2018/09/02

war - Philosophy for life



war - Philosophy for life



war
You think 2017 is politically polarised? Try 1968
Protests outside the Democratic National Convention in 1968



This week I finished watching the new PBS documentary series, The Vietnam War, made by Ken Burns and Lynne Novick. It’s a massive piece of work – 18 hours of footage from the last war when American journalists were allowed to roam pretty much wherever they wanted on the battlefield, and when presidents recorded their private conversations. You’ve never seen a war so close.

And it’s a shock. I knew a bit about the Vietnam War, mainly from movies like Platoon and Apocalypse Now. But I was still shocked by the atrocities committed by the American army, by the futility of so many of the battles – hills taken at huge cost and then immediately abandoned – and by the awful suffering of the Vietnamese people, who were at war continuously, from the war with France in 1945 to 1954, to the civil war (also involving the US) from 1955 to 1975, to the war with Cambodia from 1975 to 1989.

The US involvement in Vietnam’s civil war looks, from the perspective of history, like a monumental error. It arose from a fundamental misreading of the conflict. Successive US presidents, from Eisenhower to Kennedy to Johnson, thought that if the communist North Vietnamese succeeded in their war with South Vietnam, South Asia would turn communist, and eventually Europe would topple too.

The domino theory turned out to be wrong. In fact, it was a domestic civil war, and the US picked the wrong side – the South Vietnamese government, nominally democratic, was deeply corrupt, authoritarian, and unpopular. The US thought, when it intervened, that the Vietnamese would see them as liberating heroes. In fact, many saw them as racist imperialist invaders, just like the French before them.

The US initially sent in ground troops to Vietnam when it thought its ships had been attacked by North Vietnamese forces, in the Gulf of Tonkin incident. This too was an error – the supposed torpedo was a blip on the radar. But, as defence secretary Robert McNamara said years later: ‘We saw what we wanted to believe’.

What’s truly shocking is that as early as 1963 the American government knew the war was going badly and was unlikely to end in victory. Yet the war lasted another decade, costing the US around 60,000 lives, several million Vietnamese lives, and poisoning the political culture of both countries for decades.

You think American politics is polarised now? Look at 1968, the year of the Tet Offensive, when it became horribly obvious to Americans watching the TV news that they were losing the war; a year of race riots, of the assassination of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, a year of police brutality and domestic terrorism by radical leftist groups, a year when protests outside the Democratic National Convention were so violent, the convention had to be carried out in an improvised security bunker.The Baltimore riot of 1968

It was a clash of ethics, as much as anything else. Thousands of young Americans were going through hell to honour the ethic of serving their country. Back in America, other young Americans were choosing a different ethic of personal development and authenticity. Or they were deciding that the best way to serve their country was to protest against an immoral and futile war.

The ideological clash between liberals and conservatives became ever more bitter. The liberals, in many ways, were right. The war was futile. But the tactics of anti-war protestors were often misguided and self-defeating.

Hippies screamed abuse at returning vets as they arrived home at airports, calling them baby-killers; they burned American flags, and waved the flag of North Vietnam; they called the police ‘pigs’, and America a Nazi police-state. Liberal Hollywood icon Jane Fonda travelled to North Vietnam and denounced American prisoners of war as criminals who deserved to be executed, then let herself be photographed laughing on a North Vietnam anti-war gun used to shoot them down. And groups like the Weathermen and the Black Panthers declared that best form of resistance was violence. No wonder Robert Kennedy said, a few weeks before his assassination, ‘the centre cannot hold, and mere anarchy is loosed upon the world’.Jane Fonda larking around on a North Vietnamese anti-aircraft gun

The consequence of these radical tactics was to hand Republican candidate Richard Nixon a landslide victory in the 1968 election, in which he won every state except two. He won by appealing to the ‘silent moral majority’ who didn’t want to see America over-run by hippy terrorists – even though, by that point, most Americans actually opposed the war. It took the left over a decade to recover, and Nixon only lost power when his own paranoia led to Watergate.

There are lessons here for the left today, and how it opposes President Trump and other nationalist parties across the west.

This decade is a time of comparable polarisation in western politics. There are protests, riots and police shootings on the streets, and angry clashes on campuses. There is fear and loathing on both sides. The left labels the right as Nazi, while the right labels the left as totalitarian. Violence and hate speech are gradually normalized as political tactics. The intense complexity of global politics is reduced to simple black-and-white narratives of noble heroes and evil sick villains. The centre-ground of politics diminishes. Which side are you on?

As in the Gulf of Tonkin incident, people see what they want to believe. This is true of both sides.

I’ve been following a psychology professor called Jordan Peterson on Twitter. He’s a well-known evolutionary psychologist, but more famous as an outspoken critic of political correctness on campuses, which he sees as a totalitarian threat to western civilization. He’s so terrified of this existential threat, he sees it everywhere.

This week, for example, Nassim Nicholas Taleb tweeted about how political correctness was destroying western education. The British right-wing commentator Katie Hopkins tweeted him a flyer in which she offers free classes to schools, where she offers her unique take on subjects like Black Lives Matter or transgender rights. Jordan Peterson seized on this, and retweeted it as an example of ‘radical leftist indoctrination’. When one bemused follower asked him what his problem was with Katie Hopkins’ classes, he said ‘If you can’t see the difference, then you’ve already been indoctrinated.’


Jordan B Peterson
✔@jordanbpeterson





The substitute for education: trendy ideology https://twitter.com/KTHopkins/status/911579813030264832 …
7:00 AM - Sep 24, 2017
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Jordan B Peterson
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It's not education. It's radical left indoctrination. If you can't see the difference, then you've already been indoctrinated.
7:16 AM - Sep 24, 2017
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That’s political culture in the West in the early 21st century – people scanning the net, looking for things to be outraged about, torpedoes to be repelled and revenged, without taking the time to investigate. People seeing their own side as heroes and the other side as evil. Complexity and nuance are the first casualties of this toxic climate.

Ken Burns says he hopes his documentary can act like a vaccination against the virus of the Vietnam War, and the distrust, alienation and polarisation it engendered. You see the suffering of all sides in the war, you see their honourable intentions, and their moral doubts. You see a protestor who fled to Canada, deeply regretting renouncing his American citizenship; you see a soldier who accepted the draft, who feels his acceptance was a defining moment of moral cowardice; you see a former protestor tearfully apologising for the insults they hurled at traumatized veterans as they came home. You see the wounds people have carried for decades.

Both the left and the right today need to try and understand each other’s reasons – the noble intentions and basic emotions driving their calls for social justice or economic freedom or controlled borders or human rights. They need to make the effort to see the other side as humans, rather than Nazis, hippies, SJWs, snowflakes, Remoaners, gooks, cuks etc.

There’s a pragmatic reason for being able to take the other side’s perspective – it makes it more likely you win over public opinion, more likely you achieve your political goals, and less likely that your campaigns backfire and empower your opponents, as they did in 1968. And there’s a moral reason too – being able to see the other side’s perspective makes it more likely that democracy will survive.

