Charting Paths Towards Truth
Alfred Batlle Fuster
Participants: Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, René Descartes, Immanuel Kant, Saint Thomas Aquinas, Averroes, Baruch Spinoza, Michel Foucault, Gilles Deleuze, Judith Butler, bell hooks, Audre Lorde, Gloria Anzaldúa, Donna Haraway, Martha Nussbaum, Simone de Beauvoir and Jacques Derrida. Friedrich Nietzsche and Noam Chomsky also join at the end of the book.
A note on the fiction: This is a work of fiction. The dialogues, anecdotes and parables are the author’s invention. The participants bear the names of real thinkers, some no longer living and others still alive, but the words attributed to them are not quotations, nor do they reflect their actual opinions: they are a free, and at times simplified, interpretation of their ideas. To know their thought, one must turn to their own works.
Prologue
NEXUM was born of a question: what bond ties the philosopher to the society in which they live?
In ancient Rome, the nexum was a debt contract that bound the debtor until the obligation was fulfilled. I propose reading it as a metaphor. The philosopher feels indebted to society, not for money but for thought: they owe it attention, criticism and the search for truth, and they repay that debt by sharing their reflections.
But that debt is never settled. Truth is a goal that recedes the closer we come to it, and every answer begets new questions. That is why the philosopher is not content with appearances, questions dogmas and structures of power, and acts as an agent of change, not as a spectator. Theirs is a road without end.
This book explores that bond from an imaginative space: a fictional videoconference in which thinkers from every age discuss justice, power, violence, war, faith and reason. I have chosen dialogue because I believe philosophy is not the exclusive preserve of lecture halls or specialist treatises, and because, in a world saturated with noise, stopping to think and to debate is perhaps the greatest act of intellectual resistance we can offer.
There are no closed solutions here. There is an invitation to join the conversation, because we all form part of a wider nexum: that of humanity, bound since time immemorial to the idea of improving the world for the generations to come.
With gratitude to the thinkers of yesterday, of today and of always.
Alfred Batlle Fuster
Part 1
[A large screen assigns a coloured box to each participant. Hardly anyone has switched on their camera yet; some switch it on, look around and switch it off again. Several show signs of not quite understanding the technology: they glance to the sides, up and down, searching for some sign that confirms they have done it correctly. At first only the three Greek philosophers show their faces. Behind each of them unfolds a different background, as if each dwelt beneath a different sky, although they all know the skies are fake. At times an intense blue envelops them, as if instead of speaking in the open air they were underwater; at times the background turns golden and warm, like the illumination they long to reach through the exchange of ideas. At the top of the screen the motto reads: ‘Philosophy is the bond between the mind and truth.’]
[Socrates] I am delighted to coordinate this digital space, designed to bring together the most restless thinkers in search of truth. Some will come as navigators, others as stowaways, but all with the same yearning: to find the truth or, at the least, to doubt what is presented as absolute truth, if any such thing exists, at least in our field. This glass window, strange to many and stimulating to others, will be our refuge for exploring the human mind, its limits and the meaning of our existence. The Romans called nexum the bond that ties the one who owes to the one who waits. Today we connect in a similar nexus, indebted to truth and to the sacred duty of confronting ideas.
[Plato] Socrates, I am honoured by your presence in this forum. May we, all together, find that elusive truth, which dwells in our minds and yet is so hard to find in the labyrinth of thought. Your teachings will be heard beyond the centuries, like an echo that settles in those who take up, as you did, the tireless craft of thinking. Your method of incisive questions obliges us to doubt ourselves, but in order to reach a deeper understanding of the universe we inhabit. We welcome this gathering with open arms, alongside minds that sacrifice their rest in order to think. And before we get down to business, allow me to tell a story that illustrates Socrates’ humility and curiosity. Would that be all right?
[Socrates] Go ahead; I can hardly give an opinion until I have heard it. Anecdotes are best told at the beginning, because later, in the thick of deliberation, they no longer fit.
[Plato] Of course, better now than later. One day, walking through the streets of Athens, you stopped in front of a potter who was displaying his pots. Fascinated by his skill, you wanted to try your own hand: you asked him for a clay pot and, with a stylus, traced some lines with a trembling but determined hand, giving shape to a figure that only you understood. The potter, on seeing it, took it for a clumsy abstract drawing and, out of courtesy, told you it was a good try. You replied: ‘Do not judge my work by its appearance, but by the dialogue it may inspire.’
[Socrates] It may have been so; I do not remember. On my walks I used to talk with craftsmen, and I have never been afraid of looking ridiculous.
[Plato] With this anecdote I wish to highlight your humility and your commitment to knowledge, even in the most unexpected corners of everyday life.
[Aristotle] I see a thesis about art in it. Every work has a final cause, that for the sake of which it is made. If Socrates drew in order to provoke a conversation and not to achieve a perfect line, the value of the pot lies not in its technical execution but in the thought it awakens, in what passes through the creator’s mind before and after giving shape to his idea. Art does not always reside in the perfection of lines that faithfully reproduce an image, but in its capacity to inspire reflection. Every work is a dialogue, and that dialogue is the bridge between the creativity of the craftsman and the thought of the philosopher.
[Socrates] I still do not remember the anecdote, but I endorse the reading. I have always thought that every work, be it a drawing or a sculpture, invites dialogue, and that this is the artist’s motive; that is my humble opinion and the basis of every discussion I have ever begun. Sometimes an image brings down a certainty we believed solid, or at least calls it into question. On the pot I must have decorated, many will see only chaotic lines, but its true value lies in the questions it raises. Therein lies the beauty of genuine art, from the moment it first enters through the eyes.
[Aristotle] Before we go on, Socrates, let me tell you that your invitation moved me. Your method of questioning, so rooted in the essence of philosophy, has been a constant guide in my search for truth. Each of your questions opens a horizon, and whoever receives it is left in debt, bound to answer it as it deserves. That debt does not wither with time or with the generations, however different those of parents and children may be: though a hundred have passed, even a thousand, it remains the same. In this digital space, so strange at first, I hope to let myself be guided by your wisdom and to honour your legacy by doubting ourselves, as you doubted.
