Philosophy as a way of life

This was a legitimate reaction, but it could be that it

�OTES

Even if, from a juridical point of view, the succession of Platonic diadochoi was interrupted in the first century BC, the successors of Plato nevertheless always considered themselves heirs of an unbroken spiritual tradition.

2 Porphyry, life of Plotinus, 1 4, 1 1 .

3 M.-D. Chenu, fntroductio11 a /'etude de saitl/ Tht1mas d 'Aquin, Paris 1 954.

4 Ibid, p. 55.

5 Ibid.

6 Plotinus, Enneads, I, 8, 6, 1 .

7 Plato, Thet1eletus, I 76a5-8.

8 Charles Thurot, l:'J.·traits tie

munusails lt1tim pour str11ir

. . .

11 I 'lmtmrr 1/t'J dortrinrs

R.r11111m11ti1·11/e1, PnriH I 869.

Philosophy, Exegesis, and Crealive Mislalees 77

9 Ibid, p. 103.

10 Plotinus, Enneatls, S I, 8, 1 1 -14.

1 1 Oement of Alexandria, Stromata, I, 1 7, 8 1 , 4.

12 Plato, LaJPs, 7 1 6a.

1 3 Plato, Second Letter, 3 1 2a.

14 For the texts from Celsus and Justin, cf. C. Andresen, Logos und Nomos, Berlin 1 955, pp. 1 46 ff. On the idea of the "ownership of the truth," cf. Hans Blumenberg, Die Legitimiliil tkr Neuzeit, Frankfurt 1966, p. 47.

IS [The distinction alluded to here is that between the French words itre - 'to be'

or 'being' - and the participle ttant, 'a being' (the corresponding Greek terms are lo einai and to 011.) Porphyry conceived of the infinitive 'being' as pure activity; while 'being' as a noun was an emanation from, and substantification of, this being qua pure activity. - Trans.]

1 6 Pierre Hadot, Porplryre et Victorinus, 2 vols, Paris 1968, vol. I, pp. 1 29-32.

17 Plato, Parmenides, 142b.

18 Pierre Hadot, "La distinction de l'etre et l'ctant dans le 'De Hebdomadibus' de BoCa:," in Misce/lania Mediaevalia, vol. 2, Berlin 1963, pp. 147-53.

1 9 ["Being" I "to be," and "chat which is." - Trans.]

Part II

Spiritual Ex ercises

3

Spiritual Exercises

To take flight every day! At least for a moment, which may be brief, as long as it is intense. A "spiritual exercise" every day - either alone, or in the company of someone who also wishes to better himself. Spiritual exercises. Step out of duration . . . try to get rid of your own passions, vanities, and the itch for talk about your own name, which sometimes burns you like a chronic disease. A void backbiting. Get rid of pity and hatred. Love all free human beings. Become eternal by transcending yourself.

This work on yourself is necessary; this ambition justified. Lots of people let themselves be wholly absorbed by militant politics and the preparation for social revolution. Rare, much more rare, are they who, in order to prepare for the revolution, are willing to make themselves worthy of it.

With the exception of the last few lines, doesn't this text look like a pastiche of Marcus Aurelius? It is by Georges Friedmann, 1 and it is quite possible that, when he wrote it, the author was not aware of the resemblance. Moreover, in the rest of his book, in which he seeks a place "to re-source himself '',2 he comes to the conclusion that there is no tradition - be it Jewish, Christian, or Oriental - compatible with contemporary spiritual demands. Curiously, however, he does not ask himself about the value of the philosophical tradition of Greco-Roman antiquity, although the lines we have just quoted show to just what extent ancient tradition continues - albeit unconsciously - to live within him, as it does within each of us.

".Spiritual exercises. " The expression is a bit disconcerting for the contemporary reader. In the first place, it is no longer quite fashionable these days to use the word "spiritual." It is nevertheless necessary to use this term, I believe, because none of the other adjectives we could use - "psychic,"

"moral," "ethical," "intellectual," "of thought," "of the soul'' - covers all the 1111r>cct11 of the rcnlity we want to describe. Since, in these exercises, it is 1 h11uirh1 which, llK ii were, rnkcK itself nK it11 own subject-matter,·1 and seeks to

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modify itself, it would be possible for us to speak in terms of "thought exercises." Yet the word "thought" does not indicate clearly enough that imagination and sensibility play a very important role in these exercises. For the same reason, we cannot be satisfied with "intellectual exercises," although such intellectual factors as definition, division, ratiocination, reading, investigation, and rhetorical amplification play a large role in them. "Ethical exercises" is a rather tempting expression, since, as we shall see, the exercises in question contribute in a powerful way to the therapeutics of the passions, and have to do with the conduct of life. Yet, here again, this would be too limited a view of things. As we can glimpse through Friedmann's text, these exercises in fact correspond to a transformation of our vision of the world, and to a metamorphosis of our personality. The word "spiritual" is quite apt to make us understand that these exercises are the result, not merely of thought, but of the individual's entire psychism. Above all, the word

"spiritual" reveals the true dimensions of these exercises. By means of them, the individual raises himself up to the life of the objective Spirit; that is to say, he re-places himself within the perspective of the Whole ("Become eternal by transcending yourself").

Here our reader may say, "All right, we'll accept the expression 'spiritual exercises'. But are we talking about Ignatius of Loyola's Exercitia spiritualia?4

What relationship is there between lgnatian meditations and Friedmann's program of "stepping out of duration . . . becoming eternal by transcending oneself?" Our reply, quite simply, is that Ignatius' Exercilia spiritualia arc nothing but a Christian version of a Greco-Roman tradition, the extent of which we hope to demonstrate in what follows. In the first place, both the idea and the terminology of e�:erdtium spirituale arc attested in early Latin Christianity, well before Ignatius of Loyola, and they correspond to the Greek Christian term askesis.5 In tum, askesis - which must be understood not as asceticism, but as the practice of spiritual exercises - already existed within the philosophical tradition of antiquity.6 In the final analysis, it is to antiquity that we must return in order to explain the origin and significance of this idea of spiritual exercises, which, as Friedmann's example shows, is still alive in contemporary consciousness.

The goal of the present chapter is not merely to draw attention to the existence of spiritual exercises in Greco-Latin antiquity, but above all to delimit the scope and importance of the phenomenon, and to show the consequences which it entails for the understanding not only of ancient thought, but of philosophy itself.7

1 Leaming to Live

Spiritual exercises can he best observed in 1 hc l'lllll l'XI of I lclll•niHt k 111ul Roman schooli; of' philosophy. The Stoic11, fol' in11l lllll'l' , 1lt•d111·rtl l'� plidtly

Spiritual EJ.·erdses

83

that philosophy, for them, was an "exercise!' 8 In their view, philosophy did not consist in teaching an abstract theory9 - much less in the e,xegesis of texts10

- but rather in the art of living. 1 1 It is a concrete attitude and determinate lifestyle, which engages the whole of existence. The philosophical act is not situated merely on the cognitive level, but on that of the self and of being. It is a progress which causes us to be more fully, and makes us better. 12 It is a conversion13 which turns our entire life upside down, changing the life of the person who goes through it.14 It raises the individual from an inauthentic condition of life, darkened by unconsciousness and harassed by worry, to an authentic state of life, in which he attains self-consciousness, an exact vision of the world, inner peace, and freedom.

In the view of all philosophical schools, mankind's principal cause of suffering, disorder, and unconsciousness were the passions: that is, unregulated desires and exaggerated fears. People are prevented from truly living, it was taught, because they are dominated by worries. Philosophy thus appears, in the first place, as a therapeutic of the passions15 (in the words of Friedmann: "Try to get rid of your own passions"). Each school had its own therapeutic method, 16 but all of them linked their therapeutics to a profound transformation of the individual's mode of seeing and being. The object of spiritual exercises is precisely to bring about this transformation.

To begin with, let us consider the example of the Stoics. For them, all mankind's woes derive from the fact that he seeks to acquire or to keep possessions that he may either lose or fail to obtain, and from the fact that he tries to avoid misfortunes which are often inevitable. The task of philosophy, then, is to educate people, so that they seek only the goods they are able to obtain, and try to avoid only those evils which it is possible to avoid. In order for something good to be always obtainable, or an evil always avoidable, they must depend exclusively on man's freedom; but the only things which fulfill these conditions are moral good and evil. They alone depend on us; everything else does not depend on us. Here, "everything else," which does not depend on us, refers to the necessary linkage of cause and effect, which is not subject to our freedom. It must be indifferent to us: that is, we must not introduce any differences into it, but accept it in its entirety, as willed by fate. This is the domain of nature.