Nationalism - Philosophy for life



Nationalism - Philosophy for life




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The best of times, the worst of times


This is the best time ever to be alive and human. Global life expectancy has doubled in the last century, from 31 to 71. A century ago, 20% of babies died in childbirth, now it’s less than 7%. You’re far, far less likely to die violently than in the Middle Ages, the 19th century, or even in the 1960s. In the last 30 years, the percentage of the world living in abject poverty has fallen from 37% to below 10%. Global literacy has risen from 40% in 1950 to 86%. In 1900, girls in Sub-Saharan Africareceived 7% of the education (in years) that boys’ received, now they receive 82% – and its close to 100% in Latin America and Eastern Europe.

The world is better off in terms of health, education, wealth, gender equality, democracy, and peace, than it was 50 years ago, and far, far better off than it was 200 years ago.



Yet if you ask people in the UK, Germany, the US, France and elsewhere if they think the world is getting better, only around 4% of people think it is.



Why has the west got the blues? Why aren’t we celebrating the incredible progress we have made? Why do we say things like ‘2016 was the worst year ever’, based on two right-wing election victories and the death of some celebrities?



Firstly, I think it’s fair to say we are spoilt. We have been spoilt by 50 years of peace and affluence. We thought the 90s were normal, when the biggest problem the US faced was Bill Clinton’s zip, rather than a decade unusual for its lack of serious crises or major wars. When we returned to the historical norm of crisis and war, we were bewildered, and we wailed.

Secondly, while the world is doing better, the West, by some measures, is doing worse. Western countries are seeing less dramatic gains in measures like literacy or life expectancy, a relative decline in our global share of GDP versus emerging markets, and actual declines in domestic measures like real income, living standards, home-owning and inequality. The 2008 financial crisis eroded our faith in democracy and capitalism. Liberal capitalist democracy is less obviously the globally triumphant system it was in 2000. It doesn’t seem to be working very well in the US and elsewhere, and the percentage of those in the West who support the idea of military dictatorships is rising, particularly among millennials.

Third, migration has rapidly reshaped the demographics of western countries, with the share of immigrants in some populations almost doubling in the last 20 years. This has changed the look and feel of many European cities – they have become far more multicultural or, sometimes, more segregated. Unfortunately, this sharp rise in immigration in the last 20 years has come at the same time as a period of war and international terrorism in the history of Islam. Every terrorist attack in the West emboldens and amplifies far-right voices saying Western civilization is heading for Islamic destruction.



Fourth, we’re growing up with the prospect of species-threatening climate change in the next few decades, and we don’t know what to do about it. Some scientists, including James Lovelock, tell us there’s nothing we can do – the world will, in the next 30-50 years, become largely uninhabitable, much of humanity will become refugees, and the human population will be literally decimated. It’s such a dark prospect, and we’re so obviously failing to deal with it, that we don’t really talk about it. But I think it profoundly shapes our emotional and psychic reality.

Finally, there may be an emotional crisis in the West – a rise in loneliness, and in emotional problems like depression and anxiety. I’m not entirely sure on this – I think the rise in those seeking treatment is probably because of greater awareness and access to treatment. Nonetheless, George Monbiot may be right, in his new book Out of the Wreckage, when he argues we’re facing a crisis in meaning brought about by a lack of an over-arching narrative or myth.

Instead, we look to social media for meaning and narrative. We out-source our thinking to pundits like Owen Jones or Glenn Beck, or to a handful of trusted Twitter heroes like Gary Lineker and JK Rowling, who never disturb us with new or contrary ideas, but instead comfort us by articulating what we already feel, and shape the incredibly complex world of global politics into simple narratives of good versus bad, heroes versus villains. This is a perfect recipe for emotional disturbance, social division and political disfunction. Twitter is making us stupid, and sick.

Such is the complexity of the ‘wicked problems’ we face, a part of me feels the allure of unplugging and dropping out. The public space has become too noisy, too bitter. We feel we must have an opinion on everything, yet much of what is happening is beyond our individual or collective control. Perhaps now is the time for a tactical Daoist retreat – the wise man ascends the mountain, and lets nature take its course.

But I think a better response than Daoist retreat is Stoic engagement: you accept that much of the situation is beyond your control, you accept that some fairly dreadful things are going to happen this century, but you engage politically anyway, with firm resolve, and a hope and faith in the long arc of the cosmos towards wisdom and justice.

We must keep hope, and remind ourselves of humans’ natural bias to negativity. We must remember how often, over the last 2000 years, humans thought the end of the world was nigh, and were proved wrong.We must remind ourselves loudly of the victories we have achieved and are achieving, even if these victories happen thousands of miles away. We must remind ourselves how sudden technological innovations have utterly transformed human existence in the past, and are likely to do so in the future. We must consider the ‘long now’, and plan not just for five years in the future, or 50, but 500.

I think my country – the United Kingdom – needs a ‘Doomsday Trust’, like the Rand Corporation, to go away into a farmhouse in the countryside for five years and think deeply about the challenges our country faces from climate change – to face difficult questions about arable land, dependency on food exports, mass migration, relations with the EU, the possibility of social breakdown – and find a way to help our nation survive this century. That thinking can’t be done on Twitter.

We must re-learn to engage not just through social media, but through face-to-face neighbourliness – speaking personally, I must shake myself out of a period of withdrawal from community organizing and start to organize again, for the common good and my own good.

Finally, what about the crisis of meaning in western culture, and the need for a new narrative? I can only repeat my brother, Alex Evans, whose book The Myth Gap earlier this year called for a new myth to change our relationship to nature and each other.

I also think the new narrative will be a shift from the Cartesian / Hobbesian narrative of the individual rational ego competing with other humans and exploiting a world of inanimate matter and soulless animals, towards a narrative where our consciousness is extended and deeply connected to each other, to other species, and to all of nature and all matter.

When I develop my consciousness into wisdom and love, you benefit, even if we never meet. When you suffer, I suffer, even if we never meet. When the corals bleach in Australia, I am poorer. When literacy rises in Nigeria, I am richer. We are literally one organism, one consciousness, one interlocking eco-system, one vast I AM. That, I think, is the astonishing and in some ways terrifying truth that humans have been groping towards for millennia.

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How the alt-right emerged from men’s self-help


Like a lot of people, I’ve been scrambling to make sense of the Trump victory and what it says about public attitudes in the US and western culture generally. I’ve spent this week researching the alt-right movement and reading some of its literature. We don’t yet know to what extent the alt-right helped Trump to victory, and to what extent its beliefs appeal to the general population. But let me suggest some points about alt-right philosophy, and the way to engage with it at a grass-roots level.

Aspects of alt-right culture overlaps with men’s self-help, and with classical virtue ethics like Stoicism.

This may come as a surprise to those who think of the alt-right as gamer-nerds and illiterate meme-fanatics, but a lot of it appears to be driven by disaffected young college-educated men looking for a code to live by. Some of them are drawn to classical virtue ethics like Stoicism because it offers a way to feel strong in a chaotic world. Clearly, they misinterpret ancient philosophy. But their interest in it offers a way that educators can engage with them.

If I was Muslim I would be engaging with young men drawn to toxic variants of Islam, to try and steer them away from it, for their good and the good of my culture. I think that’s necessary with the alt-right too – we should engage with those young men who are genuinely looking for a path to self-improvement, to try and steer them away from the toxic aspects of alt-right culture, such as white supremacy and misogyny.


