy. The fecundity of the
Platonic dialogues lies in this: they raise so many
of the basic questions -- questions about the
nature of things, about being and becoming, about
the one and the many, about matter and spirit,
about the divine, about the intellect, about ideas,
about virtue and the virtues, about justice and
happiness, about the state and the individual.
Neither the refinement of these questions in
later periods of thought nor the later addition of
questions that open up new lines of philosophical
inquiry should be allowed to diminish the
magnificence of the Platonic achievement, which
richly deserves the tribute paid by Alfred North
Whitehead when he said that the whole of European
thought can be read as a series of footnotes to the
dialogues of Plato.
(2) The Greek philosophers -- here Plato to a
lesser extent, and to a much greater extent
Aristotle -- also managed to lay down the lines of
correct procedure in many of the respects that are
essential to the proper conduct of the
philosophical enterprise. The way in which
Aristotle carefully considers the questions raised
by his predecessors or contemporaries, and takes
their opinions into account, is an amazingly clear
first approximation to what is meant by the conduct
of philosophy as a public, rather than a private
enterprise.
Consider these two statements by Aristotle,
which eloquently express his sense of philosophy as
a cooperative enterprise. The first is from the
Metaphysics, Book II, Chapter 1:
- The investigation of the truth is in one way
hard, in another easy. An indication of this is
found in the fact that no one is able to attain
the truth adequately, while, on the other hand,
we do not collectively fail, but every one says
something true about the nature of things, and
while individually we contribute little or
nothing to the truth, by the union of all a
considerable amount is amassed.
The second is from On the Soul, Book I,
Chapter 2:
- ...it is necessary...to call into council
the views of those of our predecessors...in
order that we may profit by whatever is sound in
their suggestions and avoid their errors.
Pondering these statements, it is difficult not
to attribute to Aristotle a conception of
philosophical knowledge as testable doxa. If
he had regarded philosophical knowledge as
episteme, he would hardly have recommended, as he
does in these statements, a type of procedure that
befits sifting opinions and testing them for their
relative truth. If philosophical truths consisted
of self-evident principles and rigorously
demonstrated conclusions, one would not proceed in
this way [ 1
].
In addition, Aristotle is an empirical
philosopher in the proper sense of that term;
namely, a philosopher who submits theories and
conclusions -- his own and others -- to the
empirical test, by appeal to the common experience
of humankind.
(3) The Greek philosophers -- here both Plato
and Aristotle, though in quite different ways --
managed to detect and expose a large number of
typical fallacies, paradoxes, and puzzles that
result from linguistic or logical inadequacies,
imprecisions, or confusions in the discourse that
is generated by philosophical problems.
What I am saying here is that Plato and
Aristotle initiated philosophy, not only on the
place of first-order questions, both speculative
and normative, but also on the plane of
second-order questions about human thought and
speech, especially when these are concerned with
difficult first-order questions in philosophy. To
the major contributions previously mentioned, they
added a third -- an amazingly rich beginning of
what is now called analytic and linguistic
philosophy -- a contribution that, by the way, the
more learned of contemporary analysts properly
acknowledge.
These three contributions can be recognized and
given their due praise without regard to the
substantive truth or error in the philosophical
positions taken by Plato and Aristotle on
particular problems. When we take all three into
account, it is hard to see how philosophy could
have had a more auspicious beginning. Nevertheless,
the circumstances under which philosophy was born
and went through its first state of development
were not wholly auspicious. I have three
misfortunes in mind.
First and most important of all, there was in
antiquity no clear line between philosophy, on the
one hand, and either science or religion, on the
other. The ancients did not clearly and explicitly
separate questions that cannot be answered
without investigation from questions that
cannot possibly be answered by
investigation. As a consequence of this, Aristotle
treated, as if they were properly philosophical
questions, questions that can be properly answered
only by investigative science -- questions about
the nature and motions of the heavenly bodies;
questions about the nature, number, and operation
of the human senses; questions about the elementary
forms of matter; questions about the species of
living things, their order, relation, and
origin.
