Almost 400 years before the birth of Jesus, the most famous of Western philosophers went on trial for corrupting the youth of Athens. That philosopher, Socrates, would later be convicted and carry out his death sentence by drinking poison hemlock.
Socrates didn’t write anything down—or at least nothing he wrote survived antiquity—but we have many of his ideas via his student, Plato. And in Plato’s Apology, we learn one of Socrates’s most famous dictums that he supposedly uttered at that trial in Athens:
“The unexamined life isn’t worth living.”
Most if not all of the times that I’ve heard this quote it has been from the mouth of someone who benefited from its supposed veracity: philosophers, spiritual leaders, and other people who—like me—find the process of thinking about life and big questions inherently satisfying. I’m highly sympathetic to the idea that wisdom is a worthy pursuit and that examining life and its big questions adds tremendous value to existence. Therefore, telling other people that “the unexamined life isn’t worth living” validates my own belief in it and the actions I’ve taken as a result.
And yet sometimes I look around and think about people who aren’t like me, who don’t have anything to gain from other people agreeing with their fondness for the examination of life. It seems like many of them are doing just fine. They’re working in their jobs, having families, and socializing with each other. They talk about the weather, sports, leisurely pursuits, and hobbies. They seem—perhaps annoyingly so—totally unburdened by the weighty questions of existence. They associate with other people who seem equally unburdened by such thoughts. They seem carefree. They seem quite happy.
I could be wrong, of course. Many people might seem content but actually may be living a life of inner turmoil. Others may want to explore the life of the mind and questions like “What is my purpose in life?” but have no one with whom to have those conversations or no framework to do such thinking in an organized way. But that can’t possibly describe all of the happy-go-lucky crowd, right? It seems plausible that there truly are people who are—and will continue to be—perfectly fine with just living life and doing their best to experience pleasure while avoiding pain.
For them, one could argue that the unexamined life is totally fine. In fact, for them, having to deal with the big questions of life might give rise to substantial discomfort and pain. It might actually be a better existence for them in terms of day-to-day pleasantness to ignore such questions and such an examination of life.
Who am I, then, to suggest that the unexamined life isn’t worth living?
A Case for the Examined Life
Certainly philosophers can and have made a variety of cases for the value of living an examined life and for the disadvantages of living an unexamined one. But I’m not a philosopher, and I don’t pretend to be an expert in something beyond my expertise. I do, however, think I can still make a case for digging deep, wrestling with the big questions of life, and embarking on a journey to discover the nuances of what it all means.
My case is simple. Living the unexamined life might be amazing—until adversity strikes. When things happen to you, when you lose your sense of control in this universe, when life punches you in the face with misfortune, disease, tragedy, death, or any other kind of unexpected hardship; you will likely find yourself in a situation in which you must examine life, in which you must wrestle with the big questions. Ignorance may be bliss, but hardship can snatch away that bliss in an instant.
And if the first time you must face these questions and ideas is within the heat of the crucible, well, good luck. That may sound harsh, but so is life. If nothing else, the examined life is one of preparing one’s mind and spirit for the trials we inevitably will face. It is a form of prospective sensemaking, a vehicle of anticipatory resilience as it were that recognizes the tough realities of life in advance. It can provide you with a solid foundation, a strong keel to support you amid the stormy waters ahead. We know as much not just from modern experience but more importantly from several millennia of ancient wisdom.
Entering the World of Epictetus
I’ve referenced James Stockdale elsewhere in my writing, with a focus on “The Stockdale Paradox” as a way to view adversity through the lens of tragic optimism. Readers of that piece may recall that Stockdale, a U.S. Navy aviator, was confined and tortured for almost seven and a half years as a prisoner of war in North Vietnam. Following his release, he spent much of the rest of his life writing and speaking about the value of the examined life, most notably from the perspective of Stoic philosophy.
What’s interesting and relevant for this essay is the fact that Stockdale studied the Stoics with passion and depth for years prior to his captivity. And it was that knowledge and the perspectives it gave that he cited as being instrumental in maintaining his sanity and preserving his honor. One aspect of his mindset that I find compelling is how he faced his adversity head-on, knowing that he would have to rely upon his philosophical training and the fortitude it provided. In his words:
On September 9, 1965, I flew at 500 knots right into a flak trap, at treetop level, in a little A-4 airplane that I suddenly couldn't steer because it was on fire, its control system shot out. After ejection, I had about 30 seconds to make my last statement in freedom before I landed in the main street of a little village right ahead. And, so help me, I whispered to myself: "Five years down there, at least. I'm leaving the world of technology and entering the world of [the Stoic philosopher] Epictetus."
Epictetus himself would likely have applauded Stockdale’s pragmatic approach toward and use of philosophy. From Book 3, Chapter 10 of The Discourses: “But what is philosophizing? Is it not a preparation against events which may happen? … What then should a man say on the occasion of each painful thing? ‘It was for this that I exercised myself, for this I disciplined myself.’”
It was for this that I exercised myself, for this I disciplined myself.
So how might one go about such preparation?
This is where I find tremendous value in grounding oneself in the liberal arts, encountering and thinking through the humanities, social sciences, creative arts, and physical sciences including mathematics. That grounding provides a diverse set of tools and methods for solving problems. Among the liberal arts, the humanities seem to provide unique value regarding exposure to the big ideas of philosophy, the lessons of history and literature, and more.
But for most adults reading this, that ship has sailed. So what now?
Read. For a basic grounding in philosophy, try Peter Kreeft’s Socrates’ Children, a set of four books that give a decent overview of philosophical thought from the ancients to those more modern. For more about Stockdale and ethics, check out the Stockdale Center for Ethical Leadership at the U.S. Naval Academy.
One may find excellent resources as well within one’s own faith traditions, as matters of spirituality and religion necessarily deal with similar questions and problems. Not all do so as well as others, however. My bias, as regular readers might guess, is toward those texts and ideas that have stood the test of time, particularly those from a Judeo-Christian (and specifically Orthodox or Catholic) perspective. I suggest caution, too, particularly when encountering vague feel-good spirituality akin to moralistic therapeutic deism.
Regardless, the first step perhaps is to think about whether you take seriously the big questions of life, and if not, why? The strength one can gain from such inquiry certainly makes it worth it, such that you can face the trials of life upright when they arrive—because they surely will if they haven’t already.
Have a question or thought you’d like to share? An idea you’d like me to consider writing about? Scroll down and let me know with a comment.