Let me briefly recall the course of my literary or scientific activity for thosea here tonight who are not familiar with my work.
To begin with, I have produced many editions and translations of ancient texts: in 1960, the theological works of a Latin Christian Neoplatonist, Marius Victorinus; in 1977, Ambrose’s Apology of David; in 1988 and 1990, two treatises by Plotinus. Furthermore, I have written a number of books: first, in 1963, a short book, Plotin: ou la simplicité du regard; then, in 1968, a doctoral thesis devoted to an aspect of Neoplatonism: namely, the relations between Victorinus, this Christian theologian of the fourth century CE, and a pagan philosopher of the same period, Porphyry, Plotinus’ disciple.b In 1981, I published a work, Exercices spirituels et philosophie antique; and, last year [1992], a book with the title La citadelle intérieure, devoted to the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. If the Collège philosophique has invited me tonight, it is certainly because of these last two works. In these books, one finds the expression of a particular conception of ancient philosophy, as well as an outline of a conception of philosophy in general.
In a word, in these texts one finds the idea that philosophy should be defined as a ‘spiritual exercise’. How did I come to assign such importance to this notion? I think that this dates back to 1959–60, and to my encounter with the work of Ludwig Wittgenstein. I developed a series of reflections inspired by this encounter in an article in the Revue de métaphysique et de morale, entitled ‘Jeux de langage et philosophie’, which appeared in 1960. In this article, I wrote: ‘We philosophize within a language game, that is to say, to quote Wittgenstein’s expression, from within an attitude and a form of life which gives its sense to our speech.’ I took up Wittgenstein’s idea, according to which it was necessary to break with the idea that language always only functions in a single way and always with the same goal: to translate thoughts. On this basis, I claimed that it was also necessary to radically break with the idea that philosophical language always functions in a uniform manner. The philosopher is always, indeed, within a certain language game: that is to say, situated in [the framework of] a form of life, or a certain attitude. It is then impossible to understand the sense of philosophers’ theses without situating them within their language game. Moreover, the main role of philosophical language was that of placing the auditors of this discourse within a certain form of life, [or] a particular style of life. This is the origin of the notion of the spiritual exercise as an effort to modify and transform the self.c If I have been attentive to this aspect of language, and if I came to conceive of this notion of spiritual exercises, it was because, like many of my predecessors and contemporaries, I was struck by a well-known phenomenon: that of the inconsistencies, even the contradictions that one encounters in the works of the philosophical authors of antiquity. We know that it is often extremely difficult to follow the thread of ideas in ancient philosophical writings. Whether it is a matter of Augustine, Plotinus, Aristotle or Plato, modern historians never cease to deplore the blunders in philosophical exposition, and the compositional defects which are found in their works.d In order to explain this phenomenon, I gradually came to observe that it was always necessary to explain the text in light of the living context in which it was born: that is to say, the concrete conditions of life of the philosophical school, in the institutional sense of the word. In antiquity, the priority of the school was never to disseminate a theoretical, abstract knowledge, as we do in our modern universities. Above all else, it aimed to form the [disciples’] mindse in a method and a knowledge of how to speak and how to debate.f In one way or another, philosophical writings were always echoes of an oral teaching. Moreover, for the ancient philosophers, a word, phrase or argument was not primarily intended to inform the reader or listener, but rather to produce a certain psychical effect on them, always pedagogically considering their capacities.g In this discourse, the propositional element was not the most important one. According to Victor Goldschmidt’s excellent formula regarding the Platonic dialogues, one could say that ancient philosophical discourse aimed at forming rather than informing students.
