"E perchè sono di tre generazioni cervelli; l’uno intende per sè, l’altro intende quanto da altri gli è mostro, il terzo non intende nè sè stesso nè per dimostrazione d’altri."
“There are three kinds of mind: the first grasps things unaided; the second when they are explained; the third never understands at all.”
Niccolò Machiavelli
The Prince, Chapter XXII (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988)
Translated by Russell Price
(See Sue Brewton's useful piece highlighting variation in translation when quoting.)
When I applied to join the philosophy BA course at Birkbeck College, the admissions tutor was A.C. Grayling who I've mentioned before in the context of reviews. I explained that I had started philosophy with 'comparative literature' first time round at York, but had continued only with literature because the workload was heavy and the pace of the course too fast. In the philosophy course we had had to accept many assumptions that I wanted to stop and 'mule over' as that friend of Steinbeck's said. But I had never lost the taste for it, had had those late night discussions and, for a year or so, attended all the amateur philosophy groups around London. Eventually, I decided my enquiries were too random, there were too many nutters, I was fed up of traipsing around the back rooms of pubs only to hear a discussion barely get off the ground before it was hijacked by some wild-eyed, unwashed ranter; I wanted to go to the professionals now. The professor was sympathetic, patient, authoritative, encouraging, a most civilised man. He more or less assured me I had a place.
- Oh! I had thought I might not be suitable, I said, greenly.
- Whyever not?
- Well, I just missed a 2:1 in my first degree and I have two other degrees. Perhaps someone else should have a chance at higher education.
We paid for the course though; like tango dance classes it had a phenomenal drop out rate and I hadn't realised at that point how much money talks. He brushed my ethical worries aside and must have thought, but did not let on, that for someone approaching thirty I was absurdly naive. Instead, he complimented my suit.
He was slightly surprised that I wanted to do the BA rather than the Masters, but I wasn't doing it for the qualification, I wanted, I said, earnestly, the thorough foundation. I would not like to mislead you - I did not get the degree. In the event my first son was born in the third year of the four year course, we moved to Scotland, life changed entirely and I never did finish, but I had the gist. It was from the professor, at the Edinburgh book festival earlier that summer, I first heard mention of Kant's call to intellectual arms and to independence of thought, Sapere Aude!: Dare to know. (See: The Coercion of Taste).
I had blundered round those London philosophy groups on my own trying to find my way but it was when I joined that course that I found a useful overview of what philosophy was. Things were ordered, I could see better now the categories of metaphysics, epistemology, logic, ethics, the history of philosophy and the many other topics; I understood about the divide between analytic and continental philosophy. The course had its problems and I expect I could have found something similar just with better independent reading. Some of the academics were guides, some were educators; but we had that and the discussion with others we regularly saw on which philosophy thrives. It is an enquiry but also, as he said, a 'conversation across the centuries'. It was an improvement on the pubs.
It is possible to be entirely self-taught in many areas and the young are famously good and rapid learners but while some people are born auto-didacts; in general we learn from others.
Some, once formally educated, prefer solitary enquiry. Henry Cavendish is a famous example. His wide-ranging scientific enquiries in the eighteenth century meant he is a contender for the accolade of foremost scientist of his age, not, probably, that he would have cared. Cavendish is most famous for his discoveries in physics and chemistry and his calculations for the density of the earth. He left Cambridge without a degree which makes it tempting to speculate what he thought of his formal education; While he did publish some of his findings, others got credit for many discoveries, which, after his death, it became clear would have been rightfully his had he been minded to publish them. But worldly fame does not seem to have been a motivator for this most reclusive of men who remained unmarried, squeaked rarely and briefly to men, would not speak with women, and reportedly communicated with his female servants by notes.
But just as few of us are complete auto-didacts, neither are most of us are anything like Henry Cavendish in abilities or temperament. Most people benefit from a guide, someone who has gone before, of whom they can ask questions when necessary. Interestingly, 'guide', - "One who leads or shows the way "(OED) - prior to its journey through old French, is, according to Google, of Germanic origin, related to 'wit': "the capacity for inventive thought and quick understanding; keen intelligence."
Note: ' Educator': "A person who educates, trains, or instructs" (OED); - not the same thing at all.
In summary: a few discover alone, many benefit from a guide, others are crippled by educators.
No comments:
Post a Comment