We have here a complete reversal of our usual way of looking at things. We are to switch from our "human•• vision of reality, in which our values depend on , our passions, to a "natural" vision of things, which replaces each event within the perspective of universal nature.17

Such a transformation of vision is not easy, and it is precisely here that spiritual exercises come in. Little by little, they make possible the indispensable metamorphosis of our inner self.

No 11ystcmatic treatise codifying the instructions and techniques for Npiritu11l cxcrciNcN h11K come down to us. '" However, allusions to one or the

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other of such inner activities are very frequent in the writings of the Roman and Hellenistic periods. It thus appears that these exercises were well known, and that it was enough to allude to them, since they were a part of daily life in the philosophical schools. They took their place within a traditional course of oral instruction.

Thanks to Philo of Alexandria, however, we do possess two lists of spiritual exercises. They do not completely overlap, but they do have the merit of giving us a fairly complete panorama of Stoico-Platonic inspired philosophical therapeutics. One of these lists19 enumerates the following elements: research (zetesis), thorough investigation (skepsis), reading (anagnosis), listening (akroasis), attention (prosoche), self-mastery (enkrateia), and indifference to indifferent things. The other20 names successively: reading, meditations (meleta1), therapies21 of the passions, remembrance of good things,22 self-mastery (enkrateia), and the accomplishment of duties. With the help of these lists, we shall be able to give a brief description of Stoic spiritual exercises. We shall study the following groups in succession: first attention, then meditations and "remembrances of good things," then the more intellectual exercises: reading, listening, research, and investigation, and finally the more active exercises: self-mastery, accomplishment of duties, and indifference to indifferent things.

Attention (prosoche) is the fundamental Stoic spiritual attitude.23 It is a continuous vigilance and presence of mind, self consciousness which never sleeps, and a constant tension of the spirit.2• Thanks to this attitude, the philosopher is fully aware of what he does at each instant, and he wills his actions fully. Thanks to his spiritual vigilance, the Stoic always has "at hand"

(procheiron) the fundamental rule of life: that is, the distinction between what depends on us and what does not. As in Epicureanism, so for Stoicism: it is essential that the adepts be supplied with a fundamental principle which is formulable in a few words, and extremely clear and simple, precisely so that it may remain easily accessible to the mind, and be applicable with the sureness and constancy of a reflex. "You must not separate yourself from these general principles; don't sleep, eat, drink, or converse with other men without them." 25

It is this vigilance of the spirit which lets us apply the fundamental rule to each of life's particular situations, and always to do what we do "appropriately." 26

We could also define this attitude as "concentration on the present moment": n Everywhere and at all times, it is up to you to rejoice piously at what is occurring at the present moment, to conduct yourself with justice towards the people who are present here and now, and to apply rul� of discernment to your present representations, so that nothing slips in that is not objective.211

Attention to the present moment is, in a sense, the key to Hpiritunl e"crci11cs.

Ir frees us from the p11ssionH, which 11rc 11lwnys CllUKcd hy the l>RNI or the

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85

future29 - two areas which do not depend on us. By encouraging concentration on the minuscule present moment, which, in its exiguity, is always bearable and controllable,30 attention increases our vigilance. Finally, ' attention to the present moment allows us to accede to cosmic consciousness, by making us attentive to the infinite value of each instant,31 and causing us to accept each moment of existence from the viewpoint of the universal law of the cosmos.

Attention ( prosoche) allows us to respond immediately to events, as if they were questions asked of us all of a sudden. 32 In order for this to be possible, we must always have the fundamental principles "at hand" ( procheiron).33 We are to steep ourselves in the rule of life (kanon),34 by mentally applying it to all life's possible different situations, just as we assimilate a grammatical or mathematical rule through practice, by applying it to individual cases. In this case, however, we are not dealing with mere knowledge, but with the transformation of our personality.

We must also associate our imagination and affectivity with the training of our thought. Here, we must bring into play all the psychagogic techniques and rhetorical methods of amplification.35 We must formulate the rule of life to ourselves in the most striking and concrete way. We must keep life's events

"before our eyes," 36 and see them in the light of the fundamental rule. This is known as the exercise of memorization (mneme)31 and meditation (me/ete)38

on the rule of life.

The exercise of meditation39 allows us to be ready at the moment when an unexpected - and perhaps dramatic - circumstance occurs. In the exercise called praemeditatio malorum,40 we are to represent to ourselves poverty, suffering, and death. We must confront life's difficulties face to face, remembering that they are not evils, since they do not depend on us. This is why we must engrave striking maxims in our memory,41 so that, when the time comes, they can help us accept such events, which are, after all, part of the course of nature; we will thus have these maxims and sentences "at hand . " 42 What we need are persuasive formulae or arguments (epilogismoi),4l which we can repeat to ourselves in difficult circumstances, so as to check movements of fear, anger, or sadness.

First thing in the morning, we should go over in advance what we have to do during the course of the day, and decide on the principles which will guide and inspire our actions.44 In the evening, we should examine ourselves again, so as to be aware of the faults we have committed or the progress we have made 45 We should also examine our dreams.46

.

As we can see, the exercise of meditation is an attempt to control inner discourse, in an effort to render it coherent. The goal is to arrange it around o simple, universal principle: the distinction between what does and does not depend on us, or between freedom and nature. Whoever wishes to make prnl(rc1111 Ntri vcs, hy means of dialogue with himsclf47 or with others,48 as well 1111 hy writinic,4� to "carry on his rcflcct inn11 in due order" �0 and finally to arrive

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at a complete transformation of his representation of the world, his inner climate, and his outer behavior. These methods testify to a deep knowledge of the therapeutic powers of the world. si

The exercise of meditation and memorization requires nourishment. This is where the more specifically intellectual exercises, as enumerated by Philo, come in: reading, listening, research, and investigation. It is a relatively simple matter to provide food for meditation: one could read the sayings of the poets and philosophers, for instance, or the apoph1hegmata.s2 "Reading," however, could also include the explanation of specifically philosophical texts, works written by teachers in philosophical schools. Such texts could be read or heard within the framework of the philosophical instruction given by a professor.s3

Fortified by such instruction, the disciple would be able to study with precision the entire speculative edifice which sustained and justified the fundamental rule, as well as all the physical and logical research of which this rule was the summary.s4 "Research" and "investigation" were the result of putting instruction into practice. For example, we are to get used to defining objects and events from a physical point of view, that is, we must picture them as they are when situated within the cosmic Whole.ss Alternatively, we can divide or dissect events in order to recognize the elements into which they can be reduced.56

Finally, we come to the practical exercises, intended to create habits. Some of these are very much "interior," and very close to the thought exercises we have just discussed. "Indifference to indifferent things," for example, was nothing other than the application of the fundamental rule. s7 Other exercises, such as self-mastery and fulfilling the duties of social life, entailed practical forms of behavior. Here again, we encounter Friedmann's themes: "Try to get rid of your own passions, vanities, and the itch for talk about your own name

. . . Avoid backbiting. Get rid of pity and hatred. Love all free human beings."

There are a large number of treatises relating to these exercises in Plutarch: On Restraining Anger, On Peace of Mind, On Brotherly Love, On the Love of Children, On Garruli{y, On the Love of Wealth, On False Shame, On Envy and Haired. Seneca also composed works of the same genre: On Anger, On Benefits, On Peace of Mind, On Leisure In this kind of exercise, one very

.

simple principle is always recommended: begin practicing on easier things, so as gradually to acquire a stable, solid habit. 58

For the Stoic, then, doing philosophy meant practicing how to "live": that is, how to live freely and consciously. Consciously, in that we pass beyond the limits of individuality, to recognize ourselves as a part of the reason-animated cosmos. Freely, in that we give up desiring that which does not depend on us and is beyond our control, so as to attach ourselves only to what depends on us: actions which are just and in conformity with reason.