[Socrates] Thank you, Aristotle. May this gathering be enlivened by the philosophical spirit we all long for, a fire that never goes out and that kindles new ideas and new doubts with which to climb towards truth. Your presence is proof that the concerns of thought transcend physical borders and intertwine in this digital fabric that unites us.
[Plato] Whoever leaves the cave resists the light at first, and however stubbornly we refuse to admit a truth, it takes root in our minds sooner or later. That is what your dialogues have done, Socrates: they have crossed time and resound in each of us like an eternal echo that urges us to keep searching.
[Socrates] Let us talk about justice, an ever-present concept that has challenged the mind across the centuries. How are we to define it in a world where interpretations and contexts vary so greatly? It is the echo of an ancient dispute that reinvents itself in every generation. Each of us will bring our own perspective, and together they will reveal a fuller picture of justice in our society.
[Aristotle] Justice orders human society: it is the principle that leads us to give each individual what is due to them, according to law and morality. It is not a mere transaction of rights and duties, but the virtue that makes living together possible and restores hope in a world where injustice seems so deeply rooted. You need only watch the news.
[Socrates] Determining what is just for each individual confronts us with our own complexity. It demands understanding the particular circumstances of each being and becoming attuned to the needs and aspirations that drive them.
[Plato] Justice needs to be in harmony with society and to advance at the pace of change, of technological progress and of ideas. I imagine a great mural with all its figures yet to be defined, in which each individual must choose their place according to their abilities.
[Socrates] There is no universal formula that can simply be applied. There is a constant search for fairness and understanding in each case. Justice is, then, an act of discernment: weighing the demands of law and morality against the unique reality of each situation, and finding, between the legal and the ethical, a balance that honours the dignity and well-being of all those involved.
[Plato] That is why justice binds together the different layers of society and harmonises the relations between them. Each individual must be able to grow on equal terms within their stratum and relate to others according to the essence of their group, which redounds to the benefit of the whole community. We shall have to define, then, what each person may do and what they must avoid in order to achieve this collective dream of justice.
[Socrates] To discern the proper function of each part of society, we shall need a thorough understanding of our nature and of the social dynamics that surround us. And that opens another question: what are we before we are citizens?
[Aristotle] Understanding justice requires us to immerse ourselves in what we are if we consider ourselves simply as living beings, with all their nuances and contradictions. It is like walking a labyrinthine path in search of a truth hidden in each stretch: sometimes at the edge of the abyss, sometimes trying to scale a bank or dig a tunnel, and always with difficulty. All that remains is to draw a mental map of the path travelled and the obstacles encountered, and to have the skill to find our destination.
[Socrates] Before us lies a task that keeps us awake at night and, at the same time, gives us pleasure. Our humanity will remain a mystery, as will the desire to know; but let us remember that approaching the truth is not a final destination, but a continuous process of discovery and learning. Let us go on questioning the heart of justice together.
[Plato] It also falls to us to examine the structures that shape our lives, from political institutions to cultural norms. Perhaps in that way we shall glimpse the invisible ties that unite humanity in the common pursuit of equality and justice.
[Socrates] Before we continue, an intriguing question has arisen in my mind: what is the relationship between a frog, a shotgun and a Monday?
[Plato] At first sight it seems a chance association, but might there not be a deeper meaning behind it, a connection that escapes our immediate understanding? If we were given the scattered pieces of a jigsaw without being shown the complete picture, how would we know what to build? We would be left with intuition alone. At the intersection of chance and philosophy lies a hidden truth waiting to be discovered.
[Aristotle] The three belong to different genera: a living being, an artefact and a measure of time. No category unites them, and that is why the question is fertile. In that apparent dissonance the spark of creativity may be born, as in an abstract work, where each unconnected element contributes to the richness of the whole.
[Socrates] Let us suppose that the frog represents life and nature; the shotgun, power and man’s capacity to influence his surroundings; and Monday, the beginning of the week, the starting point of our route towards new goals and discoveries.
[Plato] As you have explained, Socrates, the frog may also evoke the fleetingness of life and the ethereal nature of our existence, for it takes only three or four generations to fall into oblivion. The shotgun could represent the tragic side of our fragility in the face of the implacable forces of nature. Though it pains us to admit it, we are extremely fragile beings, mere walking, thinking bags of water. And the day of the week, marker of the rhythm of our lives, would symbolise the constant march of time and the eternal cycle of creation and destruction.
[Aristotle] Thus the frog, the shotgun and Monday stand as symbols that contain essential aspects of human experience. Each is a window on what we live through every day: the clouds that merge and dissolve, the birds that come and go, the waves that never cease, the cycle of day and night, of cold and heat, of joy and sorrow. All of it invites us to reflect on our place in the universe.
[Socrates] I believe, Aristotle, that what you say fits with what I think. We find meaning in unconnected ideas, and randomness is a curious principle of creativity. Then each mind follows its own path, like a filter applied to the initial idea: a word, a phrase spoken at just the right moment, perhaps on a sleepless night, can lead us to a surprising revelation.
[Aristotle] Just so, Socrates. It amazes me to see how ideas arise spontaneously and lead us to interpret reality with ever greater depth, rejecting every barrier and all conformism. We need to discover, to create new perspectives of rationality and, to that end, to seek new paths and new worlds of thought in this challenge we call the human mind.
Part 2
[Plato] I have always been fascinated by the conviction that universal ideas exist independently of our perception. Those archetypes are the cornerstones of reality: the pure Forms of everything we perceive around us.
[Aristotle] Your position deserves deep reflection, Plato, but I place the universal in things themselves, not in a separate world. There is no ‘horse’ without particular horses: we grasp the universal from sensory experience, and our mind abstracts it. That is how we build a body of meanings out of our perceptions.
