Christopher Phillips Interview

How would you say the Socratic method differs from therapy?

I was on a radio call-in show in San Francisco, and one of the callers applauded my work and said that though he hadn't read my book, it seemed to him that I was practicing precisely the type of inquiry he was engaged in with his therapist -- exploring why he seemed to be debilitated by his fears. And so I asked him if he and his therapist ever explored the question of what fear is. The caller hemmed and hawed a bit, then admitted they hadn't. But he quickly added that intuitively he and his therapist knew what fear was. I replied that one thing I and many others had discovered again and again at Socrates Cafés, is that we may think at the outset that we're on the same page about what the concepts we're exploring amount to, but that after we begin inquiring together, we find that at times we have dramatically different takes on what initially may have seemed like the most obvious of concepts. My point was that even though the caller assumed he and his therapist were in sync about their definitions of fear, it might be rewarding for them to explore this key foundational concept just to make sure, since it seemed to be the crux of all his explorations with his therapist. What I've found, without fail, is that after I've taken the time really to explore and clarify and articulate and discover what I mean by "fear," my final understanding of fear ends up being far from the nebulous, intuitive notion I'd started out with. Not only that, but I discovered that there are many, many, different types of fears -- different degrees of fear -- all of which may share common threads, but at the same time differ to a considerable degree. Precisely because our philosophical perspectives differ, our moral codes differ.

Can you give an example of how moral codes can differ?

At a Socrates Café we take nothing for granted. We do not assume automatically that we all have the same notion of any concept over, under, or through the sun. And it always turns out that we indeed do not have the same philosophical perspective on any of the rich concepts we use in the course of our lives. And you know what? That's all to the good. For one thing, what kind of discussion would ensue if we all had precisely the same view, without the slightest variation, on what each concept meant? It'd be rather boring, rather automaton-like. The concepts we use are ever evolving. Contrary to what some professional philosophers would lead you to believe, concepts are not static, unchanging entities, but rather are dynamic and ever-changing. Concepts are not mere definitions, mere semantics, but rather are entities with powers and properties and functions. I imagine there are vast and multi-layered complexes to concepts whose entire meaning will never be unearthed. But at Socrates Café we tend to make considerable headway in making concepts less opaque and mysterious to us than they had been before we began our inquiry, and we tend to gain a much greater appreciation of them.

So, yes, to go back to your first question, this type of inquiry can have its therapeutic elements, though I doubt its primarily aim for most of us is therapeutic -- certainly not in the sense in which a mental health professional would use the term. But, if you like, as so many do, to inquire into concepts, if you believe that the unexamined concept is hardly worth using, if you think that it can be a great deal of fun to engage in the frustrating, provocative, exhilarating, dizzying experience of the Socratic pursuit (in which it can be a rousing success to have more questions at the end of your inquiry than you did at the outset) then maybe you will come away from such an experience feeling much better off … and so maybe that is a therapy of a different sort.

Perhaps I'm feeling particularly existential today, but it seems just as valid to say that asking question after question after question only leads to madness -- existential despair -- and that perhaps, after all, ignorance is indeed bliss. How do you respond to that?

I'm sure there are people who would prefer not to explore these things, and to remain in ignorance. But I, and most of the Socratics with whom I philosophize, would find this ignorance itself to be maddening. We're not devotees of willful ignorance. We want to articulate and discover further our philosophical perspectives on the concepts we use in everyday life, and to help those who are inquiring with us to share their unique worldviews on these concepts, as a way of reaching both communal and self-discovery. I actually best discover what is novel and original about my perspectives in a Socrates Café, ironic though that may seem. It's by engaging in this collective quest that I am forced to ask myself questions, like: "How does my view compare to this person's very different and extremely thoughtful and compelling perspective on this question? Does my own view need to be amended or fine-tuned in light of the other perspectives that I've been privy to?" Asking and answering such questions, I've found, doesn't leave me in a philosophical quagmire, so to speak, but on the contrary, leaves me on firmer footing.

Excuse this technical jargon, but concepts are sort of like greased pigs -- just when you think you've got a good grasp on them, they slip away. It is that Socratic exploration of concepts and our philosophical perspectives on concepts that is neverending, sort of like an ever-upward-evolving and outward-expanding spiral. So, if you get a kick out of spending a few hours each week out of your mortal moment plumbing traditional philosophical questions -- like "What is truth?", as well as nontraditional questions like "How does a kind, intelligent person get stuck in a lousy job?" -- then maybe Socrates Café is for you. It's a great way to discover truths by your own lights.

Do you think the overall positive response to the Socrates Cafés is a result of certain conditions in the current state of our society? Or to put it differently: Do you think Socrates Cafés would have been a tenable concept during, say, the McCarthy era?

