From The Deathbed To The Porch (05.01.2001)
Part One of Two: No Harm Done
Perhaps the voters were form Florida, unable to decipher the ballot when voting for or against Socrates. It must have been Greek to them.
Whether Socrates is portrayed correctly or not, he certainly was a great man. His contribution to western thought cannot be denied. For even if his teachings were different from what they are known to be at present, his influence on Plato is immense. And so, it is no small matter to describe the tragic passing of such a man as Socrates was and remains for philosophy today. Yet in all the indignation which is expected to arise at the death of Socrates, the panache with which he departs is captured excellently in Plato's “Apology.” Specifically, at the end of the "Apology," Socrates makes a very important statement that has had great impact on philosophy ever since its original proclamation. The Stoics in particular have taken this to be the cornerstone of their ideology. The statement made is that "you must regard one thing at least as certain—that no harm can come to a good man either in his life or after his death,” (Plato 100). The following examination focuses therefore on a brief explanation of the circumstances which lead to this statement being made by Socrates, as well as a closer look at why he thinks this to be the case. It is assumed that this statement is true, and validation for that assumption is to be sought as well.
So, first, why does Socrates make such a bold statement? Verily it is nothing short of his own death sentence. The people who accused and voted against Socrates, have decreed it that he is to die for impiety toward the gods and of corrupting the youth (Plato), in addition, it is known that Socrates has as a companion of sorts a "prophetic voice" to keep his philosophical endeavors regulated. Socrates himself states that this presence has not opposed him at any point during the proceeding of the trial (Plato). It is that fact which causes Socrates to understand his disposition as a good thing, death being a better fate, and that he cannot thus be harmed by the sentence.
Furthermore, the concept of harm is significant in this inquiry as well. Socrates speaks of his accusers in that "they thought they were doing me some harm," (Plato 100). It is thus conceivable that he does not consider physical harm to be of any consequence to his well-being. Socrates seems to maintain that physical existence is much less relevant to human excellence than is the spiritual state of the soul. It follows to say that physical harm, as is caused by others, is not actual harm. The true damage thus, is that which is done to the human soul, and none other than oneself can cause injury to the soul. Since the more valuable concern lies with that of the soul, death being somewhat a matter of triviality, and others cannot hurt the soul as only the self can, the death sentence by the jury is unimportant and does not cause harm to this good man.
The additional position in which Socrates resides, is that of the good man. As he elaborates himself, a good man is one who acts justly and keeps the good interest of others, as well as himself, always in mind (Plato). So a good man acts according to this mindset, acting justly in his treatment towards others, but also in his treatment of himself. Though he may not see the just treatment of himself as the end towards which his action is intended, such potentially altruistic consideration of the fellow human being proposes a just treatment of the man's own character. "To know the good is to do the good," is Plato's supposition. In accordance with which, the good man knows the good by performing good acts, and is able to do the good because he knows what the good is. Now, to tie these strings together, since the good man will not undertake an action that is unjust and will not harm himself, and others cannot harm him as their assaults cannot touch his soul, the good man's soul will not be harmed by either contributor. In other words, others cannot harm his soul, and he himself will not.
What's more, Socrates states that "it is impossible for those of us who think death is an evil to understand it correctly,” (Plato 99). For how can death be assumed to be vice if nothing of value is actually known of the phenomenon. Death is an occurrence with implications beyond the physical existence of humanity, which is why the miniscule amount of information possessed about death is not significant enough to base all judgments on the subject as final. Once again, Socrates explains:
Death is one of two tings; either it is like the dead person being nothing at all, and having no consciousness of anything at all; or, as we are told, it is actually some sort of change, a journey of the soul from this place to somewhere different. (Plato 99)
In either case Socrates finds dying to be a welcome event and an opportunity for either rest, or further and more stimulating philosophical endeavors. And all of which demonstrates that Socrates, a good man, is not to be harmed in any outcome of events thus far determined. Death is not to be feared, as no injury shall befall the good man who transcends thereto.
Concisely, Socrates' claim that "no harm can come to a good man," is made with a good and convincing basis in mind. Though it is possible that it is said as a last attempt to change the minds of the people about the judgment, it is not likely. After all, such an act, one to save his own self on account of something like fear, would be to cause harm to his own integrity and thus himself. Verily, Socrates finds the corporeal effects to be irrelevant, maintaining that the up kept welfare of the soul is the true path towards human excellence. And since the soul is not able to be harmed by other men, and the good man will not do so himself, the welfare of the soul is safely sustained. Ultimately, the lack of knowledge on the subject of death is no grounds for its presumption to have any negative connotation. Thus Socrates leaves the people and the men of the jury, pronouncing that "it is time for us to go—me to my death, you to your lives. Which of us goes to the better fate, only god knows,” (Plato 100).
Part Two of Two: Naturally Stoic
“Why do you sit here on the porch? You better study for your cynicism final, or you’ll fail.”
“Quiet. Can’t you see I’m being an oak tree? Besides, I’m not going to fail anything. I’m going to give it back. I’ll give you back too if you don’t stop bothering me; now leave!”