It is easy to understand that a philosophy like Stoicism, which re<1uircs vigilance, energy, and psychic tcm1ion, shoulJ consi111 c1111cntially in Nt>irituol

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87

exercises. But it will perhaps come as a surprise to learn than Epicureanism, usually considered the philosophy of pleasure, gives just as pr,ominent a place as Stoicism to precise practices which are nothing other than spiritual exercises. The reason for this is that, for Epicurus just as much as for the Stoics, philosophy is a therapeutics: "We must concern ourselves with the healing of our own lives." 59 In this context, healing consists in bringing one's soul back from the worries of life to the simple joy of existing. People's unhappiness, for the Epicureans, comes from the fact that they are afraid of things which are not to be feared, and desire things which it is not necessary to desire, and which are beyond their control. Consequently, their life is consumed in worries over unjustified fears and unsatisfied desires. As a result, they are deprived of the only genuine plea.i;ure there is: the pleasure of existing. This is why Epicurean physics can liberate us from fear: it can show us that the gods have no effect on the progress of the world and that death, being complete dissolution, is not a part of life.60 Epicurean ethics: Epicurean, as deliverance from desires can deliver us from our insatiable desires, by distinguishing between desires which are both natural and necessary, desires which are natural but not necessary, and desires which are neither natural nor necessary. It is enough to satisfy the first category of desires, and give up the last and eventually the second as well - in order to ensure the absence of

-

worries,61 and to reveal the sheer joy of existing: "The cries of the flesh are:

'Not to be hungry', 'not to be thirsty', 'not to be cold'. For if one enjoys the possession of this, and the hope of continuing to possess it, he might rival even Zeus in happiness." 62 This is the source of the feeling of gratitude, which one would hardly have expected, which illuminates what one might call Epicurean piety towards all things: "Thanks be to blessed Nature, that she has made what is necessary easy to obtain, and what is not easy unnecessary." 6J

Spiritual exercises are required for the healing of the soul. Like the Stoics, the Epicureans advise us to meditate upon and assimilate, "day and night,"

brief aphorisms or summaries which will allow us to keep the fundamental dogmas "at hand." 64 .For instance, there is the well-known tetrapharmakos, or four-fold healing formula: "God presents no fears, death no worries. And while good is readily attainable, evil is readily endurable. " 65 The abundance of collections of Epicurean aphorisms is a response to the demands of the spiritual exercise of meditation.66 As with the Stoics, however, the study of the dogmatic treatises of the school's great founders was also an exercise intended to provide material for meditation,67 so as more thoroughly to impregnate the soul with the fundamental intuitions of Epicureanism.

The study of physics is a particularly important spiritual exercise: "we i;hould not think that any other end is served by knowledge of celestial l'henomena . . . thnn freedom from disturbance and firm confidence, just as in 1 hc other licldN of Nludy . " "" Cont emplation of the physical world and

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Spiritual Exercises

imagination of the infinite are important elements of Epicurean physics. Both can bring about a complete change in our way of looking at things. The closed universe is infinitely dilated, and we derive from this spectacle a unique spiritual pleasure:

the walls of the world open out, I see action going on throughout the whole void, . . . Thereupon from all these things a sort of divine delight gets hold upon me and a shuddering, because nature thus by your power (i.e. Epicurus') has been so manifestly laid open and unveiled in every part.69

Meditation, however, be it simple or erudite, is not the only Epicurean spiritual exercise. To cure the soul, it is not necessary, as the Stoics would have it, to train it to stretch itself tight, but rather to train it to relax. Instead of picturing misfortunes in advance, so as to be prepared to bear them, we must rather, say the Epicureans, detach our thought from the vision of painful things, and fix our eyes on pleasurable ones. We arc to relive memories of past pleasures, and enjoy the pleasures of the present, recognizing how intense and agreeable these present pleasures are.70 We have here a quite distinctive spiritual exercise, different from the constant vigilance of the Stoic, with his constant readiness to safeguard his moral liberty at each instant. Instead, Epicureanism preaches the deliberate, continually renewed choice of relaxation and serenity, combined with a profound gratitude71 toward nature and life,72 which constantly offer us joy and pleasure, if only we know how to find them.

By the same token, the spiritual exercise of trying to live in the present moment is very different for Stoics and Epicureans. For the former, it means mental tension and constant wakefulness of the moral conscience; for the latter, it is, as we have seen, an invitation to relaxation and serenity. Worry, which tears us in the direction of the future, hides from us the incomparable value of the simple fact of existing: "We are born once, and cannot be born twice, but for all time must be no more. But you, who are not master of tomorrow, postpone your happiness: life is wasted in procrastination and each one of us dies overwhelmed with cares." 7J This is the doctrine contained in Horace's famous saying: carpe diem.

Life ebbs as I speak:

so seize each day, and grant the next no credit.74

For the Epicureans, in the last analysis, pleasure is a spiritual exercise. Not pleasure in the form of mere sensual gratification, but the intellectual 1>le11surc derived from contemplating nature, the thought of pleasurc11 past nnd prc11cnt , and lastly the pleasure o f fricnd11hip. I n Epicurc1m conununit ic11, fritmd11hi1111

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89

also had its spiritual exercises, carried out in a joyous, relaxed atmosphere.

These include the public confession of one's faults;76 m)itual correction, carried out in a fraternal spirit; and examining one's conscience.n Above all, friendship itself was, as it were, the spiritual exercise par excellence: "Each person was to tend towards creating the atmosphere in which hearts could flourish. The main goal was to be happy, and mutual affection and the confidence with which they relied upon each other contributed more than anything else to this happiness." 78

2 Learning to Dialogue

The practice of spiritual exercises is likely to be rooted in traditions going back to immemorial timcs.79 It is, however, the figure of Socrates that causes them to emerge into Western consciousness, for this figure was, and has remained, the living call to awaken our moral consciousness.80 We ought not to forget that this call sounded forth within a specific form: that of dialogue.

In the "Socratic" HI dialogue, the question truly at stake is not what is being talked about, but who is doing the talking.

anyone who is close to Socrates and enters into conversation with him is liable to be drawn into an argument, and whatever subject he may start, he will be continually carried round and round by him, until at last he finds that he has to give an account both of his present and past life, and when he is once entangled, Socrates will not let him go until he has completely and thoroughly sifted him . . . And I think there is no harm in being reminded of any wrong thing which we are, or have been, doing; he who does not run away from criticism will be sure to take more heed of his afterlife.82

In a "Socratic" dialogue, Socrates' interlocutor docs not learn anything, and Socrates has no intention of teaching him anything. He repeats, moreover, to all who are willing to listen, that the only thing he knows is that he docs not know anything.HJ Y ct, like an indefatigable horsefly,IH Socrates harassed his interlocutors with questions which put themselves into question, forcing them to pay attention to and take care of themselves.85

My very good friend , you are an Athenian, and belong to a city which is the greatest and most famous in the world for its wisdom and Nlrcngth. Arc you not ashamed that you give your attention to acquiring 1111 much money as possible, and similarly with reputation and honour, 1111d l(ive no nttenl ion or thought to truth f aletht•ia I or thought fphronesis]

or the perfection of your 1mul I p.�)1c/1t'j? Ki•

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Spiritual Exercises

Socrates' mission consisted in inviting his contemporaries to examine their conscience, and to take care for their inner progress: I did not care for the things that most people care about - making money, having a comfortable home, high military or civil rank, and all the other activities, political appointments, secret societies, party organizations, which go on in our city I set myself to do you - each one

.

.

.

of you, individually and in private - what I hold to be the greatest possible service. I tried to persuade each one of you to concern himself less with what lie has than with what he is, so as to render himself as excellent and as rational as possible.87

In Plato's Symposium, Alcibiades describes the effect made on him by dialogues with Socrates in the following terms: "this latter-day Marsyas, here, has often left me in such a state of mind that I've felt I simply couldn't go on living the way I did . . . He makes me admit that while I'm spending my time on politics, I am neglecting all the things that are crying for attention in myself." 88

Thus, the Socratic dialogue turns out to be a kind of communal spiritual exercise. In it, the interlocutors are invited89 to participate in such inner spiritual exercises as examination of conscience and attention to oneself; in other words, they are urged to comply with the famous dictum, "Know thyself." Although it is difficult to be sure of the original meaning of this formula, this much is clear: it invites us to establish a relationship of the self to the self, which constitutes the foundation of every spiritual exercise. To know oneself means, among other things, to know oneself qua non-sage: that is, not as a sophos, but as a philo-sophos, someone on the way toward wisdom.