[Plato] Then, Aristotle, what makes them stable? If they were merely our abstractions, how could we attribute to them the reality and permanence of the eternal Forms of my theory? The theorems of geometry hold true today just as they did a thousand years ago, and they hold true in every culture.
[Aristotle] They can be understood as constructions born of the interaction between our mind and our surroundings. And if we add the weight of culture and history, perhaps they are not merely the fruit of individual experience, but a collective construction of meanings that evolves over time and that, despite our limitations, contains glimmers of a broader truth, enriched by generations.
[Plato] I grant that evolution, but what changes is our opinions, not the Forms. Precisely because they overcome the constraints of time, universal ideas remain coherent across ages and cultures: they are bridges between different frames of time and space. Our interaction with our surroundings is limited and fragmentary; the ideas provide the structure that unifies disparate experiences. I have always held that the Forms are the true reality, the substance of which material things are made; without them, the sensible world would lack meaning and coherence.
[Aristotle] Would it not be legitimate to understand your world of Forms as an attempt to account for the complexity and depth of what is real? I appreciate it, Plato, but I believe reality is rooted in the material world we experience. Universal ideas help us to understand it, but I do not believe they exist apart from things.
[Plato] Perhaps we shall never reach agreement, Aristotle. But this debate enriches our understanding of the universe and spurs us on to keep seeking the truth.
[Socrates] Friends, while we argue about ideas and reality, an ancient parable comes to mind that may shed some light on the discussion.
[Plato] A parable, Socrates? I am intrigued.
[Aristotle] Perhaps a story will help us find common ground.
[Socrates] Imagine a brightly coloured parrot at the edge of a crystal-clear stream. It wants to cross to the other side, but a gladiator blocks its way.
[Plato] A parrot and a gladiator? A peculiar scene. What happens next?
[Socrates] The parrot, a bird of limited wit, tries to persuade the gladiator to let it pass. But the gladiator stands firm and refuses. The lesson is this: some barriers are insurmountable for whoever faces them alone.
[Aristotle] Are you suggesting that, like the parrot, we must recognise the limits of our understanding and accept that certain debates may have no definitive solution?
[Socrates] We must not lose heart over our philosophical differences, but recognise that the search for knowledge is a continuous journey, full of challenges and of questions without definitive answers. Allow me to present another scenario. Imagine a man who lives in extreme poverty, with no possessions but the clothes he stands in. One day someone comes up to him and gives him a fridge: for many of us, a simple household appliance; for him, much more.
[Plato] What meaning can a fridge have for someone living in destitution?
[Socrates] That is the decisive question. For this man it is not merely an object for keeping food: it symbolises hope, generosity and the possibility of changing his life. It is a sign of abundance and security he may never have known.
[Aristotle] So the value of a gift lies not in its material usefulness, but in the meaning it holds for the one who receives it and in the context of his life.
[Socrates] We often underestimate the symbolic power of objects. This story reminds us of the importance of empathy, and of how an act of kindness can transform the reality of someone in need.
[Plato] If you will allow me, I see a correspondence between the man begging for alms and the parrot in the previous parable.
[Socrates] Go further, Plato. How do you connect two such disparate elements?
[Plato] Let us think of the vagrant as the parrot at the edge of the stream, longing to cross towards an unknown destination. Both face a barrier that seems insurmountable: for the bird, the gladiator; for the man, poverty and the lack of resources.
[Aristotle] Would giving alms, then, be a way of helping him to cross his own stream?
[Plato] Exactly. By handing him an object, even if at first he does not know what to do with it, we offer him a bridge towards a more hopeful future. From the fridge a home may be born: he can hand it over in exchange for the rent of a room, and that is already a first step towards settling his life. With a home he can look for work, and with work he can keep a roof over his head indefinitely.
[Socrates] A powerful analogy. And notice, Aristotle, that it resolves the paradox of the parrot: the barrier is insurmountable for whoever is alone, but it seldom is for whoever finds someone willing to lend a hand.
[Aristotle] Allow me to change course slightly towards a matter that has caught my interest: the power of the insult, a weapon as sharp as the blade of a sword, though it acts in a different way from the gladiator’s physical force.
[Plato] An unexpected turn. What leads you to explore the insult?
[Aristotle] Let us think of the gladiator. If the parrot dared to cross the river, flying from one grove to the other at the risk of being speared, and the gladiator saw that he could not reach it with his weapons, he might resort to insults to vent his frustration and challenge the bird in another way.
[Socrates] And what effect would that insult have?
[Aristotle] It would act in several directions. First, it would release the gladiator’s frustration and reaffirm his sense of power and control, even in a situation in which he feels powerless. Then it might unsettle the bird and provoke in it an emotional reaction that altered its behaviour and made its capture easier, supposing that were his intention. As every rhetorician knows, words stir the passions.
[Plato] It is curious: even where physical force is not enough, what we say and how we say it determines the reaction of those who hear us. The insult is an instrument of power.
[Socrates] With this we can move on to reflect on power, its nature and its influence on those who wield it: an abstraction that shows itself in familiar forms and in other, unexpected ones, which are therefore surprising. These last are wielded by certain politicians in their eagerness to climb to the top.
[Plato] I agree, Socrates. Power runs through our relationships: how we speak to one another, how we praise one another, how we criticise one another. The art of doing harm is cultivated by the wicked too; when they discover a way to wound the enemy, they do not abandon it, they put it into practice again and again. Their mission is to influence their rival’s thinking, to weaken him, to break his resolve and to stir up his emotions.
[Socrates] True wisdom, the kind we have all sought from the very beginning, lies not in physical strength nor in the capacity to wound with words, but in the ability to understand the suffering of others and to respond with empathy, so as to influence minds and hearts for the better.
[Aristotle] That shows us the importance of virtue in the exercise of power. We must use it without harming others or seeking to impose domination, with responsibility and compassion, in pursuit of the common good.
[Plato] Precisely. True power lies in the capacity to transform our own lives and the lives of others through knowledge, wisdom and virtue. It is the form of power that brings us closer to our highest aspirations, as individuals and as a society.
