The Therapeutic Model of Philosophy: Philosophy as Applied Philosophy

I’ve always been fond of the model of “applied philosophy” Martha Nussbaum so ably examined in what remains for me her best book, The Therapy of Desire: Theory and Practice in Hellenistic Ethics (1994). She quotes the following from Epicurus: “Empty is that philosopher’s argument by which no human suffering is therapeutically treated. For just as there is no use in a medical art that does not cast out the sickness of bodies, so too there is no use in philosophy, unless it casts out the suffering of the soul.” The elimination of human suffering on the one hand, and the achievement of human flourishing (eudaimonia) on the other, are in effect two sides of the same coin. For the Epicureans, Skeptics, and Stoics, notes Nussbaum, “philosophy is above all the art of human life.” The medical analogy central to this conception of philosophy plays an intriguingly similar role to the very same analogy used in Buddhism (and the approach to ‘the emotions,’ what for the Buddhist falls under the larger rubric of ‘mental afflictions,’ is in many respects the same as well). “Empty and vain” is any philosophy, on this account, not conceived along the lines of an “art of human living.” Philosophy understood as centrally concerned with ethically normative “ways of living” is of course likewise found in classical Chinese worldviews (Daoist, Confucian…) and Indic philosophical schools that grew up within religious traditions (Nyāya, Vaiśesika, Sāmkhya, Yoga, Mīmāmsā, Vedānta, Jaina, Buddhist, and Cārvāka).

John M. Cooper (and after Pierre Hadot) has recently characterized all of classical Greek philosophy in much the same manner: “In antiquity, beginning with Socrates…philosophy was widely pursued as not just the best guide to life but as both the intellectual basis and the motivating force for the best human life….” For the details, see his Pursuits of Wisdom: Six Ways of Life in Ancient Philosophy from Socrates to Plotinus (2012).

I complete the picture with Nussbaum’s introduction to the Roman Stoic, Seneca: “According to this account, philosophy is still a compassionate doctor, administering to urgent human needs. ‘There is no time for playing around,’ says Seneca, attacking philosophers who devote their careers to logical puzzles. ‘…You have promised to bring help to the shipwrecked, the imprisoned, the sick, the needy, to those whose heads are under the poised axe. Where are you deflecting your attention? What are you doing?’ And yet, this compassion is combined with a fundamental respect for the integrity of the reasoning powers of each person. The patient must not simply remain a patient, dependent and receptive, she must become her own doctor.”

Perhaps needless to say, most contemporary professional philosophers do not imagine this to be the kind of philosophy they practice. Indeed, I suspect a very, very small number (if any) of contemporary philosophers, especially the academic sort, come close to exemplifying, or even aspiring to the therapeutic model. The asymmetric role between the philosopher and pupil or physician and patient, is sometimes thought to necessarily involve some sort of immodesty or lack of humility. But there’s nothing intrinsic to the therapeutic model, any more than a physician well-versed in the arts of healing, that entails or implies immodesty of any kind: epistemic or otherwise. As the therapeutic model involves something on the order of “the proof of the pudding is in the eating,” the philosopher’s life is one of ongoing lessons in humility, like the ideal doctor, the philosopher never fails to learn from his patients, nor does she forget to practice daily self-examination (a more humbling exercise is hard to imagine). And let’s not forget that Socratic humility, such as it is, was hardly perceived as such by those of his time, hence the Apology, the false accusations, Aristophanes’ portrait of Socrates, and so forth. Modesty on Socrates’ part did not preclude his commitment to living according to philosophical standards of courage, justice, piety, and temperance, did not prevent the deference to his daimon….

The therapeutic model is exercised in the first instance on an individual basis, not at the collective level, as Nussbaum says, therapeutic arguments, like medical treatments, are directed at the health of the individual. Consider too, and by way of analogical example, Grant R. Gillet’s remarks, speaking both as a neurosurgeon and professor of biomedical ethics in his invaluable book, Bioethics in the Clinic: Hippocratic Reflections (2004): “Hippocratic practitioners clearly need to cultivate certain virtues. They need to be trustworthy and committed to discovering and respecting the patient’s real interests. They must appreciate widely different life stories and the role illness in these stories. They must then incorporate their clinical learning into practicing the art of medicine, systematically incorporating scientific and therapeutic developments. This requires empathy and humility, and a right use of their powers as healers so that they can participate in liberating their patients from affliction. They must have a number of traits: imagination, self-criticism, generosity of spirit, loyalty, justice and patience, even irony. And in all of this they must cultivate their own growth as people so that they become more complete in their ability to help those who turn to them.” Just so….

The resurrection of the notion of “intellectual virtues” or regulative or virtue epistemology is an attempt to formulate in today’s terms and under contemporary conditions an idea whose origin lies in classical Greek philosophy. In other words, epistemic modesty in particular or philosophical modesty in general bespeaks the sort of humility that is the opposite of vanity and arrogance, and is incarnate in the therapeutic model as exemplifying the care, concern, and attentiveness that eludes the immodest, the vain, the arrogant. This is the converse of that species of self-importance and individual and group flattery one finds in academic circles routinely rewarding (by salaries, titles, awards, praise, etc.) the talented, the skilled, and the accomplished, routinely obsessing over citation numbers, attainment of tenure, individual and departmental prestige, funding and grants, leaving the stamp of one’s mental products on disciples, on one’s field, and so on.

