André Comte-Sponville: “Philosophy gave me a taste for life”

Psychologies: You spend your days in philosophy, living alternately in Paris and in the country. Did you think as a child that your adult life would turn out like this?

Explain what you mean?

A.K.-S.: When my brother called me to tell me that my mother was gone (I was already 30 years old), my first reaction was the thought that everything about her was fake, except for the feeling of unhappiness. She was very loving, tender, but this was somewhat artificial, there was some kind of tension in this. There was always something feigned in her fun. Only when she cried did she become real, absolutely sincere. That’s why I got the feeling that truth is always associated with sadness, and joy with illusion. And then the world of philosophy opened up to me, Greek in particular, I recognized Epicurus. And I realized that, on the contrary, illusions inspire us with sadness, while the truth liberates and gives joy. In a sense, philosophy has become my “good stepmother.”

What about your father?

A.K.-S.: He was the opposite of his mother. He did not lie about anything, but it was impossible to hear an affectionate word from him. I received my first approval from him at the age of twenty, when I announced that I had entered the university! He was not cruel, but he was stern. Together, my parents made up a very frightening picture for the children’s consciousness: truth was without love, and love without truth! At the same time, my relationship with my father shaped me: if my mother was difficult to love, then it was easy to hate him. And for a teenager, this is a good school of life. After all, as the German philosopher Johann Gottlieb Fichte said, we assert ourselves only in opposition. Later, my feelings for him softened. His mother left him, he remarried, and I saw how he changed under the influence of a new love. In a new marriage, he showed himself as a gentle, attentive and caring husband. And then I realized that it was not worth placing all the responsibility for the misfortune of my mother on my father. I was finally able to establish a warm relationship with him, which lasted until his death.

Have you turned to philosophy in search of a happier life?

A.K.-S.: No, at least not right away. My senior class teacher was very passionate about French phenomenology: Sartre, Merleau-Ponty… Philosophy seemed to be predominantly an intellectual pursuit. Already as a student, carefully studying Greek philosophy, I felt an existential interest in philosophy as an art of living, as a means of being happy, being in reality, and not in illusions. This is what is called wisdom.

But at that time it was not in vogue.

A.K.-S.: Yes indeed! Then Jacques Derrida, Louis-Pierre Althusser (I studied with them), Michel Foucault, Gilles Deleuze owned their minds … Their bright talent and brilliant education could not but impress me, but I treated their works with restraint. For example, Foucault’s Words and Things, a cult book from the 70s, seemed to me very scientific and … very boring. Then I remembered Pascal’s Thoughts, which I read at the age of 16-17, and felt a desire to re-read them. And this book blew me away! I enjoyed reading Pascal, Epicurus, Montaigne, and Spinoza, and modern philosophers bored me. The conclusion suggested itself: I will study philosophy in the manner of the ancient thinkers. Let it be out of date! Ancient and classical philosophy meant much more to me. In 1984, when my first book came out, a journalist asked me: “Are you a new philosopher?” (meaning the group of so-called “new philosophers” of the 70s*), to which I instantly replied: “No, I am an ancient philosopher.”

But in order to be a philosopher, doesn’t one have to be modern?

A.K.-S.: Of course, one must be a man of his time, however, we have no choice. Although the concept of avant-garde has always been alarming for me. In any case, in relation to philosophy or to the field of art and literature. I shared this point of view with Levi-Strausswho gave me his friendship: neither he nor I – we did not love our time. I want to be understood correctly: I am happy to live now, but with regard to the achievements of human thought and creativity, we are very far from the era of Antiquity, to the XNUMXth and XNUMXth centuries.

Are you saying that you should not expect anything new from today’s thinkers and creators?

A.K.-S.: New – yes, it’s worth it. But there is no reason to believe that the next ten centuries will be exceptional. No sculptor will surpass the skill of the ancient Greeks, no one will write music better than the one that gave us the eighteenth century, and no one will reach the heights of nineteenth century poetry. The twentieth century made a breakthrough in the field of science and achieved a lot in the political sphere. Despite all the horrors of this century, it has given us unrivaled achievements in the field of human rights throughout the world. But it is impossible to succeed in all areas at the same time.