[Socrates] I propose that we now explore a subject of great ethical importance: violence. We can return to the elements of the parable – the gladiator, the bird and the man who begs for alms – to see how it relates to each of them.
[Plato] How does violence manifest itself in those contexts?
[Socrates] The gladiator first tries to capture the bird by force: physical violence that seeks to dominate and control another living being.
[Aristotle] And the man who begs for alms?
[Socrates] Violence can also be subtler, as with structural and symbolic violence. Whoever lives in extreme poverty is subjected to a social system that perpetuates their deprivation: a violence that operates at an economic and systemic level.
[Plato] And the bird?
[Socrates] It too is a victim, whether of physical or of symbolic violence. Violence is not always a direct act of aggression: it can consist in the deprivation of freedom, in exploitation and in injustice.
[Aristotle] Thus we see how complex violence is. We would do well to reflect on how to mitigate and prevent it in all its forms, in order to promote a fairer society.
[Socrates] One question still remains: what to do with those who are prone to violent acts. Let us consider the influence of hormones on our behaviour.
[Plato] They undoubtedly affect our emotions and conduct. How does that relate to violence?
[Socrates] They can predispose us to impulsive and aggressive reactions, especially under stress or in situations of conflict. To predispose is not to determine, but it is worth bearing in mind when we address violence in society.
[Aristotle] What do we propose, then, for those who are prone to violence for that reason?
[Socrates] A compassionate approach: rather than merely punishing or marginalising them, to understand the causes of their behaviour and to offer support and resources.
[Plato] Would education and medical care be of use?
[Socrates] Without doubt. Education fosters empathy and the peaceful resolution of conflicts; medical care provides treatment and support for those who suffer from hormonal imbalances or other mental health problems.
[Aristotle] With one qualification: we are answerable only for what we do voluntarily, and compassion is no substitute for responsibility. Our duty as a society is to offer help and understanding without ceasing to protect the victims.
[Socrates] You are right. We are all, in part, the product of our circumstances and of our biological influences. Addressing violence with compassion, understanding and firmness brings us closer to a fairer and more peaceful society.
Part 3
[Descartes switches on his camera and, smiling, waves to the other participants.]
[Descartes] Allow me to join this fascinating discussion on violence. Until now I have remained a silent observer: I wanted to put my ideas in order before speaking.
[Socrates] Welcome, Descartes. We are delighted to hear you.
[Descartes] In my view, violence is the manifestation of a lack of reason and, secondly, of understanding. People resort to it when they have been unable, through incapacity or through lack of interest, to resolve a conflict rationally and peacefully. I hold that error arises when the will reaches beyond the understanding: we rush to affirm or to act before we have understood. Violence is that same excess carried into deeds.
[Plato] So violence would arise, in most cases, from an inability to reason and, after that, from ignorance of knowledge or a lack of interest in it?
[Descartes] Precisely. Violence is the supreme expression of ignorance and of the inability to understand others and empathise with them. In both cases there is a will to do harm, for without the effort of trying to understand, it is impossible to reach the solution of empathy. Whoever cannot see beyond their own interests and emotions resorts to violence to impose their will.
[Aristotle] How do we cultivate reason and understanding in order to prevent it? Is it merely a matter of will, or is there some concept we have not yet considered?
[Descartes] I believe in the power of critical thinking combined with education. Everything starts from the individual’s will not to enter into conflict, to clear up misunderstandings and to suspend judgement: not to take it for granted that someone means to harm them on purpose. To reason first, to explore the possible paths and to foster discernment, whatever one’s social standpoint, in order to promote respect, a culture of consensus and a peaceful, agreed solution to every conflict.
[Socrates] A valuable perspective: cultivating the mind is a tool for building a fairer and more peaceful society.
[Plato] Allow me to offer another view. I believe violence is born not only in the brain, but also in the metaphors through which we understand the world and our relationships. One and the same event can unleash great outbursts of violence in one culture and be met with complete indifference in another.
[Descartes] Metaphors, Plato? How can they be responsible for violence?
[Plato] I know it may seem a confusing proposition. The metaphors with which we describe our relationships, our emotions and our conflicts influence how we perceive situations and respond to them, and also how we take responsibility for them. If we describe a dispute as a battle, a war, a ‘special military operation’ or even a war to bring democracy to a territory – call it what you will – we convince ourselves that the only way to resolve a conflict entrenched in a community, sometimes only among its ruling classes, is confrontation and not cooperation and dialogue.
[Socrates] Are you suggesting, then, that violent metaphors encourage violence? And when a metaphor belonging to one social group is incomprehensible to another, can a false sense of aggression arise from it? Does violence arise because a metaphor is not understood and is taken for a potential attack?
[Plato] Just so, Socrates. If we go on using metaphors that glorify violence or present conflicts as struggles for power and domination, we perpetuate a cycle of violence in our minds and in our societies. To build a more peaceful society, we must begin by examining and changing the metaphors with which we describe the world.
[Aristotle] Perhaps we should be more aware of the ones we use and seek out those that promote peace and understanding.
[Socrates] I want to share a story that shows how much words and metaphors matter in our lives: the tale of the wasp and the philosopher’s son. A boy playing in the garden was stung by a wasp. He cried first from the surprise of being attacked by an insect he believed harmless, and then from the pain, and he ran to his father for comfort. The philosopher, seeing the sting, asked him what had happened. ‘A huge monster attacked me,’ said the boy between sobs. His father, calmly, explained that it had not been a monster but a small wasp; that the sting hurt, it was true, but that he should not blame the insect, because to the wasp the real monster was the boy.
[Aristotle] A lovely story, Socrates. What does it teach us about words and metaphors? Where do you wish to take the argument?