Many of the treatises of Aristotle show him
dealing with what we now know to be philosophical
questions, on the one hand, and scientific
questions, on the other; but he treats them as if
they were all philosophical questions. A great many
of the errors with which Aristotle is charged were
made in his effort to answer scientific questions
without being aware that they require a different
method from the one he employed in answering
questions that are genuinely philosophical.
This is not to say that he failed to resort to
investigation in certain fields, especially
biology. We know that he was an investigative
scientist as well as a reflective philosopher; but
he did not know it. He did not separate --
and, in his day, probably could not have separated
-- these two modes of inquiry in which he engaged,
as we, looking back at him, can retrospectively
separate his efforts at scientific inquiry from his
lines of philosophical thought.
This, then, is one of the misfortunes of
philosophy in antiquity: by virtue of the inchoate
togetherness of science and philosophy, philosophy
took upon itself a burden that it could not
discharge -- the burden of answering questions that
did not properly belong in its domain. We can see
the particular sciences -- such as physics,
astronomy, chemistry, physiology, and zoology -- in
the womb of ancient philosophy.
Philosophy is, historically, their mother; but
they have not yet broken away from her and
established themselves as branches of a separate
autonomous discipline, the discipline of
investigative science. Until this happens -- and it
does not begin to happen until the seventeenth
century -- they constitute a burden and a
distraction to philosophy; worse than that, the
errors which philosophers make in unwittingly
trying to deal with matter that properly belong to
science insidiously affect their treatment of
matters that are properly their own concern.
What I have just said about science and
philosophy in antiquity can also be said about
science and religion; they were also inchoately
confused. The ancients did not realize that certain
questions were of a sort that exceeded the power of
human inquiry to answer -- questions that could not
be answered either by investigation or by
reflection on the common experience of humankind.
Both Plato and Aristotle tried, as philosophers, to
handle such questions -- Plato in the Timaeus,
Phaedo, and Laws; Aristotle in the
eighth book of the Physics, the twelfth book
of the Metaphysics, and the tenth book of
the Ethics. Certain matters treated therein
are matters beyond the reach of testable
doxa. If men are ever to possess knowledge
of such matters, it must come to them by way of
divine revelation and supernatural faith. They
cannot acquire it by the exercise of their natural
faculties and by recourse to the evidences of
experience and the light of unaided reason [
2
].
The confusion of philosophy with religion in
antiquity has still another unfortunate
consequence. Religion, as we have seen, is more
than a type of knowledge; it is a group of
institutions, a set of ceremonial or ritualistic
practices, and a code of observances and
performances having a sacerdotal or sacramental
character. When these things are taken together,
they comprise what we understand by "a way of
life." When we speak of religion as a way of life,
we think of it as enrolling the individual in a
community who share certain beliefs, engage in
certain ceremonials or rituals, and practice
certain obligatory observances. A religious way of
life can, of course, be lived anchoritically as
well as communally, but it still involves more than
beliefs; it involves observances and actions of a
sacerdotal or sacramental character, observances
and actions that have as their goal a spiritual
transformation of some sort. Whatever the nature of
the goal, one thing is clear: the goal of the
religious way of life is not simply more knowledge
of the type which the religious already has.
This last point confirms what should be
otherwise clear -- namely, that such disciplines as
scientific investigation and historical research,
as we understand them today, are not, strictly
speaking, ways of life in the sense in which
religion is. Scientists and historians may belong
to learned societies; they may have codes of
professional behavior; they may engage in certain
practices; but all these, taken together, have only
one end in view, and that is the advancement of
knowledge, knowledge of exactly the same type that
they already possess to some extent.
What has just been said about science and
history must be said with equal force about
philosophy when we understand it as a comparable
branch of knowledge and mode of inquiry. Whatever
the rules for the conduct of philosophy as an
intellectual enterprise, and whatever code of
professional behavior philosophers should subscribe
to, these, as in the case of science and history,
have only on aim -- the advancement of knowledge,
the same type of knowledge that philosophers
already possess to some degree. Philosophy is,
therefore, no more a way of life than science or
history [ 3
].
