This is the last part of my lengthy review of Hadot's book Philosophy as a Way of Life. In the last essay of the book, Hadot makes a final summary of his main thesis: that philosophy was always to be lived!
He begins with a lengthy passage from Philo of Alexandria, who explains the many ways a lover of wisdom practices his craft. I won't copy it here, but you can find the entire passage on line at this site: https://www.earlychristianwritings.com/yonge/book28.html (scroll to the section THE FIRST FESTIVAL and begin reading from passage (44)).
The point that stands out foremost is that "during this period, philosophy was a way of life." (p. 265). We moderns are only now beginning to grasp this important concept, mainly due to the fact that the medieval Church threw philosophy into a chamber and locked her up in an academic prison! Later in the chapter, Hadot briefly explains this timeline. But during the ancient times, philosophy was viewed as a total way of being, thinking and living in the present instant, "the goal of which was to achieve a state practically inaccessible to mankind: wisdom" (p. 265). A bit further down the page, Hadot elaborates that being wise comprised of "peace of mind (ataraxia), inner freedom (autarkeia) and [possessing] a cosmic consciousness."
Indeed, there are the three parts of philosophical discourse, which are leveraged to learn and teach philosophy (physics, logic, ethics), but when it comes to embodying philosophy as a way of life, these are "no longer a theory divided into parts, but a unitary act" (p. 267). We are to embody and live logic, physics and ethics in the ever-present now. Our thoughts and speech are logical; our perspective assumes a cosmic consciousness and our actions are ethical and just. As Epictetus taught, "A builder doesn't come forward and say, 'Listen to me as I deliver a discourse about the builder's art,' but he acquires a contract to build a house, and shows through actually building it that he has mastered the art" (Discourses 3.21, v. 4 see this post).
In order to orchestrate the three parts of theory and discourse into a single, constant act of living, one must be ever-present and pay constant attention to his thoughts, and actions. "In order to realize this state of attention ... a number of exercises [are] necessary: intense meditation on fundamental dogmas, the ever-renewed awareness of the finitude of life, examination of one's conscience, and, above all, a specific attitude toward time" (p. 268).
From there, Hadot outlines how ancient Hellenistic philosophy became embedded into Christian philosophy, and was then relegated, first to monasteries and later universities, where it was enslaved into a "purely theoretical and abstract activity" (p. 270). She was finally liberated from this bondage by Descartes, Spinoza, Malebranche and Leibniz. A second wave of philosophical academics re-entrenched philosophy in the university, with the exceptions of Nietzsche and Schopenhauer. Hadot quotes Schopenhauer who wrote:
Generally speaking, university philosophy is mere fencing in front of a mirror. In the last analysis, its goal is to give students opinions which are to the liking of the minister who hands out the Chairs. . . . As a result, this state-financed philosophy makes a joke of philosophy. And yet, if there is one thing desirable in this world, it is to see a ray of light fall onto the darkness of our lives, shedding some kind of light on the mysterious enigma of our existence.
Towards the end of the essay, he gives three examples from ancient times, of people who were true philosophers, despite writing and teaching nothing! These three were Cato of Utica, the Roman statesman Rutilius Rufus and Quintus Mucius Scaevola Pontifex. All three were Stoics who exemplified and embodied the philosophy and earnestly endeavored "to live in accord with cosmic reason" (p. 272).
Finally, the last two points from this essay are important reminders, no matter which philosophy we subscribe to. Hadot observes that since there were so many philosophical schools in the ancient world, we are afforded the opportunity to see how each of their perspectives play out in the real world. And lastly, wisdom must always be viewed from a "cosmic dimension" in that we must think cosmically, act cosmically and always keep in mind that we are parts belonging to the Whole. Hadot quotes Seneca yet again, with his reminder that one must live with all his being in the world - toti se inserens mundo. And related to this cosmic perspective is the fact that we enjoy this existence with fellow cosmopolitans. Philosophy was "practiced in a group" and each and every day, today, we live and practice some form of philosophy. Virtually everything we do stems from some philosophical idea. All of these ideas eventually aimed at "having an effect on ... cities, transforming society, and serving their citizens" (p. 274).
In sum, a lived philosophy is one which equips the individual with the capacity to maintain inner peace and equanimity, while reminding him of the freedom he possesses, coupled with the responsibility and duty to his environment and fellow cosmopolitans, while always maintaining the perspective of the Cosmos.