Alternatively, it can mean to know oneself in one's essential being; this entails separating that which we are not from that which we are. Finally, it can mean to know oneself in one's true moral state: that is, to examine one's conscience.90

If we can trust the portrait sketched by Plato and Aristophanes, Socrates, master of dialogue with others, was also a master of dialogue with himself, and, therefore, a master of the practice of spiritual exercises. He is portrayed as capable of extraordinary mental concentration. He arrives late at Agathon's banquet, for example, because "as we went along the road, Socrates directed his intellect towards himself, and began to fall behind." 91 Alcibiades tells the story of how, during the expedition against Poteidaia, Socrates remained standing all day and all night, "lost in thought." 92 In his Cloutls, Aristophanes seems to allude to these same Socratic habits:

Now, think hard and cogitate; s11in round in every way llH you concentrate. If you come up Rl(llini;t an inHoluhlc: ll11in 1 , jum1' to another

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. . . Now don't keep your mind always spinning around itself, but let your thoughts out into the air a bit, like a may-beetle tie9 by its foot.93

Meditation - the practice of dialogue with oneself - seems to have held a place of honor among Socrates' disciples. When Antisthenes was asked what profit he had derived from philosophy, he replied: "The ability to converse with myself." 94 The intimate connection between dialogue with others and dialogue with oneself is profoundly significant. Only he who is capable of a genuine encounter with the other is capable of an authentic encounter with himself, and the converse is equally true. Dialogue can be genuine only within the framework of presence to others and to oneself. From this perspective, every spiritual exercise is a dialogue, insofar as it is an exercise of authentic presence, to oneself and to others.95

The borderline between "Socratic" and "Platonic" dialogue is impossible to delimit. Yet the Platonic dialogue is always "Socratic" in inspiration, because it is an intellectual, and, in the last analysis, a

"spiritual" exercise. This characteristic of the Platonic dialogue needs to be emphasized.

Platonic dialogues are model exercises. They are models, in that they are not transcriptions of real dialogues, but literary compositions which present an ideal dialogue. And they are exercises precisely insofar as they are dialogues: we have already seen, apropos of Socrates, the dialectical character of all spiritual exercises. A dialogue is an itinerary of the thought, whose route is traced by the constantly maintained accord between questioner and respondent. In opposing his method to that of eristics, Plato strongly emphasizes this point:

When two friends, like you and I, feel like talking, we have to go about it in a gentler and more dialectical way. "More dialectical," it seems to me, means that we must not merely give true responses, but that we must base our replies only on that which our interlocutor admits that he himself knows.96

The dimension of the interlocutor is, as we can sec, of capital importance. It is what prevents the dialogue from becoming a theoretical, dogmatic expose, and forces it to be a concrete, practical exercise. For the point is not to set fm:th a doctrine, but rather to guide the interlocutor towards a determinate mental attitude. It is a combat, amicable but real.

The point is worth stressing, for the same thing happens in every spiritual exercise: we must let ourselves be changed, in our point of view, attitudes, 11n

.

wr tnllHI du baulc with ourselves. This is why, from this perspective, the mcthmlnlniry of t he Pliuonk di11lol(Ul' is of Much crucial interest:

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Despite what may have been said, Platonic thought bears no resemblance to a light-winged dove, who needs no effort to take off from earth to soar away into the pure spaces of utopia . . . at every moment, the dove has to fight against the soul of the interlocutor, which is filled with lead. Each degree of elevation must be fought for and won.97

To emerge victorious from this battle, it is not enough to disclose the truth.

It is not even enough to demonstrate it. What is needed is persuasion, and for that one must use psychagogy, the art of seducing souls. Even at that, it is not enough to use only rhetoric, which, as it were, tries to persuade from a distance, by means of a continuous discourse. What is needed above all is dialectic, which demands the explicit consent of the interlocutor at every moment. Dialectic must skillfully choose a tortuous path - or rather, a series of apparently divergent, but nevertheless convergent, paths98 - in order to bring the interlocutor to discover the contradictions of his own position, or to admit an unforeseen conclusion. All the circles, detours, endless divisions, digressions, and subtleties which make the modern reader of Plato's Dialogues so uncomfortable arc destined to make ancient readers and interlocutors travel a specific path. Thanks to these detours, "with a great deal of effort, one rubs names, definitions, visions and sensations against one another"; one

"spends a long time in the company of these questions"; one "lives with them" 'l'I until the light blazes forth. Yet one keeps on practicing, since "for reasonable people, the measure of listening to such discussions is the whole of life." 100

What counts is not the solution of a particular problem, but the road travelled to reach it; a road along which the interlocutor, the disciple, and the reader form their thought, and make it more apt to discover the truth by itself: IOI

Stranger: Suppose someone asked us this question about our class of elementary school-children learning to read. "When a child is asked what letters spell a word - it can be any word you please - are we to regard this exercise as undertaken to discover the correct spelling of the particular word the teacher assigned, or as designed rather to make the child better able to deal with all words he may be asked to spell?"

Young Socrates: Surely we reply that the purpose is to teach him to read them all.

Stranger: How docs this principle apply to our present search for the statesman? Why did we set ourselves the problem? Is our chief purpose to find the statesman, or have we the larger aim of becoming beucr dialecticians, more able to tackle all questions?

Young Somlles: Herc, too, the nm1wcr is clc:nr; we: llim to become better dialecticinnK wit.h rc1uird lo nll poNMiblc NuhjcclN. 1111

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As we see, the subject-matter of the dialogue counts less than the method applied in it, and the solution of a problem has less value than the road travelled in common in order to resolve it. The point is not to find the answer to a problem before anyone else, but to practice, as effectively as possible, the application of a method:

ease and speed in reaching the answer to the problem propounded are most commendable, but the logos requires that this be only a secondary, not a primary reason for commending an argument. What we must value first and foremost, above all else, is the philosophical method itself, and this consists in ability to divide according to forms. If, therefore, either a lengthy logos or an unusually brief one leaves the hearer more able to find the forms, it is this presentation of the logos which must be diligently carried through .103

As a dialectical exercise, the Platonic dialogue corresponds exactly to a spiritual exercise. There are two reasons for this. In the first place, discreetly but genuinely, the dialogue guides the interlocutor - and the reader - towards conversion. Dialogue is only possible if the interlocutor has a real desire to dialogue: that is, if he truly wants to discover the truth, desires the Good from the depths of his soul, and agrees to submit to the rational demands of the Logos. u>1 His act of faith must correspond to that of Socrates: "It is because I am convinced of its truth that I am ready, with your help, to inquire into the nature of virtue. "IO>

In fact, the dialectical effort is an ascent in common towards the truth and towards the Good, "which every soul pursues."10t• Furthermore, in Plato's view, every dialectical exercise, precisely because it is an exercise of pure thought, subject to the demands of the Logos, turns the soul away from the sensible world, and allows it to convert itself towards the Good. 107 It is the spirit's itinerary towards the divine.

3 Learning to Die

There is a mysterious connection between language and death. This was one of the favorite themes of the late Brice Parain, who wrote:

"l anguagc develops only upon the death of individuals.

..

" H>R

For the

Logos represents a demand for universal rationality, and presupposes a world of immutable norms, which are opposed to the perpetual state of becoming and changing appetites characteristic of individual, corporeal lifo. In this opposition, he who remains faithful to the Logos risks losing his life. This w1111 the c1111" with Socrates who died for his faithfulness to the

,

I .Ol(flN.

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Socrates' death was the radical event which founded Platonism. After all, the essence of Platonism consists in the affirmation that the Good is the ultimate cause of all beings. In the words of a fourth-century Neoplatonist: If all beings are beings only by virtue of goodness, and if they participate in the Good, then the first must necessarily be a good which transcends being. Here is an eminent proof of this: souls of value despise being for the sake of the Good, whenever they voluntarily place themselves in danger, for their country, their loved ones, or for virtue.109

Socrates exposed himself to death for the sake of virtue. He preferred to die rather than renounce the demands of his conscience, 110 thus preferring the Good above being, and thought and conscience above the life of his body.