[Socrates] As I see it – your view may be different, and I hope it is – it reminds us that words and metaphors have the power, or the supposed power, to give shape and meaning to our perception of reality. By calling the wasp a monster, the boy exaggerated its threat and its power and, without knowing it, increased his own fear and suffering. It is not only a childish attitude: we adults do the same when we want to point out an injustice that affects us or someone we love. We exaggerate the threat, we read a gesture as contempt, we gesticulate, we voice our disagreement, we grow angry and we say words without thinking of the harm they may cause, because in that moment an intense emotion has hijacked our mind and made us lose our sense of measure. Notice what the philosopher in the tale does: he helps his son see the situation clearly and in perspective, from the calm of the adult, and shows him what is monstrous and what is not. The philosopher who cares about the society in which he lives has the same mission: to point out what is an exaggeration and what is overlooked and ought to be corrected as a priority. That, to me, is what it means to be a philosopher.
[Plato] A valuable reminder: we must be mindful of the words and metaphors we use, because they influence how we understand the world and our personal experiences.
[Descartes] Allow me a slightly different view. While I was listening to the tale, I thought about the boy’s experience of being stung. His pain was real and tangible, whatever he called it. ‘Monster’ may strike us as an exaggerated metaphor, but the pain was genuine and cannot be denied. I can doubt that there is a monster, or even that there was a wasp; I cannot doubt that it hurts. There doubt comes to a halt.
[Aristotle] That leads me to wonder whether the experience of the sting, its substance, is independent of the words with which we describe it. One and the same pain, filtered through each mind and each personality, is perceived with more or less alarm.
[Descartes] Exactly: sensory experience is a reality that transcends our interpretations and metaphors, even though the interpretation we make of it differs from person to person.
[Plato] How does that fit into our discussion of metaphors?
[Descartes] We recognise the importance of words and metaphors in how we interpret and communicate experience, but the underlying reality, in this case physical pain, cannot be ignored or trivialised by our descriptions.
[Descartes mentions that he has been holding a private conversation in parallel with another participating philosopher, and suggests that he join the general discussion.]
[Descartes] I should like to introduce Immanuel Kant to you.
[Kant] An honour to meet you. I have admired your works for a long time.
[Socrates] The pleasure is ours, Kant. How are you?
[Kant] Well, thank you, Socrates, although this morning I had a fright during my walk through the streets of Königsberg: I tripped over a loose stone and very nearly fell. At no point did I lose my composure, but I thought that this is what happens when Reason stumbles upon contingency: it seems that even philosophy needs better shoes. My neighbours, who set their clocks by my walk, will have had to put them back today.
[Socrates] Even the most serious among us find humour in everyday things. The wise philosopher is the one who knows how to combine serious reflection with the ability to laugh at himself and at the world.
[Kant] A little humour keeps one’s balance. And I am very excited to be able to converse with you.
[Plato] We are glad to have you, Kant. Is there a subject you would like to propose?
[Kant] I should like to explore the nature of reason and of morality, and how my critical philosophy relates to the classical ideas of Greek philosophy.
[Aristotle] We Greeks devoted countless hours to ethics and rationality, and on those foundations Western philosophy was built. I am proud to see that our approaches opened frontiers that others have crossed far beyond what we reached in our primitive humility. The depth of your reflections on morality and duty, Kant, finds echoes in our discussions of virtue and the good life. In the contrast between our traditions we shall discover points of convergence and divergence that will challenge us to explore new frontiers of thought.
[Descartes] Why don’t we begin with the nature of morality and rationality?
[Kant] That seems a good idea. I am eager to hear your points of view and to share my own.
[Socrates] Kant, let me bring you up to date with a story we have been discussing: that of the parrot and the gladiator. Simple in appearance, it holds deep reflections on reality and perception. A colourful parrot stands at the edge of a stream and wishes to cross it, but a gladiator, a strong and determined man, blocks its way. In this trivial scene there is a conflict that invites us to think about power and perception.
[Kant] Interesting. What reflections does it suggest?
[Socrates] It leads us to question how our prejudices and expectations influence what we perceive. The parrot represents freedom and the pursuit of a goal; the gladiator, the authority and power we so often come up against. We see the world conditioned by our past experiences, our beliefs and our expectations: not as it is, but as we hope or fear it to be.
[Kant] Are you suggesting, then, that our perception is influenced by our interpretations and prejudices? It is an invitation to ask ourselves whether what we see is what is, or what our mind wants us to believe.
[Socrates] Precisely. Philosophy teaches us to examine our beliefs and perceptions critically, and to open ourselves to dialogue in order to broaden our understanding of the world. The first thing we can doubt is colours: we do not all see them in the same shades, and a minority even sees them quite differently from standard vision.
[Plato] Listening to the story, I wonder how our preconceived ideas shape reality. The parrot and the gladiator embody two opposing forces: freedom and power.
[Kant] I understand, Plato, but from my standpoint the reality we know is not a mere construction of individual perceptions. The mind does not simply copy what it receives: it orders experience through forms we all share – space, time, causality – and from that objectivity is born, even though each of us perceives in our own way. What things may be in themselves, we do not know. In the case of the parrot and the gladiator, what is objective would be the interaction between the two, ordered under those common forms, beyond whatever each of us adds with our prejudices.
[Plato] Interesting that you speak of objectivity. Do our subjective perceptions influence how we interpret that reality?
[Kant] Of course: they matter in how we experience and understand the world. But my interest lies in how, through universal rational principles, we reach a deeper and shared understanding of reality. Without concepts, experience is blind; without experience, concepts are empty.
[Aristotle] Allow me to intervene. I respect Kant’s perspective and agree that neither reason alone nor the senses alone suffice, but I would stress the weight of sensory experience and empirical observation. In the case of the parrot and the gladiator, our perception depends on what we observe directly as much as on rational principles. It is the interplay between the two, reason and experience, that gives us access to a fuller and deeper knowledge of reality.