What is the alt-right?Pepe the Frog – one of the alt-right’s favourite memes, as found on anonymous image-based websites like 4Chan.

So what is the alt-right? The best intro I found was from the Breitbart news site, formerly edited by Steve Bannon, Trump’s new senior advisor, which styles itself as an alt-right platform. It features ‘an establishment conservative’s guide to the alt-right’, by Milo Yiannopoulos and Allum Bokhari. This article divides the movement into four groups.

Firstly, the ‘natural conservatives’ – those who, in social psychologist Jonathan Haidt’s formulation, naturally feel disposed to an emotional politics of order, honour and harmony, as opposed to a leftist emotional politics of justice, fairness and equality. Secondly, the ‘meme gang’ – young men on the internet who spend hours joyfully constructing memes to support Trump and shock liberals. They don’t necessarily believe in Nazism…or anything, they just like to shock and get lulz. This group has been associated with trolling campaigns like gamergate or the harassment of the female Ghostbusters cast. Thirdly, the ‘1488-ers’ – straight-up Neo-Nazis, so-called because of the 14 words uttered by the founder of the American Nazi party – ‘We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children‘ – and the two 8’s at the end represent the letters HH, Heil Hitler.

The manosphere

Finally, there are the ‘intellectuals’. Yanniopoulos and Bokhari write: ‘The so-called online “manosphere,” the nemeses of left-wing feminism, quickly became one of the alt-right’s most distinctive constituencies.’ I studied three particular writers in this ‘manosphere’, who connect the alt-right with male self-help: Mike Cernovich, author of ‘The Gorilla Mindset’ and ‘The MAGA Mindset’; Jack Donovan, author of ‘The Way of Men’; and Roosh V, pick-up artist and editor of a popular men’s website called Return of Kings. Cernovich has been called ‘the meme mastermind of the alt-right‘, Roosh actively supported the Trump campaign as a means to the return of patriarchy, while Donovan speaks at white supremacist forums like American Renaissance.

All three offer a form of self-help for young men looking for a strong identity.

All three believe that masculine identity is in crisis in the west. They believe it’s been emasculated by feminism, threatenend by multiculturalism, enfeebled by corporate and consumer capitalism, and betrayed by older men who failed to provide strong role models. As a result, they say, western men have ended up miserable, weak, lonely, addicted and suicidal.

And who speaks for these wretched men? Every other interest group has their spokespeople and their movements. Feminism has its consciousness-raising circles, its heroines, its academic conferences. And men? The closest thing is a new and small field in academia called ‘masculine studies’ . But ‘masculine studies’ academics mainly wring their hands about traditional male identity and try to make men more like women.

Watch the documentary ‘The Mask You Live In’ (or the trailer, here), which is about the ‘male crisis’. It’s made by a woman, features more female experts than male, and focuses entirely on the problems with masculinity: men don’t show emotions, men binge drink and take dangerous risks, men play violent video games, men are drawn to casual sex, men are addicted to online porn, men humiliate women in ‘locker-room talk’, men are taught only to value sports and not other activities. And so on. Masculinity is apparently a disorder. And the solution to masculinity disorder is to become more like a woman, perhaps literally, like Grayson Perry, the transvestite artist and author of a new guide to What’s Wrong With Men.

Into this ethical vacuum step alt-right preachers of ‘neo-masculinity’, like radical Imams, if radical Imans were also pick-up artists.

The alt-right antidote to the ‘decline of men’ is to celebrate male identity and look for a code of living that leads to male strength.

Like me, some alt-righters in the manosphere are drawn to ideas from classical philosophy and modern therapy, which help people take control of their emotions. Roosh V, the pick-up artist and editor of Return of Kings, has frequently written on classical Stoicism as a ‘means to serenity’. He’s also written on ‘neo-masculinity’, a movement which looks to classical philosophy for an ethical foundation. Mike Cernovich’s Gorilla Mindset re-packages techniques for emotional self-management from Cognitive Behavioural Therapy and Stoicism, and mixes in some evolutionary psychology. And Jack Donovan has written on the need for a male virtue ethics, which emphasizes traditional values like courage, honour and self-discipline.

However, there’s also an aspect of alt-right neo-masculinity that is less drawn to virtue ethics and more to a sort of primitive tribalism or gang-culture. In the Way of Men, Jack Donovan defines male identity in the context of the male gang – men seek identity through the approval of other men, and through finding their place in the gang hierarchy, as chimpanzees do. Men are judged, Donovan says, by the extent to which they are a ‘real man’ – i.e, would they be good in a fight, can they defend themselves and others, do they defend their or their group’s honour, or are they a cissy?

The principle mission of the male gang, Donavan writes, is to secure the perimeter, and defend Us against Them – the outsider tribe. It doesn’t entirely matter who They are – Muslims, Jews, Republicans, zombies. They are really a means to Us bonding as a gang. It can be a little unclear who exactly is in the alt-right ‘Us’ – are gays like Donovan and Milo Yanniopolous? Are Jews? Are non-whites like Roosh? The movement smooths over these inconsistencies by focusing on Them, the threat to western civilization – feminists and Muslims.

Where do women fit in to this male gang world? For Jack Donovan, who’s gay, they’re purely a means to an end – men need them to reproduce and keep the tribe / gang going. He’s inspired by chimpanzee culture, in which he notes rape and female battering is common. Women are breeders, that’s all. For Roosh, they’re playgrounds and trophies.Fight Club – violent apocalypse as the means to male bonding

At the extreme, Donovan looks forward to the collapse of civilization and the flourishing of gang war, because then men can finally be men. Peace and prosperity make life boring, miserable and unheroic, he thinks. Bring on the apocalypse, as an exercise in male bonding. War is the game men play. Violence is the test, the means to ecstasy. War makes men. Peace makes half-men.

This ideology seems to me the white version of Jihadism – the sense of cultural grievance, the ‘elimination of the Gray Zone’ into Us versus Them, the desire for a global projection of heroic male strength, and the desire for a battlefield where one can play at war, not just in a video-game, but for real.