This is nothing other than the fundamental philosophical choice. If it is true that philosophy subjugates the body's will to live to the higher demands of thought, it can rightly be said that philosophy is the training and apprenticeship for death. As Socrates puts it in the Phaedo: "it is a fact, Simmias, that those who go about philosophizing correctly are in training for death, and that to them of all men death is least alarming." 1 1 1

The death i n question here i s the spiritual separation o f the soul and the body:

separating the soul as much as possible from the body, and accustoming it to gather itself together from every part of the body and concentrate itself until it is completely independent, and to have its dwelling, so far as it can, both now and in the future, alone and by itself, freed from the shackles of the body .1 12

Such is the Platonic spiritual exercise. But we must be wary of misinterpreting it. In particular, we must not isolate it from the philosophical death of Socrates, whose presence dominates the whole of the Phaedo. The separation between soul and body under discussion here - whatever its prehistory - bears absolutely no resemblance to any state of trance or catalepsy. In the latter, the body loses consciousness, while the soul is in a supernatural visionary state. 1 13

All the arguments in the Phaedo, both preceding and following the passage we have quoted above, show that the goal of this philosophical separation is for the soul to liberate itself, shedding the passions linked to the corporeal senses, so as to attain to the autonomy of thought. 1 14

We can perhaps get a better idea of this spiritual exercise if we understand it as an attempt to liberate ourselves from a partial, pasi;ionnte point of view -

linked to the senses and the body - so as to rise tu 1hc uni vcrN11I, 11or11111tivc viewpoint of thou!(hl, submitrin!( ourselves to lhr tll•111111uh1 of 1 lw I .011011 ond

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the norm of the Good. Training for death is trammg to die to one 's individuality and passions, in order to look at things from t\le perspective of universality and objectivity.

·

Such an exercise requires the concentration of thought upon itself, by means of meditation and an inner dialogue. Plato alludes to this process in the Republic, once again in the context of the tyranny of individual passions.

The tyranny of desire, he tells us, shows itself particularly clearly in dreams: The savage part of the soul . . . does not hesitate, in thought, to try to have sex with its mother, or with anyone else, man, god, or animal. It is ready to commit any bloody crime; there is no food it would not eat; and, in a word, it does not stop short of any madness or shamclessness.1 15

To liberate ourselves from this tyranny, we are to have recourse to a spiritual exercise of the same type as that described in the Phaedo: When, however, a man does not go to sleep before he has awakened his rational faculty, and regaled it with excellent discourses and investigations, concentrating himself on himself, having also appeased the appetitive part . . . and calmed the irascible part . . . once he has calmed these two parts of the soul, and stimulated the third, in which reason resides . . . it is then that the soul best attains to truth. 116

Here we shall ask the reader's indulgence to embark on a brief digression.

To present philosophy as "training for death" was a decision of paramount importance. As Socrates' interlocutor in the Phaedo was quick to remark, such a characterization seems somewhat laughable, and the common man would be right in calling philosophers moribund mopers who, if they are put to death, will have earned their punishment well. 1 17 For anyone who ta.kes philosophy seriously, however, this Platonic dictum is profoundly true. It has had an enormous influence on Western philosophy, and has been taken up even by such adversaries of Platonism as Epicurus and Heidegger. Compared to this formulation, the philosophical verbiage both of the past and of the present seems empty indeed. In the words of La Rochefoucauld, "Neither the sun nor death can be looked at directly." 1 18

,Indeed, the only ones even to auempl to do so are philosophers. Beneath all their diverse conceptions of death, one common virtue recurs again and again: lucidity. For Plato, he who has already tasted of the immortality of thought cannot he frightened by the idea of being snatched away from Nensible life For the Epicurean, the thought of death is the same as the

.

conNcimumcHN of t he finite muurc of cxiHtence, and it is this which gives an infinite v11luc lo c11t�h inNtnnt. l.•:nch of lifi:'N momcn111 surges forth laden with

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incommensurable value: "Believe that each day that has dawned will be your last; then you will receive each unexpected hour with gratitude." 1 19

In the apprenticeship of death, the Stoic discovers the apprenticeship of freedom. Montaigne, in one of his best-known essays, That Philosophizing is Learning how to Die, plagiarizes Seneca: "He who has learned how to die, has un-learned how to serve." 120 The thought of death transforms the the tone and level of inner life: "Keep death before your eyes every day . . . and then you will never have any abject thought nor any excessive desire." m This philosophical theme, in turn, is connected with that of the infinite value of the present moment, which we must live as if it were, simultaneously, both the first moment and the last. 122

Philosophy is still "a training for dt.-ath" for a modern thinker such ao; Heidegger. For him, the authenticity of existence consists in the lucid anticipation of death, and it is up to each of us to choose between lucidity and diversion. 123

For Plato, training for death is a spiritual exercise which consists in changing one's point of view. We are to change from a vision of things dominated by individual passions to a representation of the world governed by the universality and objectivity of thought. This constitutes a conversion (metastrophe) brought about with the totality of the soul. 124 From the perspective of pure thought, things which are "human, all too human" seem awfully puny. This is one of the fundamental themes of Platonic spiritual exercises, and it is this which will allow us to maintain serenity in misfortunes: The rational law declares that it is best to keep quiet as far as possible in misfortune, and not to complain, because we cannot know what is really good and evil in such things, and it does us no good for the future to take them hard, and nothing in human life is worthy of great concern, and our grieving is an obstacle to the very thing we need to come to our aid as quickly as possible in such cases.

What do you mean?

To deliberate, I said, about what has happened to us, and, as in dice-games, to re-establish our position according to whatever numbers turn up, however reason indicates would be best, and . . . always accustom the soul to come as quickly as possible to cure the ailing part and raise up what has fallen, making lamentations disappear by means of its therapy.125

One could say that this spiritual exercise is already Stoic, 126 since in it we can see the utilization of maxims and principles intended to "accustom the soul,"

and liberate it from the passions. Among these maxims, the one affirming the unimportance of human affairs plays an important role. Yet , in i111 turn, 1hi11

maxim is only the consequence of the movement dt•11crihcd in t he l'l1twln,

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whereby the soul, moving from individuality to universality, rises to the level of pure thought.

/

The three key concepts of the insignificance of human affairs, contempt for death, and the universal vision characteristic of pure thought are quite plainly linked in the following passage:

there is this further point to be considered in distinguishing the philosophical from the unphilosophical nature . . . the soul must not contain any hint of servility. For nothing can be more contrary than such pettiness to the quality of a soul which must constantly strive to embrace the universal totality of things divine and human . . . But that soul to which pertain grandeur of thought and the conlemplation of the totality of time and of being, do you think that it can consider human life to be a matter of great importance? Hence such a man will not suppose death to be terrible. 127

Here, "training for death" is linked to the contemplation of the Whole and elevation of thought, which rises from individual, passionate subjectivity to the universal perspective. In other words, it attains to the exercise of pure thought. In this passage, for the first time, this characteristic of the philosopher receives the appellation it will maintain throughout ancient tradition: greatness of soul.128 Greatness of soul is the fruit of the universality of thought. Thus, the whole of the philosopher's speculative and contemplative effort becomes a spiritual exercise, insofar as he raises his thought up to the perspective of the Whole, and liberates it from the illusions of individuality (in the words of Friedmann: "Step out of duration . . . become eternal by transcending yourself").

From such a perspective, even physics becomes a spiritual exercise, which is situated on three levels. In the first place, physics can be a contemplative activity, which has its end in itself, providing joy and serenity to the soul, and liberating it from day-to-day worries. This is the spirit of Aristotelian physics:

"nature, which fashioned creatures, gives amazing pleasure in their study to all who can trace links of causation, and are naturally philosophers. "129 As we have seen, it was in the contemplation of nature that the Epicurean Lucretius found "a divine delight." 13° For the Stoic Epictetus, the meaning of our existence resides in this contemplation: we have been placed on earth in order to,contemplate divine creation, and we must not die before we have witnessed its marvels and lived in harmony with nature.131

Clearly, the precise meaning of the contemplation of nature varies widely from one philosophy to another. There is a great deal of difference between A ristotelian physics, for example, and the feeling for nature as we find it in Philo of Alex11ndrin nnd Plutnrch. It is nevertheless interesting to note with wh11t t.•11 t h11NinN1t1 these t wo 11uthors 1tpe11k nbout their imap;inative physics:

