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Journal of Philosophy of Education, Vol. 44, No. 1, 2010 What Does It Mean to Be an Educated Person? NAOMI HODGSON Winner of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain Student Essay Competition 20091 The competition question ‘What Does It Mean To Be An Educated Person?’ is associated with a powerful and influential line of thought in the philosophy of R. S. Peters. It is a question that needs always to be asked again. I respond by asking what it means, now, to be an educated person—that is, how the value of being an educated person is currently understood, and, further, how it might be understood differently. The starting point of this paper then is not exactly the question of how we should best conceive of education, or of the educated person, in terms, for example, of initiation or of moral development. Instead I am concerned with who the supposedly educated person is today, according to the particular discourses and practices to which we are subject. I begin, then, by outlining the notion of the entrepreneurial self from the perspective of governmentality, with particular reference to questions of economy and the way in which the economic imperative is present in current policy. I then reconsider the idea of the educated person with reference to notions of economy and visibility as these relate to ideas of education and the self in Plato’s The Republic. Discussion of readings of The Republic and of other texts of Plato by Stanley Cavell and Michel Foucault indicates how prevailing constructions of knowledge, practice, and subjectivity might be resisted. The question of what it means to be an educated person is thereby released from a particular mode of accounting for the self. INTRODUCTION The question posed is generally associated with the work of R. S. Peters of the 1960s and 1970s. Through the foundational form of conceptual analysis Peters developed he emphasised that there was not, and could not be, a consensus on what it means to be educated, but that it was an r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain. Published by Blackwell Publishing, 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148, USA. 110 N. Hodgson ongoing process (Katz, 2009). In a reconsideration of the idea of the educated man in 1970 Peters sought to differentiate between ‘the educated man’ and ‘education’ since, he argued, there is a difference between ‘asking whether a person has been educated and whether he is an educated man; for the former could be taken as meaning just ‘Has he been to school?’, whereas the latter suggests much more than this (Peters, 1970, p. 17). For Peters, to talk of education in the general sense does not imply the more specific yet richer sense intended when referring to the educated man (p. 18). As Katz argues in his forthcoming contribution to a reconsideration of the relevance of Peters’ work for education today (Cuypers and Martin, 2009), although Peters does not view education as restricted to instrumental purposes, his account does not take seriously enough the current role of the economic imperative for the very possibility of education in the rich sense he intended. The question ‘What does it mean to be an educated person?’ also asks what it means, that is, what is significant about being an educated person. How is the value of being an educated person currently understood? How might it be understood differently? To explore these questions I focus on the implications of the idea of the ‘entrepreneurial self’ as the required orientation of the citizen to education found in current European policy, as Europe seeks continually to re-position itself as, and within, a knowledge economy. Any questioning of what it means to be an educated person now must, therefore, consider the power of the economic imperative shaping this understanding of the individual and the purpose of education. The starting point of this paper then is not the question of how we should best conceive of education or of the educated person, as in the tradition following Peters, where the answer might be in terms, for example, of initiation (see Luntley, 2009) or of moral development (see Haydon, 2009). Instead I am concerned with who the educated person is today, according to the particular discourses and practices to which we are subject. As a dominant mode of subjectivation in the creation of Europe as a knowledge economy, the ‘entrepreneurial self’ is seen here in terms of Michel Foucault’s understanding of governmentality. In the first part of the paper I provide an outline of the historically situated analysis that Foucault provided of governmentality, drawing attention to how the shift in the operation of power toward it hinges on an intensification of ‘economy’ as the object of government. I seek to place the understanding of governmentality in the context of Foucault’s broader interest in subjectivity and ethics and the possibility of resistance in his understanding of power relations. I then illustrate the implications of the idea of the entrepreneurial self with reference to other recent work from the perspective of governmentality by Andreas Fejes (2008) and Maarten Simons (2007). To provide a critique of the assumptions on which the entrepreneurial self is based I turn to a historical text in the European canon, Plato’s The Republic. Instead of focusing directly on Plato’s definition of the educated man, I draw attention to the way in which the themes of economy and visibility appear in relation to the self and education in the text. I refer in r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain What Does It Mean to Be an Educated Person? 