The Secret of Wisdom

Charmides by Plato

The subject of this dialogue is a Greek word (which I cannot read (it’s all Greek to me)), which, according to Benjamin Jowett, translator of Plato par excellence, can be translated as Temperance, Moderation, Modesty, Discretion or Wisdom. 

In this dialogue, Socrates has a merry time (doesn’t he always?) asking people to define the term, and then watching as all the attempts at definition end up circular or absurd.

Obviously the people to whom Socrates is talking never played Dungeons and Dragons.  If they had, then they would have never attempted to define “Wisdom.”  

When I was a lad and enamored of the game, I never did understand “Wisdom.”  For those not in The Know—in that most intricate game, every character is defined by scores on 6 attributes: strength, intelligence, wisdom, dexterity, constitution, and charisma.  

Five of those are easy to define; wisdom is not.  I never did figure out what wisdom was.  

Clerics have to have a lot of it, but they don’t have to be intelligent.  Magicians have to be intelligent, but don’t have to be wise.  

So, wisdom is that thing which people to whom you might go to for advice have.  And a person who has wisdom will be the sort of person of whom others ask advice.  So, wisdom is what wise people have.  Which is circular.  And I realized this when I was 12.

Thus by the time I hit my teenage years, I would have never played Socrates’ game in this dialogue.

Now, however, I want to play it.  

It seems to me now that I do know what wisdom is.  But, I still can’t come up with a decent definition of it.  My dear friend, Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, gives this as the connotation of “wise”:  “suggests great understanding of people and of situations and unusual discernment and judgment in dealing with them.”  That sounds good.  

But, then I ask:  how does one know if one has discerned and judged correctly?  Who can evaluate wisdom?  And the answer is obvious: wisdom is the ability to discern wisdom.  And suddenly I am playing both Socrates and Charmides in my own mind.

I flip the question a bit.  Suppose I wanted to become more wise.  What would I do?  

If I spent more time reading books, I could become more knowledgeable, but knowledge is not the same as wisdom.  

If I practice giving advice, that does not make me more wise unless I have the ability to discern whether my advice is wise or not, and I would have to be wise to know this.  

Solomon had to pray for wisdom, was given more wisdom than anyone in the land, and then went out and made some really stupid decisions.  

Socrates was declared to be the wisest man alive by the Oracle at Delphi, but concluded that the only thing that made him wise was that he knew he wasn’t wise. 

So here we have a desirable characteristic, something to which it seems everyone should aspire to acquire. But, we can’t define it or figure out a way to acquire it.  Puzzling to say the least.

Courage

Define “Courage.”  

Go ahead.  Try.  Really.  What is Courage? 

I’d never given the matter much thought until I read Plato’s Laches, which is an extended discussion on the definition of Courage.  

Reading the dialogue was easily more time spent thinking about the definition of courage than I had spent in the entire rest of my life until then.  Courage is just one of those things that you know it when you see it.  I never really tried to define it. 

Having read Plato’s Dialogue on the matter, I have even less of an idea how to define it than I did before I ever tried to define it.  Plato is like that.  You don’t read Plato to Learn Something.  You read Plato to realize you Know Nothing. 

Then again, that isn’t entirely right.  I don’t really read Plato to learn how little I know.  I already know how little I know.  I, like Socrates, happily embrace my ignorance, and I, like Socrates, love nothing more than trying to figure things out even when there is no hope of actually figuring them out.  I like puzzling over things.  So, I enjoy puzzling over the definition of courage even though I don’t actually care what the definition of courage truly is. 

Indeed, the only time I ever personally encounter the idea of Courage is when I make critical remarks about Administrators at Mount Holyoke or publicly make some remark that indicates that I am to the Right of Center in politics or actually Believe my religious beliefs.  Afterwards, someone will occasionally tell me that I was really brave to say such things.  I always scoff.  I have tenure.  The Administrators cannot fire me no matter what I say.  How much courage does it take to say things when you know there is no way to lose your job?  

People who hold their ground while enemies are shooting explosives at them, people who dash out in the midst of gunfire to drag a fellow soldier to safety, people who stand up to oppressors at the risk of death, people who go into burning buildings to save others, those people have courage.  To say what I do is in any way comparable is a mockery of the term.

But, to return to Plato.  I read and enjoy Plato not because of the answer, but because it is fun to follow the meandering arguments leading nowhere. 

For example, this particular dialogue, in true Platonic fashion, doesn’t start with the discussion of courage.  It starts with trying to figure out whom one should ask for advice on a subject.  Is it the person who is skillful in the accomplishment of the matter or the person who is skillful in the means of the matter?  

Consider leadership: if you want to learn about leadership, should you consult the person who has led well or the person who has studied leadership well?  If it is the latter, then surely you want to know who the teachers were.  And do you evaluate the teachers by whether they led well or whether they studied leadership well?  At the end of the chain, it gets pretty obvious that if you want to know about leadership, you should consult leaders.  

But, do leaders know how to articulate what they know?  There is no reason to assume they do.  

If I want to study Courage, and I ask the Courageous about Courage, the will probably just say, ‘Well, my buddy was under fire and was going to die, so I went out and got him.”  That’s courage.  

The Leader would say, “Well, there was this problem and I got everyone together and we fixed the problem.”  That’s leadership.  

Is there any evidence that a study of leadership helps make leaders?  Having taught a couple of classes on the subject, I feel perfectly safe in saying that studying leadership, while fascinating to be sure, does not in any way turn someone into a leader.  You don’t have to take my word for it—many of my students said the same thing.  

The same thing is true about teaching, by the way. The best teachers did not learn their craft in Education classes.  

This is really obvious if you think about Courage. If you study Courage, will you become courageous?  Would anyone think so?  I doubt I am the least bit more courageous now that I have read Plato’s dialogue on Courage.  Indeed, I don’t even have more knowledge about Courage now that I have read this dialogue.  

Yet I have studied Courage for an hour or so.  And I am glad I did so.

Related Posts
McRaven, William Sea Stories “Remembering to the Ending of the World”
Homer The Odyssey “Odysseus: Natural Born Leader”

Social media & sharing icons powered by UltimatelySocial