I can’t really engage young Muslim men, because I’m a kafir, an unbeliever, and I don’t really know the Koran. But I can engage with young men drawn to classical philosophy and self-help, because I was also drawn to this when I was a miserable and alienated young man. So how could one engage with this group? Here are some possible talking points:
We are more than chimpanzees. There is more to male strength than just brute force. Jack Donovan says we all admire immoral strong men like Al Pacino’s Scarface, but that’s not true – some adolescent boys do, but most grow out of that. Humans have the capacity to reflect on what’s right and wrong and to agree on a code of ethics. That’s what makes a tribe strong. When a tribe throws out its ethical culture and descends to the level of animal brutality, as the Nazis did, it doesn’t last long.
Women are, on average according to IQ measurements, just as intelligent as men. They also appear to score higher on empathy than men – a quality much needed in organizational culture and apparently lacking in the manosphere (see Donovan’s casual normalization of rape). Look at the cultures where women are encouraged to participate in public life, and the cultures where they’re not. Which cultures are stronger? Which are doing better? How strong and successful do you think Saudi Arabian culture is, or Afghan culture? At an ethical level, do you really want your daughter / sister not to have the same capacity to flourish as you or your son? There’s a weird paradox in the alt-right – on the one hand, they see themselves as the defenders of western civilization against Islam, on the other hand, they actually want to make western civilization more like Middle Eastern cultures (more patriarchal, less democratic and less respect for the rule of law).
The classical philosophers that some alt-righters claim to revere put virtue before brute power. On gender, Plato said his ideal Republic should be run by women and men, while Stoics like Musonius Rufus argued for equal education for boys and girls, on the principle women are as rational as men. On race, the Stoics were cosmopolitans, believing in a universal moral code that transcends race, gender or nationality. They did not believe ‘might is right’ – Thucydides criticized precisely that attitude for leading to the undermining of Athenian influence during the Peleponnesian War. The Roman Empire flourished partly because it had an amazing army, but also because it offered a universalist culture – the Pax Romana – which other ethnicities and tribes could join. Likewise, Islam and Christianity flourished because they were ethnically universalist. A culture based on ethnicity, by contrast, or on the brutal power of a despot, is a weak culture, it won’t attract cohorts, it won’t last.
Strong man cultures – in which a strong leader is revered and given all power – have typically not done well in modern history, they haven’t lasted. They may initially lead to a wave of conquests (Hitler, Napoleon) but they then rapidly collapse. Strong cultures that last are based not on personalities but institutions. The alt-right has a strange reverence for Putin’s Russia – having lived there, I know what a flawed, corrupt and disfunctional state it is.
Alt-righters in the manosphere are obsessed with honour and reputation, with being perceived as alpha men, not beta weaklings (see the chapter on honour and reputation in Donovan’s Way of Men). But Stoicism believes male strength comes from virtue, not honour or reputation. If you’re incredibly prickly about your honour, you’re weak and insecure – you fly off the handle at any perceived diss. You’re no better than hysterical campus liberals scanning for ‘micro-aggressions’. Honour cultures – like, say, Pakistan, or Sicily in the past – have traditionally been weak, because the men are constantly killing each other or their wives and daughters for any perceived slight to their honour. Strong men are secure enough in their self-respect to ignore a diss – unless something genuinely threatens their person or their culture, in which case they act.
If you’re obsessed with winning other men’s approval and appearing Alpha in their eyes, that’s not strength, that’s weakness. You’re enslaving yourself to their approval. Your whole life becomes an attempt to impress others – you pump iron to impress other men, you pull women to impress other men, you end up miserable and alone all because you spent your life trying to impress other men. Strong men don’t obsess over how Alpha they appear to other men.
If you think western culture has become a ‘culture of grievances’, as Milo Yiannopoulos put it, that doesn’t mean masculinity has to give in to victimhood as well. Marcus Aurelius wrote, ‘the best revenge is not to be like that’.
Trolling is a desperate bid for attention. Again, that’s not strong at all, that’s weak.
European culture went from rag-tag gangs in the Dark Ages to a powerful civilization that spread across the world partly through the invention of chivalry – strong warriors were persuaded to obey a moral code, which protected the weak. Alt-righters mock chivalry, but that makes their culture weak – who wants to join a chimpanzee culture that only values force? The foundation of Judeo-Christianity is also love for the oppressed and the weak – again, alt-righters like Steve Bannon describe themselves as heroic defenders of Judeo-Christian civilization, but they’re really more Nietzschean in their contempt for the weak.
If you really want to risk your life in a heroic adventure, join the army. Test yourself by fighting ISIS, not by harassing women on Twitter. That’s not being a man. Join the army. When you’re in it, you’ll find yourself fighting side by side with people of other ethnicities – 30% of the US military is non-white – and you might decide you can trust and bond with men whose skin is a different colour.

Those are some of the talking points one could use. One should not go in with name-calling – that triggers their honour-defenses and Us v Them mentality. Go in with respect. Recognize the emotional hurt beneath the toxic ideas. Focus on ideas not personal attacks. Epictetus wrote: ‘A guide, on finding a man who has lost his way, brings him back to the right path—he does not mock and jeer at him and then take himself off. You also must show the unlearned man the truth, and you will see that he will follow. But so long as you do not show it him, you should not mock, but rather feel your own incapacity.’
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Quakers - Philosophy for life



Quakers - Philosophy for life






Quakers
The Quakers on how to balance inner and outer work


Last week I visited Pendle Hill, a Quaker retreat centre outside Philadelphia, nestled between the gorgeous Quaker liberal arts colleges of Haverford and Swarthmore. I made a sort of mini-pilgrimage there as part of my research into the ‘mystical expats’ – Gerald Heard, Aldous Huxley, Christopher Isherwood and Alan Watts, four English writers who moved to California in the 1930s and helped invent the ‘spiritual-but-not-religious’ demographic (which is now 25% of the US population).

Gerald Heard is the least remembered of the four, but in many ways, he was their guiding light. In the early 30s, he was a BBC science journalist, the Brian Cox of his day, who became interested in the idea of man’s social and spiritual evolution. He thought the next stage of man’s evolution would involve an exodus beyond tribal authoritarian religion – people would learn to practice and study techniques for self-transformation from a variety of religions, testing them out with empirical psychology. He called for new institutions of education – somewhere between a monastery and a college – where adults could come to study and practice these psycho-spiritual techniques, thereby sparking man’s evolution to a higher level of group consciousness.

This marriage of psychology and contemplation was very influential for Huxley and Isherwood, for the founders of Esalen (the 60s adult development college in Big Sur), and for western spirituality in general. In fact, it’s only in the last decade that contemplative science has become mainstream, and contemplative education has begun to influence university curricula. Heard’s vision is still ahead of our time.Gerald Heard (left) and Christopher Isherwood with Swami Prabhavananda in California

During World War Two, Heard and Isherwood both spent a lot of time at Pendle Hill. Heard wrote several pamphlets for the Pendle Hill press on Quaker topics, and helped set up a Quaker journal on contemplation, called Inner Light. For a while, he thought the Quakers could be the vanguard for the next stage in western culture’s spiritual evolution. Quakers didn’t claim a monopoly on salvation – they thought all humans have an ‘inner light’ connecting them to God. They rejected ritual and priestly hierarchy; and they still practiced a rudimentary form of meditation in their silent worship. He hoped there might be a contemplative revival in the Quakers, as they absorbed insights from ancient contemplative practices and modern depth psychology.

But how would this contemplative revival fit with the Protestant focus on good works, on mission and evangelism, on social action, bearing witness to injustice, and the burning question of what to do in response to Nazi aggression? Heard and Huxley had been prominent pacifists in the UK. But in the US, with the war in full swing, both seemed to withdraw from politics and go within. Heard declared that a peaceful politics was impossible with man at his present level of evolution – humans needed to evolve to a higher stage of consciousness. Until we did the inner work, all outer work would end badly.

This is an important question for our own time. I’m part of the culture that Heard et al helped usher in – ‘spiritual but not religious’, psychologically literate, trying to do inner work while not joining any particular religion. But this path risks becoming selfish, spiritually proud, consumerist and individualist. At the same time, I’ve seen too many people who dedicate their lives to charitable or development work burning out and doing damage to themselves because they’re not taking care of their own souls. So how do we balance care of our souls with the outer work of trying to build a fairer and kinder world?Rufus Jones

One Quaker who thought a lot on this question was Rufus Jones, who Isherwood ironically dubbed ‘the Pope of Quakerism’. Jones taught philosophy at Haverford College and often visited nearby Pendle Hill. He was a great friend of an ancestor of mine, Yorkshire Quaker John Wilhelm Rowntree. The two met in the 30s and immediately felt a spiritual affinity.

