Philosophy and the art of unease
Being intimate with discomfort is a core philosophical value.
One of the founding voices in Greek philosophy, Diotima of Mantineia, described love as the offspring of Poverty and Plenty, “neither mortal nor immortal, but alive and flourishing at one moment, dead at another moment, and again alive”.
Diotima equates this journey with that of the philosopher. The philosopher lives between wisdom and ignorance — a place that can range from an idle curiosity to a burning question — or an existential cry.
While philosophers have different cover stories, even within the Greek tradition that dominates Western ideas about philosophy, this theme of tension or discomfort is recurrent. Socrates, who quotes Diotima in the works of Plato, spoke of his own role as that of a ‘gadfly’ (think horse-fly) to the community, “always fastening upon you, arousing and persuading and reproaching you”.
The philosopher lives between wisdom and ignorance — a place that can range from an idle curiosity to a burning question — or an existential cry.
Philosophers were so acutely aware of the discomfort of being human with its attendant vulnerabilities that whole Hellenistic schools focused on therapy for the soul. The Stoics and Epicureans sought to ease our human burden by confronting the most troubling features of life with clear eyes and logical analysis.
At the same time, the dialectical therapies of both schools were deeply cerebral in orientation, akin to cognitive behavioural therapy techniques. Their cognitive approach to moderating or eradicating disquieting emotions perhaps justifiably earned the Stoics a stiff-upper-lipped reputation, despite their fundamentally compassionate and existential motivation.
An over-reliance on cerebral responses to deep human questions has held sway over much of Western philosophy, for historical reasons that need not be explored right now.
But this history rightly calls into question: do philosophers have the answers at a time like this?
Probably not more than anyone else has.
There are marked similarities between the trauma of COVID-19 and that of the philosopher.
But developing a practice of philosophy might help us to sit a little more peaceably at the precipice between past and new worlds.
COVID-19 has heightened our sense of individual and collective losses and risks while exposing deep problems in our world. At the same time, (paradoxically) our shared realization of the existential threat and the displacement from business as usual can also draw us to discover or re-discover what is fundamentally right and important about our communities. (And no, it is not our old economy.)
There are marked similarities between the trauma of COVID-19 and that of the philosopher. Philosophy has been grappling with the tension between the anguished recognition of vulnerability and the yearning for secure fulfillment of our desires for thousands of years.
As Diotima indicated all those centuries ago, love is what binds us all together. The love which is at the heart of philosophy, this deeply mortal sense of having and not having all at once, can put us in greater touch with our shared humanity, our shared animality, our shared planet.
A philosophical practice can aid our mental health and solidarity as we toe the line between varying emotions in the face of unprecedented global uncertainty.
Or, philosophy could transform us into visionaries, conceiving and test-driving new realities that better serve the love that links us all.
Either way, it’s worth a shot.