In a word, one could summarise what I have just put forward by saying that ancient philosophy was more a pedagogical and intellectual exercise than a systematic construction. Furthermore, I later situated this observation in relation to the fact that, at least since Socrates and Plato, philosophy also presented itself as a therapeutics.h All the ancient philosophical schools, each in its own way, offer a critique of the habitual condition of human beings, a state of suffering, disorder and unawareness,i and a method to cure them from this state. ‘The philosophical school is a medical clinic,’ as Epictetus said. This therapy is situated, above all, in the discourse of the master which has the effect of an incantation, a sting, a violent shock which upsets the interlocutor, as is said of Socrates’ discourse in Plato’s Symposium. Nevertheless, to be cured, it is not sufficient to be moved. One must really will to transform one’s life. In all philosophical schools, the teacher is thus a director of conscience. On this subject, I should acknowledge all that I owe to the work of my wife, Ilsetraut Hadot, notably her book on spiritual direction in Seneca,j as well as her more general work on the figure of the ‘spiritual guide’ in the ancient world.k
The philosophical school imposed a way of life on its members, a way of life which engaged the whole of one’s existence. This mode of life consisted of certain procedures or endeavours which we can more precisely call spiritual exercises: that is, practices that aimed at a modification, an improvement and a transformation of the self. At the origin of these exercises, there is an act of choice, a fundamental option for a certain way of life. One then actualizes this option in the order of inner discourse and spiritual activity: that is, in meditation, dialogue with oneself, examination of conscience or exercises of imagination such as the view from above on the cosmos or the earth. One also embodies this option at the level of action and everyday conduct:l in self-mastery, indifference to indifferent things, the fulfilment of one’s social duties in Stoicism, as well as the discipline of desire in Epicureanism. All these spiritual exercises should be carried out according to the traditional method of each school. From this perspective, philosophical discourse is only one element of philosophical activity, one which is intended to justify or ground an existential attitude which corresponds to the fundamental existential option of the school. The Stoics, moreover, clearly distinguished philosophical discourse from philosophy itself.m Philosophy was for them a unique act, a constant everyday attitude. Rather than perfect wisdom, for them philosophy was an exercise aiming at this wisdom, an exercise in which one concretely practiced logic, in thinking reality as it is; ethics,n in acting in the service of others; and physics, in living in the awareness of one’s place in the cosmos. Philosophical discourse, by contrast, corresponded only to the necessities of teaching: that is to say, to the discursive, theoretical and pedagogical exposition of the reasons one has for living in this particular way. In the other schools, and notably those of Plato and Aristotle – which cannot be examined in detail here – one finds an implicit distinction of this kind, simply because, generally, in the ancient world, the philosopher is considered a philosopher not because he develops a philosophical discourse, but because he lives philosophically. Philosophy is, above all, a mode of life, which includes a certain mode of discourse as one of its integral parts, without being reduced to it.
From this point of view, I think it is important to point out that we can distinguish, in Greek, two meanings of the phrase philosophical ‘discourse’ (logos). On the one hand, it designates discourse, insofar as it is addressed to a disciple or to oneself: that is to say, discourse that is bound to an existential context, to a concrete praxis; effectively, this form of discourse is already a spiritual exercise. On the other hand, it refers to discourse considered abstractly, in its formal structure and in its intelligible content. It is this second kind of logos which the Stoics considered to be distinct from philosophy, but which generally forms the object of many modern studies in the history of philosophy. However, in the eyes of the ancient philosophers, if one considers this discourse sufficient, one does not philosophize. From the beginning to the end of the history of ancient philosophy, one finds the same critique and the same struggle against those who considered themselves philosophers because they have developed, above all, a dialectical and logical, technical and brilliant philosophical discourse, instead of transforming their kind of life.o One could even say that this is where the perpetual danger for the philosopher lies: that is, to confine oneself to the reassuring universe of concepts and discourse, instead of going beyond discourse, engaging in the risk of radical self-transformation.
I should add to this that philosophical discourse is not exceededp solely by the decision to change one’s life, but also in certain entirely non-discursive philosophical experiences, whether of an amorous kind, as in Plato, contemplative, as in Aristotle, or unitive, as in Plotinus. Plotinus, in particular, explicitly opposed the theological discourse which speaks of, but does not lead to the Good, to spiritual exercises of purification and unification which lead to an experience of its presence.
In my book, La citadelle intérieure, I attempted to apply this conception of philosophy to the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. Indeed, one should understand this text as comprising spiritual exercises, meditations, examinations of conscience, and exercises of imagination. Following the advice of his master Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius strives to assimilate through writing the Stoic dogmas and rules of life.q In reading the Meditations, we witness a ceaseless effort to formulate the same dogmas and rules of life,r always anew and in a striking manner, according to a carefully crafted literary practice. For Marcus Aurelius, it is not a matter of expounding a system, nor even of making notes to remember. His aim is rather to modify, when he feels the need, his inner discourse in order to reactivate a certain disposition within himself, so that he can practice the three fundamental rules of Stoicism as formulated by Epictetus: to dare to see reality as it is, to act in the service of others, and to remain aware of oneself as a part of the cosmos, accepting one’s destiny with serenity. To put it differently, Marcus wishes to ground himself in truth, justice and serenity. To achieve this, even to reread what has been written will not suffice, since it may not correspond to the needs of the moment. Sometimes, it will perhaps be enough to rewrite what has already been written. For this reason, repetitions are frequent in the Meditations. Nevertheless, it is still necessary to write, and to rewrite. For what counts is the very exercise of writing, at any given moment. In this respect, Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations is perhaps a unique book in the history of literature.
