Asian Philosophy: Strategy - Sunzi, Musashi & the Hagakure

Today we will be covering famous classics of Chinese and Japanese martial arts.  The first is the Chinese Art of War of Sunzi.  The second and third are the two most revered books of samurai self-discipline, Musashi’s Book of Five Rings and Yamamoto Tsunetomo’s Hagakure.


Sunzi & The Art of War

Sunzi (Master Sun, ‘Sun Tzu’ in the old Wade-Giles), also known as Sun Wu, is the great ancient master of strategy and the philosophy of warfare.  Based on the types of warfare described in his Art of War, he is thought to have lived during the late Spring and Autumn period or early Warring States period around 500 BCE, but his dates are unknown and his life made into legend.  It is also possible that Sunzi’s descendant Sun Bin, himself a military strategist, may have been mixed together with the life and legend of Sunzi.  

One story often told, which modern historians consider to be pure legend, goes that the King of Wu decided to test Sunzi before accepting him as general of his armies, asking him to train his concubines in military drill with spears to show his efficiency.  Sunzi appointed the king’s two most favorite as officers, and gave the order to face right.  The concubines all giggled.  Sunzi told the king that the officers were at fault, and ordered them executed.  The king protested, but Sunzi argued that this was the only way in war to ensure complete discipline.  After that, the concubines learned with remarkable speed and skill.

During the Warring States/Hundred Philosophers period, The Art of War became the most widely read work on military strategy in the seven states who sought control of what is today Eastern China.  The Qin considered the work critical in the ending of the Warring States period and the unification of China.  As with the Confucian and Daoist classics, the book had reached its final form by the time of the Han dynasty.  The Art of War covers not simply just maneuvers in war, but also methods of propaganda, deceit, and political control.  Like Confucius’ four books and the later Neo-Confucian classics, it was required reading for obtaining a government position, particularly for a position in the military.  

The Art of War has had a wide influence on warfare, both ancient and modern.  Introduced in Japan in 760 CE, it was a favorite of shoguns and samurai long before the unification of Japan.  Napoleon read and used the work, as did Mao Zedong and Ho Chi Minh.  It is today required reading for US Military Intelligence and CIA officers.

Some of Sunzi’s central teachings are focused on gathering intelligence and practicing deceit (or counter-intelligence), knowing everything about the enemy but preventing the enemy from knowing anything about yourself.  He argues that sheer numbers give no advantage, and it is far better to out-think than to out-fight.  Ho Chi Minh’s use of the Art of War in repelling the far superior American soldiers and firepower during the Vietnam War brought the book into use by the US military and intelligence services.  One tactic specifically used was staying close and inter-meshed with the enemy when the enemy has superior firepower.  This works just as well against bows and crossbows as it does against cluster bombs and napalm, as the enemy can not fire on you without hitting their own troops as well.

In the first verses of the text, Sunzi says that the first rule of warfare, to be at one with the way of warfare, is for the leaders and people to be of one mind.  This has two implications.  First, keeping one’s own troops and civilians believing in the leaders is first and foremost, in times of peace and war through aid and propaganda.  Second, in war one should work thought deceit, propaganda and any other means to disenchant the enemy troops and civilians.  The psychological game is more important than the physical fight.  You should not only know how to boost morale and engage in psychological warfare, you should learn to judge your enemy’s ability to boost morale and engage in psychological warfare, for if they are superior at the psychological game you will likely not withstand a physical fight.

One tactic Sunzi taught to win the psychological game was moving troops after every assault, commonly employed in guerrilla warfare such as that employed by the Southern Confederate army against the Northern Union army, as well as the Vietcong against the United States.  For much of European history, this tactic was considered dishonorable and armies would march in plain sight toward each other, but today it is standard practice accross the world.  The change was particularly motivated by the invention of the rifle during the American Civil War and the invention of the machine gun used in WWI.  If the enemy launches a full assault against a specific area, it is often wise to let them advance, move, and then attack from the sides or from behind.  This is similar to the idea behind Aikido, discussed with Daoism.  If the enemy has superior strength or striking power, you move out of the way to keep them off balance.

Not only should you change position, but continuously change tactics as well.  Unconventional tactics that continue to shift situation by situation may make for difficult planning, but they keep the enemy guessing.  Sunzi says, “I never repeat the means whereby I achieve victory, but responsively adjust my positions continuously”.  He employs the Daoist metaphor of being like water, saying that just as water produces currents according to the terrain it crosses, an army must respond fluidly to the enemy to be victorious.

Another psychological tactic that meshes well with Daoist teachings is to appear to be the opposite of what you are.  If you are strong, appear weak.  If you are far, appear near.  If you are active, appear to be inactive.  This will not only cause the enemy to put ineffective actions and strategies into play, but in the long run keep them guessing and always confused.  Equally and oppositely, one should encourage the enemy to be as one-sided as possible.  If the enemy is greedy, tempt them so they act on it and are drawn out.  if the enemy is angry, provoke them to make them even angrier.  If the enemy is strong, avoid them and allow them to wear themselves down through continuous advancement.  In the Dao De Jing of Laozi, it says what one wants to defeat one should allow to grow strong.

Another teaching of Sunzi that fits well with the Daoist teaching of wu-wei (non-action) is that one should always attempt to win with the least amount of fighting possible, and the best way to win is to win without fighting at all.  This boosts morale and spares wasting resources.  If you are more efficient at this than your enemy, you can outlast their strength.  While one should allow one’s enemy to grow strong to wear them down, one should wait for a moment of weakness to attack, and then gain the upper hand as quickly as possible so that strength and resources are not wasted.  A prolonged war wears down your troops as well as the morale of the citizens.  Long periods of warfare lead to poverty among the citizens and inflation for the economy, which can not long endure before rebellions divide one’s lands from within.

Sunzi says it is wise to eat the enemy’s food and use the enemy’s resources, and that one bushel of the enemy’s grain is equivalent to twenty of one’s own.  One famous example from Chinese warfare is found in the Battle of Red Cliffs at the end of the Han Dynasty.  Zhuge Liang told his superior that he could provide ten thousand arrows in three days, a task that seemed impossible.  He used the three days to attach bundles of straw to a fleet of ships, and then he sailed these ships toward the enemy with a small armored crew.  The enemy, believing the boasts to be full of troops, fired barrage after barrage of arrows at the boats, which were then recalled, along with the arrows stuck in the straw.  These arrows were now used against the enemy themselves, who had far fewer arrows then they had before.  Sunzi argued that using the enemy’s troops was also wise, enticing them to change sides and then treating them well.  It is also wise to defeat the enemy without destroying them, keeping their armies, population and lands intact.  This not only allows for more spoils, but breeds less resentment in the population one has conquered.