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Those who practice wisdom . . . are excellent contemplators of nature and everything she contains. They examine the earth, the sea, the sky, the heavens, and all their inhabitants; they are joined in thought to the sun, the moon, and all the other stars, both fixed and wandering, in their courses; and although they are attached to the earth by their bodies, they provide their souls with wings, so that they may walk on the ether and contemplate the powers that live there, as is fitting for true citizens of the world . . . and so, filled with excellence, accustomed to take no notice of ills of the body or of exterior things . . . it goes without saying that such men, rejoicing in their virtues, make of their whole lives a festivat. •n These last lines are an allusion to an aphorism of Diogenes the Cynic, which is also quoted by Plutarch: "Does not a good man consider every day a festival?" "And a very splendid one, to be sure," continues Plutarch, if we are virtuous. For the world is the most sacred and divine of temples, and the one most fitting for the gods. Man is introduced into it by birth to be a spectator: not of artificial, immobile statues, but of the perceptible images of intelligible essences . . . such as the sun, the moon, the stars, the rivers whose water always flows afresh, and the earth, which sends forth food for plants and animals alike. A life which is a perfect revelation, and an initiation into these mysteries, should be filled with tranquillity and joy .133

Physics as a spiritual exercise can also take on the form of an imaginative

"overflight,'' which causes human affairs to be regarded as of little importance.134 We encounter this theme in Marcus Aurelius: Suppose you found yourself all of a sudden raised up to the heavens, and that you were to look down upon human affairs in all their motley diversity. You would hold them in contempt if you were to see, in the same glance, how great is the number of beings of the ether and the air, living round about you. 135

The same theme occurs in Seneca:

The soul has attained the culmination of happiness when, having crushed underfoot all that is evil, it takes flight and penetrates the inner recesses of nature. It is then, while wandering amongst the very stars, that it likes to laugh at the costly pavements of the rich . . . But the soul cannot despise [all these riches] before it has been all around the world, and casting a con temptuous glance at the nnrrow globe of the earth from above, snys to itself: "So thiN i11 the pin-1min1 which 1111 n11111 y n111 iun11

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divide among themselves with fire and sword? How ridiculous are the boundaries of men!"1l6

In this spiritual exercise of the vision of totality, and elevation of thought to the level of universal thought, we can distinguish a third degree, in which we come closer to the Platonic theme from which we started out. In the words of Marcus Aurelius:

Don't limit yourself to breathing along with the air that surrounds you; from now on, think along with the Thought which embraces all things.

For the intellective power is no less universally diffused, and does not penetrate any the less into each being capable of receiving it, than the air in the case of one capable of breathing it . . . you will make a large room at once for yourself by embracing in your thought the whole Universe, and grasping ever-continuing Time.137

At this stage, it is as though we die to our individuality; in so doing, we accede, on the one hand, to the interiority of our consciousness, and on the other, to the universality of thought of the All.

You were already the All, but because something else besides the All came to be added on to you, you have become less than the All, by the very fact of this addition. For the addition did not come about from being - what could be added to the All? - but rather from not-being. When one becomes "someone" out of not-being, one is no longer the All, until one leaves the not-being behind. Moreover, you increase yourself when you reject everything other than the All, and when you have rejected it, the All will be present to you . . . The All had no need to come in order to be present. If it is not present, the reason is that it is you who have distanced yourself from it. "Distancing yourself" does not mean leaving it to go someplace else - for it would be there, too. Rather, it means turning away from the All, despite the fact that it is there. 1Js

With Plotinus, we now return to Platonism. The Platonic tradition remained faithful to Plato's spiritual exercises. We need only add that, in Neoplatonism, th.e idea of spiritual progress plays a much more explicit role than in Plato's writings. In Neoplatonism, the stages of spiritual progress corresponded to different degrees of virtue. The hierarchy of these stages is described in many Neoplatonic texts, 1.111 serving in particular as the framework for Marinus' Life 1fl'mdus.1�11 Porphyry, editor of Plotinus' Enneads, systematically arranged his m11ster'M work accord ing to the stages of this spiritual progress. First, the soul WllK puri fied hy i111 1(1'11clu11I dctnchmcnt from t he body; then came the

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knowledge of, and subsequent passing beyond, the sensible world; finally, the soul achieved conversion toward the Intellect and the One. HI Spiritual exercises are a prerequisite for spiritual progress. In his treatise On Abstinence from Animate Beings, Porphyry sums up the Platonic tradition quite well. We must, he tells us, undertake two exercises (meletai): in the first place, we must tum our thought away from all that is mortal and material.

Secondly, we must return toward the activity of the Intellect. m The first stage of these Neoplatonic exercises includes aspects which are highly ascetic, in the modem sense of the word: a vegetarian diet, among other things. In the same context, Porphyry insists strongly on the importance of spiritual exercises.

The contemplation (theoria) which brings happiness, he tells us, does not consist in the accumulation of discourse and abstract teachings, even if their subject is true Being. Rather, we must make sure our studies are accompanied by an effort to make these teachings become "nature and life" within us. 141

In the philosophy of Plotinus, spiritual exercises are of fundamental importance. Perhaps the best example can be found in the way Plotinus defines the essence of the soul and its immateriality. If we have doubts about the immortality and immateriality of the soul, says Plotinus, this is because we are accustomed to see it filled with irrational desires and violent sentiments and passions.

If one wants to know the nature of a thing, one must examine it in its pure state, since every addition to a thing is an obstacle to the knowledge of that thing. When you examine it, then, remove from it everything that is not itself; better still remove all your stains from yourself and el·amine yourse/j; and you will have faith in your immortality. 144

If you do not yet see your own beauty, do as the sculptor does with a statue which must become beautiful: he removes one part, scrapes another, makes one area smooth, and cleans the other, until he causes the beautiful face in the statue to appear. In the same way, you too must remove everything that is superfluous, straighten that which is crooked, and purify all that is dark until you make it brilliant. Never stop sculpting your own statue, until the divine splendor of virtue shines in you . . . If you have become this . . . and have nothing alien inside you mixed with yourself . . . when you see that you have become this . . .

concentrate your gaze and see. For it is only an eye such as this that can look on the great Beauty.HS

Here we can see how the the demonstration of the soul's immateriality has been transformed into experience. Only he who liberates himself 1md purifies himself from the passions, which conceal the true reality of the 11oul, can understand that the soul i1t immn1eriul nnd immortal. Hrm\ knowledge Is u

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spiritual exercise. 146 We must first undergo moral purification, in order to become capable of understanding.

When the object of our knowledge is no longer the soul, but the Intellect147

and above all the One, principle of all things, we must once again have recourse to spiritual exercises. In the case of the One, Plotinus makes a clear distinction between, on the one hand, "instruction," which speaks about its object in an exterior way, and, on the other, the "path," which truly leads to concrete knowledge of the Good: "We are instructed about it by analogies, negations, and the knowledge of things which come from it . . . we are led towards it by purifications, virtues, inner settings in order, and ascents into the intelligible world." 148 Plotinus' writings are full of passages describing such spiritual exercises, the goal of which was not merely to know the Good, but to become identical with it, in a complete annihilation of individuality. To achieve this goal, he tells us, we must avoid thinking of any determinate form,149 strip the soul of all particular shape,150 and set aside all things other than the One. 1s1 It is then that, in a fleeting blaze of light, there takes place the metamorphosis of the self:

Then the seer no longer sees his object, for in that instant he no longer distinguishes himself from it; he no longer has the impression of two separate things, but he has, in a sense, become anothe,.. He is no longer himself, nor does he belong to himself, but he is one with the One, as the centre of one circle coincides with the centre of another .152

4 Leaming How to Read

In the preceding pages, we have tried to describe - albeit too briefly - the richness and variety of the practice of spiritual exercises in antiquity. We have seen that, at first glance, they appear to vary widely. Some, like Plutarch's etl1ismoi, designed to curb curiosity, anger or gossip, were · only practices intended to ensure good moral habits. Others, particularly the meditations of the Platonic tradition, demanded a high degree of mental concentration.

Some, like the contemplation of nature as practiced in all philosophical schools, turned the soul toward the cosmos, while still others - rare and exceptional - led to a transfiguration of the personality, as in the experiences o( Plotinus. We also saw that the emotional tone and notional content of these exercises varied widely from one philosophical school to another: from the mobilization of energy and consent to destiny of the Stoics, to the relaxation and detachment of the Epicureans, to mental concentration and renunciation of the 11cnNible world among the Platonists.

