school of skepticism. In his youth he practiced the art of painting,
but passed over this for philosophy. He studied the writings of
Democritus, became a disciple of Bryson, the son of Stilpo, and later
a disciple of Anaxarchus. He took part in the Indian expedition of
Alexander the Great, and met with philosophers of the Indus region.
Back in Greece he was frustrated with the assertions of the Dogmatists
(those who claimed to possess knowledge), and founded a new school in
which he taught fallibilism, namely that every object of human
knowledge involves uncertainty. Thus, he argued, it is impossible ever
to arrive at the knowledge of truth (Diog. Laert, 58). It is related
that he acted on his own principles, and carried his skepticism to
such an extreme, that his friends were obliged to accompany him
wherever he went, so he might not be run over by carriages or fall
down precipices. It is likely, though, that these reports were
invented by the Dogmatists whom he opposed. He spent a great part of
his life in solitude, and was undisturbed by fear, or joy, or grief.
He withstood bodily pain, and when in danger showed no sign of
apprehension. In disputes he was known for his subtlety. Epicurus,
though no friend to skepticism, admired Pyrrho because he recommended
and practiced the kind of self-control that fostered tranquillity;
this, for Epicurus, was the end of all physical and moral science.
Pyrrho was so highly valued by his countrymen that they honored him
with the office of chief priest and, out of respect for him, passed a
decree by which all philosophers were made immune from taxation. He
was an admirer of poets, particularly Homer, and frequently cited
passages from his poems. After his death, the Athenians honored his
memory with a statue, and a monument to him was erected in his own
country.
Pyrrho left no writings, and we owe our knowledge of his thoughts to
his disciple Timon of Phlius. His philosophy, in common with all
post-Aristotelian systems, is purely practical in its outlook.
Skepticism is not posited on account of its speculative interest, but
only because Pyrrho sees in it the road to happiness, and the escape
from the calamities of life. The proper course of the sage, said
Pyrrho, is to ask himself three questions. Firstly we must ask what
things are and how they are constituted. Secondly, we ask how we are
related to these things. Thirdly, we ask what ought to be our attitude
towards them. As to what things are, we can only answer that we know
nothing. We only know how things appear to us, but of their inner
substance we are ignorant. The same thing appears differently to
different people, and therefore it is impossible to know which opinion
is right. The diversity of opinion among the wise, as well as among
the vulgar, proves this. To every assertion the contradictory
assertion can be opposed with equally good grounds, and whatever my
opinion, the contrary opinion is believed by somebody else who is
quite as clever and competent to judge as I am. Opinion we may have,
but certainty and knowledge are impossible. Hence our attitude to
things (the third question), ought to be complete suspense of
judgment. We can be certain of nothing, not even of the most trivial
assertions. Therefore we ought never to make any positive statements
on any subject. And the Pyrrhonists were careful to import an element
of doubt even into the most trifling assertions which they might make
in the course of their daily life. They did not say, "it is so," but
"it seems so," or "it appears so to me." Every observation would be
prefixed with a "perhaps," or "it may be."
This absence of certainty applies as much to practical as to
theoretical matters. Nothing is in itself true or false. It only
appears so. In the same way, nothing is in itself good or evil. It is
only opinion, custom, law, which makes it so. When the sage realizes
this, he will cease to prefer one course of action to another, and the
result will be apathy (ataraxia). All action is the result of
preference, and preference is the belief that one thing is better than
another. If I go to the north, it is because, for one reason or
another, I believe that it is better than going to the south. Suppress
this belief, learn that the one is not in reality better than the
other, but only appears so, and one would go in no direction at all.
Complete suppression of opinion would mean complete suppression of
action, and it was at this that Pyrrho aimed. To have no opinions was
the skeptical maxim, because in practice it meant apathy, total
quietism. All action is founded on belief, and all belief is delusion,
hence the absence of all activity is the ideal of the sage. In this
apathy he will renounce all desires, for desire is the opinion that
one thing is better than another. He will live in complete repose, in
undisturbed tranquillity of soul, free from all delusions. Unhappiness
is the result of not attaining what one desires, or of losing it when
attained. The wise person, being free from desires, is free from
unhappiness. He knows that, though people struggle and fight for what
they desire, vainly supposing some things better than others, such
activity is but a futile struggle about nothing, for all things are
equally indifferent, and nothing matters. Between health and sickness,
life and death, difference there is none. Yet insofar as we are
compelled to act, we will follow probability, opinion, custom, and
law, but without any belief in the essential validity or truth of
these criteria.
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