I'd like an example of a crazy/insane philosopher. The heresiarchs of the old days, those who questioned institutional reality (Christian cosmogony) with original hypotheses were possibly insane/corrupt by the standards of the time, but there was great pay off for future generations. — Nils Loc
Socrates gadflying in public, totally cray cray. — praxis
I'd like an example of a crazy/insane philosopher. The heresiarchs of the old days, those who questioned institutional reality (Christian cosmogony) with original hypotheses were possibly insane/corrupt by the standards of the time, but there was great pay off for future generations — Nils Loc
How could a serious pessimist like that exist and ought you really call him a philosopher rather than a poet. Or is it a kind of poets play/humor that is detached from his character, an artistic salve/work for the condition he was in. — Nils Loc
The internal voice (the Daimonion) that told Socrates no whenever he was about to do something wrong sounds far weirder than his method, which was probably more annoying than crazy. But maybe it's just a creative take on what we call the conscience (though one doesn't audibly hear it). — Nils Loc
In the center of the dialogue Phaedo said that they had been “healed” of their distress and readiness to abandon argument. (89a) In other words, Socrates saved them from misologic,about which he said "there is no greater evil than hating arguments". (89d)
There is one other mention of illness. In the beginning when we are told that Plato was ill. We are not told the nature of the illness that kept him away, but we know he recovered. Perhaps he too was cured of misologic. Rather than giving up on philosophy he went on to make the “greatest music”. Misologic is at the center of the problem, framed by Plato’s illness and the offer to Asclepius. And perhaps conquering the greatest evil is in the end a good reason to regard this as a comedy rather than a tragedy. — Fooloso4
Socrates’ great speech in the Phaedrus —the so-called ‘palinode’—begins with the somewhat shocking claim that ‘the greatest goods’ come from madness. Understood within the dramatic frame of the dialogue, the meaning of this claim is clear enough: the previous two speeches had argued that a beloved who is being wooed ought to prefer a non-lover to a lover, on the grounds that the ‘mad’ lover has no control over himself and is incapable of acting toward what is best.
Yet such a view directly contradicts the fact that Eros—being a god—can-not be the cause of anything bad; hence, Socrates must now recant his earlier disparagement of μανία [ manía ] and instead extol the virtues of madness. The palinode would then seem to be an elaboration and defense of this revaluation of madness.
In particular, the palinode seems to suggest that, in the best of circumstances, the madness of eros not only to an intense and beneficial interpersonal relationship but also to the highest kind of philosophical cognition. The apparent conclusion here is that there is a close relationship between philosophy and madness.
But just what is the nature of this relationship? Indeed, while the praise of madness might very well make sense as part of the dialogical-dramatic movement of the Phaedrus, it becomes problematic when set against the moral psychology of such dialogues as the Republic.
After all, the latter’s strong arguments in favor of rational self-control would seem to lead to an unequivocal rejection of any sort of ‘madness’ in the soul, and would hardly countenance madness as a part of philosophy. So is Plato seriously suggesting in the Phaedrus that the philosopher is ‘mad’? And if so, in what sense?
At least two responses are possible. First, there is what we might call the ‘literalist’ reading: the notion that, yes, the philosopher is literally mad, in the sense that he lacks complete rational self-control or self-awareness, and hence there are times when losing one’s mind or reason is a good thing.
Second—and diametrically opposed to the literalist reading—there is what we might call the ‘ironic’ reading: the notion that the philosopher is not ‘mad’ or ‘un-self-controlled’ in any way, and that any apparent suggestion to the contrary is made purely for rhetorical, dialogical, or ironic reasons.
What I wish to argue here is that—as is so often the case with Plato’s dialogues—the most plausible interpretation of the Phaedrus lies somewhere in between these two extremes.
To see that this is the case, we must be clear about how Plato is defining‘ madness’ in the first place. The speeches of the Phaedrus initially present us with two distinct types of madness: a human type involving an internal state of psychic disharmony, and a divine type involving possession by a god...
— Daniel Werner: Plato on Madness and Philosophy
Yet such a view directly contradicts the fact that Eros—being a god—can-not be the cause of anything bad; hence, Socrates must now recant his earlier disparagement of μανία [ manía ] and instead extol the virtues of madness. — Daniel Werner: Plato on Madness and Philosophy
I am not sure about having original hypotheses or even if there was great future 'pay-off'. — Amity
I am not sure about having original hypotheses or even if there was great future 'pay-off'.
— Amity
Iconoclasts! The movers and the shakers, any of those, can be condemned by the current era conservatives to uphold the status quo as a matter of faith or power. — Nils Loc
Iconoclasm (from Greek: εἰκών, eikṓn, 'figure, icon' + κλάω, kláō, 'to break') is the social belief in the importance of the destruction of icons and other images or monuments, most frequently for religious or political reasons. People who engage in or support iconoclasm are called iconoclasts, a term that has come to be figuratively applied to any individual who challenges "cherished beliefs or venerated institutions on the grounds that they are erroneous or pernicious."[4] — Wiki - Iconoclasm
The statue of the slave trader Edward Colston has gone on display in Bristol, almost a year to the day since it was dragged from its plinth by Black Lives Matter protesters and thrown into Bristol harbour.