Part 4
[Socrates] I should like to add a perspective. Let us imagine we are lost in the middle of the desert, desperate to find water. At that moment a traveller appears, ready to help us. In so extreme a situation, does the language in which we ask for help really matter? My point is that our actions are sometimes driven not by reason or rational principles, but by basic needs and universal emotions. In the desert, the need for water is an objective reality that transcends any consideration of language or rationality: the urgency of what is most basic can eclipse reason. That does not mean reason does not matter, or that we should not aspire to act rationally most of the time. I am suggesting, rather, that there are aspects of our experience that go beyond the rational, and that we must recognise and understand them.
[Descartes] Allow me an observation about thirst, Socrates. I would not say that thirst is reason: it is a sensation, one of those warnings nature gives us through the union of mind and body. But those warnings are not exhausted in themselves: the mind interprets them and decides to act, to look for water. In thirst, then, both sensation and judgement are involved, and reason leads us to recognise what the body demands and to choose how to satisfy it. It is a good example of how sensation and reason work together, even in an emergency such as the one you describe.
[Plato] I wish to set out the limits of reason in such a situation. If, in the middle of the desert, we saw a parrot, our initial perception might lead us to question reality itself: how can there be a parrot in so inhospitable a place, so far from its natural habitat? Our understanding of the world rests on past experiences and on the interpretation of what we perceive; when something defies our expectations and common sense, reason may prove insufficient. There are aspects of reality that lie beyond it, and rather than submitting everything to its filter we must be open to the unknown and the inexplicable. That broadens our horizons and allows us to accept the complexity and diversity of the world.
[Kant] Interesting, Plato. A parrot in the desert defies our understanding, although we all accept the scene as part of this game. My critical philosophy helps to deal with scenarios of this kind. First: our perception is filtered by our own cognitive structures, among them space and time, and by the concepts we have accumulated through experience or through what we have read of other people’s. What we perceive as ‘a parrot in the desert’ is, therefore, our interpretation of sensory data, and each person’s mental image is different, above all in the colours of the plumage: blue, yellow, red, green and every combination of them; some will not choose any colour at all. There is also room for error: someone who cannot manage to picture a real parrot and sees it as a parakeet or a toucan. Second: what things may be in themselves lies beyond our knowledge, and our reason has limits. What matters is to maintain intellectual humility and openness to the unknown. As philosophers, we do not aspire to a total and definitive understanding of the world, but to explore and question our perceptions and concepts continually, so as to come as close to the truth as we can.
[Socrates] A fine argument, Kant. Allow me now to introduce the story of the frog and the shotgun. Let us imagine that, lost in the desert, we find two objects: a frog and a shotgun. Which would be more useful for survival? It depends on our perceptions and previous experiences. Some will say the shotgun, because it would serve for hunting and obtaining food. Others, the frog, because it would indicate water nearby. What is interesting is that the question forces us to think about our priorities in an emergency: do we value getting food more, or finding water? What drives us in a crisis: reason, experience, or our most basic and emotional needs?
[Kant] Choosing the frog seems to me the most reasonable course. A frog in the middle of the desert suggests water nearby, and whoever wills the end wills the means: the prudent thing is to follow that clue so as not to die of thirst.
[Descartes] I agree with Kant. The frog is a clear sign of water and therefore the most practical option; the usefulness of the shotgun in the desert would be far more limited. That choice rests on reason, on sensory experience and on empirical observation: knowing how to follow clues and draw inferences is essential for surviving in hostile environments.
[Aristotle] I would add a note of caution: a frog in the desert is a sign, not a proof. Some species bury themselves during drought and wait for the rain, so its presence may mean water nearby or simply an animal asleep beneath the sand. It falls to us to exercise our judgement with care: perhaps the frog has found a spring we have not yet discovered, or perhaps it is a mystery still to be solved. Either way, reasoning and thinking critically remain essential to survival, and the unknown is an opportunity to strengthen the mind.
[Socrates] Let us pose another dilemma. Imagine we find an oasis, and the water flowing from it smells of perfume instead of fresh, clean water. Should we drink it? For me it depends on weighing risks and benefits. On the one hand, the smell could indicate dangerous chemicals or contaminants. On the other, dehydration is also a mortal risk. It would be prudent to look for other signs that the water is drinkable, such as its appearance or the vegetation around it, and to filter or purify it if possible. The decision must rest on a rational assessment of the risks and the benefits.
[Descartes] Methodical doubt serves us here: let us take for granted neither that the water is harmful nor that it is harmless. The smell of perfume does not prove that it is contaminated; it could be due to minerals or natural compounds. But nor does it prove that it is drinkable. The rational course is to check what we can: its appearance, the vegetation, some possible filtering. And if, after that, thirst threatens us with death and there is no alternative, accepting an uncertain risk is more sensible than accepting the certainty of dying. In an emergency we cannot afford to be too particular about the smell or taste of water. My philosophy gives priority to reason in making practical decisions, and here vital necessity weighs more than the aroma. Our survival depends on it.
[Kant] In a situation like this, every option must be considered. The frog indicates water nearby and we can follow that clue, but we must also think about feeding ourselves. Eating the frog and, if possible, the parrot would be one option: they would give us nutrients and energy to keep looking for water. In extreme situations our actions are dictated by the need to survive, and one must be prepared to take difficult decisions.
[Plato] Your suggestion surprises me, Kant. I understand the urgency, but our actions are guided by moral principles that transcend immediate physical needs. Eating a frog or a parrot may be seen as an act of desperation, but also as disrespectful treatment of other forms of life. As rational and moral beings, we have a responsibility to consider their well-being and to act with compassion. Moreover, our acts have symbolic consequences: eating an animal says something about how we value and treat other living beings. We must be careful with decisions that affect them, even in an emergency.
[Aristotle] With respect, Plato, I disagree. I value your concern, but in the desert, where resources are scarce and life is in danger, survival must come first. Nature has made animals for the sake of men, and hunting them for food in an emergency is not disrespectful treatment, but a necessary action. Virtue does not consist in applying the same rule in every case, but in judging with prudence according to the circumstances; in an emergency such as this, what at another time would seem reprehensible to us is justified.