111 particular to an understanding of economy in relation to the self in the opening exchanges of the text and to the theme of visibility in relation to education in the allegory of the cave. This leads, in the third and fourth parts of the paper, to an account of how Stanley Cavell and Michel Foucault have reworked Plato’s The Republic and others of Plato’s texts to question these historical understandings of education and the relation of the self to the self. The accounts they provide point to an understanding of education and of being educated that go beyond any formal, institutional understanding of education. It is seen instead as inherent in human life. Finally, I consider, therefore, how the ethical stance that Cavell and Foucault advocate enables the possibility to resist and, to use Cavell’s term, sublimate the language of economy in relation to education and the self. What it means to be an educated person is thereby released from a particular mode of accounting for the self. GOVERNMENTALITY AND THE ENTREPRENEURIAL SELF I will first outline Foucault’s notion of governmentality, before drawing on Andreas Fejes’ (2008) and Maarten Simons’ (2007) analyses of the current (European) context. Foucault’s Genealogy of Governmentality Foucault’s essay, ‘Governmentality’, presents a genealogy of the question of government in which he details a shift, between the 16th and 18th centuries, from texts offering advice to the prince to a concern with the art of government. The task ‘in the art of government . . . is to establish a continuity, in both an upwards and a downwards direction’ (Foucault, 1991, p. 91). This relies on the correct pedagogical formation of the prince such that he can govern himself to, in turn, enable successful government of the state. This good government leads to the downward continuity in which the head of the family knows how to care for his family, thus leading to the proper conduct of the individuals within it: This downwards line, which transmits to individual behaviour and the running of the state, is just at this time beginning to be called police. The prince’s pedagogical formation ensures the upwards continuity of the forms of government, and police the downwards one. The central term of this continuity is the government of the family, termed economy (pp. 91–92). The term ‘economy’, beginning here to acquire a modern meaning, became the main objective of government (p. 92). The shift was also, then, from economy as a form of government to a level of reality (p. 93) as it permeated all aspects of life. A change in the object of government occurred then from territory and its inhabitants as the target of the power of the prince to the government of r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain 112 N. Hodgson things: ‘the right disposition of things, arranged so as to lead to a convenient end’ (La Perrie?re cited in Foucault, 1991, p. 93). Government is focused on: . . . a sort of complex composed of men and things . . . men in their relations, their links, their imbrication with those things that are wealth, resources, means of subsistence, the territory with its specific qualities, climate, irrigation, fertility, and so on; men in their relation to those other things that are customs, habits, ways of acting and thinking, and so on; and finally men in their relation to those still other things that might be accidents and misfortunes such as famine, epidemics, death, and so on (ibid.) This object of government emerged in the context of the development of administrative and governmental apparatuses and of ‘knowledge of the state, in all its different elements, dimensions and factors of power . . . precisely termed ‘‘statistics’’, meaning the science of the state’ (p. 96). During the 18th century a number of factors combined to enable this emergent governmental rationality to take hold. Through the development of the science of government, statistics, and the idea of political economy, the notion of economy was shifted from the family to the economic in its modern sense. The purpose of the act of government is now the welfare of the population rather than the power of the sovereign itself and thus new tactics and techniques emerge to engender interest in its own welfare at the level of the consciousness of the individual (p. 100). Foucault’s historical analysis draws attention to the relatively recent emergence of government as a form of power and thus to the particularity of the operation of it. Central to this shift, then, is the use of the term ‘economy’ related also to the care of the self, of each individual as a unit of the population. The shift to the more pervasive administrative base of governmental power has led Foucault to describe this as ‘both an individualizing and a totalizing form of power’ (Foucault, 1982, p. 213). He illustrates this elsewhere in the model of the panopticon, representative of disciplinary institutions such as the prison, school, or asylum, but also the operation of power in the governmental state, in which power operates on the basis of the possibility of observation and thus of permanent surveillance. Foucault does not refer here to a totalitarian view of the governmental state but to the operation of techniques through which we are observed and measured and the operation of such knowledge on the self by the self; testing, benchmarks, league tables, student profiles, learning blogs are all current examples of this in education. Nor does Foucault dismiss such technologies as inherently bad, or power as a purely detrimental effect. Foucault’s concern is to draw attention to the ways in which we are made subjects and governed by particular forms of knowledge. Foucault’s historical studies pointed to other ways in which power was produced and to the necessity of attention to our historical constitution in order to be able to critique and resist the mode of being in which we find ourselves. In r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain What Does It Mean to Be an Educated Person? 