A big fan of using spies, as well as paying the enemy’s spies well to become double agents, Sunzi says that foreknowledge, knowing what will happen before it happens, cannot be learned from ghosts and spirits, but from spies, who are clearly worth their pay given what an army costs and the value of psychology over strength.  Double agents, enemy spies discovered and then used to give false information back to the enemy who does not know the spies have been discovered and turned, should be paid the most, as they are the most valuable.

The Cultural Myth of Bushido

In the article (the last selection in your reader) Death and Bushido, Hurst argues that a modern mythology has grown since World War II in Japan, America and elsewhere about bushido, the supposedly suicidal samurai code.  Nitobe Inazo (1862 - 1933), who was educated by Americans and had a very poor understanding of Japanese history and culture, wrote the international best-seller Bushido: The Soul of Japan in 1899 to introduce Americans to the culture he was actively abandoning.  Nitobe believed that he was coining a new word, ‘bushido’, for the code of the medieval samurai.  The word does appear in the Hagakure, but this is rare.  Unfortunately, Nitobe was very inaccurate and overly romantic in emphasizing a culture of honor, death and suicide as distinctly Japanese.

The Hagakure of Yamamoto Tsunetomo, which we will turn to shortly, was held up by Nitobe as the samurai classic, the book that tells us “the way of the samurai is found in death”, and that samurai live to serve their master and commit suicide whenever this becomes impossible.  Unfortunately for Nitobe, Tsunetomo was an eccentric who was describing his personal philosophy and teachings he hoped to pass on to his clan, not the common culture of feudal Japan.  Courage in the face of death and loyalty are prized in warriors the world over, and they were values highly prized in Neo-Confucianism, but recklessly accepting death was not.  Tsunetomo himself wished to commit suicide after the death of his lord but he was ordered not to by the Shogun.  Retiring as a Buddhist priest, he then wrote the Hagakure.  After the death of a lord, it was far more common for samurai to become ronin, wandering master-less samurai, until finding employment with another lord.  Tsunetomo says becoming a ronin is despicable, and is a practice that has unfortunately become common in his own time unlike in the glorious past, but he is likely mistaken and projecting his own views.

There was no common Japanese code for samurai, and the cultural coherence they shared was a mixture of Neo-Confucianism and Zen Buddhism, along with an appreciation of Daoism.  There were samurai who were devoted to Zen, both the Soto and Rinzai traditions, to Pure Land Buddhist traditions, as well as to orthodox Neo-Confucianism and the unorthodox Wang Yangming school, but there were none who were devoted to a tradition known as “Bushido”.  

When Japanese Nationalism surged between WWI and WWII, when Japan was fighting wars with China and Russia, Nitobe’s book became popular with Nationalists who embraced bushido as a new religion.  This reached its peak in WWII, when Japan was fighting America in the Pacific, sometimes using suicidal kamikaze pilots to take out battleships and aircraft carriers.  This encouraged the belief in America that the Japanese are a culture obsessed with death and willing to commit suicide at the drop of a hat, views that fit nicely with a racist understanding that Asian culture, unlike Western culture, finds the individual entirely dispensable.  This is found in James Clavell’s novel Shogun, where many samurai characters kill cruelly with little emotion and often see suicide as an honorable solution to political problems.  In the documentary Hearts and Minds, a film about American propaganda during the Vietnam war, a general tells the television camera that in the Orient, life is cheap and not valued as in the West, which is why bombing villages of women and children is unfortunate but necessary in a battle against Asian people.  There are similar things being said about Muslims by generals and pro-war pundits in America today.  One news anchor said that suicide bombers show us that Muslims do not care about their children the way that Western people do, and so they are unfortunately put in war’s way and become casualties of bombing runs.

As Hurst points out, many of the most famous battles of feudal Japan were decided by a defection, of a major player switching allegiances.  Just as Sunzi says, in war defectors, especially nobles and their houses, are highly prized, encouraged and rewarded.  It appears that the medieval Japanese valued both loyalty and abandoning loyalty for personal gain, just like the rest of humanity.  It is often forgotten that when particular values such as loyalty are highly praised it is precisely because their opposite vices are all too common.

Seppuku, Japanese ritual suicide, did exist but was uncommon.  It was not a solution to political disgrace, but typically practiced as a way of avoiding enemy capture, torture and execution.  Some samurai did practice junshi, committing suicide to follow their lord in death, but this was also rare.  Seppuku was a punishment in the Tokugawa period, and samurai who had or were suspected of committed crimes were sometimes ordered to commit suicide, but this was hardly embraced by the samurai.  Similarly, much has been made of kirisute gomen in Tokugawa times, the practice of testing a blade on a random peasant passing by as if samurai had this common privilege, but historians today find almost no credible instances of this practice.

Musashi’s Book of Five Rings

Miyamoto Musashi (1584 - 1645) is possibly the most famous samurai in Japanese and world history.  He is famous for his dueling record (supposedly only losing once), his invention of a two sword fighting style, and as the author of his strategy guide The Book of Five Rings.  A follower of Zen Buddhism, he practiced zazen sitting meditation for decades.  His life was celebrated in the famous but somewhat fictional 1935 novel Musashi by Eiji Yoshikawa.  My father had a copy of this gigantic book (three inches thick) when I was growing up and he would tell me stories of Musashi’s duels.  In WWII, the Japanese named one of their most powerful battleships the Musashi, and today there is a Playstation game by the same name.

Musashi’s two sword style was invented as he was fleeing a fortress and fighting off a crowd, as he was forced to draw his second sword to defend himself.  Traditionally, the second sword would only be drawn if the first sword was lost.

Musashi was known to keep his opponents waiting and arrive late to make them upset and give them time to be unsettled by the thought of possible death.  Duels were fought with a variety of weapons, but Musashi always chose the sword.  Several of his duels were fought in front of the Shogun.  Most duels would not be fought to the death but ended after the first blow was successfully struck, unless a duel to the death was agreed upon by both opponents.  

