immemorial. I am referring to all the schoolmasters and self-opinionated
know-it-alls who are satisfied with what little they know, or who boast of know-
ing a whole lot about subjects they haven’t the faintest notion of. You have
probably come across a few of these sophists in your young life. A real
philosopher, Sophie, is a completely different kettle of fish—the direct
opposite, in fact. A philosopher knows that in reality he knows very little. That
is why he constantly strives to achieve true insight. Socrates was one of these
rare people. He knew that he knew nothing about life and about the world.
And now comes the important part: it troubled him that he knew so little.
A philosopher is therefore someone who recognizes that there is a lot he
does not understand, and is troubled by it. In that sense, he is still wiser than
all those who brag about their knowledge of things they know nothing about.
“Wisest is she who knows she does not know,” I said previously. Socrates
himself said, “One thing only I know, and that is that I know nothing.”
Remember this statement, because it is an admission that is rare, even
among philosophers. Moreover, it can be so dangerous to say it in public that
it can cost you your life. The most subversive people are those who ask
questions. Giving answers is not nearly as threatening. Any one question can
be more explosive than a thousand answers.
You remember the story of the emperor’s new clothes? The emperor
was actually stark naked but none of his subjects dared say so. Suddenly a
child burst out, “But he’s got nothing on!” That was a courageous child, So-
phie. Like Socrates, who dared tell people how little we humans know. The
similarity between children and philosophers is something we have already
talked about.
To be precise: Mankind is faced with a number of difficult questions that
we have no satisfactory answers to. So now two possibilities present
themselves: We can either fool ourselves and the rest of the world by
pretending that we know all there is to know, or we can shut our eyes to the
central issues once and for all and abandon all progress. In this sense,
humanity is divided. People are, generally speaking, either dead certain or
totally indifferent. (Both types are crawling around deep down in the rabbit’s
fur!)
It is like dividing a deck of cards into two piles, Sophie. You lay the black
cards in one pile and the red in the other. But from time to time a joker turns
up that is neither heart nor club, neither diamond nor spade. Socrates was
this joker in Athens. He was neither certain nor indifferent. All he knew was
that he knew nothing—and it troubled him. So he became a philosopher—
someone who does not give up but tirelessly pursues his quest for truth.
An Athenian is said to have asked the oracle at Delphi who the wisest
man in Athens was. The oracle answered that Socrates of all mortals was the
wisest. When Socrates heard this he was astounded, to put it mildly. (He must
have laughed, Sophie!) He went straight to the person in the city whom he,
and everyone else, thought was excessively wise. But when it turned out that
this person was unable to give Socrates satisfactory answers to his questions,
Socrates realized that the oracle had been right.
Socrates felt that it was necessary to establish a solid foundation for our
knowledge. He believed that this foundation lay in man’s reason. With his
unshakable faith in human reason he was decidedly a rationalist.