Epictetus, Discourses 1.7.1

Chapter 7: On the use of variable premises and hypothetical arguments and the like.

 

Most men ignore the fact that the treatment of variable premises and hypothetical arguments, and again of syllogisms that conclude by way of question, and, in a word, of all such arguments is concerned with conduct. For really, whatever subject we are dealing with, our aim is to find how the good man may fitly deal with it and fitly behave towards it. 

 

It follows then that either they must say that the virtuous man will not condescend to question and answer, or that if he does he will take no care to avoid behaving lightly and at random in questioning and answering; or else, if they accept neither alternative, they must admit that we have to investigate those subjects around which question and answer chiefly turn. 

 

If I try to count how often I am presented with rules during my day, I will easily lose track by mid-morning; the traffic signs on the road will be overwhelming enough, and then there are all those urgent e-mails from the boss waiting for me. 

 

Now how often is any kind of rule, however big or small, accompanied by reasoning? We are constantly being told what we must do, and yet very rarely are we given an explanation for why we should do it. I know it might not be possible at this very moment, and yet that critical point, where obedience is enriched by understanding, never seems to come around. 

 

Is it any wonder that we so easily think of rules as restrictive instead of liberating, as arbitrary expressions of power instead of shared inspirations to justice? 

 

A rule or a law is nothing more than a principle that directs and guides us, that provides a measure or standard by which we ought to act. This need not be seen as a burden or a limitation, but can rather be taken as the path that points us toward what is right, and thereby assists us in becoming happy. 

 

For beings without consciousness, rules take effect without their reflection, while for beings with consciousness, they are expressed through judgment and choice. I only think of a rule as an external imposition when I forget that it is binding through my internal conviction. 

 

The rule only works for me, so to speak, when I grasp the reasons why it is true and good, and it is only then that I will freely and gladly follow it. This is quite natural, of course, for a creature endowed with intellect and will; anything less is an exercise in mindless coercion, so contrary to the principle of an informed decision. 

 

There is great danger, therefore, in separating our actions from our reasoning, in claiming that living well is possible without thinking well. Don’t just give me the conclusion, but offer me the premises, and show me how combining the premises together should lead me to affirming the conclusion. If you help me to comprehend, I will no longer have to obey out of fear, and I can now obey out of conscience. 

 

I am still baffled by how often we ignore this model. When do we get an argument, not in the sense of bickering but in the sense of a proof, from our betters? When do we discover one for ourselves, if we can find no betters? Appeals to authority, fits of impassioned yelling, getting pushed on to the bandwagon, or being slapped around with red herrings are never a substitute for a sound demonstration. 

 

Many politicians, priests, and pundits are inclined to tell us how to behave, while they too readily neglect to invoke any actual wisdom. In the simplest of terms, I will not be able to do what is good for myself if I do not first understand what is good for myself. 

 

Is it that the time and effort necessary for an explanation are beneath them? Or is it that the only discussion permitted must be lazy, shallow, and sloppy? 

 

You will find much hemming and hawing if you insist on the matter, though you may hear some vague appeals to the importance of “critical thinking skills”. The lip service won’t be sufficient, however, and it can’t take the place of a mind that has built up within itself the rigorous daily habit of logical precision. 

 

This doesn’t mean that we all need to become academic logicians in order to make our way in life, but it does mean that if someone can’t present a step-by-step account of how he is thinking, and somehow distinguish between clear or unclear terms, true or false premises, and valid or invalid conclusions, we might be better off not trusting too much in what he dictates to us. 

 

Be wary of the fellow who says he has all the answers, while being unwilling or unable to take any questions. 

Written in 10/2000