Musashi’s most famous duel was with Sasaki Kojiro, known as the demon of the western provinces, on Funajima Island.  There are conflicting stories about the duel, much which may be myth.  Today there is a statue on the island commemorating the duel, as well as a statue of a boat at the place Musashi set sail for the island.  According to the legend, Musashi agreed to duel Kojiro to the death, and the duel preoccupied him so much that he hopped in the boat without his swords.  As he was rowed to the island, he carved a wooden sword out of a spare oar.  He arrived late, as usual, infuriating the comrades of Kojiro.  According to one account, Musashi stepped of the boat, wordlessly charged at Kojiro, struck him in the head with a single blow, killing him, then stepped back onto the boat and left with the turning tide to avoid Kojiro’s comrades.  In the novel, Kojiro throws his sheath away into the surf as Musashi steps off the boat.  Musashi says, “Kojiro, you’ve already lost”.  Kojiro, perplexed, asks why.  Musashi replies that Kojiro must not think he has any more use for his sword.  Clearly, Kojiro meant to intimidate Musashi with his show of total disregard, but Musashi, playing the mental game as Sunzi recommends, turns this confidence into doubt to use his opponent’s show against him.

In his Book of Five Rings, Musashi says that a great warrior is a well rounded person who studies the arts and tea ceremony as well as a wide variety of martial arts.  Musashi was himself a painter, and there are several of his works that remain today including his famous Kingfisher Perched in a Dead Tree.  He argues that learning many things enriches and compliments each particular skill.  There is the Buddha’s way of salvation, Confucius’ way of learning, and the many ways of the arts and the martial arts.  Each individual practices the ways that they find pleasing.

Musashi writes that the way of the warrior is the way of both the pen and the sword, of studying strategy as well as physical fighting.  The warrior uses the pen and sword to gain resolute acceptance of death, to be able to die for the cause.  Anyone of any station in life can die for a cause, but it is the warrior’s profession.  Musashi compares a master carpenter planning and building a house to a warrior who strategically plans and physically fights battles and duels.

The five rings, each a chapter of the work, are the five elements of Buddhist cosmology.  Earth concerns strategy, like a map of the terrain.  Water concerns spirit, to become fluid to react to the situation.  Fire concerns fighting, having the courage and skill to win.  Wind concerns the past traditions and schools of strategy, the things said by those of the past.  Finally, Void, the fifth element that binds the others together as particular things, the highest element, is the eternal way of things, what one must become like to act naturally.

Musashi says that timing is critical to everything, and that all five books are chiefly concerned with timing.  Learning and training allows one to gain the ability to win with the eye as well as the arm.  This is interesting advice from a guy who purposefully arrives late.  Opponents, like Kojiro’s comrades, would say Musashi is dishonorable and irresponsible, a poor teacher of timing, but Musashi would say that using lateness as a strategy, developing patience and using inaction (a good example of Daoist wu-wei) is mastery of timing.

Yamamoto Tsunetomo’s Hagakure

In the Hagakure (In the Shadow of the Leaves) of Yamamoto Tsunetomo, there are many lessons to be learned.  Like Musashi, he repeatedly references Confucius and the Buddha.  Unlike Musashi, Tsunetomo repeatedly argues that a warrior should not be an artist or waste time rounding themselves out, but rather focus on virtue and martial arts.  Virtue includes not only courage, but also compassion for all people and being in harmony with the way of all things.  

In the opening passages, Tsunetomo writes, “The Way of the samurai is found in death.  When it comes to either/or, there is only the quick choice of death.  It is not particularly difficult.  Be determined and advance.  To say that dying without reaching one’s aim is to die a dog’s death is the frivolous way of the sophisticated.  When pressed with the choice of life or death, it is not necessary to gain one’s aim...To die without gaining one’s aim IS a dog’s death and fanaticism, but there is no shame in this.  This is the substance of the way of the samurai.”

Tsunetomo argues that a warrior should devote himself to his lord and lose all self-interest.  This seems unobtainable, but it is “right before your eyes” and anyone can become excellent the very moment it is completely accepted.  He claims that with only two or three such devoted, an entire state can be protected.

He says that it is bad to yawn in front of others, and to stop oneself from yawning one should rub one’s forehead upwards or lick one’s lips while keeping one’s mouth closed.

In an interesting passage, he says that fish will not live in water that is too clear and prefer to hide under duckweed.  In the same way, the population will “live in tranquility if certain matters are a bit overlooked or left unheard”.

He quotes Master Yagyu, saying, “I do not know the way to defeat others, but the way to defeat myself”.  In an almost direct quote from Laozi’s Dao De Jing, he says that matters of great concern should be taken lightly, and matters of little concern should be treated seriously.  If one takes small things seriously, then everything will be in order when disaster strikes and one will be at peace and have the patience and skill one needs.

He argues that one should not promote those who have not committed mistakes, but promote those who have made and corrected their mistakes.  Those who have never made mistakes are dangerous, while those who have corrected their mistakes show repentance and have gained valuable experience.

Tsunetomo says there is something to be learned in a rainstorm that applies to everything in life.  If a person doesn’t want to get wet, they hurry and try to walk under shelter but get soaked anyway.  The person who knows and accepts they are going to get soaked gets just as wet, but walks without fear and concern.  Accepting the inevitability of mistakes, pain and betrayal frees the mind to see the immediate.  This is a wonderful mix of Buddhist tranquility and Daoist non-action.

He argues that when something strange happens, it is ridiculous to say that it is a mystery or an omen of something to come.  All things, including solar eclipses, are simply the natural activities of Yin and Yang, so an eclipse happening every one hundred years is no more mysterious or ominous than the sun rising and setting every day.  A sunrise would seem strange and mysterious if it happened only every hundred years.  Mystery is created in the mind.

He argues that calculating people are contemptible, and all decisions should be made within the space of seven breaths.  In the most trivial matters one’s heart can be clearly seen, and the way to handle anything is found in the smallest of things.