However, Marcus Aurelius is not content to simply formulate the Stoic dogmas and rules of life. He often resorts to imaginative exercises that reinforce the persuasive power of the dogmas. He does not stop, for instance, with saying that all things undergo continual metamorphosis. He places before his eyes all the court of Augustus, engulfed by time, or an entire generation, like that of Vespasian. Thus, shocking images and brutal descriptions of naked reality abound in the Meditations. They have struck historians, who please themselves in denouncing the pessimism, resignation, even sadness of the philosopher-emperor.s Their error, precisely, has been to not situate these formulae in the context of the spiritual exercises and the true Stoic doctrine. These supposedly pessimistic statements do not express Marcus Aurelius’ experiences or impressions but should rather be situated within the fundamental perspective of Stoicism, according to which the only true good is moral good, and the only true evil is vice. There is only one true Value, the purity of the moral intention, which is indissolubly a requirement for truth, the love of human beings and consent to Fate.t
The ancient representation of philosophy seems to us very distant from our contemporary understandings of philosophy. How has such an evolution unfolded? What is at stake here is a complex phenomenon, which comprises two main aspects. I have already evoked the first aspect, which is in some way connatural to philosophy: the constant tendency of the philosopher, even in antiquity, to be satisfied with discourse, with the conceptual architecture that he has constructed, without putting his own life into question. The second aspect is contingent and historical: namely, the separation between philosophical discourse and the spiritual practice effected by Christianity.
It is, indeed, with the appearance of Christianity that one begins to put the ancient concept of philosophia into question. Towards the end of Antiquity, Christianity presented itself as a philosophia, as a way of life which, nevertheless, conserved numerous spiritual exercises from ancient philosophy, particularly in monastic life.u With the Middle Ages, we witness a total separation of the spiritual exercises (which are, henceforth, a part of Christian spirituality) and philosophy, which becomes a mere theoretical tool in the service of theology (ancilla theologiae). From ancient philosophy, only the pedagogic techniquesv and the teaching procedures remain. In antiquity, philosophy encompasses theology and does not hesitate to formulate counsels on religious practice. Yet, during all the Middle Ages and into modernity, through prudence in view of the Inquisition, we will rigorously separate philosophical speculation on the one hand, and theological thought and religious practice, on the other. Philosophical speculation, in its turn, becomes an abstract construction. It is only with Suarez that the idea of systematic philosophy appears for the first time. To this one must add the functioning of the universities. [In the context of the universities,] the task is no longer that of forming human beings, as [it was] in Antiquity, but rather of forming professors who, in their turn, will form other professors. Such a situation can only favour the tendency, already denounced by the Ancients, to take refuge in the comfortable universe of concepts and discourse, as well as in technical expertise, which is a natural inclination of the philosophical spirit.