[Kant] I agree with Aristotle in his conclusion, though not in all his arguments. My ethics imposes no direct duties towards animals, which are not rational beings; what it condemns is gratuitous cruelty, because it coarsens our relations with others. Killing an animal without cruelty so as not to starve is not gratuitous, and I can will without contradiction that this maxim should hold for anyone in the same need. In such a situation, sacrificing them is justifiable. But that does not mean ethics dissolves into circumstances: the categorical imperative is not suspended in the desert.
[Plato] But, Aristotle, is our humanity not defined by acting according to moral principles even in the harshest circumstances? If we sacrifice our values in a crisis, do we not undermine the very foundations of our civilisation?
[Aristotle] I understand your concern, Plato, but morality also attends to context and circumstances. In an extreme situation, preserving life may justify measures we would normally consider questionable.
[Kant] Careful: context is not relativism. I do not hold that morality is relative. The criterion is universal; what changes with the situation is what that criterion demands in the particular case. Respecting the dignity of living beings is important, but in times of crisis sacrifices may be needed to preserve human life. That is why each situation must be examined in its concrete reality, without applying principles blindly, but without renouncing them either.
[Plato] I grant that survival is a fundamental priority, but our actions have consequences that go beyond physical life. Our humanity is defined not only by surviving, but by acting according to moral principles even in adversity.
[Aristotle] Perhaps we should seek a balance between preserving life and respecting ethical principles. Our capacity to reflect on and debate these matters is what distinguishes us as human beings.
[Kant’s video call drops, and Plato takes the opportunity to begin a monologue setting out his position on everything discussed.]
[Plato] In this discussion we have explored fundamental questions about our nature, about morality and about ethics in extreme situations, and we have set different points of view against one another on the complexity of deciding when life is at stake. It is clear that fighting to stay alive is a priority, but our humanity is defined by the capacity to act according to principles even in adversity. Our actions have practical consequences, and also symbolic and ethical ones, which reflect our deepest values. It falls to us to seek a balance between preserving life and respecting principles, knowing that our decisions leave their mark on ourselves and on the world. Through dialogue and reflection we can aspire to act with wisdom and compassion, even in the most challenging circumstances.
[Descartes] I disagree, Plato. Your arguments seem to ignore the fact that, in times of crisis, our actions are dictated by the need to survive. Holding to rigid ethical principles may be idealistic, but it is hardly practical. I myself, in my Discourse on Method, gave myself a provisional morality so as not to be paralysed while I searched for certainties. In extreme situations one must balance values and be prepared to adapt to changing circumstances. I invite you to reconsider your position.
[Plato] I offer you the parable of the wool seller and the landscape painter. There was a seller who went through the streets of his city offering his balls of wool, known for making them of the finest quality. One day, in the depths of winter, he came across a painter in the market displaying his landscapes in the street, and he was captivated. The painter, who was shivering with cold and had nothing with which to buy wool, proposed exchanging one of his paintings for one of the seller’s balls of wool. The seller thought for a moment and replied: ‘My friend, I admire your art and value your work, but my wool is my livelihood, and with it I feed my family. I cannot exchange it for a painting, however beautiful.’ The painter nodded in understanding and, before taking his leave, said to him: ‘I understand your reasons, but remember that beauty and art also have a value beyond price. Sometimes what looks like nothing more than a coloured canvas can be much more, if it awakens the interest of whoever looks at it.’
[Socrates] Allow me to intervene. In this parable no one is wrong, and therein lies its value. The seller admires art, but he cannot eat a painting: necessity forces him to refuse what his principles would lead him to accept. The painter knows that beauty is worth more than any market can pay, and yet he is cold. Necessity decides what we do first, but not what is worth more. And notice something else: even if the painter got the ball of wool, he would not gain clothes to wear; he would still need the work of knitting them, if he knew how, or of finding a craftsman and paying him, of course. Needs, once satisfied, open up others. It is important to recognise how much they weigh, without ceasing to ask ourselves what we sacrifice in obeying them.
[Descartes] A good point, Socrates. Michel, I see that you have joined the debate but have not yet spoken. Allow me to tell you a parable that has come up in our discussion, so as to hear your opinion.
[Michel Foucault switches on his camera to talk with the participants. Descartes explains to him the parable of the wool seller and the landscape painter, which illustrates the conflict between necessity and principles, a theme that had been running through the discussion since the desert dilemma.]
Part 5
[Foucault] An interesting parable, René. No one in that scene is a villain: the seller is not cruel and the painter is not naive. What it shows is how a society decides what something is worth. The market establishes that a ball of wool feeds and a painting does not, and that distribution, which seems natural, is a regime of truth about the value of things. The question is not who is right, but who establishes, and through which institutions, that one need counts for more than another, and which other forms of value, such as art, are left out of the equation. The parable invites us to question the structures of power and knowledge that shape our perceptions, and to imagine other ways of understanding and appreciating the world.
[Descartes] Your analysis is fascinating, Michel. I agree that the parable reveals hierarchies of value that influence our decisions, and that they are worth examining without taking anything for granted.
[Aristotle] Michel, I should like to discuss with you a subject that has arisen in our reflections: do you believe our minds and our ways of thinking are shaped by the structures of power around us?
[Foucault] Yes, Aristotle, and greatly. Power does not act only by repressing from above: it operates through institutions and discourses that regulate and produce our ways of thinking, of acting and of being. Social norms, schooling and disciplinary practices are mechanisms through which power shapes our subjectivity and forms our identity; they define what is considered normal and what is considered abnormal. That is why it is crucial to analyse relations of power critically and to understand how they shape our perceptions and experiences. Only in that way can we resist structures of domination and work towards freer ways of thinking and of being.
[Aristotle] I acknowledge that the city forms us: man is a political animal, and laws and customs give character to those who live under them. But you describe how power shapes us; I would ask to what end. If there is no end, no good at which to aim, by what criterion do we distinguish a power that educates from one that dominates?
