Epictetus, Discourses 1.8.4

“What do you mean? Was not Plato a philosopher?”

 

I reply, Was not Hippocrates a physician? But you see how eloquent Hippocrates was. Was Hippocrates so eloquent by virtue of being a physician? 

 

Why then do you mix qualities, which are casually united in the same persons? 

 

Suppose Plato was handsome and strong; ought I also to set to and strive to become handsome or strong, as though this were necessary for philosophy, just because one philosopher was handsome as well? 

 

Will you not have the discernment to see what makes men philosophers and what qualities are accidental in them? 

 

Suppose now I were a philosopher, ought you to become lame?

 

Whenever I am backed into a social corner, and I have to tell someone that I play at being a teacher and dabble in philosophy, I await the brief pause, and then the usual response: “Oh, you must be smart!”

 

I smile on the outside, but squirm a little on the inside, because I know why they might say that, even though it is hardly true. 

 

Are teachers intelligent? Many are, but if you’ve been in the trade long enough, you also know that some of us can be a bit slow. I can’t think of a more polite way to say that. 

 

Do philosophers use logic? Yes, at least they try to, but that isn’t really what makes them philosophers, just as working with numbers doesn’t make an engineer or an accountant, and owning a car doesn’t make a racing driver. 

 

It reminds me of that old insult, “If you’re so smart, why aren’t you rich?” What, pray tell, does one have to do with the other? 

 

When we come across two things that happen to go together, we may assume that they must always be connected, or that one must be the cause of the other. I remind myself not to make hasty generalizations, and I try to distinguish between what is essential and what is accidental. 

 

What defines it, as opposed to what is merely added to it? Am I understanding its identity as distinct from its circumstances? Is it necessary or is it optional?

 

No, doctors don’t have to be rich, and politicians don’t have to be shifty, and tall folks don’t have to play basketball. 

 

And Philosophers don’t have to wear tweed jackets, or earn advanced degrees, or, for that matter, even formally study logic for however many years. 

 

All the training in the art of reasoning could help, but it could also hurt. Will it be used in the service of knowing the true and loving the good? A strong mind can be in the service of many vices, just as easily as a strong arm. 

 

Epictetus needed a crutch to walk, but he didn’t need it to be a philosopher—he had the content of his character for that. 

Written in 11/2000