I do think the exuberant response to Socrates Café is in large measure due to a lot of things that are swirling around us in today's society. We no longer seem to live in a vibrant, deliberative democracy that thrives on a plurality of views and that requires that all people of all walks of life play an active role in the process. Rather, people more and more seem to be becoming islands unto themselves and purposely alienating themselves from the greater scheme of things. They seem to feel that what they say, do, and think no longer matters and counts. And all too often society itself tends to shun anything new, to reject any sort of creative solutions that might lead to wonderful resolutions to many of our most intractable problems. Why? Because the vested interests, the powers-that-be, have a great deal at financial stake in keeping things just as they are, in preserving the status quo. Those who are raking in megabucks at everyone else's expense -- those who create the mega-highways and super-duper chain stores that destroy community and create Stepford communities -- see change as anathema to their interests, and they certainly don't want people questioning why things are the way they are, and whether they have to remain that way. The McCarthy era represented an extreme instance of this sort of closed society that could actually exist in a so-called democracy, and sadly, there is still far too much of this narrow, blindered thinking in our society. But rather than throw my hands up in the air and bemoan and bewail the problem, enter Socrates Café.

One of the nicest aspects of Socrates Cafés seems to be its promotion of community, performing the sort of function historically provided by churches, or, if you've read Robert D. Putnam's Bowling Alone, bowling alleys.

Socrates Café is a great way, among many others, to discover that what you say and think and do does matter and count -- more so than ever. And by forming this kind of foundational community of inquiry, in which the folks who take part become their own best autonomous thinkers, and at the same time become more open to breathtakingly new ways of world-viewing and world-making, participants tend to become more active in other aspects of community life, they tend to become activists and they strive to become co-creators of their own universe in ways both small and grand. What has astonished me is the very large and enthusiastic response I've received to Socrates Café in my barnstorming tour all over the country. Places where you might not think a preponderance of people would cotton readily and enthusiastically to a Socrates Café -- Salt Lake City; Austin, TX; Jackson, MS; Newport News, VA -- are places where people have committed on the spot to starting Socrates Café groups. It just seems like so many of us are tired of these throwaway communities we're creating on our watch. People want not only to take their communities back, but also create a new kind of community that thrives on thoughtful and respectful deliberation that can evolve over time. Most of all, I think so many people are becoming Socrates Café aficionados because it's fun! People wouldn't attend the confabs week after week if it weren't a blast.

On the other hand, have you experienced any negative reactions to the Socrates Cafés? Have some communities responded to the idea of a Socrates Café with threats of hemlock?

Sure I've experienced some negative reactions. But what has surprised me is how rarely this has proven to be the case. Once in a while some blowhard or know-it-all guru-type comes to a Socratic confab and doesn't like it at all if he can't monopolize the conversation and win everyone over to his perspective. He can get very ruffled when people actually challenge -- no matter how gently they do so -- his proffered perspective. But this has been surprisingly rare.

One would imagine that passions run high at Socrates Cafés. What advice would you give to someone running a Socrates cafe about maintaining a peaceable and rational atmosphere?

Passions can run high indeed, but I think that's all to the good. What I think is marvelous is that people can be very passionate about their perspective, and at the same time be very peaceable and rational and respectful of others' perspectives. There seems to be this misconception that if discourse becomes passionate, than it isn't peaceful and rational. I disagree with all my heart. Lots of times folks who are speaking, without even realizing it, stand up and very ardently convey their position on any given question. Rational and peaceful discourse does not have to be devoid of emotion and passion. All too often there's this picture painted of a rational person as somehow akin to Dr. Spock. But that's ridiculous. Rationality is so directly intertwined with our emotions and can actually tap into and bring out our most wonderful and humane emotions and aspirations.

Do you ever find that some of the people who come to your Socrates Cafés are only looking to "pick up" dates?

I'm not sure if they come looking for dates, but I know that on many occasions fast friendships have developed from Socrates Cafés. Once the formal discussion ends on any given evening, folks tend to break up into smaller groups and continue the discourse. They often go to local diners and cafes that are open late at night and continue conversing not only about the Socrates Café topic, but about lots of other things. And what's great is that so many of the people who are buddies come from very, very different points of view. Time and again, for instance, very liberal people become fast friends with very conservative people. Speaking of meeting people at Socrates Café, it's where I met my wife! The section of my book called "What's Love Got to Do with It?" recounts how I first met my amazing wife, Cecilia.

So what does Love have to do with it? And what have you learned about Happiness?

Well, I've learned that there's a type of love and happiness that I don' t think I could do without, a type without which I would feel utterly lost and empty. And that is the joyful and all-encompassing love and happiness my wife Cecilia possesses. I met Cecilia at a Socrates Café, in fact, at the very first Socrates Café group I'd ever started. And that evening I met her was the one and only time when no one showed up. No one. And then Cecilia came in about 10 minutes late and I corralled her into the café before she could bolt. And I finally teased a question out of her that she wanted to discuss. The question was "What is love?" We discussed the question for over three hours, and I must say, I had difficulty focusing on the question, because I was so mesmerized in every way with Cecilia. She had been a teacher for elementary age children in an indigenous community in Chiapas, Mexico, where the Zapatista guerilla uprising for indigenous people's rights is taking place. Anyway, Cecilia, to me, is joyful love and exuberant happiness personified. It almost seems sometimes like a vast understatement to describe us as a team, or soul mates, or what have you. Even though we both also have our unique interests and perspectives, there's just a bond between us that makes it very difficult to imagine existence without her. She completes me, and hopefully the converse is true as well. At the same time, contradictory as this may sound, she helps me and inspires me to bring out the qualities in me that make me a unique person and a better person. She is the most tremendous and caring and loving and understanding human being I've ever met.

