Chapter 5. Five Problems with Loving to Learn

Prima facie the love of learning should be the least problematic of any leadership trait. Obviously all leaders need to know things and pay attention to things in order to help their followers, but this is not all that a love of learning in the context of leadership entails. A love of learning can be distracting: fascinating subjects unrelated to ethics and politics might cause the leader to lose interest in the mundane affairs of state. The leader might be so learned as to become clever, manipulative, or revolutionary. Intelligence might make the leader unintelligible to the followers. Finally, all the time spent in the library and away from the gymnasium might render the leader physically weak, cowardly, or contemptuous of the “less-sophisticated” followers.

Many problems for leaders who “love to learn” are illustrated by Aristophanes’ portrayal of Socrates in the Clouds (c. 416 B.C.E.). In the play, Socrates heads the “Thinkery” (Phrontisterion), an institution bearing a rough resemblance to a modern university. As the “headmaster,” Socrates has been invested with most of the trappings of a fifth-century sophist, “a man, usually a foreigner, who possessed arcane knowledge and had untraditional, often counter-intuitive ideas, and who offered to teach these to anyone who could afford the high tuition fees.” [1] He has been tasked by Strepsiades, an Athenian farmer, to help him use clever language to escape his creditors at court. As soon as he arrives at the Thinkery, Strepsiades learns that its members are not very interested in issues relevant to the lives of the average citizen. Instead they study trivial things like {97|98} the distance a flea can hop or the nominal forms of the male and female duck. [2] The problem from a leadership perspective is that Socrates and his associates are not interested in the knowledge of leadership, namely, politics and ethics. [3] The historical Socrates himself seems to have been done in by the perception that he was interested more in astronomy, cosmology, or metaphysics. [4]

No doubt with Socrates in mind, Plato notes that even the leader’s apparent fascination with irrelevant subjects could be a liability. In his famous ship-of-state allegory in the Republic, he explains that the would-be captain, who understands how astronomy may be used properly to guide the ship, will be misunderstood and criticized as a “star-gazer” by the ignorant crew (488b–e).

The study of irrelevant subjects was characteristic of actual political leaders as well. Plutarch recounts an anecdote from the life of Pericles, in which the Athenian statesman and his sophist friends spend an evening debating the exact cause of death of a man who had accidentally been hit with a javelin. They wonder whether it was the thrower of the javelin, the javelin itself, or the men who had instituted such games (Life of Pericles 36). Their concern is less with the fact that an innocent person has died than with an academic question of causality.

Isocrates seeks to limit Alexander’s pursuit of knowledge, advising him to love wisdom “not foolishly but with sense” (cf. φιλόσοφος, οὐκ ἀφρόνως ἀλλὰ νοῦν ἐχόντως, To Alexander 2). He praises Alexander first for associating with people who do not have an interest in base pleasures but in philosophy (he may have Alexander’s teacher, Aristotle, in mind). Alexander is also to be commended for not taking up “eristic” disputations that equip young students to argue for the sake of argument. Instead, he pursues the more proper study of rhetoric, which teaches how to instruct others, form sound judgments, and praise and blame as necessary. [5]

As we have already noted in our study of Cyrus’ philomatheia in Chapter Two (pp. 46–49), Cyrus’ love of learning is in almost every instance circumscribed by his desire to win honor (in hunting and warfare) or to help others. Achieving each of these goals entails knowledge of ethics, politics, and religion, especially knowledge of what the gods want and how to maintain their favor. Xenophon’s Socrates has a similar set of interests, and Xenophon takes pains to defend him {98|99} against the criticisms of sophistry. [6] The only appearance of a sophist in the Cyropaedia is in the form of Tigranes’ tutor (3.1.14). He, however, comes across as interested only in politics and ethics, so much so that he has often been equated with the historic Socrates for the apparent serenity with which he faces death. It is because of the sophist’s training that Tigranes is able to convince Cyrus not to execute the Armenian king. And when the sophist himself is being executed by the Armenian king, he serenely counsels Tigranes not to be angry with his father because he had not acted out of malice but out of ignorance (3.1.38). [7]

It is not enough for a statesman to study subjects relating to leadership. The leader must also be willing to apply this knowledge to acts of governance; that is to say, the knowledge of leadership must be a means to an end. Plato intends for the Philosopher King to receive an education that includes both practical knowledge, for example, of warfare, and that is conducive to understanding the Forms of things. The study of mathematics serves both ends (Republic 525b). Additionally, the Philosopher King is naturally interested in justice and other virtues because they are a means to understanding the nature of the Good. Yet, as Socrates readily admits, such an interest would not make the Philosopher King want to carry out the daily routines of political life. Even the courageous ruler who is deeply curious about the nature of the polis may not want to return to “Plato’s cave,” as it were, and submit to the labor of command. Only by compulsion or out of gratitude will the Philosopher King actually engage in leading (519c–521a). The true lover of wisdom would not be willing to become sullied by the practice of mundane politics, as he is not a lover of ruling nor a lover of honor. Such a leader would disdain the effort either of fending off those devoted to falsehood (sophists) or of persuading followers with noble lies.