Both of them were mystically-inclined – JW Rowntree had a spiritual experience in his 30s, after being told by a doctor that he was rapidly going blind. He left the clinic, walked out into the streets of York, and suddenly felt filled with the inner light of God’s love. Jones, meanwhile, travelled across the Atlantic to visit JW Rowntree, and on the journey he woke up in his cabin and felt a sense of anguish. That was succeeded by a deep sense of peace, love and divine support. On arriving in England, he discovered his beloved son had died that night.

Jones and Rowntree felt a shared sense of mission. They wanted to reframe Quakerism as a liberal, mystical religion, an empirical spirituality flexible enough to respond to scientific and historical criticism, which recognized the value of spiritual experiences in other religious traditions. But they also wanted to show, through historical research, that this mystical Qnuaker religion was not some flaky modern innovation, but a re-connection to a deep, central tradition in Christianity.

So they embarked on a project to re-position the Quakers within this mystical tradition, thereby uniting the warring liberal and traditionalist factions of the Quakers and re-animating the movement for the sceptical and scientific 20th century. Alas, JW Rowntree died aged 37, while visiting Jones in Philadelphia. I discovered on this trip that he’s buried next to Jones in the Quaker cemetery in Haverford, a few miles from Pendle Hill. I went there and found a corner of a foreign field that is forever Yorkshire.



Jones continued the project alone, and wrote Studies in Mystical Religion and many other books and essays on mysticism. He helped to reframe the idea of mysticism for American readers, who still had the traditional Protestant suspicions of the word: mysticism was considered introvert, solitary, morbid, sectarian, and completely opposite to the American cheery, practical, civic ethos.

Jones rebranded mysticism by insisting it meant simply ‘direct first-hand fellowship with God, and the deepened life-results that emerge’. The true mystic feels a ‘marked increase in joy’ and an increase in productivity and effectiveness too: ‘Under the creative impact of their experience, they have become hundred-horse-power persons, with a unique striking force against gigantic forms of evil and with a remarkable quality of leadership’. Very American eh? The mystic as super-powered manager.

Jones is a pretty biased historian of mysticism. He rejects almost all medieval monasticism – except for the Franciscans – and prefers obscure Protestant dissenter movements like the Brotherhood of Eternal Love and the Seekers (it’s thanks to Jones’ fascination with this 17th-century group that we got the modern term ‘seeker’ for restless spiritual searchers). He also barely discusses eastern mysticism and its attempt to overcome the illusion of this world. The true mystic, for Jones, doesn’t deny the world – they affirm it and work vigorously to improve it.

The Quakers have, of course, been incredibly effective at reforming the world. Although a tiny denomination with rarely more than a hundred thousand members, Quakers were at the forefront of the movement to abolish slavery; they led humane reforms in asylums and prisons; they did important work in supporting the minimum wage and the introduction of the welfare state (particularly thanks to JW Rowntree’s brother, Seebohm); they have a central role in the history of adult education and adult literacy; and they’ve also played a key role in championing pacifism and non-violent resistance.

Jones found time, while teaching philosophy at Haverford College and writing histories of mysticism, to help set up the American Society of Friends Committee (ASFC), which re-settled thousands of Jewish refugees during the war – Christopher Isherwood volunteered for them and lived at Haverford for a year or so. The ASFC also helped feed a million German children after the war. They were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1947.

I personally find Quaker contemplation a bit limited. To me, it’s too non-hierarchical, too non-structured. There is no sense of the structured journey through the psyche that one finds in Buddhism or medieval mysticism, nor any sense that we need guides and rituals on that journey. It’s like an orchestra where no one admits that some people play better than others, and sometimes you need teachers, a conductor and a score.

I’ve often criticized the tendency towards guru-worship in Buddhism and Hinduism. But perhaps the Quakers go too far the other way. People need help and guidance in tapping the deep well of consciousness within them. I’m not surprised that the Quaker renaissance that Heard called for didn’t happen, and that instead millions of westerners turned to Eastern practices like Vipassana, Zen, yoga, Daoism and Vajrayana Buddhism. We want to be taught by contemplative experts.

Nonetheless, the Quakers – and Rufus Jones – have an important message for us. What’s the point of all this inner work if it doesn’t make us kinder and less egocentric, if it doesn’t turn us outwards towards our fellow beings, including particularly those who are hungry, homeless, rejected, uneducated, locked up and abused? How can we combine eastern contemplative practices with Christianity’s emphasis on not accepting the world as it is, but rather trying to improve it? How do we avoid spiritual pride and the idolatry of priest-worship?

The Quakers also show us the importance of socializing your spirituality, connecting it to networks of friends and groups. It’s when our spirituality is knitted together with others into a quilt of community that we become much more effective at working to help others. As a chronic individualist, I need to remember this.
What Quaker companies can teach us about well-being-at-work


My great-great-great grandfather, a York Quaker called Henry Isaac Rowntree (that’s him on the left), set up Rowntree’s chocolate company in York in 1862. He was an amiable young man, ‘perhaps the only Rowntree with a sense of humour’ according to one historian. He had a parrot who liked to shout obscenities from under the table, much to the consternation of the Quaker elders when they visited. Henry loved adult education and journalism, but family members feared he knew ‘next to nothing about business’.

This led to him not being invited to be a partner at the family grocery business, so instead he bought a cocoa company in York. A few years later, the young cocoa company was in financial difficulties. Bankruptcy was the height of shame in the Quakers – indeed, you were ejected from the church for it – so Henry’s older brother, Joseph, came to help him run it. Joseph was much more sensible and meticulous, and public demand for cocoa powder and chocolate was beginning to take off.

By the 1940s, Rowntree’s had become one of the biggest confectioners in the world, making well-known brands like Aero, Rolos, Kit-Kat, Polo, Black Magic, and Rowntree’s Fruit Pastilles. Alas it was sold to Nestle in 1988, and Joseph had already given away all the money he made to his charitable trusts, so distant descendants inherited not so much as a packet of Smarties.Peter Cheese of the CIPD talking about Rowntree’s

Nonetheless, Rowntree’s are still relevant to my interests because the company was a pioneer in adult education, and well-being-at-work. In fact, when I went to a conference on well-being-at-work, organised by Robertson Cooper last year, the first speaker began his keynote with a slide of the Rowntree’s factory. So what can the example of Rowntree’s tell us about well-being-at-work?