Gee, suddenly I feel very lonely. Anyway, to get back to your book, what is "Why" and why is "What?" -- and how do they apply to the Socratic method?

Well, "why" is a kind of "what." It's an entity -- physical, interrogative, functional, normative, you name it -- that we human beings use, among other things, to explore anything and everything. And the concept "why" best exemplifies that the concepts we use aren't merely static or "representational" entities we use to describe what is "out there," but are tools we use to explore the universe, the cosmos, without and within. By posing a question in "why" form, we tend then to use a variety of methods to seek some sort of satisfying or fruitful or warrantable answer, as the case may be. And the answer we come up with after the initial "why" is posed is a story. It may the story of why the universe was formed, or why there are questions, or why the sky is blue, or why there is this confounding fabulous word "why" at all. "Why," when scrutinized via the Socratic method, enables anyone of any age or walk of life to be storytellers of the life of reason.

And "what," among many other things, is a kind of "why." It's not just a material or physical substance, like a subatomic particle or a bridge or Jerry Springer, but it's also a quality, like good; an action, like a good deed; a feeling, like a good feeling; and it's also potential, like an acorn's potential to become an oak tree, or a young person's potential to become an old person. Leastways, in the course of one of my favorite Socrates Café dialogues, that's what we discovered. The Socratic method tends to open us up to new intellectual and imaginative vistas, and 'what' and 'why' seem to be part and parcel of this method. In Spanish, as my wife Cecilia pointed out, the word porque -- which translates to "why" -- actually has both "why" and "what" inextricably intertwined in its meaning, since que equals "what." So the two concepts and their functions were never divorced and separated from one another as they were in our language.

So what exactly is the Socratic method?

Let me stress that there is no such thing as the Socratic method, no more than there is any such thing as the scientific method. Rather, I'm setting forth one hopefully tenable version of the Socratic method, which is actually both a precursor to and a form of the scientific method -- in the sense that I'm not doing precisely what Socrates did nor am I trying to be a Socrates impersonator. The best methods lend themselves to adaptation, refinement, and evolution. For far too long, many rationalists would have you think that the science of the human soul was beyond our ken, but I think nothing could be further from the truth, and that the Socratic method and ethos is a fabulous way of delving into the human soul and finding out who we are, why we are who we are, and how we might go about becoming better human beings on both an individual and collective basis. Every fruitful area of human exploration, whether of the inner or outer cosmos -- and I think you can't delve into one without delving into the other -- entails the use of some sort of method, and it'll come as no surprise that I think the Socratic method is the method par excellence for gaining the most insights into what it means to be a human being on planet earth and the greater universe, and on how we might make the most of our mortal moment -- how we might become the most fulfilled and humane beings possible, and develop to the nth degree our social and intellectual conscience.

Lastly, besides your own Socrates Café, what other books would you recommend to the potential Socratic?

Primarily, I'd recommend that people read all the books written by a group of philosopher-scholars who hailed from Columbia University in the early and mid-20th century. I call them "The Columbia Gang." They were philosophers who happened to make their living as academic philosophy professors, but who also actively and regularly engaged with the public, and who were part of this heretical Socratic tradition of philosophical inquiry that traversed the scholarly and existential arena. One of these philosophers, Justus Buchler, is an unequaled metaphysician who I think rivals ol' Aristotle himself. Just about anyone would benefit from a careful reading of any of his slender and lucid engaging works, like Toward a General Theory of Human Judgment, or The Main of Light: On the Concept of Poetry, as well as works by his Columbia colleague John Herman Randall, Jr., whose multi-volume The Career of Philosophy is the best "survey" of the career of philosophy over the ages that I've ever come across. Nature and Historical Experience: Essays in Naturalism and the Theory of History, also by Randall, is a philosophical tour de force. Sadly, you won't come across the names of Buchler and Randall in even the most modern philosophical dictionary or encyclopedia. Because they dared to do philosophy in such wonderfully different and cross-disciplinary ways than was and remains the norm -- in which academics, as I've probably already said, dispense with the magnifying glass and only use the microscope -- they remain under-appreciated and overlooked.

I'd also recommend the remarkable Walter Kaufmann, erstwhile professor of philosophy at Princeton University until his death at age 59 in 1981. Kaufmann is known mainly for his excellent translations of Nietzsche, but he wrote a number of timeless works, such as his long-out-of-print Without Guilt and Justice, in which Kaufmann argues compellingly that human society would be better off without either of these concepts.