Again, because Cyrus takes pleasure in winning honor and helping others, he is keen to apply his knowledge of leadership to these ends without any societal pressure. And, for another reason we will see below (p. 104), Cyrus does not face the obstacles to governance that the Philosopher King would. {99|100}

Cyrus is also not guilty of what many sophists of the late fifth- and early fourth-century were accused of, namely, using their esoteric learning to manipulate their fellow citizens and subvert conventional morality. This problem appears in the Clouds when Strepsiades sends his more educable son, Pheidippides, to the Thinkery, where they teach pupils to win arguments by speaking justly and unjustly (98–99). There, Pheidippides learns how to make the good argument sound bad and the bad argument good (112–118). With the confidence that he can behave as he wishes, he denies the existence and authority of Zeus, beats his father, and then sets out to beat his mother (1321–1442).

In the Cyropaedia, after Cyrus overtakes the Armenians and puts their king on trial, he then assumes the role of both the prosecutor and judge. Tigranes, educated by a sophist, plays the role of the defendant. Instead of being manipulated, Cyrus, who is trained in matters of justice, listens to Tigranes’ points and asks questions along the way. In the end, he does not execute the king but forges a lasting alliance with the Armenians.

Behind the cooperative side of Cyrus’ love of learning there seems to be the assumption that a leader cannot manipulate his followers for very long. Manipulation may be a short-term fix to a problem that the group will eventually comprehend. [8] Otherwise, the ruler’s trickery will be exposed and he will lose face. As the young Cyrus acknowledges, it is important for a leader to have a reputation for seeming wiser than his followers (1.6.22). When he wonders about the quickest way to win this reputation, Cambyses insists that there is no shorter path to seeming wise than actually being wise. He explains that even if Cyrus should procure fancy clothes and a retinue of people to praise him, he would quickly be exposed as an imposter.

We should pause here and note that Xenophon seems naïve in advancing this view. At the very least, he has idealized the society in which Cyrus operates. Cyrus’ Persian peers share his training in matters of justice and thus should be able to detect a specious argument and hold a manipulative leader in check. Are all communities so effective at ferreting out an imposter? Xenophon’s Socrates seems to think so: he gives Critobulus the same advice that Cambyses gives Cyrus, that the quickest path to seeming good at something is to be good at it and that it is hard to pretend a reputation for being, say, parsimonious or cautious (Memorabilia 2.6.39). {100|101}

On the physical and psychological level, a love of learning can seem indicative of cowardice and softness. In the Funeral Oration, Pericles defends the citizens of Athens against this charge when he declares that they love beauty with a purpose and “love wisdom without softness” (cf. Φιλοκαλοῦμέν τε γὰρ μετ’ εὐτελείας καὶ φιλοσοφοῦμεν ἄνευ μαλακίας, Thucydides Histories 2.40.1). In the Clouds young men who spend time studying with sophists are characterized as pale, with sunken shoulders (1015–1019). Socrates’ fellow-scholar, Chaerophon, is regularly portrayed as pasty-faced. [9] The Clouds themselves, the play’s supreme divinities, even proscribe that pupils refrain from “senseless” gymnastic exercises (417). When Strepsiades burns down the Thinkery at the end of the play, Socrates and his pupils are seen pitifully crying for help (1493–1516).

As we have already seen (p. 32), Xenophon addresses the temptations to luxury and softness from Cyrus’ early youth. Cyrus is offered sumptuous meats at his grandfather’s Medan table, but passes them up, having been trained in self-mastery (enkrateia) in the Persian agôgê. The young Cyrus also shows a “killer instinct” both in the hunt and on the battlefield. His curiosity does not lead him down a path of cowardice or physical weakness. Even during symposia and dinner parties, which are the best occasions to indulge in food and pleasure (and to entertain philosophical questions of no practical significance), Cyrus makes sure that his comrades engage in discussion that is both whimsical and serious but always edifying (cf. καὶ γελοῖα καὶ σπουδαῖα, 2.3.1.1). Xenophon says that Cyrus always makes sure that the topics are delightful and conducive to something good (2.2.1.2).