Both Plato and Aristotle were bewitched by the
conception of philosophy as episteme -- as
something much more certain and incorrigible than
opinion because it is grounded in incontestable,
self-evident axioms or first principles, and
proceeds therefrom to demonstrate its conclusions.
Both Plato and Aristotle drew a sharp line between
knowledge and opinion (nous and
episteme, on the one hand, and doxa,
on the other), and they both placed mathematics and
philosophy on the knowledge side of the line. This
misfortune, at the very beginning of philosophy's
history, plagues it throughout its history, not
only in antiquity, but also in the Middle Ages and
in modern times.
The subsequent history of philosophical thought
was grievously influenced by the exaltation and
idealization of knowledge (nous and
episteme) over the best that can be achieved
in the realm of opinion (doxa). Later
philosophers, whether they agreed or disagreed with
the substance of Platonic or Aristotelian teaching,
adopted the idea of nous and episteme
as one to be aimed at in philosophical work. Some
of them went much further and did what Plato and
Aristotle refrained from doing; they expounded
their own philosophical thought in a form and with
a structure that made it look as if it conformed to
the ideal.
If subsequent ages had paid more attention to
the actual sifting of philosophical opinions that
goes on in the dialogues of Plato, and had
recognized that the Posterior Analytics does
not describe the structure or movement of
philosophical thought as it occurs in all the major
treatises of Aristotle, philosophy might have been
saved many centuries of misdirection in the
fruitless effort to conform itself to an
appropriate model.
The third misfortune that befell philosophy in
antiquity is closely connected with the second. It
is the baleful influence of mathematics, mainly in
the form of geometry.
Geometry provided the ancients with what they
took to be the model of a deductive system. When
Plato and Aristotle want to exemplify what they
mean by episteme, they usually offer the
demonstration of geometrical theorems. Again it
must be said in defense of Plato and Aristotle that
they never made the mistake of Spinoza and other
moderns, who actually try to expound a
philosophical theory in ordine geometrico.
Yet we cannot overlook the frequency with which
they point to geometry as an actually developed
body of knowledge that approximates their ideal
better than any other and which, therefore, serves
as a model to be imitated.
The bewitchment of philosophy by mathematics --
not only geometrical demonstration, but also by the
analytical character of mathematical thought -- is
a much more serious illness of philosophy in modern
times than it was in antiquity. Nevertheless, the
first signs of that illness can be found in
antiquity, not only in connection with the
illusions about episteme, but also in the
extensive use that Plato makes of geometrical
figures and of numbers as exemplary forms.
Notes:
1. [In the history of
Western thought, the word "knowledge" is used in
two senses, one of which states an ideal that is
not realized in any of the recognized branches of
knowledge....In this idealized sense, knowledge
consists of truths known beyond the shadow of a
doubt, incorrigible and immutable truths involving
self-evident propositions and conclusions that can
be validly deduced from them. The Greek word for
knowledge in this idealized sense was
episteme....The Greek word for knowledge in
a moderate sense was doxa, which consists of
well-founded opinion, based on evidence and reason
-- opinion that is testable, falsifiable, and
corrigible.] Return
2. The line
separating the domain of philosophy from the domain
of dogmatic theology and revealed religion was
clearly drawn only toward the end of the Christian
Middle Ages. Some of the speculations of Plato and
Aristotle about theological matters lie athwart the
line that separates metaphysical theology (which is
a part of philosophy) from dogmatic theology (which
belongs to revealed religion). Return
3. A simple test can
be applied. A truly religious person deplores his
own moral failings and tries to rectify them in
order to bring his character and conduct more into
accord with the precepts and practices of his
religion. But a scientist, historical scholar, and
philosopher may each recognize that he has certain
moral deficiencies without any sense of need to
overcome them for the sake of serving better the
objectives of scientific research, historical
scholarship, or philosophical thought. This is one
way of seeing that religion is a way of life and
that science, history, and philosophy are not.
Return
Excerpted from The 4
Dimensions of Philosophy, by Mortimer J.
Adler
Go to the next essay on this topic: The
Disorders of Philosophy in the Middle Ages, by Dr.
Adler
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