[Socrates] In my search for truth I have come to the conclusion that power, whether political, social or economic, has no place in my philosophy. My commitment is to the constant examination of myself and to the search for truth through dialogue. External power tends to corrupt and to divert our attention from what truly matters: virtue and knowledge. I have always defended moral self-sufficiency and the independence of the soul, and that is why I renounce all power that does not serve truth and virtue. I do not seek dominion over others; the only dominion that interests me is dominion over myself.
[Plato] My position is different, Socrates, and I hold to it: ideas and education are the foundation of a just and virtuous society. Truth and virtue are universal and must be sought through reason and philosophical reflection, not dictated by religious dogmas or cultural interpretations. That is why the ideal State should be governed by philosopher-kings, whose knowledge would ensure well-being and harmony.
[Descartes] I see in reason and critical thinking the tools for challenging structures of power: whoever doubts what they have received ceases to obey out of inertia.
[Socrates] Plato, I would not govern, nor would I let myself be governed by those who claim to know. But I share the view that truth is to be sought beyond our religious, cultural or philosophical divisions. I still believe it can be discovered through dialogue and critical reflection, and that philosophy must be accessible to all, whatever their beliefs. I ask you for open minds, respect and humility before the perspectives of others.
[Descartes] Monotheism seems to me a coherent and rational vision of the world: a single God, first cause of all reality. That conception unifies the universe and morality and, what is more, guarantees that our reason does not deceive us when it perceives clearly. It has been fundamental to the Western philosophical tradition.
[Foucault] Allow me to intervene, René. I respect your point of view, but I believe monotheism has historically also been a technique of government. What I call pastoral power makes the shepherd someone who watches over each sheep and therefore needs to know its soul: hence confession and the direction of conscience. That care has been used to justify intolerance, persecution and the imposition of restrictive moral norms that limit individual freedom and cultural diversity.
[Socrates] Foucault, are you condemning a belief or the way it is administered? If it were the former, your view would be too simple: monotheism has inspired millions of people to seek truth, justice and virtue. If it is the latter, I am with you: the evil lies not in the idea, but in those who use it to exercise power over others. We must analyse critically how it has been applied throughout history and promote more humanist and compassionate interpretations. Let us challenge unjust structures of power and promote a society based on reason, justice and mutual respect, rather than demonising a single belief.
[Plato] I wish to separate two things: the idea and its use. The idea of a single principle from which the good and the true proceed is philosophical before it is religious, and it has been fundamental to Western civilisation. It is true that those who wield power have used it to justify unjust and oppressive actions, but that is not a flaw in the idea, but in its interpretation. As philosophers we must look beyond human actions and explore ideas in their essence, discerning between distorted interpretations and their true spiritual and moral meaning.
[Aristotle] I agree that we should not generalise, and I add a clarification: the prime mover of my physics is not a god who governs or who listens to prayers, so not everything that goes by the name of monotheism is the same. That said, it has been a powerful force in history, a source of meaning and purpose, and comfort and moral guidance for millions of people. Condemning it wholesale does not bring us closer to the truth: it limits our understanding of the world and of ourselves. We must explore the various traditions with an open mind.
[Foucault] In view of the disagreement, it would be enriching to have the perspective of Baruch Spinoza, who understands our nature well and the relationship between freedom and power. I suggest we get in touch with him.
[Spinoza] I am grateful for the opportunity to take part. I notice that something is being attributed to Foucault that he has not said: he is not attacking monotheism as such, but questioning how it has been used to legitimise oppressive structures of power. I know that use well: in my Theological-Political Treatise I showed that whoever governs by means of superstition makes use of the fear and hope of the multitude to keep it submissive, and that is why I defended the freedom to philosophise. I paid for it with my excommunication. Foucault’s analysis reveals the relations of power that shape our lives and our identities, and it helps us understand oppression and resistance. It does not seek to condemn without nuance, but to provoke a critical examination of those structures. His work deserves to be defended.
[Descartes] Spinoza should be qualified somewhat in relation to Foucault. His analysis, however valuable, may lead us to an excessively pessimistic view of institutions and of power. Spinoza, who, as you know, Baruch, took my philosophy as his starting point and carried it further than I would have gone, offers a more constructive perspective: we are part of Nature, and freedom and power are inherent in our existence. Instead of seeing power only as an oppressive force, he encourages us to recognise our own power of acting and of transforming the world. By bringing the two visions together we obtain a more balanced one: there are coercive structures, and there is also an inherent capacity to resist and transform them.
[Spinoza] Perhaps it would be as well for the great names, myself included, to step aside for a moment: sometimes the shadow of giants limits the consideration of new ideas. Monotheism is a complex matter that calls for careful assessment, free of prejudice and dogma. The more room we leave, the more valuable voices will be able to contribute, whatever their place in the history of philosophy.
[Foucault calls Gilles Deleuze and asks for his opinion on monotheism.]
[Foucault] My dear Gilles, in the midst of our debate on monotheism I should like to know your opinion. How do you see this subject from your philosophical perspective?
[Deleuze] It is a pleasure, Michel. My philosophy centres on multiplicity and difference, and what troubles me about monotheism is not belief in a god, but transcendence as a principle of judgement: an order placed outside life that judges it from above. I prefer immanence, life as a multiplicity that affirms itself without that tribunal. That said, I do not judge it good or bad in itself: I prefer to explore how it manifests itself in everyday life and how it affects the ways in which people think, act and relate to one another. We must recognise the diversity of religious experience and avoid simplifications. It can be a form of power that shapes subjectivity and identity, but also a source of meaning, comfort and community for those who practise it. It deserves sensitivity and understanding.
[Socrates] Gilles, I disagree on this. If monotheism were merely one more expression of multiplicity, what would distinguish it from polytheism? Its core is the affirmation of a single God, unique and omnipotent, and that is not diluted in the diversity of interpretations, however much these may vary between cultures and communities. We must consider not only its impact on subjectivity, but also on morality, politics and society as a whole. It deserves the seriousness it has had throughout history, with its positive aspects and its challenges. I invite you to reflect on it with an open mind and to explore its complexities from multiple perspectives.