The concomitant challenge of all philosophical inquiries is to resist the temptation to answer the questions we pose: as soon as we start answering our questions, it only means that we have hopelessly fallen into the “Sphinx” trap: imagining that we are under duress to provide the answers, whereas we are not.
Questions can be difficult for a number of reasons. One, of ignorance: we simply don’t know the answer. Another, of indecision: we don’t know which answer to choose. The most interesting, philosophical question is the one that is being asked for the sake of asking, and not for the purpose of being answered at all. The whole point of such a question is that we ought to be thinking about it, and, in the process of thinking, discover a whole treasure trove of all sorts of riches, except, of course, the answer to the original question. One caveat is in order here, however. Should we think, even for a moment, that we might have also found that elusive answer among the said riches, let us run away from it at once, and as fast as we can, for this can only mean one thing, that we are on a false track, sent there by our vanity and arrogance, which are always there, with us, tirelessly trying to convince us that, in fact, there are no such questions in existence which could not and should not be eventually answered, if only one would keep trying long enough and hard enough: Oh, what a tragic intellectual superstition!
Continuing our conversation about the complexity of “questions,” let us point out the semantic significance of the interchangeable use of the words question and problem, in the sense that the importance of ‘question’ is thus elevated to a higher status than what a ready answer would require, as the solution of any problem is impossible and meaningless without first identifying and analyzing the “problem” itself, and going through the necessary steps along the way. By the same token, answering without profound respect for the question (that is, without a careful personal study of the question, or a cluster of questions involved) amounts to that proverbial exercise of great eloquence and little wisdom, eloquentiae satis, sapientiae parum, that Hobbes is referring to, in his Elements (27:13).
Questions can be difficult for a number of reasons. One, of ignorance: we simply don’t know the answer. Another, of indecision: we don’t know which answer to choose. The most interesting, philosophical question is the one that is being asked for the sake of asking, and not for the purpose of being answered at all. The whole point of such a question is that we ought to be thinking about it, and, in the process of thinking, discover a whole treasure trove of all sorts of riches, except, of course, the answer to the original question. One caveat is in order here, however. Should we think, even for a moment, that we might have also found that elusive answer among the said riches, let us run away from it at once, and as fast as we can, for this can only mean one thing, that we are on a false track, sent there by our vanity and arrogance, which are always there, with us, tirelessly trying to convince us that, in fact, there are no such questions in existence which could not and should not be eventually answered, if only one would keep trying long enough and hard enough: Oh, what a tragic intellectual superstition!
Continuing our conversation about the complexity of “questions,” let us point out the semantic significance of the interchangeable use of the words question and problem, in the sense that the importance of ‘question’ is thus elevated to a higher status than what a ready answer would require, as the solution of any problem is impossible and meaningless without first identifying and analyzing the “problem” itself, and going through the necessary steps along the way. By the same token, answering without profound respect for the question (that is, without a careful personal study of the question, or a cluster of questions involved) amounts to that proverbial exercise of great eloquence and little wisdom, eloquentiae satis, sapientiae parum, that Hobbes is referring to, in his Elements (27:13).
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