Musonius Rufus, Lectures 1.5

To come back to the starting point of my discussion, I repeat that it is mistaken zeal for the teacher, if he is a true philosopher, to rehearse a multitude of arguments and proofs to his pupils. He should rather touch upon each one with just measure, seek to penetrate to the very intellect of his hearer, and present persuasive arguments and such as cannot easily be refuted.

But most of all his treatment should consist in showing himself not only as one who utters words that are most helpful, but also as one who acts consistently with them.

As for the pupil, it is his duty to attend diligently to what is said and to be on his guard lest he accept unwittingly something false. But of what he accepts as truth, his effort should not be directed toward learning numbers of proofs—far from it—but only such as are plain and lucid.

Finally whatever precepts enjoined upon him he is persuaded are true, these must he follow out in his daily life. For only in this way will philosophy be of profit to anyone, if to sound teaching he adds conduct in harmony with it.

I have long been a follower of the classical liberal arts, a method of learning that stresses the power of any individual to become his own master, instead of being merely a slave.

May someone else own his body, in one way or another? Of course. That happens as much nowadays as it always did. Yet no one else can own his soul, if he learns to think for himself, to decide for himself, to live in a way that he knows is true and good. No one can take that away from him. He is free within himself, even if his arms and legs are in chains.

I once started teaching at a school that described itself as “classical” and “based on a liberal arts curriculum”. I was pleased as punch. It took only a moment to see that they were using these terms very differently.

What they meant was skimming over as many old books as possible with students, and then bragging about the glorious achievement. “Have your children read Homer, Plato, Aristotle, Virgil, Ovid, Augustine, and Aquinas? No? Well, ours have. We know those texts.”

No, the children don’t know them. The teachers don’t even know them. They are given handouts with a few phrases to remember, and then they regurgitate those phrases for the test. At lunch they then stuff their faces with pizza dipped in ranch dressing, forgetting every last bit of it.

I have spent too many hours in meetings, attended by men with bowties and scented beards, discussing what a list of “classic” texts should be. Should there be 138, or maybe just 132? Should we add Voltaire, and take off Hegel? Oh wait, we forgot to include Newton’s Principia Mathematica!

There is nothing classical about such an approach at all; it is, in fact, quite indicative of the current trend, to employ a shotgun method of learning, and to use education as a means to glorify a certain appearance. There is no focus or depth, and there is no real content.

I turn to Musonius Rufus here for some sanity. Dedicate the time you have to understanding one argument well, instead of a vast collection of them poorly. Commit yourself to a learning that transforms the very core of your character, one that changes the way you live, instead of just putting on a show. Embrace clarity over complexity, insight over image.

Both the teacher and the student are called to a rigor and discipline of reasoning that alone can offer certainty of conviction. Platitudes and catch phrases won’t cut it, and political posturing is no replacement for sound proof.

Both the teacher and the student are then also called to practicing what they preach. What good are the finest sounding ideals, or the noblest words, if they do not inspire us to virtue in daily practice?

You will recognize the true teacher, and the true student, because neither will let go of a problem until they have looked at it from every side, and considered its every aspect. They are not easily satisfied, because they demand thoroughness. Do not be annoyed by their insistence, but be grateful for it.

You will further recognize the true teacher, and the true student, because both will become kinder, more respectful, and more just as they grow more aware. The charlatans read or write many books, and they are just as petty and vindictive as they were before. The true philosophers may consider only a single argument, and it can seem as if they are born anew.

Written in 2/1999