In the approximate year of 320 B.C., one could be walking down the street with a high probability of passing a house where several men would be gathered out on the porch. The question of why is unsurprisingly asked. Were these the beginnings of manly barbeques? That is not known, but more likely it was a gathering of individuals discussing philosophy. The gatherings became a more common occurrence, and since they would take place out on the porches, the school of philosophy derived from them takes its name from the Greek stoa, or porch. The ideology of that movement is henceforth known as Stoicism. Also, the Stoics have come to use the statement made by Socrates as the cornerstone of their judgments, being that "no harm can come to a good man." However, this concept is taken a bit further by the Stoics, as they deduce it to symbolize the eventually complete rejection of worldly things. These things they also deem "things which cannot be controlled."
The current inquiry considers some of the chief notions of the Stoics, but more specifically it focuses upon one important question: what does it mean to follow nature for the Stoics? To answer this question, the testimonies of several of the Stoics are pooled and examined together in the end. Not only does this inquisition illustrate chief attributes of Stoicism, but those attributes are eventually evaluated in light of their coherence as well.
One of the main ideas which form part of the answer as to what it means to follow nature for the Stoics is the following of an intended trajectory. As the oak tree strives to achieve its natural form of the best oak tree that it can become, it is upon its natural trajectory of reaching its potential. So too, borrowing from Aristotle, humans have the potential of becoming excellent in their own right through a life of noble action that brings them closer to their capacity of attaining a naturally inclined state of nobility. This is also the place where Socrates and Plato are heard in the endeavor towards human excellence by means of focusing on the actions of the self as opposed to the actions of others, which cannot be controlled.
Marcus Aurelius wrote that one is to "let no action be done at random, or in any other way than in accordance with the principle which perfects the art," (Aurelius 518). This statement reinforces the notion of following a trajectory. By performing actions with the intention of becoming a better human being, one is following the personal trajectory towards human excellence. This intention in every action undertaken does not make it random, and keeping on course towards self-improvement causes the action in particular to be one which perfects the art. The action becomes an action of being in accordance with the principles of nature, and thus reinforces the venture towards human excellence perpetually. So in acting to improve, one is improving the actions that help to improve in a self-propagating cycle.
Furthermore, following nature is remaining in a state of calm and peaceful apathy in response to the stressing events of life. Epictetus writes,
Remember that you ought to behave in life as you would at a banquet. As something is being passed around it comes to you; stretch out your hand and take a portion of it politely. It passes on; do not detain it. Or it has not come to you yet; do not project your desire to meet it, but wait until it comes in front of you. (490, 15)
Epictetus goes on to further mention the Stoic desire to completely reject such things of the material world.
But if you do not take these things even when they are set before you, but despise them, then you will not only share the banquet of the gods, but share also their rule. (490, 15)
Thus the true rejection of the Stoics comes into play when speaking of loss. Once again, Epictetus goes to put it very bluntly that even the worst of adversities is to be taken apathetically. For the natural Stoic, such complete denouncement of everything outside the metaphysical self is the highest station attainable by humanity. This is human excellence in its purest form:
Never say about anything, "I have lost it," but only "I have given it back." Is your child dead? It has been given back. Is your wife dead? She has been given back. (489, 11)
This most important conception of Stoicism is somewhat unsettling. In fact, it is very unsettling. To remain apathetic quite so, especially in the face of the death of one's child and wife is not quite the following of a trajectory towards human excellence as Epictetus claims. For, verily, humans are creatures of emotion and passion. To denounce, reject, and deny those emotions and passions is to deny the very essence of humanity. To be so completely apathetic towards all things only to become godlike actually renders the individual in the same position as a rock. The rock does not care about anything. Or perhaps an oak tree is better suited as an example. The oak still follows a trajectory, and does not concern itself with anything by its own attainment of excellence.
Is the existence of an oak tree better than that of a human in its current imperfection and want of the banquet's trays? Has anyone ever been an oak tree to tell the tale? Thus far no account of a person being an oak or a rock has been documented. Human beings exist, however, in their naturally imperfect state. That existence alone must be justification enough to strive and be the best human being possible. An oak tree or a rock is not the best possible human being.
Ultimately, the Stoic tradition puts much emphasis upon following nature very closely. The following of a trajectory, as exemplified by the plants in their endeavor towards an ideal form of the plant in particular, is at the core of the Stoic following nature right from the start. This concept is carried further by Marcus Aurelius and his call for direction of actions toward that trajectory. Aurelius articulates that such intention of action perpetuates itself in the strive for attainment of human excellence. Yet it is Epictetus who throws the true monkey-wrench into the machine that is Stoicism. Epictetus' conviction that full detachment from all things of this world shall bestow the status of a god upon the human able to achieve it is rather disturbing. Asking persons to give up their feelings for one another is asking them to cease being human, and to become cattle. This position forms a contradiction between the endeavor to attain human excellence, become a noble being, and the want to give back. This position is, once again, not human. For one cannot become the best possible oak tree and at the same time reach the highest possible potential of a human being. One is either human, or a plant.
Works Cited
Aurelius, Marcus. "Meditations." Ancient Philosophy. 3rd Ed. Philosophic Classics, vols. 1. Baird, Forrest E., and Walter Kaufman. Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall, 2000.
Epictetus. "Encheiridion." Ancient Philosophy. 31 Ed. Philosophic Classics, vols. 1. Baird, Forrest E., and Walter Kaufman. Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall, 2000.
Plato. "Apology." Ancient Philosophy. 3rd Ed. Philosophic Classics, vols. 1. Baird, Forrest E., and Walter Kaufman. Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall, 2000. 82-100.