One point that Plato makes explicitly and implicitly in his writing on leadership is that it requires knowledge and superior intelligence that are not possessed by many members of the community. In the Statesman, the Young Socrates and the Eleatic Stranger acknowledge this rarity:

It is clear from the surrounding discussion that this “art” of statesmanship consists of a kind of knowledge, like that of a physician or a weaver, of coalescing various members of the state into harmony and friendship (Statesman 258b, 311c). Such a statesman, the Stranger explains, can even transcend the law, so long as he acts for the good of the city:

In the Republic , Socrates lays out a plan for the education of the Philosopher King that consists of years of higher-level mathematics, dialectical training, and practical politics, at the end of which is a communing with the Good itself when the Philosopher King is fifty years old (540a). Such a leader will understand the world in a way that no one else, or perhaps only a few other citizens will, necessarily putting himself (or herself) at a distance from the followers. [10] {102|103}

This distancing can have two negative effects. From the ruler’s perspective, the followers may seem unworthy to give counsel or instruction. Thus a leader might do as Plato does and strictly divide the community into those whose opinions matter (namely, the rulers) and those whose opinion does not (the guardians and drones). Moreover, the ruler of the ideal state might have to tell noble lies to the guardians and other members of the community. [11]

Or, the leader might behave as the inquisitive Oedipus in Sophocles, who refuses to believe the seer Tiresias when he tells him that Creon is not a threat to him. Oedipus believes that Tiresias is worthless as an advisor because he had been unable to solve the riddle of the Sphinx, whereas Oedipus succeeded by his own native wisdom (gnomê). [12] A less rivalrous version of this antithetical relationship exists between the Cyprian king Evagoras and his followers. Isocrates says that in his wisdom Evagoras “had no need of counselors (sumbouloi), but nevertheless took counsel with his friends” (Evagoras 44).

All of these assumptions about the leader’s knowledge and understanding lie at the heart of the justification for monarchical and aristocratic forms of government. Thucydides seems to think it was a positive condition for his city-state that Athens was in name a democracy but in fact ruled by its brilliant first citizen, Pericles (Histories 2.65.9). In the famous constitutional debate in Herodotus, seven Persians who have just revolted to reclaim the Persian throne from the Medan imposter discuss the relative merits of democracy, oligarchy, and monarchy. One speaker, Megabyzus, argues against democracy:

From the perspective of the followers, the leader’s detachment can look like haughtiness or arrogance, prompting one of the most damning charges in modern politics, elitism. Pericles may have kept company with several sophists and intellectuals of the day (e.g. Damon, Zeno, Protagoras, Aristagoras) and seldom associated with the masses, which gave him a great disdain and contempt for others. [13] Socrates in the Clouds is portrayed as literally “up in the {103|104} air,” brought on to the stage by the deus ex machina, a device typically used for introducing gods. He first addresses Strepsiades in the condescending manner of a thinker who holds the traditional views of the average Athenian in great contempt. [14]

It would be inaccurate to call Xenophon’s Cyrus “democratic” without careful qualification, but he seems more democratic than the leaders in the previous examples vis-à-vis the leader’s love of learning. [15] Cyrus is a leader of extraordinary talent, but Xenophon explains that it is “with knowledge” that one comes to secure the willing obedience of one’s followers (cf. ἐπισταμένως, 1.1.3.8). As we noted in our discussion of Cyrus’ philomatheia, this knowledge seemed to be tied more to attentiveness than any special brilliance or esoteric learning (Chapter Two, pp. 51–57). Cyrus does learn the art of divination from his father, but there is no indication that it takes any special skill to do so. As a consequence of this “democratic” view of knowledge, Cyrus regularly asks for and receives intelligence reports from others. He also discusses matters of policy with them and learns from them, as when he listens to the arguments of Tigranes on the benefits of sparing the Armenian king or trusts the Persian commoner Pheraulas to orchestrate a parade of nobles. This is a second advantage to Cyrus’ style of leadership over the Philosopher King (the first is his eagerness to lead, p. 99): because Cyrus can learn important information from others (i.e. because Xenophon holds a “democratic” view of knowledge), his leadership is not as lonely or isolated as the Philosopher King’s.

Cyrus’ philomatheia is generally not a problem for him in the ways that it was for other learned leaders of Xenophon’s time, whether real or hypothetical. The love of learning for Cyrus is focused on politics and ethics; it is practical, sincere, physically healthy, and fairly democratic. To say that Xenophon portrays Cyrus as “democratic” in his approach to learning is not to say that he completely solves all the problems of the leader’s thirst for knowledge in relation to the followers, however. The question of leadership style boils down to the following question: is the knowledge of leadership more like the understanding of multi-variable calculus (as in Plato’s ideal city-state) or the skill of planting a healthy crop of grain (as in Xenophon’s Oeconomicus)? In other words, is the leader’s {104|105} knowledge academic or agrarian? If the leader and the follower cannot agree on what knowledge of leading looks like, then it would seem that the ruler is perhaps forced to trade in trust (i.e. his reputation, honor, sincerity) or manipulative story-telling. {105|}