Finally, I should add that I don’t envision philosophers, professional or otherwise, being accorded any special status or privilege in public or political fora, their views filtered through participatory and deliberative democratic methods and processes along with the views of their fellow citizens (which does not mean their contributions might not be unsettling or that their engagement might come at great risk to themselves: witness Jan Patočka in the former Czechoslovakia or Rudolf Bahro in East Germany, or Buddhist monks and nuns in Tibet, or…Socrates in the agora).

Note: The images are of Mañjuśrī and Avalokiteśvara respectively, the bodhisattvic embodiments of wisdom and compassion in Mahāyāna Buddhism.

Comments

[Patrick S. O'Donnell]

Manyul,

I should also have noted that Nussbaum herself does deal with the question of (the logos, pathos, and ethos of) rhetoric. She mentions the necessity of using techniques "more complicated and direct, more psychologically engaging, than those of conventional deductive or dialectical argument. [Therapeutic philosophy] must find ways to delve into the pupil's inner world, using gripping examples, techniques of narrative, appeals to memory and imagination--all in the service of bringing the pupil's whole life into the investigative process." In fact she cites as one of the distinctive "methodological achievements of therapeutic arguments" the "careful attention to the techniques of philosophical speech and writing. [....] Literary and rhetorical strategies enter into the methods at a very deep level, not just decorating the arguments, but shaping the whole sense of what a therapeutic argument is, and expressing, in their stylistic concreteness, respect for the pupil's need."

[Patrick S. O'Donnell]

Manyul,

Thanks so much for your insightful, indeed, profound observations. This reminds me of what I learned about "agonistic" philosophy when reading about the contrasting model and rhetorical style of philosophical conversations in French salons in which women moderated the conversation and seemed to do a fairly decent job of keeping men from engaging in that confrontational style of philosophy you refer to. I think you're absolutely right about rhetorical choices and sensitivity, one reason we see, until very recently, a variety of styles of philosophical literature in the history of philosophy: with good reason Plato chose the "dialogue" form, others, "letters," the existentialists: plays and novels, and so forth and so on. There are deliberate rhetorical choices in the manner in which the Daodejing was composed, many of these efforts appear to represent attempts at one and the same time to reach the limits of writing, much like poetry, and remind us of what is lost when abandoning an intimate, conversational approach to philosophy as the main means of pedagogic instruction (as in the change from the spoken to the written word, but not only with that).

There's so much here ripe for further exploration. One last thought however: I suspect in some ways Socrates' rhetorical choices were in fact well suited to the Athenian context, given the nature of its democracy and politics, but that requires some filling out to explain precisely why, and that will have to be posponed until another day.

Thanks again for taking the time to share your thoughts. I might be accused of sour grapes, given that I'm not a professional philosopher, but at least that charge cannot be raised against you!

[Manyul Im]

Hi Patrick. Great post! I'm pasting here my comment from FB, with a couple things added.

I think the therapeutic conception feels very strong in the teaching context, particularly at non-research institutions (though not exclusively). I've discovered that Jesuit universities are especially interested vis-a-vis their philosophy departments in the transformative effects of philosophy for furthering deeper reflection in students about who and what they are and what their places and responsibilities in the world are. This starts at the "top" in terms of repeated directives, based on institutional mission, to increase the strength of the liberal arts core curriculum. There's also lots of marketing directive going on here of course -- how to make Jesuit institutions competitive -- but at least it's a "values-based" branding push. I'm pretty sure that the Jesuits promote intellectual virtues more, in general, than their other Catholic counterparts (Descartes certainly benefited from them).

Getting to your point about professional philosophy -- apart from its pedagogy. Sometimes real intellectual virtues in philosophy can come off as arrogance. Here I'm not talking about petty class-mongering or academic publication rat-race. Think about Socrates -- or any number of philosophers who questioned authorities. To those people that they pressed with their criticism, and to those who more or less trusted in the authority, what is based on intellectual reflection and conviction, and some dogged pursuit of truth, can seem like arrogance. What those virtues require, if they are to be more effective in the therapeutic task, is more concern for "presentation." Simply put, the Socratic method is more likely to put off than to persuade -- I think Plato is wildly optimistic to think that out of some kind of confrontational dialectic, either party emerges with a better sense of the truth. Tales of the historical Buddha are better at showing the value of meeting a person on his or her plane and imparting a "customized" dialogue that promotes the kind of therapeutic effect that philosophy can have.

I say this as someone who was trained in philosophical confrontation, in an analytic style of philosophy. That training is accompanied by a self-image of being beyond "tricks" of rhetoric, that true philosophy aims to go affectlessly through purgation of ideas through tough criticism. What I discovered however was that confrontation is itself a rhetorical choice, one suited for hyper-masculine, competitive contexts and that it was not at all affectless. Even the calmest interchanges in which I "won" an argument were accompanied by smug self-satisfaction, and those in which I "lost" by frustration and sometimes anger.

So, I think an important part of the therapeutic model of philosophy has to be understanding that the therapeutic effect, whether on oneself or on another, requires reflection on rhetorical method and the details of the social interaction in which the philosophical interaction is intertwined.