However, thanks to the work of my friend, the Polish philosopher Juliusz Domański on the Middle Ages and humanism, I have come to nuance this historical picturew First, we can see in the twelfth century, in Abelard, for example, a certain return of the ancient representation of the philosopher. And, above all during the Renaissance, the humanists began to distance themselves from the Scholastics and, to a certain degree, from official Christianity; we witness then a return to the ancient conception of philosophy in Petrarch, Erasmus and others. In this perspective, I believe it is possible to detect, alongside the theoretical and abstract current, the permanence of what we might call the ‘pragmatist’ conception of ancient philosophy:x in the sixteenth century, in Montaigne, whose Essays are nothing other than spiritual exercises; in the seventeenth century, in Descartes’ Meditations; in the eighteenth century, in the French ‘philosophes’ and, in England, in a figure like Shaftesbury (amongst others), whose extraordinary Exercises Laurent Jaffro has published with Aubier.2 These are again precisely spiritual exercises inspired by Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, and totally non-Christian. We can also find this conception of philosophy in Germany with the movement of ‘popular’ philosophy. It is within this perspective that we need to situate what Kant calls ‘cosmic’ philosophy, which he ultimately considers as the true philosophy. On this subject, my colleague and friend, the sadly missed André Voelke, professor at the University of Lausanne, has developed a remarkable reflection, completely independent of my own, on Philosophy as Therapeuticsy in the Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics. Like I had done, Voelke also starts with Wittgenstein. However, he rightly stressed the Kantian notion of an ‘interest of reason’ in order to define what he called the force of a philosophical discourse, according to its power to act; which is to say, its power to interest reason.z According to Kant, reason is, above all, interested in the highest ends, which are those of morality,aa as Eric Weil has correctly shown.bb This is tantamount to recognizing the primacy of practical reason in the search for wisdom. We find here again, in the paradox of an ‘interested’ reason, the ancient definition of philosophy as the love of wisdom: a ceaselessly renewed effort to achieve a certain state, a way of life which would be that of wisdom. In a text where, in a sliding of language, Kant passes constantly from the figure of the sage to the ideal model of the philosopher – that is to say, as he puts it, to the true idea of the philosopher – he finally emphasises, in the spirit of Platonism and Stoicism, the completely inaccessible character of this ideal model:
A philosopher corresponding to this model does not exist, no more than a true Christian does. Both [of these] are models. The model should serve as the norm. The ‘philosopher’ is only an idea. Perhaps we can cast a gaze towards this idea, imitate it in some points, but we will never fully achieve it.
And a little further on:
The idea of wisdom should be at the basis of philosophy as the idea of Sanctity is at the basis of Christianity … Certain ancients approached the ideal of the true philosopher … but even they never accomplished it … If we consider the ancient philosophers Epicurus, Zeno, Socrates, etc., we realize that it is the destination of man and the means to arrive at it that were the objects of their knowledge [savoir]. They thus remained more faithful to the true idea of philosophy than thinkers in modern times, when one conceives the philosopher as an artist of reason [that is to say, for Kant, as someone who only has theoretical and speculative discourse in view, PH].3
A movement of return to the ancient conception has thus begun by the end of the Middle Ages. But the scholastic model, the constraints and habits of university life, above all this self-satisfaction of theoretical discourse of which I have spoken, have powerfully obstructed this renaissance.
Finally, it follows from what I have just said that the model of ancient philosophy still remains alive.cc This means that a quest for wisdom is always still contemporary and possible.dd I ask you not to expect me to develop this difficult and complex theme here tonight. Let me only say that it seems to me that there are universal and fundamental attitudes of the human being, when he searches for wisdom. From this point of view, there is a universal Stoicism, Epicureanism, Socratism, Pyrrhonism and Platonism, which are independent of the philosophical or mythical discourses that have claimed to definitively justify them.
And for the final word, I will borrow once more from Kant:
To an old man, who told him that he attended lessons on virtue, Plato responded: ‘and when will you begin to live virtuously?’ One cannot always theorise. One must finally aim at passing from thought to exercise. But today we take someone who lives what he teaches to be a dreamer.4
1This chapter was originally a talk delivered to the Collège philosophique in 1993.
2Anthony Ashley Cooper, third Earl of Shaftesbury, Exercices, ed. by Laurent Jaffro (Paris: Aubier, 1993).
3Immanuel Kant, Vorlesungen über die philosophische Encyclopädie, in Kant’s gesammelter Schriften, XXIV (Berlin: Akademie, 1980), 8–9.
4Kant, Vorlesungen über die philosophische Encyclopädie, 12.
a [Translator’s note] As per endnote 1 below, this chapter was originally a talk delivered in 1993. The French thus addresses auditeurs. On the importance of the spoken or oral dimension of ancient philosophy for Hadot, see Chapters 3–4 below.
b [Translator’s note] Pierre Hadot, Marius Victorinus, Traités théologiques sur la trinité, text established by P. Henry, introduction, translation and notes by P. Hadot, 2 vols (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1960).
c [Translator’s note] Hadot also emphasizes the importance of Wittgenstein for his conception of philosophy in The Present Alone is our Happiness: Conversations with Jeannie Carlier and Arnold I. Davidson, trans. by Marc Djebillah and Michael Chase, 2nd edn, (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2011), 32–3, 58–60, 80–1.
