Teachers of philosophy, as we now understand the phrase,nare not expected to philosophize, to prefer wisdom, truth,nand integrity to their professional advancement, the applausenof their peers or of the public, or their health, wealth,nand security. Perhaps some do, but I doubt if many can readnEpictetus’s rebuke (suitably modernized) without a qualm:n”don’t be childish: now a philosopher, then a tax-inspector,nthen an advertising executive, then a Parliamentarian.”nDon’t think of philosophizing as a temporary occupation, ornan easy one.nIt’s for this that the young men leave theirnfatherlands and their own parents? To come andnlisten to you interpreting trifling phrases? Oughtnthey not to be, when they return home,nforebearing, ready to help one another, tranquil,nwith a mind at peace, possessed of some suchnprovision for the journey of life, that starting outnwith it they will be able to bear well whatevernhappens, and to derive honour from it? And wherendid you get the ability to impart to them thesenthings which you do not possess yourself?nThe lessons that philosophers ought to rehearse, to writendown daily and to put into practice, are the primacy ofnindividual moral choice, the relative unimportance of body,nrank, and estate, and knowledge of what is truly their ownnand what is permitted them. Philosophy is the care of thensoul, and anyone who pretends to “teach philosophy,” sonEpictetus advises us, without the knowledge, virtue, andnstrength to cope with distressed and corrupted souls, “andnabove all the counsel of God advising him to occupy thisnoffice,” is a vulgarizer of the Mysteries, or a quack doctor.nTrue philosophers must expect their attentions to have anreal, and perhaps a painful, effect. A rough cloak and longnhair — or as we might say, a university post — do not makenthe philosopher.nSophists like myself may find the old puzzles entertaining,nand may take pleasure in teasing the naive withnarguments for the impossibility of knowledge, of change, ofnindividual consciousness. But our professional efforts arenusually directed at immunizing ourselves and our pupilsnagainst any threat to a comfortable conventionalism. We arenprofessionals, it is possible cynically to think, because we arenimmune or indifferent to the texts we study. Those who takenthe infection drop out from the life of honor and applause tonbecome monks or missionaries or road-sweepers. That Platonor Parmenides, Berkeley or Bradley, Hume or Heideggernmight actually have been correct, even if occasionallynsophistical, is not a thought to take too seriously. True, therenare professionals who manage to combine analytical rigorn(which is no bad thing) and philosophical courage, but thentimes are against them. Professional philosophy is Penelopen— constantly unweaving by night the web of propositionsnshe had woven by day. What is it about philosophizing thatnmakes it worth our notice if it really contributes nothing tonthe well-being of philosopher and audience except a briefnamusement? What makes it worthwhile if it does not evenndo that, but instead engenders a severe depression ornconfusion (as it demonstrably sometimes does)? Pursuing annoccupation that leads merely to depression is surely perverse,nthough philosophers are not the only ones to do itn(think of literary critics, political commentators, Freudiannpsychoanalysts. . . ..).nAncient philosophy was not merely analytical enquiry.nAncient commentators sometimes called the Hebrews annation of philosophers, but not because Jews are alwaysnasking questions, as the Skeptics do (“Why does a Jewnalways answer a question with a question?” “And whynshouldn’t a Jew always answer a question with a question?”).nThe Hebrews were philosophers because (it was supposed)nthey worshipped an invisible god and dedicated all their livesnto virtue. Greek commentators did tend to downgrade ornignore those aspects of Mosaic Law that struck them asnvulgar or irrational, just as they tended to ignore Brahminicalndoctrine that did not fit well with their picture of thenHindu sannyasin as a “gymnosophist,” a naked philosopher.nSuch practices, of course, could be interpreted as outwardnand visible signs of an inner discipline (as the cloak and longnhair favored by pagan philosophers should be). Epictetusnconfesses that he and his disciples are, as it were, Jews innword but not in deed: parabaptistai, not dyed-in-the-wool,nvery far from applying the principles they preach: “sonalthough we are unable even to fulfill the profession of man,nwe take on the additional profession of the philosopher.”nThe philosopher’s advice is not, as I have myself sometimesnmistakenly suggested, to view such externals asnindifferent, to cut emotional and social ties and think only ofnone’s own security (and what is that once I have lost allninterest in the world?). It is to remember what and where wenare, and not to be a slave. And slaves among slaves we shallnbe, until we are ready to die by torture, if it is our job. Ournduties are generally measured by our social ties, by our rolenin God’s drama, not by our immediate likings or our wish tonhang on hard to what is lent to us. First, we ought to remindnourselves first that all earthly matters occupy a mathematicalnpoint in comparison to the width and duration of thencosmos; and second, that anger, greed, and ignorancenconceal even such reality as we can see. Things as they firstnpresent themselves are tainted with our hopes and fears;nthey are seen as instruments for, or obstacles to, our worldlynpurposes. It is the nonpossessive welcoming of what is real,nwhat Jonathan Edwards called “the cordial consent ofnbeings to Being in general,” that philosophy once practiced.nAs I wrote some years ago, “the effort to rediscovernequanimity when in a bad temper, and the effort to uncoverntruth when at the mercy of social prejudice, are very similar.nBoth seem to involve a putting of oneself at the disposal ofnthe universe . . . Being thankful for things as they are,npraying for one’s supposed enemies as they are, rejoicing innthe sense of being a unit in a wider and happier whole —nthese are ways in which we can escape despair.”nWaking IdentitiesnAnd what is this thing called “I” that must not benidentified with worldly wishes, wealth, or reputation?nThe more softly a captive lion lives the more slavishly henlives. Epictetus imagines how a captive bird might speak:n”my nature is to fly where I please, to live in the open air, tonsing when I please. You rob me of all this and then ask whatnis wrong with me?” Vine and cock alike do ill when they gonnnSEPTEMBER 1989/15n