Hadot frames the problem with a quote from Bernard Groethuysen:
The sage's consciousness of the world is something peculiar to him alone. Only the sage never ceases to have the whole constantly present to his mind. He never forgets the world, but thinks and acts with a view to the cosmos.... The sage is a part of the world; he is cosmic. He does not let himself be distracted from the world, or detached from the cosmic totality.... The figure of the sage forms, as it were, an indissoluble unity with man's representation of the world (p. 251)
Not only do we see a constant assent and acceptance of the world and cosmos as it is, but the Stoic sage would go as far as assuming a "fundamental attitude" of a "joyful 'Yes!'" And as mentioned before, Seneca endorses this viewpoint with his toti se inserens mundo, which implies not only saying 'yes' to existence, but then to throw oneself into the mix of it all. This is no half-cocked commitment, rather it admonishes total allegiance and resolve to live the best life possible for oneself.
With this frame in mind, Hadot observes that for modern man, "the quantitative universe of modern science is totally unrepresentable" and that people may not feel at home in the cosmos and even experience loneliness. How do we help people transcend this delineation and come to feel at home in the universe, as the ancients once did? The path of wisdom and philosophy suggests a few answers.
Everyday Perception
While science may cause us to feel dizzy and confused, we still have access and control over how we choose to perceive the world. Regardless how the scientist or astronomer comes into scientific contact with the world, he still can observe and contemplate a sunrise or sunset. On this point, the predecessors of the Existentialists based their thought and focus on phenomenology. Hadot nods to Husserl and Merleau-Ponty, by noting that science is simply a "secondary expression" to actually experiencing the world. Simply observing, and experiencing the world and attempting to rediscover it as it exists, is one way for modern man to begin to reclaim his home in the cosmos. Hadot aptly sums, "philosophy is nothing other than this process by means of which we try 'to relearn to see the world.'" Later, he cites Bergson and how he argues artists are exemplars in seeing the world. "When they look at a thing, they see it for itself, and no longer for them." Stated differently, phenomenology in practice is an intentional endeavor to see and describe the world as it is. In Stoic terms, this is one of the practices of the discipline of assent. When we see the world as it is, we pause our value judgements, and try to see events and things as they are.
Aesthetic Perception
Beyond everyday perception and attempting to see things as they are, we can further advance our practice by contemplating how we perceive things and then to convert our attention into full participation with Nature. Hadot cites the German-Swiss artist Paul Klee who noted the artist as having a dialogue with nature and see himself as as part of the Whole. Hadot writes, "there is the fact that we plunge our roots into the same soil, and that we share a common participation in the cosmos. This means that the artist must paint in a state in which he feels his unity with the earth and with the universe" (p. 255).
Speaking of a "gigantic Tintoretto in Venice" Cézanne described how it made him feel. He said Tintoretto's painting shows how "the earth and the sea, the terraqueous globe, are hanging above people's heads" and how "the horizon is moving off into the distance; the depth, the ocean distances, and bodies are taking flight, an immense rotundity, a mappamundi; the planet is hurled, falling and rolling in mid-ether!" Then Cézanne noted how he had the same "cosmic obsession" and how he wants to "lose [himself] in nature, to grow again with her, like her" (p. 256).
As an observation and related note to this, one modern theory of being, not dissimilar to Stoic physics and panpsychism, is that the universe in which we live is a simulation, and the player or programmer of the simulation is simply living in each of us, attempting to experience as many branches as possible. And perhaps, as part of this participation, each of us are doing what is programmed in us: to participate and create, thus closing the loop, or perhaps creating a new loop for future generations to enjoy.
New Spectator
Perceiving the world with fresh eyes is to see the world philosophically. Hadot rightly notes how Seneca seemingly strips a veil from his eyes and glances on the world anew and in that process experiences "stupefaction" as if "seeing [this world] for the first time" (Letter 64). Hadot also notes a similar sentiment from an Epicurean philosopher. These evidences point to how the ancients similarly saw the same "paradox and scandal" we see today: "man lives in the world without perceiving the world" (p. 258). In other words, we proverbially shut our eyes to the phenomena of existence! We mindlessly go about turning our perception of the world into standard operating procedures, through "worry, quarrels, social rituals, and conventional values" (p. 258). Sadly, we hardly take time to pause, reflect, step back and look up, around, beneath us and wonder.