d [Translator’s note] The phrase Hadot uses, which we have translated as ‘the blunders in philosophical exposition’, is maladresses d’exposé. On the place of interpretive errors in the history of philosophy, compare Pierre Hadot, ‘Forms of Life and Forms of Discourse in Ancient Philosophy’, in Philosophy as a Way of Life, trans. M. Chase (London: Wiley-Blackwell, 1995), 49–70.
e [Translator’s note] Translating from the French esprits here.
f [Translator’s note] The knowledge at stake here is closer to the English ‘know-how’: a practical knowledge about how to speak and discuss in particular contexts.
g [Translator’s note] See especially Chapters 3 and 5 below.
h [Translator’s note] Original: une thérapeutique. ‘Therapy’ might be used, but since all ancient philosophy is being described, this more general term has been chosen.
i [Translator’s note] French: unconscience.
j [Translator’s note] See Ilsetraut Hadot, Seneca und die Griechisch-Römische Tradition der Seelenleitung (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1969); [expanded] French translation, Sénèque. Direction spirituelle et pratique de la philosophie (Paris: Vrin, 2014).
k [Translator’s note] See Ilsetraut Hadot, ‘The Spiritual Guide’, in Classical Mediterranean Spirituality, ed. by Arthur H. Armstrong (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986), 436–59.
l [Translator’s note] The French here reads: comportment quotidien. Although the word ‘conduct’ in English is comparatively unusual, it preserves the sense of the French, suggesting an ordering or orientation of conduct, as well as that conduct itself.
m [Translator’s note] See Chapter 3 below.
n [Translator’s note] Hadot uses the term la morale, but we follow here the standard English translation of the Stoics’ division of philosophy into ethics [êthikê], logic and physics.
o [Translator’s note] The French phrase here is: genre de vie.
p [Translator’s note] The verb here is dépasser. On this important term in Hadot, see notes on Chapters 10 and 12.
q [Translator’s note] See Chapter 11 below on Marcus Aurelius.
r [Translator’s note] Hadot uses the French dogmas here, which might be translated as ‘teachings’. But sometimes he will use enseignements, so we follow his word use. Dogmata is the nominative plural of the Greek dogma, which does not have the pejorative sense the term has in modern English, a sense which Hadot does not intend here.
s [Translator’s note] Again, see Chapter 11 below.
t [Translator’s note] Valeur and Destin are capitalized in the original.
u [Translator’s note] See Hadot, ‘Ancient Spiritual Exercises and “Christian philosophy”’, in Philosophy as a Way of Life, 126–44.
v [Translator’s note] Hadot uses scolaires as his adjective here. In the medieval context, the English word ‘scholastic’ would describe the teaching techniques of the scholastic dialecticians and theologians, but the French may be less specific, describing any ‘school’ exercises. Hadot, for instance, uses the term to describe philosophical pedagogy in Chapter 6 of this volume.
w [Translator’s note] See Juliusz Domański, La philosophie, théorie ou manière de vivre? Les controverses de l’Antiquité à la Renaissance, avec une préface de Pierre Hadot (Paris, Fribourg (Suisse): Editions Universitaires, 1996), and Hadot’s own ‘Preface’ to the text.
x [Translator’s note] In English, ‘pragmatism’ denotes a philosophical tendency that emerged in the later nineteenth century, associated with figures like Charles Sanders Pierce. Evidently, Hadot is thinking not with this modern sense, but with the Greek sense of pragma in mind, which has a much broader sense: things in general can be described as ta pragmata, and the word is derived from the same stem as praxis, usually translated as ‘action’.
y [Translator’s note] André-Jean Voelke, La philosophie comme thérapeutique de l’âme: Études de philosophie Hellénistique, Preface by Pierre Hadot (Paris: Vestigia, 1994), in the original.
z [Translator’s note] Original: intéresser la raison.
aa [Translator’s note] Original: moralité.
bb [Translator’s note] Hadot seems clearly here to be evoking Éric Weil, Logique de la philosophie (Paris: Vrin, 1985).
cc [Translator’s note] Hadot here uses actuel.
dd [Translator’s note] We have rendered actuelle here as ‘contemporary’, to avoid repeating the immediately preceding use of ‘alive’, and since the French word carries this sense: current affairs or commentaries on the same can thus be called actuelles.