1) Rowntree’s made worker well-being a priority

Rowntree’s, like its Quaker rival Cadbury’s, was run in a spirit of industrial paternalism. The workers were treated not as mere cogs in a machine, but as characters to be developed (and souls to be saved). Rowntree’s was one of the first companies to have dedicated ‘welfare officers’ – what today we’d call human resources managers – whose job was to look after the well-being and moral character of the young and typically-unmarried male and female workers. There was also a medical officer, regular medical and dental examinations, and company public health campaigns against the evils of tobacco and booze.The women’s canteen at Rowntree

As the company grew to a staff of 4,000 or so, Joseph Rowntree was keen to make sure it was still ‘united by a common purpose’. To that end he introduced one of the first in-house company magazines, as well as group-bonding concerts, theatricals, meals together and field trips. One trip involved sending the workers on a walk across the Yorkshire dales. Unfortunately it rained, the workers repaired to a nearby pub, and after an afternoon’s intensive drinking, the police had to be called to eject them.Historical accounts, like this history of Rowntree female employees, suggest workers enjoyed working at the firm

The Rowntree’s also supported workers’ education through libraries, discussion groups, the Yorkshire philosophical society, and through a network of adult schools. Quakers played the leading role in the establishment of adult education at the end of the 19th century – by 1900 there were 350 adult schools around the UK, with 45,000 pupils, of which two-thirds were at schools run by Quakers. Many Rowntree family members were actively involved in setting up and teaching in adult schools.

Some of the Rowntree staff lived in a ‘model village’ launched by Joseph Rowntree, called New Earswick. It was inspired by the ‘garden city’ designs of Ebenezer Howard, with worker cottages, a village green, and a veritable Quaker porridge of village committees – a library committee, a women’s guild, an orchestral society, a village council, a men’s social club, a musical society etc etc etc. It’s still going.

Historical records suggest that, to a large extent, Rowntree employees enjoyed working there, forged good relationships, and were happy – indeed, Rowntree women were famous for singing at work, as this short film from 1932 shows.

2) This sort of Quaker industrial paternalism was potentially patronising and illiberal

However, the strong emphasis on worker welfare could potentially be creepy – the company poking its nose in your inner life. Fry’s Chocolates, for example (another Quaker company), held an annual workers prayer service, which Joseph Fry said was ‘often a means of observing their conduct and checking any tendency to impropriety’. The Rowntree’s welfare officers, known as ‘overseers’, were also sometimes resented (‘she sits up there like the Queen of Sheba’, one worker complained).

Workers might well feel that what they did in their own time was their own business, and that the imposition of Quaker ethics on them was an infringement of their own religious liberties. So what if they drank in their own time? Should that be a cause for sacking, as it was at Fry’s? When did religious non-conformism become so conformist?

The Quaker emphasis on character and do-gooding could be annoying and patronising, as one poem showed:


Take a dozen Quakers, be sure they’re sweet and pink
Add one discussion programme, to make the people think
…Garnish with compassion – just a touch will do
Serve with deep humility your philanthropic stew

A modern equivalent of Rowntree’s focus on worker-welfare might be something like the American shoe company Zappo’s, which also is something of a personality cult of its CEO, Tony Hsieh, and also has a strong emphasis on employee well-being. Reading Hsieh’s smug and self-congratulatory comic book, Delivering Happiness, makes me feel queasy – Zappo’s sounds like a bit of a happiness police state.



It’s important, then, for companies to think about how to balance a strong collective ethos with autonomy, how to create a culture that encourages people to be individuals rather than clones, how to create room for dissent and satire, and how to make sure their well-being programme doesn’t feel forced, patronising, conformist. or a form of illiberal surveillance.

Saracens rugby club is an interesting example here – its ethos was also inspired by a strong Christian emphasis on the well-being and personal development of its staff and players, but manages to find a way to promote this without being too patronising, and with room for dissent. Staff and players are co-creators of the culture, rather than merely automatons to be programmed.

3) Ethical capitalism always has its internal tensions

The Quakers helped to set up some of the best British companies – Rowntree’s, Cadbury’s, Barclays, Lloyds, Clarks, Friends Provident – most of which strived to be not just profitable but ethical. They were family-owned, meaning they could pursue their own values rather than trying to please distant shareholders. They were often run as quasi-mutuals, ‘as a kind of partnership between masters and men, uniting their labour for a common end’, as Joseph Rowntree put it.

In all of this, perhaps there are lessons for our own time, when corporations have come to be seen as psychopathic, and when Barclays and Lloyds have become by-words for dodgy dealing (indeed, Barclays’ CEO, Anthony Jenkins, recently suggested the firm needed to remember its Quaker history).

However, Quaker capitalism always had its internal contradictions and tensions.

Quakers blossomed in business partly because their religious non-conformism meant that historically they were unable to go into other careers like politics, partly because they had amazing networks of trust between themselves, and partly because their austere Puritanism made them very good at meticulous book-keeping and rational management. But, as Max Weber explored in The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, there was a paradox in directing this Puritan zeal towards the accumulation of capital.An advert for Aero’s Bubbles. Not entirely Quaker.

Quaker businessmen had a constant struggle to try and balance their service both to God and to mammon. For example, Rowntree’s initially rejected advertising as insincere and duplicitous, but quickly realised they had to embrace it to compete. Both Rowntree’s and Cadbury’s used their ethical principles as a form of advertising, which works from a marketing point of view but is not really in accord with the Gospels. They also spied on each other to try and get each other’s recipes – this was the inspiration for Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. They colluded and set prices when it suited them. Both families made their fortunes by profiting on our growing addiction to sugar – which was originally intended to wean the nation off alcohol but has become its own public health menace.

And the family-ownership model depended on having family members with the genius for business. The Rowntree heirs became increasingly interested in different things, so the company appointed its first non-Rowntree chairman in the 1930s – George Harris, my great-grandfather, who married into the family. He wasn’t a Quaker and had little time for their Puritan do-goodiness. He was more inspired by the American Forrest Mars, who once told his employees: ‘I am a religious man…I pray for Milky Way, I pray for Snickers…Profit is our sole objective.’ Harris used marketing research to launch the very un-Quaker ‘Black Magic’, advertised as a tool for seduction!Black Magic, a tool for seduction

4) So what we can take from Quakernomics today?

– Try to run companies as mutual enterprises, by facilitating discussions, suggestions and group activities with all levels of the company. Strive for fair pay for all levels of the company, and make sure your suppliers’ values are aligned with your own.

– Provide opportunities for employees to broaden their minds, like Rowntree’s adult schools, the Google Campus, or the Saracens personal development programme.

– Support employees’ well-being through online and one-to-one advice, which should be entirely confidential rather than a means to spy on staff. Connect well-being services both to broader adult education (like Google’s Search Inside Yourself course) and to wider philanthropy and CSR.

– Provide opportunities for employees to pursue philanthropic activities and to feel they are working for a company with a moral mission.

– Provide opportunities for dissent, for disagreement, for satire and internal criticism – to make sure a strong collective ethos doesn’t turn into a cult!

– Explore new models of ownership which don’t make the company a slave to short-term shareholders.

– Combine moral mission with empirical rigour – what works, both for the company and for employee well-being? What sort of philanthropy or social reforms genuinely work, rather than simply making the giver feel good? Joseph and Seebohm Rowntree were both more than mere do-gooders. They were scientific in their do-gooding.

– Finally, a commitment to employee well-being is entirely in line with a commitment to business excellence, although companies can expect some dilemmas and tough decisions along the way. The moral mission needs to be led by CEOs at the top, rather than Corporate Social Responsibility reps in the middle.