Greek Philosophy: Pyrrho & Skepticism

The Life & Thought of Pyrrho

Pyrrho (360 - 270 BCE), the greatest skeptic of ancient Greece, was from Elis, Northwest of Athens on the Dorian peninsula.  Diogenes Laertius says that Pyrrho was originally a painter, an interesting first profession for a thinker skeptical of human judgements as images that never fully capture the original.  Originally, the word ‘skeptikos’ meant ‘inquirer’, someone who investigates matters continuously.

As we have discussed with previous thinkers such as Xenophanes, Heraclitus, Democritus and Socrates, skepticism is often portrayed by more dogmatic thinkers as a pessimistic nihilism, a dreary attitude that no knowledge is possible, but skeptics (with an exception being Thrasymachus in Plato’s Republic, who serves as a device for Plato’s dogmatic turn in his middle and late dialogues) are often quite optimistic about seeking knowledge and wisdom within oneself and without the cosmos.  While skeptics are relativists, critical of claims to absolute universal knowledge, skeptics are passionate about seeking relative truth, which they find a continuous source of insight and engagement.  Clearly, skeptics as “inquirers” believe that there is no end to inquiry, no end to what we can discover.

As a young painter, Pyrrho became fascinated with philosophy through the works of Democritus, the atomist who was quite skeptical of human judgements inspite of his atomic theory.  Democritus said, “Reason is a powerful persuader”, and about the gods and the workings of the heavens, “Man is what we know”.  Critical of knowledge, said we should have much thought rather than much learning, and said, “In reality, we know nothing, for truth is in the depths”, arguing that we must remind ourselves that we are always relatively removed from the reality that surrounds us.  This is similar to Heraclitus, who wrote, “Nature loves to hide”, and “Things keep their secrets”.  Also, like Heraclitus, Democritus said, “The world is change, life is opinion”, and “The world is a stage, life is our entrance: You came, you saw, you left”.  Pyrrho also was acquainted with the paradoxical thought of the Eleatics, which he learned from the Megarian School, founded by a follower of Socrates.

Pyrrho traveled with his teacher Anaxarchus, also a follower of Democritus, and Alexander, student of Aristotle and brief emperor, to Persia and India, some sources say as a soldier and others as a scholar.  Alexander failed to conquer India, unlike he had Egypt and Persia.  Pyrrho learned from the Persian Magi as well as Indian ‘gymnosophists’, a strange term meaning those who trained and studied both gymnastics (likely yogic postures) and philosophy.  These could have been Jains, who were known for logical debate as well as extreme practices of bodily discipline, including fasting while standing in the jungle for days.  Statues of Jain teachers frequently show vines growing up their very naked bodies.  Sources say that one Indian gymnosophist set himself on fire to go willingly to death, terrifying Alexander and his entourage.

After returning to Elis, Pyrrho chose to live a simple life of poverty, but he was known both in Elis and in Athens for his skill at debate, and the Athenians went so far as to offer him citizenship and construct a statue to his honor after his death.  The people of Elis offered Pyrrho the job of chief priest, believing his command of truth to be divine, and to honor him made philosophers exempt from taxation.  Pyrrho wrote nothing, though his work was recorded by his student Timon (not the same Timon as the meercat of the Lion King), and then his skepticism was elaborated much later by Sextus Empiricus, from whom we know of Pyrrho’s thought today.

Jains, good candidates for the ‘gymnosophists’ Pyrrho met in India, advocate two principles that are shared with Indian thought but credited to Jain innovation: anekantavada, the multiplicity and relativity or “non-one-endedness” of reality, and syadvada, the hypothetical and imperfect nature of perspective and judgment that is always the fiber of human truth.  According to these two principles, all human beliefs and judgments are temporary and partial views of each particular thing, including the self, and the cosmos, the greater whole.  Jains, like Buddhists, believe that things may or may not be as they seem and may or may not be expressible as they are.

Pyrrho’s skepticism is summed up under the term ‘acatalepsia’, withholding judgement.  Like Zeno, Pyrrho taught that any belief can be countered by the opposite belief which contradicts it.  Thus, like Jains, Pyrrho held that reality is not one-sided, like human judgements, and that all judgements are partial and should be treated as hypothetical, as a best guess.

While some in ancient or modern times might accuse Pyrrho of being a sophist, of being a destroyer of truth who merely argues any side skillfully but without genuine pursuit of the truth, Pyrrho, like the Eleatics and Socrates, believed that seeing the limitation and contradictions inherent in all sides of the truth, in all positions of human judgement, brings one closest to the full truth, giving one the god’s eye view, as far as mortally possible.

Just as Socrates’ knowledge that we mortals are ignorant was considered divine (as we saw in Plato’s Apology and Symposium), Pyrrho, like Parmenides in Plato’s dialogue of that name, argued each side knowing that each side was ignorant and limited.  Just as Socrates in Plato’s Meno argued that we can pursue the good, though we do not know what it is, both knowing and not knowing it, Pyrrho put this into practice like Parmenides, showing that each side of any argument is simultaneously a knowing and not knowing, both true and false, as is the opposing side.  As evidence of this, Pyrrho pointed to the continuous fact of differences of opinion amongst both the foolish and the wise, constant argument among both the educated and uneducated, the common and the distinguished alike.

Pyrrho argued that each thing is both this and that, and neither this nor that.  This is very similar to the great Buddhist logician Nagarjuna, who argued that each thing or judgement is, is not, both is and is not, and neither is nor is not.  Consider the example of a fire being hot.  Because a particular fire is not simply hot, but only relatively hot (cooler than the plasma in a star, for example), it is also correct to say that the fire is not hot, insofar as it is not simply or entirely hot.  Similarly, then, it is also correct to say that the fire both is and is not hot.  Finally, because the fire is not simply or exclusively hot or not hot, it is correct to say that the fire neither is nor is not hot.

Recall that Plato’s Parmenides told Socrates that if one practices this sort of dialectical exercise, one will grow wise and come to see the truth of the forms of things.  Pyrrho may very well have found this sort of exercise in debate with Indian logicians, and brought it back to Greece.  Legend has it that Pyrrho could defeat anyone in argument, then take his opponent’s position and defeat his own.  He could do this because he knew that human truth was fundamentally one-sided, and so could not eliminate opposition.

