Training in dialectics was absolutely necessary, insofar as Plato’s disciples were destined to play a role in their city. In a civilization where political discourse was central, young people had to be trained to have a perfect mastery of speech and reasoning. Yet, in Plato’s eyes, such mastery was dangerous, for it risked making young people believe that any position could be either defended or attacked.
That is why Platonic dialectics was not a purely logical exercise. Instead, it was a spiritual exercise which demanded that the interlocutors undergo an askesis, or self-transformation. It was not a matter of a combat between two individuals, in which the more skillful person imposed his point of view, but a joint effort on the part of two interlocutors in accord with the rational demands of reasonable discourse, or the logos.
Opposing his method to that of contemporary eristics, which practiced controversy for its own sake, Plato says: “When two friends, like you and me, are in the mood to chat, we have to go about it in a gentler and more dialectical way. By ‘more dialectical,’ I mean not only that we give real responses, but that we base our responses solely on what the interlocutor admits that he himself knows.”
In his Seventh Letter, Plato declares that if we do not adopt this way of life, life is not worth living; and this is why we must decide right now to follow this “wonderful path.” This kind of life requires, moreover, a considerable effort, which must be renewed every day
It is with regard to this kind of life that those who “really do philosophy” are distinguished from those who “don’t really do philosophy;’ who have only a veneer of superficial opinions.
If we wish to avoid such dreams, we must prepare ourselves every evening by trying to awaken the rational part of the soul through inner discourses and research on elevated subjects. We should also devote ourselves to meditation, which will calm our desire and anger.
Another exercise consisted in knowing how to maintain one’s calm in misfortune, without rebelling. Thus, we must tell our¬ selves that we do not know what is good and what is bad in such accidents; that it does no good to become upset; that no human matter is worth being considered very important; and that, as in a dice game, we must deal with things as they are, and act appropriately.
The most famous practice is the exercise of death. Plato alludes to it in the Phaedo, whose theme is precisely the death of Socrates. Here, Socrates declares that a man who has spent his life in philosophy necessarily has the courage to die, since philosophy is nothing other than an exercise of death [melete thanatou]. It is an exercise of death because death is the separation of the soul and the body, and the philosopher spends his time trying to detach his soul from his body.
The body causes us no end of trouble, because of the passions which it engenders and the needs it imposes upon us. Thus, the philosopher must purify himself-that is, he must try to concentrate and collect his soul, and deliver it from the dispersion and distraction which the body imposes upon it.
Written discourse, by contrast, cannot respond to questions. It is impersonal and claims immediately to give a knowledge which is ready-made, but lacks the ethical dimension represented by voluntary assent. There is no real knowledge outside the living dialogue.
If, in spite of these considerations, Plato still wrote dialogues, it was perhaps because he wanted above all to address not only the members of his school, but also absent people and strangers; for, as he said, “Written discourse goes rolling around in every direction.”
His dialogues can be considered as works of propaganda, decked out with all the prestige of literary art but intended to convert people to philosophy. Plato used to read them in the course of those sessions of public reading which, in antiquity, were the way to make oneself known.
A person who devotes himself to the activity of the mind depends only on himself. Perhaps his intellectual activity will be of higher quality if he has collaborators; but the more a sage he is, the more he will be able to be alone. Life in accordance with the mind does not seek any result other than itself, and is therefore loved for itself. It is its own goal and its own reward.
The life of the mind also eliminates worry. By practicing the moral virtues, we find ourselves involved in a struggle against the passions and also mired in material cares. In order to act within the city, we must become involved in political struggles; in order to help others, we must have money; in order to practice courage, we must go to war. The philosophical life, by contrast, can be lived only in leisure and in detachment from material worries.
Evil is to be found not within things, but in the value judgments which people bring to bear upon things. People can therefore be cured of their ills only if they are persuaded to change their value judgments, and in this sense all these philosophies wanted to be therapeutic. In order to change our value judgments, however, we must make a radical choice to change our entire way of thinking and way of being. This choice is the choice of philosophy, and it is thanks to it that we may obtain inner tranquility and peace of mind.