Bcne111h 1 hi11 apparent di\'crsity, however, there is a profound unity, both in the mc11nli c1111>loycd 11nd in the cndli purNued The means employed arc

.

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the rhetorical and dialectical techniques of persuasion, the attempts at mastering one's inner dialogue, and mental concentration. In all philosophical schools, the goal pursued in these exercises is self-realization and improvement. All schools agree that man, before his philosophical conversion, is in a state of unhappy disquiet. Consumed by worries, torn by passions, he does not live a genuine life, nor is he truly himself. All schools also agree that man can be delivered from this state. He can accede to genuine life, improve himself, transform himself, and attain a state of perfection. It is precisely for this that spiritual exercises are intended. Their goal is a kind of selfformation, or paideia, which is to teach us to live, not in conformity with human prejudices and social conventions - for social life is itself a product of the passions - but in conformity with the nature of man, which is none other than reason. Each in its own way, all schools believed in the freedom of the will, thanks to which man has the possibility to modify, improve, and realize himself. Underlying this conviction is the parallelism between physical and spiritual exercises: just as, by dint of repeated physical exercises, athletes give new form and strength to their bodies, so the philosopher develops his strength of soul, modifies his inner climate, transforms his vision of the world, and, finally, his entire being. 153 The analogy seems all the more self-evident in that the gymnasion, the place where physical exercises were practiced, was the same place where philosophy lessons were given; in other words, it was also the place for training in spiritual gymnastics. 154

The quest for self-realization, final goal of spiritual exercises, is well symbolized by the Plotinian image of sculpting one's own statue. 1 55 It is often misunderstood, since people imagine that this expression corresponds to a kind of moral aestheticism. On this interpretation, ·its meaning would be to adopt a pose, to select an attitude, or to fabricate a personality for oneself. In fact, it is nothing of the sort. For the ancients, sculpture was an art which

"took away," as opposed to painting, an art which "added on." The statue pre-existed in the marble block, and it was enough to take away what was superfluous in order to cause it to appear .156

One conception was common to all the philosophical schools: people are unhappy because they are the slave of their passions. In other words, they are unhappy because they desire things they may not be able to obtain, since they are exterior, alien, and superfluous to them. It follows that happiness consists in independence, freedom, and autonomy. In other words, happiness is the return to the essential: that which is truly "ourselves," and which depends on us.

This is obviously true in Platonism, where we find the famous image of Glaucos, the god who lives in the depths of the sea. Covered as he is with mud, seaweed, seashells, and pebbles, Glaucos is unrecogniznblc, and the same holds true for the soul: the body is a kind of thick, coarse crui;t , covcrinl(

and completely disfiguring it, 11nd t he !ioul's t ru e nut u rc would 11ppc11r only if

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it rose up out of the sea, throwing off everything alien to it. 157 The spiritual exercise of apprenticeship for death, which consists in separpting oneself from the body, its passions, and its desires, purifies the soul from all these superfluous additions. It is enough to practice this exercise in order for the soul to return to its true nature, and devote itself exclusively to the exercise of pure thought.

Much the same thing can be said for Stoicism. With the help of the distinction between what does and does not depend on us; we can reject all that is alien to us, and return to our true selves. In other words, we can achieve moral freedom.

Finally, the same also holds true for Epicureanism. By ignoring unnatural and unnecessary desires, we can return to our original nucleus of freedom and independence, which may be defined by the satisfaction of natural and necessary desires.

Thus, all spiritual exercises are, fundamentally, a return to the self, in which the self is liberated from the state of alienation into which it has been plunged by worries, passions, and desires. The "self" liberated in this way is no longer merely our egoistic, passionate individuality: it is our moral person, open to universality and objectivity, and participating in universal nature or thought.

With the help of these exercises, we should be able to attain to wisdom; that is, to a state of complete liberation from the passions, utter lucidity, knowledge of ourselves and of the world . In fact, for Plato, Aristotle, the Epicureans, and the Stoics, such an ideal of human perfection serves to define divine perfection, a state by definition inaccessible to man.158 With the possible exception of the Epicurean school, 159 wisdom was conceived as an ideal after which one strives without the hope of ever attaining it. Under normal circumstances, the only state accessible to man is philo-sophia: the love of, or progress toward, wisdom. For this reason, spiritual exercises must be taken up again and again, in an ever-renewed effort.

The philosopher lives in an intermediate state. He is not a sage, but he is not a non-sage, either.160 He is therefore constantly torn between the non-philosophical and the philosophical life, between the domain of the habitual and the everyday, on the one hand, and, on the other, the domain of consciousness and lucidity. 161 To the same extent that the philosophical life is equivalent to the practice of spiritual exercises, it is also a tearing away from eyeryday life. It is a conversion,162 a total transformation of one's vision, life-style, and behavior.

Among the Cynics, champions of askesis, this engagement amounted to a total break with the profane world, analogous to the monastic calling in Christianity. The rupture took the form of a way of living, and even of dress, cnm11lctcly fnreil{n to that of the rest of mankind . This is why it was 1111mc1 imcN Naid thin C :yniciNrn w11N not· n philosophy in the proper sense of the

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term, but a state of life (enslasis). 163 In fact, however, all philosophical schools engaged their disciples upon a new way of life, albeit in a more moderate way.

The practice of spiritual exercises implied a complete reversal of received ideas: one was to renounce the false values of wealth, honors, and pleasures, and turn towards the true values of virtue, contemplation, a simple life-style, and the simple happiness of existing. This radical opposition explains the reaction of non-philosophers, which ranged from the mockery we find expressed in the comic poets, to the outright hostility which went so far as to cause the death of Socrates.

The individual was to be torn away from his habits and social prejudices, his way of life totally changed, and his way of looking at the world radically metamorphosed into a cosmic-"physical" perspective. We ought not to underestimate the depth and amplitude of the shock that these changes could cause, changes which might seem fantastic and senseless to healthy, everyday common sense. It was impossible to maintain oneself at such heights continuously; this was a conversion that needed always to be reconquered. It was probably because of such difficulties that, as we learn in Damascius' Life of lsidorus, the philosopher Sallustius used to declare that philosophy was impossible for man.1"' He probably meant by this that philosophers were not capable of remaining philosophers at every instant of their lives. Rather, even though they kept the title of "philosophers," they would be sure to fall back into the habits of everyday life. The Skeptics, for instance, refused outright to live philosophically, deliberately choosing to "live like everybody else," 165

although not until after having made a philosophical detour so intense that it is hard to believe that their "everyday life" was quite so "everyday" as the) seem to have pretended.

Our claim has been, then, that philosophy in antiquity was a spiritual exercise. As for philosophical theories: they were either placed explicitly in the service of spiritual practice, as was the case in Stoicism and Epicureanism, or else they were taken as the objects of intellectual exercises, that is, of a practice of the contemplative life which, in the last analysis, was itself nothing other than a spiritual exercise. It is impossible to understand the philosophical theories of antiquity without taking into account this concrete perspective, since this is what gives them their true meaning.

When we read the works of ancient philosophers, the perspective we have described should cause us to give increased attention to the existential attitudes underlying the dogmatic edifices we encounter. Whether we have to do with dialogues as in the case of Plato, class notes as in the case of Aristotle, treatises like those of Plotinus, or commentaries like those of Proclus, a philosopher's works cannot be interpreted without taking into consideration the concrete situation which gave birth to them They arc the product11 of n

.

philosophical school, in the most concrete sense of the term, in which n nu1s1c:r forms his disciples, trying to guide t hem to sc:lf:.tr1111sfimm11 ion 1uul

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-realization. Thus, the written work is a reflection of pedagogical, psychagogic, and methodological preoccupations.

Although every written work is a monologue, the philosophical work is always implicitly a dialogue. The dimension of the possible interlocutor is always present within it. This explains the incoherencies and contradictions which modern historians discover with astonishment in the works of ancient philosophers.166 In philosophical works such as these, thought cannot be expressed according to the pure, absolute necessity of a systematic order.