Pyrrho believed that seeing this theoretically and then putting it into practice, exercising as Plato’s Parmenides suggests, brings peace of mind and freedom from fear, what Pyrrho and later Pyrrhonians called ‘ataraxia’, a state of tranquility.  If one is attached to neither side of an argument, then one has nothing to fear of either side being asserted.  Because things are non-onesided, appearing to us as one-sided but then as two-sided, we must ask ourselves what our relationship is to the truth and how we should approach life.  Pyrrho believed in a life of simplicity and being emotionally detached and at peace, similar to Greek philosophers we have already studied, as well as the Epicureans and Stoics we will study next week, who while disagreeing with Pyrrho also believed that the practical goal of life was attainment of ataraxia.

Some sources, critical of Pyrrho, said that wherever he went he needed to be chaperoned by friends so that he would not skeptically try to walk off the sides of cliffs or in front of chariots and waggons.  It is likelier that Pyrrho could argue that one could pass through a chariot or walk through the air without feeling it necessary to prove this physically, and this story was told by more dogmatic thinkers who Pyrrho angered with his skepticism.  It is true that no chariot or waggon is absolutely solid, nor is walking off a cliff certain death.

Aenesidemus founded Pyrrhonism or Pyrrhonian Skepticism as a school in the first century BCE.  Continuously angering more dogmatic thinkers and schools of thought, Pyrrhonians were known for relativising every assertion with, “It seems that...”, or “It appears to me that...”, rather than state categorically what is the truth.  Critical of the logic of Aristotle and his Peripatetic school, the Pyrrhonians argued that there were no truths that could be absolutely asserted (All X is Y) or absolutely denied (No X is Y).  All that we can know, given our limited perspective and ability to gather knowledge through experience, is what can be relatively asserted (Some X is Y) or relatively denied (Some X is not Y).

Here, there is an interesting difference between our use of the terms ‘general’ and ‘universal’, both of which Aristotle applied to absolute assertion and negation.  When we say ‘universal’, we mean absolute, but when we say ‘general’, this can also mean relative.  Thus, for Aristotle, to say, “X is generally Y” means X is always Y, but we can read that as saying, “X is relatively and mostly Y”.  While Pyrrhonians did not deny this second sort of statement, asserting or denying something predominantly, they would deny Aristotle the ability to make universal statements, which he would also call ‘general’ statements.


Skepticism between Pyrrho & Sextus: Timon & Aenesidemus

Between the death of Pyrrho in 270 BCE and the time of Sextus Empiricus, four hundred years later, there is limited evidence of a Pyrrhonian tradition.  While Pyrrho wrote nothing, Pyrrho’s student Timon, who lived with Pyrrho for many years in Elis, left behind fragments of poetry found in the works of other philosophers and historians.  Timon wrote that what our senses and mind tell us, our sensations and conceptions, are neither lies nor truth, but both and neither.  Realizing this as theoretically true and then putting it into practice results in speaking less, freedom from fear, and happiness.

The next Pyrrhonian was Aenesidemus, who took up Pyrrho and Timon’s skepticism in Alexandria Egypt in the first century CE.  This leaves a gap between the death of Timon, around 230 BCE, and Aenesidemus, who was living after the year 0.  Clearly the works of Timon, and possibly other followers of Pyrrho, had survived.  Alexandria was the capital of Alexander’s empire, which he chose to place in Egypt, and it remained one of the greatest centers of ancient knowledge for centuries.  It’s library, known as the Library of Alexandria, was said to contain all the texts of the ancient world that could be acquired, many having been looted by Alexander and his armies.  Unfortunately, the library, which turned out to have been a set of thousands of scrolls on a long shelf and not a separate building as archeologists originally supposed, was burned by Julius Caesar in 48 CE, some say accidentally and others intentionally.  

Aenesidemus’ major work, Pyrrhonian Discourses, did not survive.  He is known to have argued against members of Plato’s Academy and Stoics about beliefs they strongly asserted, even as they admitted degrees of skepticism.  Like a Jain or Buddhist logician from India, Aenesidemus argued that things could be quite true at certain times and places, but quite untrue at others, and human conceptions were incapable of revealing more than this to us.  He was known for arguing this with his ‘Ten Tropes’, ten recurring themes or points he often made.  These ten were:

1) Various animals perceive things differently.
2) Various people perceive things differently.
3) One person can perceive things differently, as contradictory.
4) Perception varies from one time to another.
5) Perception varies from one place to another.
6) Things are perceived through media, such as air and water.
7) The things we perceive change continuously in size, color and temperature.
8) Perceptions are relative and interact with each other.
9) Perceptions become weaker after repetition, becoming custom.
10) People are raised in various cultures, under various laws and customs.

Like the modern Scottish philosopher Hume, who will be mentioned again soon, Aenesidemus argued that cause and effect cannot be known physically but only via mental conception.  The mind witnesses two events, and links the two together with a concept, which then becomes a customary prejudice.  While it is useful to assume that things will follow in accord with one’s conceptions, this may, for all we know, only be true under certain circumstances but not others.

Aenesidemus was also a follower of the work of Heraclitus, who argued that opposites codetermine each other and can both be present at one and the same time in the same thing, unlike Aristotle.  Many of the ten tropes are similar to the thinking of Heraclitus, who also argues that things are variously perceived using the example of various animals and various cultures, and who argues that all things change unceasingly.


Sextus Empiricus

Sextus Empiricus (160 - 210 CE) is the first Pyrrhonian Skeptic whose text survives today, the major work by which Pyrrho, Aenesidemus and Pyrrhonian Skepticism are known.  Sextus uses the terms ‘skeptic’, ‘Pyrrhonist’ and ‘Pyrrhonian’ interchangeably.  His major work can thus be variously translated as Outlines of Skepticism or Outlines of Pyrrhonism, both titles existing in print today as the same text.  Sextus is heavily influenced by Aenesidemus, and he places the ten tropes centrally in the beginning of his Outlines.  Several other works of Sextus’ survive, typically gathered under the title Against the Professors, which include Against the Mathematicians, Against the Astronomers, Against the Rhetoricians, Against the Musicians, Against the Ethicists, Against the Logicians, Against the Physicians, Against the Physicists, and, most centrally, Against the Dogmatists.