Thankfully, we have a solution to this problem. We are both the perpetrators of not perceiving, as well as the remediators of seeing the world with a fresh perspective. Hadot argues "we must separate ourselves from the 'everyday' world in order to rediscover the world qua world" (p. 258). In brief, this spiritual exercise consists of stopping to smell the roses! Instead of rushing off to your next meeting, meander a bit, pause, look up, around and on the ground and simply observe. Contemplate the nature of existence; be in touch with the world around you; appreciate the moment.
As I write this passage, it is February 6, 2026 and the sunshine is pouring down on the earth and it feels like a fresh spring day with the air temperature at 75 degrees - perfectly comfortable. On days like these, I am transported back to my 5 year-old self when it was just me and my mom at home. Often, I would go outside to play. Even then, as a young child, the freshness of the world made such a strong impression on me. I can recall the buzzing of bees around the honey boards my dad hung on the side of the garage. I can see a bee land on one of those holes and poke its tiny body in the board. I can feel the fresh, cool grass and the lumps in our lawn from all the apricot pits from the trees in our yard. I can smell the fresh dirt and spot a pea pod in the garden. I can taste the sweet peas after cracking open the pod and spilling the little green balls into the palm of my hand. The fresh, plump, deep-red raspberries hang on prickly stems, then I pick them off one by one, and taste the earthy scent and feel seeds stuck between my teeth. I can still hear the grind of the seed mill 4 blocks from our home and I can see a white line drifting across the sky, as a jet makes its way to some unknown destination. When I stop and purposefully observe and slow down, I think this is what Hadot and others meant by becoming a new spectator of the world.
This Moment is Eternity
Looking on the world and cosmos as a new spectator, in a sense, freezes time. This very instant and moment helps us to dive entirely into the cosmos and experience the entirety of Nature. The more time we spend looking at the world anew, in our present moment, the more we begin to see Nature as it is. We separate ourselves from the future and the past, and we only see an ever-present Now. Doing so helps us to seize the day and live each moment and each day to its fullest. As Hadot notes, "concentration on the present instant implies the suspension of our projects for the future. In other words, it implies that we must think of the present moment as the last moment, and that we live each day and each hour as if it were our last" (p. 259).
By coming into contact, intensely, with the present moment, we focus our perception on this current link in a long line of links which span time immeasurable from past to future. When we see the world now, and contemplate the present instant, we begin to appreciate the entirety of the cosmic project. And to be sure, whether tomorrow, or next week or next decade, we can return to this present moment in an "ever-renewed effort" (p. 261) to practice living and being present in the eternal Now. And by perceiving the world, we simultaneously "perceive our unity with the world."
While working on the podcast episodes of my book review of Pierre Hadot's Philosophy as a Way of Life, I discovered there were a few essays I did not review back in 2019. So, I've re-read them and now am posting some thoughts and commentary on them.
"The Figure of Socrates" is Hadot's reflections on how we can put in practice the exercise of contemplating the sage. He asserts that Socrates can be studied and contemplated in three ways. First as a Silenus and as a mediator between the divine and the human condition, second as Eros and the different ways Socrates seduced, loved and was beloved, and thirdly, as Dionysos ("god of death and of life" p. 169) in which we learn how the sage loves life so much (i.e. has thought so deeply on it), he is willing to die to show it!
Silenus
Socrates was physically ugly, thus superficially, he was compared to a Silenus. These were "purely natural beings. They stood for the negation of culture and civilization, for grotesque buffoonery and for the license of the instincts" (Hadot, 149). But upon further reflection, we learn there is something far more important hidden beneath the lurid facade. Alcibiades compares Socrates to statues of Sileni which were not only ugly on the outside, but within were hidden mini figures of gods. Indeed, the symbolism is rich when thinking of the many times Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus and Seneca reference the divinity within ourselves!
Therefore, as we learn of the distasteful appearance of Socrates, we can contemplate how it is simply a mask he wears. If we can look past his outward appearance and even his method, we find we have much to learn. In brief, both his superficial appearance and his method act as masks which cover the deeper lessons he taught. This concept is known as Socratic irony. In other words, he may claim he knows nothing, but in so claiming and appearing ignorant, the line of questioning reveals he knows more than he lets on. Practically speaking, this attitude of playing the fool is often used to great effect in school and work. By assuming the role of 'the ignorant' one opens himself to being willing to learn and take a fresh perspective on things and processes.
