Outside Context

I reg­u­larly listen to the pod­cast Philo­sophy Bites presen­ted by Nigel War­bur­ton. In each epis­ode, a new and inter­est­ing topic is raised with a guest philo­sopher (someone always of note) who has about ten minutes to present their view. I have not writ­ten about it before, but this is not because it has not stirred me. On the coun­try, I often have to stop myself exclaim­ing aloud in dis­agree­ment with some of the guests, for I have long felt that Nigel goes “too easy” on them. Indeed some­times his ques­tions are more the gentle nudge of a teacher than the interlocutor’s retort. Some­thing only asked to tease out the argu­ment a little more.

This reminds me of my old philo­sophy pro­fessor, who would often fence with me on a sub­ject by gently passing me back ques­tions to nat­ur­ally draw out my thoughts into a more coher­ent (ha!) mode of expression.

Clearly with no great success.

The fen­cing ana­logy is apt here, as this is exactly how fen­cing is taught: gently. The Maes­tro leads the pupil through a slow and safe sequence and at the moment of com­mit­ment points out, by gently prod­ding them, that they have over­reached and should have covered quarte instead. How­ever, I prefer being taught in the vein of the mar­tial arts. In kar­ate, any point of view is thrown mer­ci­lessly into the cru­cible of com­bat and tested to destruc­tion. If it is right, then it works. There is no gen­tle­ness and no kind­ness. Only some­thing that stands and some­thing that falls. It is true that when you over-reach you are battered, but at least you learned some­thing and your mas­ter has shown you some honesty.

Hon­esty is always refresh­ing. As John Len­non said, “Just give me the truth.”

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