Sextus was likely a doctor who lived in Alexandria, Egypt, thought this is disputable, as some sources place him in Athens, and others in Rome.  Various sources, including the famed doctor Galen, report that Pyrrhonian Skepticism was popular among many in the medical profession, as it was always possible to be wrong about a diagnosis and change treatment depending on outcomes.  This remains so today, in spite of the fact that medicine is perhaps the most important and practical of the sciences for our survival.

Sextus’ Outlines of Skepticism is composed of three books.  The first book is a general argument for the skepticism of Pyrrho and Aenesidemus, including Aenesidemus’ ten tropes.  The second and third books are specifically concerned with attacking particular opponents’ positions, the second book focusing on epistemology and logic, on how we know and how we argue, the third book on physics and ethics, what we know about the cosmos and the individual.

Sextus begins saying that in any matter being investigated, we could either A) assert we have found the truth, B) deny that any truth can be known, or C) continue to investigate.  The first is dogmatism, which includes Aristotle, Epicurus and the Stoics.  Sextus says early in the work that the Stoics are his chief dogmatic opponents.  The second is the position of Academics (of Plato’s Academy) such as Clitomachus and Carneades.  The third position is that of skeptics, who continue to investigate and describe things as they appear.  Pyrrho is the first to have systematically and thoroughly committed himself to skepticism.  The second position, a pessimistic skepticism Sextus identifies with members of Plato’s Academy long after the time of Plato, is not for Sextus genuine skepticism, but a dogmatic position that knowledge and truth are completely impossible.

Sextus says that by suspending judgement, we can achieve tranquility.  Clearly, this suspension of judgement is not a suspension of investigation, and neither is achieving tranquility.  Judgement is suspended such that more investigation is possible, and the tranquility achieved is an opening of the individual mind to the greater pursuit of truth.  Skepticism is the development of an ability to investigate, an ability hindered by all dogmas.  In the Chinese Daoist text the Zhuangzi, we read similarly, “You cannot discuss the way of things with a cramped scholar, as he is shackled by his doctrines”.

Sextus says that skepticism is the ability to think.  When we take a position on a matter dogmatically, we are limiting ourselves from taking the contrary position, from thinking that which contradicts our position.  If we find a position to be quite true, and then take it up as our position, we block ourselves from taking the opposite position, which may also be true in other ways, times or places.  For this reason, the best position is to have no particular position, realizing that various positions can coexist complexly in ways that dogmatic systemization cannot capture.

Pyrrhonians, unlike any other school, develop this ability to its utmost, and thus achieve a calming of the soul.  Other schools sought truth dogmatically, thinking that they would achieve tranquility once they found what is simply true and what is simply false.  Unfortunately for dogmatists, for every position there is a counter-position, for every truth there is a counter-truth.  Recognizing this, Pyrrhonians hold no beliefs as absolute, and thus can freely assert or deny any position as needed.

While Pyrrhonians hold no beliefs, this does not mean that they do not have impressions or cannot give descriptions.  To believe one’s beliefs are true is to assert something that is unclear, unlike impressions and descriptions, which can be clearly given even if they are never absolute.  This is not to say that everything is false dogmatically, as this would not be suspension of belief.  Rather, one should describe one’s own impressions, without feeling the need to extend these impressions into beliefs.

Sextus says that Pyrrhonism is not a school if a school is defined by its beliefs, but if a school is an orientation on how to live life and think, then Pyrrhonism is a school.  Notice that this makes Pyrrhonism both a school and not a school, and so it is also neither a school nor not a school exclusively.  Pyrrhonians, like those of other dogmatic schools, should study the natural sciences, but primarily such that all dogmatic beliefs can be opposed, not to assert dogmatic belief about any subject.  The same is true of Logic and Ethics.

If skepticism rejects beliefs, can it say nothing?  Sextus says that things do appear to be the case, and that the way things appear should continue to be investigated.  Just as things are perceived differently by various animals, and perceived differently at various times and from various positions, the way that things do appear to ourselves and others is investigated by the skeptic.  It is granted that there are perceptions, that there are appearances, but these themselves appear to be true and appear to be untrue.  While dogmatists argue that skeptics reject what is apparent, Sextus argues that skeptics rather show that dogmatists are rash in accepting appearances as truth, which is done by neither accepting nor rejecting appearances.

Like dogmatists, skeptics have standards, but their standards are not convictions but processes, not statements about reality but activities of investigation.  Neither dogmatists nor skeptics can be entirely inactive.  We all naturally perceive, think, desire, value, and teach.  Sextus says that this can all be done skeptically, without convictions or dogmas.

Like Aristotle, Sextus argues that all things have their aim or purpose, the object of desire.  Skepticism aims at tranquility and moderation.  While Aristotle argued for the achievement of purpose and moderation, unlike Sextus and skeptics Aristotle aimed for universal truths uncontradicted by genuine opposition.  Sextus argues that skeptics too seek truth and act towards aims, but they are enabled by the tranquility achieved through suspension of judgement, of moving beyond the aim for uncontradicted truths.  Dogmatists must commit themselves to deciding whether particular things are good or bad by nature with an intensity that prevents them from thinking, feeling and acting in moderation.  

It is indeed an odd paradox in the philosophy of Aristotle that his logic proceeds from the principles of noncontradiction and the excluded middle, the exclusive separation of true and false, but his ethics is centered on the mean, on the inclusive balance of extremity and disparity, of excess and lack.  Sextus is arguing that we would best attain Aristotle’s ethics by avoiding Aristotle’s logic.  Similarly, we attain greater truth, are more enabled to seek truth, by avoiding dogmatic judgements and convictions.

Sextus tells us a story to illustrate.  Apelles, a painter (like Pyrrho) was trying to paint the lather of a horse’s mouth, but after trying again and again he could not.  Out of frustration, without thinking, Apelles flung his sponge for removing paint at the image of the horse, and accidentally it produced the perfect representation he had been seeking all along.  This has remarkable parallels with the birth of modern art with the Dada and Surrealist artists, who used automatism to create their works.  Recognizing, like ancient Pyrrhonians, that rational planning was actually a process that is not entirely under our own control, they would create works “automatically” by following a methods that randomly produced works that became spontaneously beautiful, created and not created by the artist simultaneously and seamlessly.