Daubed with red and blue graffiti, and damaged so it can longer stand upright, the 19th-century bronze memorial has been displayed at the M Shed museum. Visitors will see it lying supine on a wooden stand alongside placards from the protest on 7 June 2020 and a timeline of events.
David Hume at 300
Howard Darmstadter looks at the life and legacy of the incendiary tercentenarian.
In 1734, David Hume, a bookish 23-year-old Scotsman, abandoned conventional career options and went off to France to Think Things Over. Living frugally and devoting himself to study and writing, he returned after three years with a hefty manuscript under his arm. Published in three volumes in 1739 –40 as A Treatise of Human Nature, it attracted little attention. Reflecting on the event near the end of his life, Hume joked that it “fell still-born from the press.”
The Religious Skeptic
Hume had become a religious skeptic in his teens, and remained so until he died. The manuscript for the Treatise originally contained a chapter, ‘Of Miracles’, which argued that “no testimony for any kind of miracle has ever amounted to a probability, much less to a proof.” [Again, see this issue.] Hume was prevailed upon to remove the chapter from the Treatise, but he included it in the first Enquiry. Hume’s initial hesitation is understandable: as recently as 1696, a young man had been executed in Edinburgh for blasphemy. Scotland last hanged a witch when Hume was seventeen.
Hume soon rallied, going on to enjoy a long and successful career as an historian and political essayist (the accomplishments for which he was best known in his lifetime) and as an important contributor to the infant science of economics.
Hume approached his own death with a cheerful calm that bordered on disinterest. A few months before his death, he composed a brief autobiography in which he described his situation:
“In spring 1775, I was struck with a disorder in my bowels, which at first gave me no alarm, but has since, as I apprehend it, become mortal and incurable. I now reckon upon a speedy dissolution. I have suffered very little pain from my disorder; and what is more strange, have, notwithstanding the great decline of my person, never suffered a moment’s abatement of my spirits; insomuch, that were I to name a period of my life which I should most choose to pass over again, I might be tempted to point to this later period. … It is difficult to be more detached from life than I am at present.”
David Hume, My Own Life, penultimate paragraph — Howard Darmstadter
“But the life of a man is of no greater importance to the universe than that of an oyster.” — 130 David Hume Quotes
The interim decision has been taken because of the sensitivities around asking students to use a building named after the 18th century philosopher whose comments on matters of race, though not uncommon at the time, rightly cause distress today...
Some have also urged the removal of the statue of David Hume from Edinburgh’s Royal Mile. The statue was erected in 1997 and is a popular attraction (and not just among traveling philosophers). — Justin Weinberg: Should We Continue to Honor Hume
If the wench doesn't drown, she's a witch, and therefore must be burned at the stake. — Nils Loc
There is a point beyond which philosophy, if it is not to lose face, must turn into something else: performance. It has to pass a test in a foreign land, a territory that’s not its own. For the ultimate testing of our philosophy takes place not in the sphere of strictly rational procedures (writing, teaching, lecturing), but elsewhere: in the fierce confrontation with death of the animal that we are. — Costica Bradatan, NYT Opinionator: Philosophy as the Art of Dying
I'm not sure serenity, contentment or happiness is at all compatible with whatever Nietzsche was advocating with such phrases as "Will to Power" and "The Overman." — Nils Loc
It would've never occurred to me to call contemporary statue tippers iconoclasts but it fits with the original spirit of the term quite well. — Nils Loc
They [Hashtags ] can be seen as a way to help or start a revolution by increasing the number of supporters from across the world who have not been in contact with the issue.[7] It allows people to discuss and comment around one hashtag. Hashtag activism is a way to expand the usage of communication and make it democratic in a way that everyone has a way to express their opinions.[7] Especially it provides an important platform for historically disenfranchised populations, enabling them to communicate, mobilize and advocate on topics less visible in mainstream media. — Hashtag activism
If one could imagine an alternative history where Socrates gave up his work (the public practice of Elenchus) to remain alive, would he remain the so called "father of Western philosophy". It's kind of a great mythic/legendary opening to the movement of Western philosophy — Nils Loc
There is a point beyond which philosophy, if it is not to lose face, must turn into something else: performance. It has to pass a test in a foreign land, a territory that’s not its own. For the ultimate testing of our philosophy takes place not in the sphere of strictly rational procedures (writing, teaching, lecturing), but elsewhere: in the fierce confrontation with death of the animal that we are.
— Costica Bradatan, NYT Opinionator: Philosophy as the Art of Dying
Philosophy as an Art of Dying by Costica Bradatan — Nils Loc
https://thephilosophyforum.com/discussion/comment/534860'...Other people may well be unaware that all who actually engage in philosophy aright are practising nothing other than dying and being dead (64a)'
What are we to make of this startling and puzzling claim? — Fooloso4
Being aware that our natural instincts underlie any rationality or superficial semblance of civilisation.
We can't kill them off - only manage to a certain extent. — Amity
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