12 Jules Evans. Philosophy for Life: And other dangerous situations



12 Jules Evans. Philosophy for Life: And other dangerous situations



Jules Evans
Random House, 3 May 2012 - Philosophy - 304 pages

Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations: Ancient Philosophy for Modern Problems Paperback – October 15, 2013
by Jules Evans  (Author)
4.7 out of 5 stars    194 ratings
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When philosophy rescued him from an emotional crisis, Jules Evans became fascinated by how ideas invented over two thousand years ago can help us today. He interviewed soldiers, psychologists, gangsters, astronauts, and anarchists and discovered the ways that people are using philosophy now to build better lives. Ancient philosophy has inspired modern communities — Socratic cafés, Stoic armies, Epicurean communes — and even whole nations in the quest for the good life.

This book is an invitation to a dream school with a rowdy faculty that includes twelve of the greatest philosophers from the ancient world, sharing their lessons on happiness, resilience, and much more. Lively and inspiring, this is philosophy for the street, for the workplace, for the battlefield, for love, for life.
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Philosophy for Life and Other Dangerous Situations by Jules Evans – review

Cognitive psychology has had little impact on our culture, but this intellectual manual makes a start
Cognitivism has become the dominant psychological system of our times. Its theories have swept aside Freudian mythology; its therapists, armed with treatment manuals, have taken over the NHS; its avant-gardists in the positive psychology movement have infiltrated the US military. Yet cognitive psychology has made curiously little cultural impact. Empirical, clinical and imaginatively narrow: as revolutionary intellectual movements go, it's rather boring.
Psychoanalysis may not have the same scientific credibility as cognitive therapy, but the Freudian unconscious was certainly a realm that people wanted to explore. Oedipal conflict, dreams, libidinal drives, the death wish: out of such stuff pictures were painted, movies were made, poetry was written. Who wants to explore the poetry of CBT?
Jules Evans – policy director at the Centre for the History of the Emotions – does. And when he starts doing so, it's something of a revelation. The roots of this book lie in the author's experience of being cured of a post-traumatic disorder by cognitive therapy, though he refers to personal experience only in passing. What really grips him are the philosophical origins of his treatment.
Can there be a more stirring philosopher's story than the one Evans tells of the slave, Epictetus? Crippled by a cruel master, schooled by a good one, freed and then exiled, Epictetus bore out his ideas in his life. His fundamental adage – that we do not suffer because of events, but rather the thoughts we have about events – inspired the Meditations of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, spread Stoic ideas across the Roman world and, 2,000 years later, remains the essential precept of cognitive therapy.
From the birth of rationalism in Socratic dialogue and the life-training of the Stoics, Evans sets out to explore the range of ways in which ancient philosophy still informs psychotherapeutic practice – via the living-for-the-moment Epicureans, the mystic contemplations of Heraclitus, the social anarchism of the Cynics, the patrician politics of Plato – culminating in the Aristotelian good life. It's invigorating to be reminded that, even in the age of cognitive neuroscience, very few ideas about the mind are fundamentally new.
Philosophy for Life is presented as belonging to the highbrow self-help genre promoted by organisations such as Alain de Botton's School of Life, which view philosophy not as academic study, but as training for existence.
As a survey of ancient influences, the book does a mixed job. Evans himself stays true to Socratic doubt by remaining sceptical of each movement, ancient or modern, that he encounters. He tells captivating personal histories and presents convincing critiques of Martin Seligman's positive psychology and the politics of happiness. The problem of these later cognitive movements, he argues, is that they have taken Aristotelian precepts, applied scientific methodology and then dropped the philosophical inquiry. The result, as Evans effectively demonstrates, is a shallow, credulous scientism that infects much research and policy.
But one feels that, towards the end of his survey, Evans's heart isn't really in the job of pointing out how positive psychology and the politics of happiness are a shrill travesty of Aristotle. The book is structured as a conference and it's the morning session with the Stoics that really bristles with energy. That's because Stoicism – Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, Seneca – was a heroic struggle with adversity: its lessons sufficiently simple to be used as training techniques, its understanding of human nature sufficiently profound to be convincing, its literature elegant and moving. We do not need psychologists to design models of happiness (Freud did that in two words: "love" and "work"). But we do need them to design treatments for pathological misery.
It's a pity Evans doesn't go further into the methods devised by Albert Ellis and Aaron Beck – the co-founders of cognitive behavioural therapy – to show how much they owed, or accidentally drew, from the Stoics. He rightly points out the limits of Stoicism: that acceptance of suffering may inhibit us from changing external circumstances.
Yet to understand that reason can have some influence on emotion, without idealising rationality; to distinguish the things we can control from those we cannot; to train ourselves to deal with suffering: these are the premises of true psychotherapy. As Evans writes, the ancient philosophers produced "self-help of the very best kind, that doesn't focus narrowly on the individual, but instead broadens our minds and connects us to society, science, culture and the cosmos".
Cognitivism has science on its side, but if the purveyors of CBT want to equal the Freudian genius for investigating human nature, they also need to persuade people that their system possesses philosophical and cultural depth. Evans provides a key manual.

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Review



“Thought-provoking...shows philosophy is not just for stuffy classrooms.”
— Financial Times

“This wonderful book shows how modern psychology is consistent with the best that was thought in the ancient world. It is also beautifully written.”
— Lord Richard Layard, author of Happiness: Lessons from a New Science

“A brilliant and timely book.”
— Tom Hodgkinson, author of The Freedom Manifesto

“A revelation.”
— Alexander Linklater, The Observer

“Unputdownable!”
— Kristján Kristjánsson, University of Birmingham Jubilee Centre for Character and Values


About the Author



Jules Evans writes for publications including The Wall Street Journal and The Times of London, gives popular talks on practical philosophy, and runs the Well-Being Project at Queen Mary, University of London. He lives in London.




1 Review


In his engaging book, Jules Evans explains how ancient philosophy saved his life, and how we can all use it to become happier, wiser and more resilient. Jules imagines a dream school, which includes 12 of the greatest and most colourful thinkers the world has ever known.

Each of these ancient philosophers teaches a technique we can use to transform ourselves and live better lives. These practical techniques are illustrated by the extraordinary stories of real people who are using them today - from marines to magicians, from astronauts to anarchists and from CBT psychologists to soldiers. Jules also explores how ancient philosophy is inspiring modern communities - Socratic cafes, Stoic armies, Platonic sects, Sceptic summer camps - and even whole nations in their quest for the good life.

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military - Philosophy for life


Donald Robertson rated it it was amazing

Shelves: philosophy

Jules has written a superb introduction to practical philosophy. This book is perhaps quite unique, although it’s written in a very accessible style. I think I read it in the space of 2-3 days. It introduces the reader to a range of classical philosophical ways of life, by means of many anecdotes and examples that paint a vivid picture of how modern followers of these philosophies make use of them in coping with adversity and living meaningful and satisfying lives. Jules begins with three chapters discussing some of the most well-known Stoic authors of antiquity: Epictetus, Musonius Rufus and Seneca. The Stoics feature prominently, in fact, which should be no surprise as theirs is widely-regarded as the philosophical school most systematically concerned with the Socratic art of living, or practical philosophy. However, Jules adopts an eclectic (or “pluralistic”) approach, introducing the reader to the possible benefits of the main philosophical traditions of the Hellenistic period, and also raising some potential criticisms along the way. He proceeds to explore the great rival of the Stoic school, Epicureanism. Later chapters also touch upon the other major philosophical movements: the Sceptics and Cynics, and the schools of Plato and Aristotle. The pre-Socratic philosophers Heraclitus and Pythagoras also have chapters dedicated to them, as does the Platonist philosopher Plutarch. Throughout, references to modern therapy and positive psychology, etc., are interwoven with anecdotes about contemporary individuals who have made use of philosophy in their lives.

