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368 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2017
Lots of philosophers have been terrible busybodies, never happier than when sticking their noses into other people's business, reproving them, putting them to rights, correcting them, giving them unsolicited advice. Socrates was clearly able to be agreeable and even very amusing when it suited him, but he was also an exceedingly irritating little twerp, who had more than an occasional whiff of the (highly sophisticated) intellectual bully about him.
His preferred stance, of mildly curious bystander who just happened not to understand what was going on and had a few innocent questions to ask, was a mere pretence, all the more infuriating because it provided no clear focus for negation or resistance. When the prophet shouts 'Smite the Ababelites! Kill their unborn children in the womb!', one can respond 'No, I don't feel like smiting any Ababelites today' or 'Hey, my sister-in-law once had an Ababelite cook and nanny, and she was okay'. This form of resistance won't work when one is confronted with a seemingly polite, even self-deprecating, request for enlightenment: 'Euthyphro, you're a priest, and a great expert in matters of religion; tell me what piety is, won't you? I've never understood that. I need your help.'
Socrates found an absolutely ingenious way to make even asking a simple question an impertinent intervention in others' lives, thus potentially destabilising and disorienting them completely. Alcibiades in Symposium says that Socrates' questioning 'almost' had the effect of making even him, notoriously both unbelievably successful and utterly shameless in his behaviour, ashamed of himself. Socratic irony and the Socratic mode of questioning were monumentally inventive ways of being irritating.
We can come to see through various beliefs as illusions, although that does not make it possible for us to give them up, such as the sun which continues to seem to us to rise each day even after we know it does not. Life is seeing through illusions which we then cannot get rid of. There is no stable point to this process of generation of illusion, seeing through illusion, attempted disillusionment, failure to detach oneself even from illusions one thinks one has seen through, generation of new and 'improved' illusions, and so on. To live is to participate in this process, to continue with it. We are desperate to get out, to stop the wheel, but that is not possible in this life. One of the most difficult lessons we need to learn is that this is the situation in which we as humans find ourselves.
Adorno believes we cannot remedy this situation merely by thinking. We might, then, immediately conclude that thought is futile, and in a sense that is right. However, we can trace the causes of this cataclysm and its effects, and perhaps there is a kind of limited and bitter—even perverse but none the less real—individual happiness to be derived from the success of the project of understanding them. In fact, perhaps one of the few pleasures left is to understand our own unhappiness. So the only sensible course for us is to try to continue to live to the extent to which we can manage it, as 'subjects'—as active centres of feeling, thought, and action rather than merely as cogs turned by other cogs in the social mechanism