Actually, one thing I think was improperly understood is that I did not want to exhaust all ethical positions in two, with what I wrote. More than that, I thought of a specific distinction in the history of philosophy; one between what could be called classical philosophy (Aristotle & Aquinas) in opposition to modern philosophy (Rousseau, Spinoza et al.). The Enlightenment, as a historic movement, seems to imply that men can be happy solely on the basis of reason, since human nature is good. Aristotle (and mature Kant or Aquinas) would think of this position as naïve.

I am not an hedonist. Yet I cannot conceive our human nature but being, in certain aspects, as the junkie’s constant need of satisfaction. Our thirst will never be completely satitied.

And here I have to ask you to think of desires in the broadest sense, not only in the most immediate one (for instance, physiologically). To seek happiness, because of an inner need, is the same as to desire a good life, or simply to want to be happy. And wanting is the same as do not having something in the exactly moment we want it.

Whole happiness, then, cannot be thought for a finite being, unless we postulate an “extrinsic factor”.

And I surely know many things “ain’t” clear yet. But I guess a given search requires a long journey, like in a progressive essay that may finally culminate in a fine presentation (or not).

‘Really like your presence here. Cheers to it.

wow - thanks for the quick answer. I’ll start with the least interesting stuff (in my eyes, at least), and move on to the more important, where our disagreement may matter more.

So, first, when I said Spinoza and Aristotle are in the same tradition, I did not, of course, meant in the same metaphysical tradition (which they are not), but in the same ethical tradition, namely, perfectionism - that is, the idea that, in order to attain happiness, we must perfect our human nature (or essence, if you will). Now, they may differ in all sorts of ways (I know close to nothing about Spinoza; I’m more confortable with Aristotle), but I think this general framework is true, and a profitable way of understanding them. (This sort of idea was, I think, first developed by Thomas Hurka; but now you see it everywhere.)

Now, about the God stuff, I did not mean to imply that you thought Aristotle was an atheist. My point was just that you end your post carving two positions: (a) either we can be happy in this world, and that’s an atheist position; or (b) we can find solace in God, and in another life. My point is that this division does not exhaust the logical space: you both have people who will say God exists and that we can be happy in this world (Aristotle, as you well know), and people who will say there is no God, but that we cannot be happy in this world (some Buddhists, for example; maybe Schopenhauer). So I do not really see how the God stuff helps…

But let me now move on to desire and happiness. I still think you’re sounding hedonist - for you seem to be saying that desire is a means to happiness. But that seems to equate happiness with desire-satisfaction. That, combined with your thesis that pleasure is transitory, seems to entail precisely the view I was rejecting - the view that every human is like a junkie, who just can’t get enough - and has to keep going and going.

I guess my problem is this: suppose I consider myself to be happy, and suppose I’m right. But now, I’m hungry - and, thus, have a desire to eat. Would you say, in that case, that I’m not happy anymore? Just because I have a new desire? Now, of course I would agree that, if I don’t have money to buy food, and starve for days, I won’t be happy anymore. But, in normal circumstances, a simple desire does not seem strong enough to disturb my happiness.

So, yes - I grant you, happiness is transitory: extreme circumstances may intervene to disturb my happiness. But what I will not grant you is that any old desire can do that. If it could, we would be merely serving our desires, whatever they happen to be.

Then, as we are finite beings, neither (i) or (ii) can receive a full positive answer. We may be satisfied or we may be happy, but only as long as we reach our desires, and this is never permanent, nor always fulfilling, since change is constant.

As to Aristotle and Spinoza, I see them in two very different traditions. God in Aristotle cannot be identified to nature; better saying, it is totally different from nature. That is not the case with Spinoza. Both may say we might be happy, but Spinoza is guilty of a certain optimism about human’s nature, and that is because he cannot conceive goodness or evil as existing at all. They are what (I think) he calls ens rationis. On the contrary, Aristotle thinks of goodness as a way of the expression of “what is” (ta onta).

Grace was mentioned because of the idea of redemption, which would be only partial in this life. Or perhaps you might say that redemption of a finite being has nothing to do with the concept of happiness…

And Aristotle’s philosophy would not be as comprehensive as it is if he had not postulated a God (Teo) in his science of the first principles. Inversely to what you have suggested, I do not think of Aristotle as an atheist (although I see Spinoza as one, because of his Deus, sive natura).

you seem to run two (at least prima facie) very different things together (and, as a matter of fact, S. H. does it too): desire-satisfaction and happiness. Unless, of course, you’re spousing some sort of hedonism - but then, it is not clear why (and it is not clear which brand of hedonism - is it psychological hedonism?).

So, I’d say there are actually two different questions:

(i) can we be satisfied in this world?

(ii) can we be happy in this world?

As regards (i), I’m inclined to disagree with S. H. (and maybe you?): I’d say it is obvious we can get satisfaction in this world - at least normally, we can. S. H.’s view seems to conceive of us as bucket with no bottom: no matter how much we try to fill it, it will always be empty. However, if that’s true, I fear acting would be aimless, and practical reason would have no bite whatsoever. We get satisfaction from fulfilling our desires - not from not having desires (just think about it: right now, I do not desire a hamburger, but that does not please me in the least). So, while I agree we will never be desire-free, and I don’t think this entails that I can’t get no satisfaction.

Now, I’m not sure what to say about happiness. I’m attracted to the perfectionist tradition you cite (Aristotle, Spinoza), but, unfortunately, don’t have much to say about it - at least, not now. But I’d like to stress that I see (i) and (ii) as different problems; so that, even if you answered ‘no’ to (i), it would, at least in principle, possible to answer ‘yes’ to (ii).