I was very impressed by the way that Jules covered so much ground in the space of a single book. We’re left with a sense that these philosophers offer us a variety of lifestyles, which are different enough to make for interesting comparisons but similar enough to intersect and complement each other in important ways. Indeed, many philosophers of antiquity were not rigidly devoted to the teachings of a single school but drew upon different traditions in quite an eclectic manner, much as Jules’ book does. Even those identifying themselves as “Stoics” or “Platonists”, etc., used to dip into the texts of opposing schools, which I believe Seneca called “raiding the enemy camp” for ideas. In that sense, Philosophy for Life stands in a long tradition of philosophical texts that inspire readers to learn about and perhaps imitate the philosophical lifestyles and practices of the great philosophers of different orientations, inviting them to make comparisons, generate their own synthesis or perhaps choose between them. Most of the Hellenistic schools considered themselves to be descendants, to varying degrees, of Socrates, the pre-eminent Greek sage. However, the Stoics particularly aimed to preserve the practical example of Socrates’ philosophical lifestyle, by means of various strategies and techniques associated with the “art of living”. These happen to resemble modern psychotherapeutic procedures, particularly those of cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT), as Jules notes, alluding to his own personal story as an example of someone who combined both CBT self-help and classical philosophy to learn methods of emotional self-regulation and personal improvement.

My own orientation is broadly Stoic, a subject I’ve written about in one of the books Jules mentions in Philosophy for Life. So I’m tempted to add some more comments about the Stoic tradition. Jules gives a lot more space to the Stoics than the other philosophies and is broadly sympathetic to their approach, although he also raises some potential criticisms. He gives several examples of individuals who are influenced by Stoicism or provide good examples of Stoic resilience, prominent among which are, quite rightly, modern military personnel such as admiral James Stockdale, a prisoner of war during the Vietnam war whose allegiance to Stoicism helped him endure many years of torture without breaking, Rhonda Curnum the head of the Comprehensive Soldier Fitness programme, and several US marines and Green Berets, including Major Thomas Jarrett who combines Stoicism and REBT in his own resilience training programme. These anecdotes include great examples of modern Stoic attitudes and ways of coping with adversity. I used the story of James Stockdale in my own book and talked at length about the military metaphors in Stoicism. However, it seems this way of portraying Stoicism can also be off-putting to some people and may create a rather “macho” image that’s arguably not the whole story. Toward the end of this book, Jules actually concludes that the whole Socratic tradition, including all the philosophies described here, may be legitimately criticised for “its overemphasis on the self-sufficient rational individual and its lack of compassion and charity” (p. 255). Of the Stoics in particular he says:

We are not, and should not try to be, invincible Stoic supermen, safe in our lonely fortresses of solitude. We need each other. We need to admit this need, and embrace it. (pp. 210-211)

In some ways, this is a fair point, but I think it deserves a response. It’s not entirely clear what the doctrines of Stoicism were in relation to compassion for mankind, or individuals, and they probably differed among parts of the school. However, in their own lives, the famous Stoics of history clearly engaged with society and generally appear to have valued close friendships. For example, Marcus Aurelius spends the entire first chapter of his Meditations praising his friends and family at some length, and recounting their virtues with great admiration and affection. Marcus says that the ideal Stoic Sage is “full of love”, for the universe and mankind, but free from irrational fear and craving (“passion”, in the Stoic technical sense). I doubt any Stoic would literally believe that we “need” each other but rather that we have a natural affinity for other people and therefore benefit from healthy relationships when we exercise wisdom in them. The Stoics frequently refer to the value they place on love for mankind and gentleness even toward their enemies. Seneca wrote:


No school has more goodness and gentleness, none has more love for human beings, nor more attention to the common good. The goal which it assigns to us is to be useful, to help others, and to take care, not only of ourselves, but of everyone in general and of each one in particular.


The scholar Pierre Hadot notes that the Christian doctrine of “loving one’s neighbour as oneself” was prefigured in Stoicism, centuries before the supposed birth of Christ. Indeed, arguably Stoicism is a philosophy of love. Love of wisdom, as the name “philosophy” literally states, the wisdom to know the difference between good, bad, and indifferent things. It is also therefore, by implication, the love of both human nature and the nature of the universe, through understanding which we grasp what is good and beneficial for ourselves and for mankind in general. I’m not suggesting that Green Berets, etc., don’t value brotherly love but that the military analogies so common in Stoic literature often emphasise resilience in the sense of mental “toughness” and perhaps sometimes obscure the gentle and compassionate side of Stoicism, which it shares to a large extent with the Christian tradition. This is a difficulty with Stoic texts in general, though, and Jules frequently helps to redress misconceptions about Stoicism by pointing out, for instance, that the Stoics developed a sophisticated grasp of the psychology of emotion rather than simply being the utterly dispassionate “cold fish” they’re often portrayed as being. Indeed, the Stoics repeatedly extol positive, rational and healthy emotions such as courage, generosity, compassion, love, friendship, and even joy, insofar as these do not interfere with one’s exercise of practical wisdom. On the other hand, it’s true that the Stoics did sometimes make remarks that appear to paint a more solitary and austere picture of their philosophical practices. It’s therefore important that contrasting ways of life such as those of the Epicureans and Aristotelians are there for comparison.


Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It’s certainly one I will recommend to others and I’ve already found myself referring other people to it as an introduction to both Stoicism and practical philosophy, the Socratic art of living, in general. As noted above, the style of the book is quite different from most others on ancient philosophy, although it might be compared to ancient biographical accounts of philosophers, but written in very modern prose and well-suited to today’s readers, whether or not they have any experience of philosophy. It will be particularly good as the “first book” to read for people interested in finding out more about classical philosophy and how it relates to modern approaches to therapy, wellbeing and personal improvement. Jules has achieved a lot and I’m sure a great many people will benefit from reading his work, which will inspire them to philosophise in their daily lives and to find out more about the Socratic philosophical tradition.

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Table of Contents

Preface: Welcome to the School of Athens

1. Morning roll call: Socrates and the art of street philosophy
Morning Session: The Warriors of Virtue

2. Epictetus and the art of maintaining control

3. Musonius Rufus and the art of fieldwork

4. Seneca and the art of managing expectations

Lunch: Philosophy Buffet

5. Lunchtime lesson: Epicurus and the art of savouring the moment

Early Afternoon Session: Mystics & Sceptics

6. Heraclitus and the art of cosmic contemplation

7. Pythagoras and the art of memorisation and incantation

8. Sceptics and the art of cultivating doubt

Late Afternoon Session: Politics

9. Diogenes and the art of anarchy

10. Plato and the art of justice

11. Plutarch and the art of heroism

12. Aristotle and the art of flourishing

Graduation: Socrates and the art of departure

Extra-Curricular Appendix

Appendix One: Is Socrates over-optimistic about human reason?

Appendix Two: The Socratic tradition and non-Western philosophical traditions

Appendix Three: Socrates and Dionysus(less)


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