We still benefit from Socrates' mask, as we read Plato and others who themselves don the Socratic mask. As we step into their words, our consciousness is sharpened as we near philosophical conversion. Others, through the age, have also donned the masks of others, in an attempt to teach their readers. Kierkegaard used pseudonyms and Nietzsche used the masks of Schopenhauer and Wagner (Hadot, 150-151). In fact, Nietzsche wrote, "An educator never says what he himself thinks, but always only what he thinks of a thing in relation to the requirements of those he educates" (151). Indeed, Socrates used self-deprecation and superficiality, and often pretended to concede others were correct, all in an effort to help the birth the idea simmering in the students' minds. As Nietzsche said, "Mediocrity is the most appropriate mask the superior spirit can wear" (152). On this quote, I'm reminded of Bill's point about Superman (from the film Kill Bill: Volume 2).
Through question and answer, Socrates became the midwife of knowledge. By birthing these ideas and concepts, and getting them out in the open, we free the purely conceptual idea from a prison of thought, and release it into the open to be lived and examined. "What he wanted to show us is that we can never understand justice if we do not live it. Justice, like every authentic reality, is indefinable, and this is what Socrates sought to make his interlocutor understand, in order to urge him to 'live' justice" (Hadot, 155). Socrates explicitly noted his aim: "trying to persuade each of you to concern himself less about what he has [than] about what he is, so that he may make himself as good and as reasonable as possible" (155).
Another point related to this and the masks Socrates bore, is that in a sense, he descended to where man exists and thinks, and by assuming an ironic and mediocre stance, he was able to connect with those who listened and talked with him, to bring them to a higher state. Nietzsche wrote, "I believe I sense that Socrates was profound; his irony was above all the necessity to pass himself off as superficial, in order to be able to associate with people at all." Hadot continues, "for the existential thinker, banality and superficiality are a vital necessity. The existentialist must remain in contact with mankind, even if the latter is at a level of less-than-adequate consciousness" (156).
Eros
Socrates as Eros is similar to the Silenus, in that the 'the mask' Socrates dons is that of a lover. This love is an educative love, where he pretends to be in love with one of his listeners but in fact the roles become eventually are reversed. Hadot provides the example of Alcibiades, who believed the love declarations from Socrates, but in fact, they were mere declarative seductions. Upon realizing this, Alcibiades finds himself deeply in love with Socrates. Later on, Hadot notes that Socrates' interlocuters actually fell in love with love itself - "to be in love with Socrates, then, was to be in love with love (160).
The entirety of the Symposium is dedicated to the discussion and praise of love. If we observe the description of love from Socrates' perspective (via Diotima), we learn Eros was the child of Penia ("poverty" or "privation") and Poros ("means" or "expedient" or "wealth"). Penia, seeing that she lacked so much, decided to lay with Poros as a way to escape her indigence. Eros, therefore, acquires features from both parents. While Eros may be "clever" and "inventive" he nonetheless remains impoverished and will always want and desire. And on this point, Hadot observes how "Eros is essentially desire, and the only thing that can be desired is that which one does not have" (161). Later we read other traits of Eros: he is a beggar, soldier, inventor, sorcerer, magician, and a clever talker - ever in pursuit of what he desires. In sum, Eros represents "merely a call and a possibility" and like the Silenus statue, which contains a figurine of a god within, "they only open up so that one can get at them. The etymological meaning of Poros, Eros' father, is 'means of access' or 'way out.' Socrates is only a Silenius, opening up onto something beyond himself" (162) and we, along with his listeners, become conscious of something we lack: wisdom.
Hadot later summarizes this aspect of the spiritual exercise of the contemplation of the sage, in the form of Eros. He does so via Nietzsche, Goethe and Holderlin.
Nietzsche: "The deepest insights spring from love alone."
Goethe: "We learn only from those we love."
Holderlin: "Mortal man gives his best when he loves."