This fluid and effortless creation is the aim of skepticism too, but achieved in thought the way that a great painter achieves it in paint.  Skeptics, like everyone else, are disturbed by things such as cold and thirst, but unlike many they act without thinking they must aim at convictions, at uncontradicted judgements, and so are more capable of acting in moderation when disturbed.  Investigating things flows freely when we do not need to bring it to final exclusive judgements.

How are we to suspend judgement?  Sextus says that it comes about through opposition, opposing appearance against counter-appearance and opinion against counter-opinion, “crosswise” as Sextus puts it.  As an example, he gives a tower which has flat sides appearing round from a distance.  We can consider another similar example (from an educational children’s show I watched when I was young) that from the side a pyramid and cone appear to be triangles, but from above the pyramid appears as a square and the cone as a circle.

As another example, Sextus says that against those who believe in providence, that the cosmos is ordered such that the good will gain and the bad will lose, can be opposed examples of “the good doing badly and the bad doing well”, by which it appears that there is no providence or cosmic order.  Recall that these are the two opposed views of Socrates and Thrasymachus in Plato’s Republic, and that Socrates opposed Thrasymachus but did not feel satisfied and after Thrasymachus, himself unsatisfied and frustrated, left the gathering, Socrates proceeded to oppose Thrasymachus’ position with Plato’s own dogmatic form of justice and virtue.  

Sextus, without mentioning the Republic, is not saying that we should be convinced that Thrasymachus is right, that there is no cosmic order and power is simply the good of the stronger, but rather that each position has a counter-position, and we should abstain from being convinced that either is exclusively right.  This would mean that, rather than oppose Thrasymachus’ pessimistic skepticism with dogmatism, we should maintain skepticism, like the original Socrates, but be unattached to either optimism or pessimism, uncommitted to the conviction that things do or do not work out for the good.

Here Sextus presents the ten tropes of Aenesidemus at length, cautioning that this is not a list of all possible modes, nor should it imply that each of these is equally powerful in particular circumstances.  He gives many examples, which may or may not be his own or those of skeptics before him.  Animals with different eyes will perceive colors differently, and some animals can see in the dark.  Colored lights and curved mirrors change appearances.  Food becomes various parts of animal bodies, as water becomes various parts of plants.  Different finger positions make the breath through a flute and the string on the lyre produce high and low notes.  Unlike humans, insects hate perfume and olive oil.  Sextus includes examples given by Heraclitus, that seawater is drinkable by fish and pigs bathe in mud.

Sextus says that, unlike the “deluded and self-satisfied dogmatists”, who ridicule animals and those they disagree with as “irrational”, skeptics know to compare the various ways of animals, similar and different from each other, to the various convictions of humanity.  Several times Sextus says “the so-called irrational animals”, indicating that he is skeptical of the distinction.  In a move sure to please Diogenes, Sextus argues that even dogmatists must admit that dogs, often thought to be the lowest of animals, is far more capable than humans at perception through sight, sound and smell.  Dogs are great hunters and courageous defenders.

Like animals, humanity has various minds and bodies, and thus has various opinions and feelings.  Sextus uses the example of comparing the body of a Scythian, like those who Aristotle said had no intoxication and therefore no flute players, to the body of an Indian, like those Pyrrho met while traveling with Alexander before coming home a skeptic, and says that Greeks and Indians enjoy different things.  Some people enjoy beef more than fish, others get sick from Lesbian wine (from Lesbos, like Sappho).  Legend has it that an old woman who lived near Athens could consume hemlock without harm (clearly different from Socrates).  Some individuals are immune to common poisons, others are allergic to common goods.  Sextus says that, if our bodies differ so, and if the body is an image of the soul, it is likely that our souls differ as well.  Modern psychology confirms this today, as we do share a generally similar mind to all of humanity while varying individually, sometimes in profound ways.

Old people are affected by temperature more than young people, but young people are affected by color and sound more than old people, showing that in some ways the old are more sensitive to perceptions while in others the young.  Lamps which seem bright at night are dim in the daytime.  When in motion (such as on a boat), things that are standing still appear to be in motion, but from far away, things (such as boats) that are in motion seem to stand still.  Things which we feel are shameful when sober are enjoyable when drunk.  The same wine seems sour after dates or figs, sweet after nuts or beans.  People are cold after exiting the warm public bath house, but they were not cold before they entered.  The conditions of a particular situation affect the perception of the situation.

While dogmatists argue about what is universal and common to all, arguing that Plato or Epicurus is exclusively right, Sextus says that poets and playwrights have a better understanding, knowing all too well the tragedy that follows from various feelings and convictions.  The dogmatists, claiming to exclusively know the truth, are themselves part of a dispute, evidence that one must take a position on a matter to see things a certain way.  The various dogmatic schools, opposed to each other as well as to skepticism, show that dogmatism is insufficient for investigating truth.

Similar to the Eleatic infinite regress of place in Zeno and form in Plato’s Parmenides, Sextus argues that if we want to prove what we think is exclusively true, we then would have to prove that our proof is true, and then prove that this proof is true, resulting in a similar infinite regress.

Sextus repeats several times, “Everything, therefore, is relative”.  While dogmatists argue that some things are the best, others are the worst, that some things are clear, and others unclear, that some things are equal, and other things are unequal, that some things are similar, and other things are unsimilar, all these are relative, not absolute or exclusive.

Speaking about the rare being striking while the same when common is normal, the ninth trope of Aenesidemus, Sextus argues that comets, earthquakes and lightning are considered important and meaningful because they are rare, while the sun, which is far brighter, is not striking because it rises everyday.  Similarly, one who sees the sea for the first time finds it astonishing.  This itself is strikingly similar to the Chinese Daoist Zhuangzi, who says that a well frog would consider the ocean a ridiculous fantasy.  Sextus also says that the human body would be astonishingly beautiful to us if we did not see it often, that water would be expensive if it was rare, and gold would be cheap if it was a common stone.

Sextus says that recent skeptics, presumably those between Aenesidemus and himself, gave five modes different from the ten tropes for aiding in the suspension of judgement, and he explains each and discusses types of reasoning that each is useful against.  First, there is dispute, that matters are disputed among the common people and the wisest of philosophers alike.  Second, there is ‘ad infinitum’, infinite regress such as those employed by the Eleatics, that any argument would require an additional argument to confirm the argument, and any source would require an additional source to confirm the source.  Third, there is relativity, that anything good is only so good, anything far is only so far.  Fourth, there is the hypothetical, identical to the ‘sayadvada’ principle of the Indian Jains, that all beliefs are put forward hypothetically without absolute confirmation, impossible given the second mode of ‘ad infinitum’.  Fifth and finally, there is the reciprocal, that any belief supported about a thing requires the thing to support the belief, resulting in circular reasoning.  