Then why are philosophers needed today?

A.K.-S.: In philosophy we will never surpass Aristotle and Kant, no one will ever write music better than Bach or Beethoven. And there is no need to strive to compete with them. What for? After all, what they created, we already have. Neither predilection for the past, nor avant-gardism is of any interest to me anymore. There is no progress in art and philosophy. No musician will say: “What I do is better than Bach’s creations.” In the same way, no philosopher will say: “What I write is superior to Aristotle.” What does society expect from contemporary philosophers? That, continuing the traditions of their predecessors, they will present us with a philosophy that will echo today, will respond to the painful questions of our time. False modesty aside, I would say that this is exactly what I do. I’m not a Stoic, I’m not an Epicurean, I’m not a follower of Spinoza. But, relying on the teachings of these thinkers, I am trying to offer a philosophy for today that would help to live in our era.

Don’t you think that we have gone too far in this effort to make philosophy a means of achieving well-being, a kind of psychotherapeutic tool?

A.K.-S.: Maybe. This is due to the fact that people confuse ideas about philosophy and psychotherapy. The goal of therapy is health, the goal of philosophy is wisdom: we find the greatest happiness with the greatest clarity of consciousness. Happiness is the goal of philosophy, but not its norm. Her rule is true. What does it mean? That I consider a thought, not because it will benefit me and help me live, but because it seems to me true. And true sadness is better than false joy. Simply, when you grope for a thought that seems right to you, the goal of the philosopher, as, indeed, of any person, is to try to extract joy from it.

But psychotherapy also does not offer to be content with “false joy.” On the contrary, the psychoanalyst helps us get rid of illusions by revealing their mechanism…

A.K.-S.: Yes it is. This is exactly what I like about Freud. “Truth and more truth” – that, he said, is the only rule of psychoanalysis. The only difference is that psychoanalysis, as a type of therapy, is designed to treat diseases, to eliminate symptoms … In a word, its goal is human health. And philosophy has never cured anyone! “Psychoanalysis does not help to become happy,” wrote Freud. “He helps the patient move from a neurotic disorder to a banal sense of the unhappiness of everyday life.” When a person suffers from a neurosis, he resorts to a course of psychotherapy. And what about someone who is not sick or has just recovered – in a word, is in the notorious stage of “banal misfortune”? He should study philosophy in order to learn how to live properly. Philosophy begins exactly where psychotherapy stops.

Have you ever been in psychotherapy?

A.K.-S.: I visited a psychoanalyst for two years, a long time ago, about twenty years ago. At first, I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity, half narcissistic, half scientific, both for myself and for psychoanalysis. And I had another reason: I wanted to understand my, at that time, complex family relationships. These two years helped me to see myself more clearly and, perhaps, to gain a more complete understanding of what psychoanalysis is … and gradually begin to lose interest in both. By the end of those two years, I felt bored. Or maybe I didn’t suffer enough to need therapy.

Do you worry about the thought of death?

A.K.-S.: About my own? Less and less. I am much more concerned about the health of my children. The fact is that my first child – a daughter – died when she was six weeks old. That is why the health of my children is, of course, my weak spot.

Faced with such grief, did you turn to philosophy?

A.K.-S.: No, when you go through such grief, you can only cry and scream. There is no time for philosophy, the main thing here is to hold on and survive. Philosophy is more suitable for periods when everything is more or less good. When you can say to yourself: “I have everything to be happy,” and then state that this is not enough for happiness.

It turns out that it was philosophy that taught you to truly enjoy life?

A.K.-S.: In any case, it significantly sharpened my taste for life. To be frank, life often has a bitter taste. But I, for example, love tobacco and beer, and therefore I know perfectly well that bitterness can be a pleasure. Philosophy has not removed all the bitterness from my life, it is impossible, but it has helped me feel this taste better. This is her purpose. Wisdom does not consist in loving happiness – no philosophy is needed for this – but in loving life as it is – happy, unhappy, bitter, sweet … And the more clearly we feel its fragility, the more valuable it becomes. she is for us.

¹ Direction in modern French philosophy (Bernard-Henri Levy, Jean-Paul Dollet, Christian Jambay and others).