Dionysos
We also see the sage Socrates in Dionysos, who was the god of tragedy and comedy, as well as the god of life and death (169). Hadot channels Nietzche in asking how Socrates, who seemed to love life so much, could be so willing to submit to death and even possibly hating existence? (167). We begin the detective work by simply observing how the sage loves life, as Nietzsche wrote, "they have thought most deeply, must love what is most living and, as sages, incline in the end to the beautiful." Even more guffawing to Nietzsche is the observation of Socrates suggesting a debt be paid to Asclepius, who has found the antidote to the disease of life: death! But alas, perhaps he misunderstood. Socrates did not think life was a disease, but rather he may felt that a certain way of life was: the life left unexamined.
An examined life - one that is contemplated and tested most deeply - becomes a life worth living and one that is rich, flowing and sustaining. Hadot recalls an "old medieval encomium of the Holy Ghost" that aptly describes the benefits of an examined life: flecte quod est rigidum, fove quod est frigidum, rege quod est devium" which is translated as 'bend what is rigid, warm what is cold, guide what has gone astray.' And what an apt description of the aim of making life livable!
Hadot concludes the essay with "Nietzsche's encomium"
The genius of the heart, as that great concealed one possesses it, the tempter god and born pied piper of consciences, whose voice knows how to descend into the netherworld of every soul; who does not say a word or cast a glance in which there lies no secret goal of seduction ... the genius of the heart who silences all that is loud and self-satisfied, teaching it to listen; who smooths rough souls and lets them taste a new desire - to lie still as a mirror, that the deep sky may mirror itself in them ... the genius of the heart from whose touch everyone walks away richer, not having received grace and surprised, not as blessed and oppressed by alien goods, but richer in himself, newer to himself than before, broken open and sounded by a thawing wind; more uncertain, perhaps; tenderer, more fragile, more broken, but full of hopes that as yet have no name.
Ways to Practice
That concludes my review of Hadot's essay on "The Figure of Socrates." After reading the essay and writing this commentary, I thought of a few ways for how you and I can be more thoughtful in how to implement some exercises as we contemplate the Socratic sage.
Perhaps the most obvious way is to assume the Socratic mask, by practicing humility and irony. For example, we could regularly approach conversations and learning opportunities by “playing the fool." In this humble attitude, we position ourselves to ask questions, and be willing to admit ignorance. This opens us to genuine learning and helps others feel comfortable in sharing their perspectives. Sometimes a bit of self-deprecation can reduce friction and help open dialogue and learning.
Another way to put these ideas into practice is to embody our values. We should try to focus less on what we possess and more on who we are. We should make a daily practice of reflecting on our actions and choices, asking ourselves if they align with our values and ideals.
We can also learn through friendships and relationships and with those we work. Often others exhibit behaviors and possess knowledge of what we lack. This desire and love to learn mindset could be exhibited in relationships with mentors, friends, and colleagues - virtually anyone who inspires us to grow. Recognize that deep learning often springs from affection and admiration. In these interactions and conversations we can allow ourselves to be changed by them. We should be open to falling “in love with love”—that is, with the process of learning and growing through connection.
Additionally we can embrace the examined life through reflection, question and transformation. This is not simple daily reflection, but rather a deeper exercise in taking a step back and looking more cosmically. We could question our beliefs, test our assumptions, and strive to “bend what is rigid, warm what is cold, guide what has gone astray.” Practically speaking, after a particularly challenging time in life, we could could ask ourselves: What did I learn? Where did I change? What remains unexamined? Then, we can use these reflections to guide our future actions and decisions.
We also can practice greater and deeper acceptance of life’s paradoxes, by balancing joy and acceptance of our mortality. We can think about what brings joy in our life and contrast that with the limits of existence. Recognize that loving life deeply also means accepting its end, and that a life left unexamined is the true “disease.” Practically speaking, gratitude and acceptance of and meditation on the beauty of life and the inevitability of death, helps us to live more fully and authentically.
Lastly, we can be a midwife of ideas both for ourselves and others. In our own teaching, mentoring, or leadership, we can focus on helping others “birth” their own ideas. We can use questions and dialogue to guide rather than dictate. For example, when someone seeks advice, resist the urge to give direct answers. Instead, ask probing questions that help them clarify their own thinking and arrive at insights themselves.
Reference
Hadot, P. (2017). Philosophy as a Way of Life : Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault (M. Chase, Trans.). Blackwell Publishing.