The skeptical philosopher of science Feyerabend, who argued as a “theoretical anarchist” that there is no particular scientific method, wrote that many believe circular reasoning is wrong, but in fact it is one of the most dominant forms of thought on the planet, and often it works just fine.  Our assumptions, that the sun will rise tomorrow or our culture is good, are circular circuits of thought that are normally undisturbed.  We believe that the sun will rise because the sun has risen again and again.  It is fine to believe this, and then see the belief confirmed again and again, but it is not proven that the sun will rise tomorrow, and if the earth was obliterated by a solar flare, the sun would cease to rise above the turning horizon.

Sextus says that these five modes, which presumably are an attempt to boil down the ten tropes of Aenesidemus, were further boiled down to two modes by the same unnamed “recent skeptics”.  These two are essentially the second and fifth modes of the previous five.  Things must either be known in themselves, or known via something else.  If things are known in themselves, it results in circular reasoning.  If things are known in something other than themselves, it results in infinite regress.  Things can be relatively known in themselves and via other things (such as the forms of Plato), but they cannot be known absolutely without escaping the dual problem of circular reasoning and infinite regress.

Sextus ends the first book of his Outline by distinguishing skepticism from several other similar philosophies, first and foremost that of Heraclitus, who does make dogmatic assertions (for instance, that all is made of fire and one thunderbolt strikes through the root of everything).  Sextus admits that Aenesidemus and his followers believed that skepticism is a path to Heracliteanism, seeing everything as made of relative oppositions, but Sextus believes that Aenesidemus was wrong because Heraclitus is not entirely skeptical, advancing dogmas of his own.  Sextus argues the same of Democritus, who asserted the truth of atomism while also being decently skeptical.  Being a fan of skepticism myself, it is often the case that skeptics accuse each other and dogmatists of being dogmatic, while dogmatists often accuse each other and skeptics of not possessing the right dogma.


Skepticism after Sextus

Much of Sextus’ work survived in Byzantium (ancient Ionia, modern day Turkey), where the Roman Empire had moved its capital before its collapse to get closer to the rich trade between the Middle East and East Asia along the silk road.  After Byzantium became Islamic, and then the Ottoman Empire, Sextus’ works were brought to Renaissance Italy in 1427 CE by Francesco Filelfo, where they were translated into Latin and studied.

In response to the Protestant Reformation, the rise of Rationalism and the successes of the natural sciences in Europe that challenged earlier cosmology, aided by Islamic algebra and technology, the Catholic Church used Pyrrhonian Skepticism to argue that mortal humanity is incapable of absolute knowledge.  While the Catholic Church was a central source of scholarship and knowledge of Medieval Europe, Protestants have long identified their reformation with reason and science, enabling humanity to free itself of the institution of the Church.  Catholic theologians argued that, according to the arguments of Pyrrho and Sextus, Protestant reformers could not justify their beliefs, ignoring the minor inconvenience that skepticism denies everyone, including Catholic theologians, of absolute justification equally.

Interestingly, today right wing American Protestants continue to identify with science and reason, and thus argue that evolution and global warming are unscientific and not supported by evidence, not that science is itself evil.  New Atheists like Dawkins, mentioned previously and briefly with Empedocles, are often unaware that Catholics and then Protestants identified their own theologies with reason and science, and called those who disagreed with them irrational and unscientific.

Not all Catholic theologians and philosophers agreed with Pyrrhonian Skepticism.  Rene Descartes, mentioned with Plato’s cave in the Republic, often considered the first modern European philosopher, was a French Catholic thinker who argued that skepticism was self-defeating, famously writing, “I think, therefore I am”.  If we can be certain we exist, Descartes argued, then we cannot be entirely skeptical, and we can have faith that truths that appear consistent (such as 2 plus 3 always equalling 5) are certain.  As mentioned with Plato, Descartes was also arguing against the position of Gnostic heretics who still lived in remote parts of the French countryside, whose beliefs opposed those of the Catholic Church.  Against Pyrrhonian skeptics and Gnostics, Descartes argued, in conformity with the teachings of the Catholic Church, that the world is not ruled by a deceiving demon but by a kind and loving God who has given us certainties in our world which we can know through the rational pursuits of science and mathematics.  In a letter to a priest named Bourdin, Descartes argued that skepticism was unfortunately quite alive, and that he was the first to successfully argue against skeptics.

Against Descartes, David Hume, the Scottish skeptical Empiricist, argued that Pyrrho was indeed right about truth and the human mind, but our attachments and prejudices are too strong for us to be genuine skeptics.  Unlike Rationalists, whose tradition begins with Descartes and who argue that absolute truth and certainty can be achieved through the use of reason, Empiricists, whose tradition begins with Hume argue that ‘truth’ is always prejudice and assumption, useful to us in preserving our lives and pursuing our interests but impossible to completely confirm with absolute certainty.  Hume wrote in his central work, “Philosophy would render us entirely Pyrrhoian were not nature too strong for it”.  Like Pyrrho and other skeptical inquirers, Hume argued that all truths are known inductively or empirically (from which the Empiricists get their name), perceived in each instance as similar but never known absolutely, which required continuous scientific inquiry into truth.  While, unlike the Rationalists, Hume did not believe that reason can help us deduce absolute truth, we should continue to investigate everything with reason and science, as we can never know absolute truth.

For Hegel, the German Idealist and Phenomenologist, Descartes and Rationalism were the first great dogmatic movement in modern European philosophy, and Hume and Empiricism were the first great skeptical movement in response, just as Hegel saw Aristotle as the great dogmatist and Heraclitus as the great skeptic of ancient Greek philosophy.  Hume, and through him Pyrrho, influenced many skeptical thinkers of modern Europe, including Nietzsche, who saw himself as a modern German Heraclitus.  Nietzsche argued that we are easily sheep, sleepers as Heraclitus put it, and that we should think critically as individuals about everything that religion, politics and science tells us to believe.