Finally, I’m not sure why you bring God to the picture - especially since it does not fit in nicely. Aristotle, for one, was no atheist, but thought we could attain happiness in this world. And some Buddhists, although atheists, will say we cannot be happy in this world.

Cheers,

Y.

For the time being, I’d like to thank you for your time and for the discussion; and I’d like to wish you good luck on your philosophy quest and on your Philosophy Quest.

Till next time,

Y.

This leaves me with the singular option of not answering. Instead, I may only further some remarks about the subject here. What is certain to me is that philosophy is a quest, and it is a loving one; and also that there is not a quest if a corresponding attitude is not found.

I even agree with you when you say philosophy being an attitude is not quite a qualification. Said that, I think this attitude is the starting point of a long journey in which it must be put in command.

All the arguments I used and the purpose of the texts I wrote can, perhaps, be summarized in a simple distinction: the academical attitude is opposed to the philosophical one in a big way.

When I mentioned the Buddhist efforts to turn his senses off I was trying to differentiate the quest and the attitude necessary in philosophy from common clichés immanent to the way “intellectual masses” often see philosophy. Wise men are not philosophers, for the latter seek wisdom when the former are supposed to have already achieved it.

Yet, I shall say I have much difficulty answering to your main objection, that is, the one that says an attitude is not enough. You are right. Now I see all I have to say to you is simply (and disappointedly) that the persevering attitude might be my only reply to you.

As much as I like this discussion, I wouldn’t want to hijack your blog, or monopolize your attention. On the other hand, you were kind enough to write a post in response to me, so I feel that I shouldn’t abandon discussion now.

I must say that I’m not sure I have fully understood your new suggestion, though. Maybe you can help me (but, again, I don’t want to inconvenience you…). For you talk about philosophy as an attitude, and I’m not sure I understand what kind of attitude philosophy would be.

Your comparison with Buddhism does not really help me, for this reason: Buddhists are tempted to describe their quest as an attitude because (to put it paradoxically) their goal is to have no goal. That is, since they want to interrupt the cycle of rebirth, and since desire is what maintains it, they must divest themselves of all desires - even of the desire of not having a desire. That is, if their quest were not only an attitude, that would imply they do have a goal, which would imply they have some desire, which would, then, defeat the whole purpose… But philosophy does not seem to be like that!

Put more clearly, this is my worry: having a philosophical attitude may be necessary, but does not seem sufficient to actually do philosophy. It would be strange, I think, to say that somebody is a philosopher only because she has a philosophical attitude (and, really, how are we supposed to know that?).

(It now occurs to me, maybe the point of comparing philosophy with Buddhism was to say that philosophy is a kind of worldview, a subjective experience, or way-of-perceiving-the-world. But then I would ask what is distinctive of the *philosophical* way-of-perceiving-the-world, as opposed to the religious, scientific, or the layman’s.)

But, even if you’re right about philosophy being an attitude, it does not automatically follow it’s an on-and-off thing, which could not, then, be compared. Arguably, love is an attitude - but of a kind that admits of more and less; and different loves can be compared. But, if philosophy is love of wisdom, then it would seem that different people’s attitudes *could*, at least in principle, be compared…

Finally, just a quick remark about your last paragraph: it is true, of course, that knowing everything is extremely difficult (I’m not convinced, however, it is impossible); and, to the extent philosophers wanted to know *everything*, it is clear they failed (what it isn’t clear, however, is that they did want to know *everything*; arguably, they didn’t). But that doesn’t mean that comparing their efforts and results is, for that reason, hopeless. (I’m not saying you said that; but I’m not sure if that’s what you implied…)

Once again, thank you for your time, and for the interesting discussion.

Y.

(i) Can’t you be led astray in your quest? And can’t you realize that? More generally, can’t you judge your own progress in your quests, and say (e.g.) that philosophy (i.e., your own personal quest) is better (or worse) now than in 1997? I think - to continue with your metaphor of a quest - that a quest without progress looks more like wandering about, and I’m not sure philosophy is (or should be) like that.

(ii) Can’t you reach the goals of your quest? Again, in your reply to my comment, you say philosophy is a quest for knowledge and wisdom. I guess my doubt is this: do you think that, when one reaches (some piece of) knowledge and (some piece of) wisdom, one stops doing philosophy? In other words, is philosophy just a means for an end (wisdom, knowledge) - one we can do away with, after we’ve achieved those goals? In this case, maybe we have a small disagreement: even if I like to think of philosophy as a quest, I wouldn’t want to exclude the end-products of this quest from being philosophy. This is why, perhaps, I’m willing to say that yeah, even philosophy as a quest can be better or worse…

Anyway, thanks for the thoughtful response!

Best,
Y.

You can reply that you are not confusing but comparing them. Despite of that possibility (or reality), I will try to precise the three ways in which we can talk about the term philosophy here. There is philosophy as a quest — in its original meaning, that is, love of wisdom, which I consider a quest, — there is philosophy as a profession, that can be said widespread, since philosophy is today mostly academic, and finally there is philosophy as a particular system of thought or doctrine.

In short, both philosophy as a profession and as the doctrine’s of a given intellectual can be said better or worse. But these were not the points of view that I took in my text. In it I tried to express the original breath by which philosophy was born, that is, as a kind of quest for knowledge and wisdom (maybe theory and practice).

Anyway, I must say I really enjoyed your reply and that I hope you can raise more questions, so disputatio can take its deserved place here.

Best regards!