Rather, it must take into account the level of the interlocutor, and the concrete tempo of the logos in which it is expressed. It is the economy proper to a given written logos which conditions its thought content, and it is the logos that constitutes a living system which, in the words of Plato, "ought to have its own body . . . it must not lack either head or feet: it must have a middle and extremities so composed as to suit each other and the whole work." 167

Each logos is a "system," but the totality of logfli written by an author does nol constitute a system. This is obviously true in the case of Plato's dialogues, but it is equally true in the case of the lectures of Aristotle. For Aristotle's writings are indeed neither more nor less than lecture-notes; and the error of many Aristotelian scholars has been that they have forgotten this fact, and imagined instead that they were manuals or systematic treatises, intended to propose a complete exposition of a systematic doctrine. Consequently, they have been astonished at the inconsistencies, and even contradictions, they discovered between one writing and another. As Diiring168 has convincingly shown, Aristotle's various logoi correspond to the concrete situations created by specific academic debates. Each lesson corresponds to different conditions and a specific problematic. It has inner unity, but its notional content docs not overlap precisely with that of any other lesson. Moreover, Aristotle had no intention of setting forth a complete system of reality .169 Rather, he wished to train his students in the technique of using correct methods in logic, the natural sciences, and ethics. During gives an excellent description of the Aristotelian method:

the most characteristic feature in Aristotle is his incessant discussion of problems. Almost every important assertion is an answer to a question put in a certain way, and is valid only as an answer to this particular

, question. That which is really interesting in Aristotle is his framing of the problems, not his answers. It is part of his method of inquiry to approach a problem or a group of problems again and again from dillcrcnt anglc..'S. His own words are a.U.17vapzq JI Tr0l1]C1aµEIJOl ["now, taking 11 different starting-point .

"l . . From different starting

.

.

.

llointN, tipxai he strikes off into different lines of thought and u h im111uly rc:11chcN inconNistc:nt 1m1>wcrN. Tllkc 011 example his discussion

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of the soul . . . in each case the answer is the consequence of the manner in which he posits the problem. In short, it is possible to explain this type of inconsistencies as natural results of the method he applies. 170

In the Aristotelian method of "different starting-points," we can recognize the method Aristophanes attributed to Socrates, and we have seen to what extent all antiquity remained faithful to this method. 171 For this reason, During's description can in fact apply, mutatis mutandis, to almost all the philosophers of antiquity. Such a method, consisting not in setting forth a system, but in giving precise responses to precisely limited questions, is the heritage - lasting throughout antiquity - of the dialectical method; that is to say, of the dialectical exercise.

To return to Aristotle: there is a profound truth in the fact that he himself used to call his courses metlwdoi. 172 On this point, moreover, the Aristotelian spirit corresponds to the spirit of the Platonic Academy, which was, above all, a school which formed its pupils for an eventual political role, and a research institute where investigations were carried out in a spirit of free discussion. 173

It may be of interest to compare Aristotle's methodology with that of Plotinus. We learn from Porphyry that Plotinus took the themes for his writings from the problems which came up in the course of his teaching. m Plotinus' various logoi, situated as they are within a highly specific problematic, are responses to precise questions. They are adapted to the needs of his disciples, and are an attempt to bring about in them a specific psychagogic effect. We must not make the mistake of imagining that they are the successive chapters of a vast, systematic exposition of Plotinus' thought. In each of these logoi, we encounter the spiritual method particular to Plotinus, but there is no lack of incoherence and contradictions on points of detail when we compare the doctrinal content of the respective treatises. 175

When we first approach the Neoplatonic commentaries on Plato and Aristotle, we have the impression that their form and content are dictated exclusively by doctrinal and exegetical considerations. Upon closer examination, however, we realize that, in ·each commentary, the exegetical method and doctrinal content arc functions of the spiritual level of the audience to which the commentary is addressed. The reason for this is that there existed a cursus of philosophical instruction, based on spiritual progress. One did not read the same texts to beginners, to those in progress, and to those already having achieved perfection, and the concepts appearing in the commentaries are also functions of the spiritual capacities of their addressees. Consequently, doctrinal content can vary considerably from one commentary to another, even when written by the same author. This docs not mean that the commentator changed his doctrines, but that the needs of his disciples were differcnt.176 In the literary genre of parene.fis, used for exhorting beginners, one could, in order to bring about 11 specific effect in the interlncutor'N Nnul, utilize

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the arguments of a rival school. For example, a Stoic might say, "even if pleasure is the good of the soul (as the Epicureans would ha1ve it), nevertheless we must purify ourselves of passion." m Marcus Aurelius exhorted himself in the same manner. If, he writes, the world is a mere aggregate of atoms, as the Epicureans would have it, then death is not to be feared.178

Moreover, we ought not to forget that many a philosophical demonstration derives its evidential force not so much from abstract reasoning as from an experience which is at the same time a spiritual exercise. We have seen that this was the case for the Plotinian demonstration of the immortality of the soul. Let the soul practice virtue, he said, and it will understand that it is immortal.179 We find an analogous example in the Christian writer Augustine.

In his On the Trinity, Augustine presents a series of psychological images of the Trinity which do not form a coherent system, and which have consequently been the source of a great deal of trouble for his commentators. In fact, however, Augustine is not trying to present a systematic theory of trinitarian analogies. Rather, by making the soul turn inward upon itself, he wants to make it experience the fact that it is an image of the Trinity. In his words: "These trinities occur within us and are within us, when we recall, look at, and wish for such things." 180 Ultimately, it is in the triple act of remembering God, knowing God, and loving God that the soul discovers itself to be the image of the Trinity.

From the preceding examples, we may get some idea of the change in perspective that may occur in our reading and interpretation of the philosophical works of antiquity when we consider them from the point of view of the practice of spiritual exercises. Philosophy then appears in its original aspect: not as a theoretical construct, but as a method for training people to live and to look at the world in a new way. It is an attempt to transform mankind.

Contemporary historians of philosophy are today scarcely inclined to pay attention to this aspect, although it is an essential one. The reason for this is that, in conformity with a tradition inherited from the Middle Ages and from the modern era, they consider philosophy to be a purely abstract-theoretical activity. Let us briefly recall how this conception came into existence.

It seems to be the result of the absorption of philosophia by Christianity .

Since its inception, Christianity has presented itself as a philosophia, insofar as it assimilated into itself the traditional practices of spiritual exercises. We see this occurring in Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Augustine, and monastici:im.1"1 With the advent of medieval Scholasticism, however, we find a clear distinction being drawn between theologia and philosophia. Theology became conscious of its autonomy qua supreme science, while philosophy was emptied of its spiritual exercises which, from now on, were relegated to Christian mysticism nnd ethics. Reduced to the rank of a "handmaid of theology,"

philmmphy'N role waN henceforth to furnish theology with conceptual - and ht•ncc purely t hcoret ie.:nl

mnterinl . When, in the modern age, philosophy

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regained its autonomy, it still retained many features inherited from this medieval conception. In particular, it maintained its purely theoretical character, which even evolved in the direction of a more and more thorough systematization.182 Not until Nietzsche, Bergson, and existentialism does philosophy consciously return to being a concrete attitude, a way of life and of seeing the world. For their part, however, contemporary historians of ancient thought have, as a general rule, remained prisoners of the old, purely theoretical conception of philosophy. Contemporary structuralist tendencies do not, moreover, incline them to correct this misconception, since spiritual exercises introduce into consideration a subjective, mutable, and dynamic component, which does not fit comfortably into the structuralists' models of explanation.

We have now returned to the contemporary period and our initial point of departure, the lines by G. Friedmann we quoted at the beginning of this study. We have tried to reply to those who, like Friedmann, ask themselves the question: how is it possible to practice spiritual exercises in the twentieth century? We have tried to do so by recalling the existence of a highly rich and varied Western tradition. There can be no question, of course, of mechanically imitating stereotyped schemas. After all, did not Socrates and Plato urge their disciples to find the solutions they needed by themselves? And yet, we cannot afford to ignore such a valuable quantity of experience, accumulated over millennia. To mention but one example, Stoicism and Epicureanism do seem to correspond to two opposite but inseparable poles of our inner life: tension and relaxation, duty and serenity, moral conscience and the joy of existence.1K3

Vauvenargues said, "A truly new and truly original book would be one which made people love old truths."1"" It is my hope that I have been "truly new and truly original" in this sense, since my goal has indeed been to make people love a few old truths. Old truths: . . . there are some truths whose meaning will never be exhausted by the generations of man . It is not that they are difficult; on the contrary, they are often extremely simple.m Often, they even appear to be banal. Yet for their meaning to be understood, these truths must be lived, and constantly re-experienced. Each generation must take up, from scratch, the task of learning to read and to re-read these "old truths."