113 the remainder of this section I show how Foucault’s perspective has been used to study how this citizen, the entrepreneurial self, is produced in policy discourse. The Entrepreneurial Self from the Perspective of Governmentality The development of the ‘knowledge economy’, intensified by a European level of policy making, has led to a focus on the implications of this from the perspective of governmentality. The two papers discussed here, Fejes (2008) and Simons (2007), are concerned with recent policy in the European Union (predominantly the Bologna Process for the creation of a European higher education space) and the implications of the demand to understand ourselves as entrepreneurial. I am concerned particularly with the operation of economy, visibility, and accountability that they illustrate. Fejes (2008) draws attention to the concern for comparability and compatibility between institutions in the European higher education area in order that all become more transparent. This prioritisation of visibility requires the subject (be it institution or individual) to submit to it. Thus Fejes suggests that to not, not be able or not wish to be included in such forms of governance effects an exclusion, despite the inclusive ambitions expressed in such policy (Fejes, 2008, p. 521). Inclusion requires subjects to see themselves in a particular way according to key terms such as mobility, employability, flexibility and transferable skills, which enable the responsiveness required by the rate of change in a globalised world. Change is a certainty to which individuals and institutions should orient themselves. Taking advantage of the opportunities such change offers relies ‘on the ongoing acquisition of knowledge and competences’ (European Commission, 2001, cited in Fejes, 2008, p. 6). The subject stands in constant risk of exclusion. Fejes adopts Nikolas Rose’s (1999) term ‘responsibilization’ to describe how ‘subjects themselves are made the vehicles of action’ (Fejes, 2008, p. 523). This marks a further shift from the form of governmentality described by Foucault, as the role and agency of the individual in governance is now made explicit; the subject is now constructed as actively responsible. Governing is effected on the basis of the individual’s—the ‘self-choosing subject’s’—freedom to choose. As such other positions are possible within the discourse (p. 524) although they ‘might be categorized as being part of ‘‘the others’’ who are in need of a remedy’ (ibid.). A further aspect of the exclusive inclusion Fejes identifies is seen in policy references to Europe as a shared cultural space, and the construction of ‘a ‘‘cultural subject’’ with specific European values’ (ibid.). The policy states a respect for diversity among the member states at cultural, linguistic, educational, and administrative levels, yet seeks an orientation to common values, ‘something ‘‘specifically European’’’, to orientate the way in which the European space and the citizens within it r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain 114 N. Hodgson are constructed. Institutions and individuals must articulate themselves in a particular way according to a particular form of knowledge commensurate with this discourse of Europeanness in order to be visible within it. In turn this constructs ‘Europe’ as a visible entity to the nonEuropean, and the external (and internal) other. Maarten Simons (2007) draws attention to the policy articulation of the European citizen as ‘entrepreneurial’ in the creation of the European space of higher education as part of this construction of Europe as a visible entity. It requires institutions and individuals to ‘look in an investing way towards the future’ (Simons, 2007, p. 109). The required orientation towards entrepreneurialism and investment points to the intensification of economy as the organising rationality of governmentality, as discussed in Foucault’s account earlier. As Simons suggests: The term economic should be understood here in a rather specific way, i.e. it refers to a ‘permanent economic tribunal’ (Foucault, 2004a, p. 253). Thus, the formula does not refer to the colonization of the social by the economic (presupposing that the notions refer to two different domains) . . . In short, within this configuration of entrepreneurial government and self-government the distinction between the social and the economic (as two different domains, each requiring their own government) becomes obsolete (Simons, 2007, p. 110). Simons is concerned specifically with the implications of Foucault’s discussion of biopolitics as an aspect of governmentality, which emerged in the shift from the governance of a territory to governance of the human individual as a species that can be known according to forms of knowledge, such as biology, psychology, or pedagogy, for example (p. 111). This is a shift from power over life and death, for example in the right of the prince to put to death, to a focus on life, and on governing as regulation of the population (ibid.). The particular development of the ‘capitalisation of life’ and biopolitics in the present European regime of government as self-government operates, Simons suggests, through the figure of the entrepreneurial self. Since education produces human capital ‘the choice for education is a deliberate, entrepreneurial choice: one expects that this choice will be a valuable investment and that there will be a high return’ (p. 118). This orientation to the self is not restricted to education, however, or confined within institutions or ‘closed settings (factory, school family . . .)’ (ibid.) but permeates our lives, and requires one to shift according to the demand to maximise the putting to work of one’s skills and knowledge and the management of risk. This entails continual subjection to the permanent economic tribunal at every level—individual, institutional, national. For entrepreneurial higher education in this European space, for example, ‘it is up to them to legitimate their existence. What is installed is a kind of regime of terror that, to paraphrase Lyotard, claims: ‘‘take care of investment in yourself, or disappear’’ (Lyotard, 1979, p. 8)’ (Simons, 2007, p. 122). Thus, to not r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain What Does It Mean to Be an Educated Person? 115 be of value or of sufficient or appropriate value, is effectively to disappear, to be rendered invisible, or visible only as deficient and in need of reform or treatment. This relates to Fejes claim of the effects of exclusion of the inclusive objectives of such policy. This investment in the self is oriented not only by the underlying values that support the permanent economic tribunal, but also the others included in it, against which we, or institutions, or nations, compare ourselves in ‘a competitive process of lifelong learning’ (p. 123). Simons’ analysis describes the intensification of governmentality as a mode of power identifying ever more detailed objects of knowledge within the human population. Simons and Fejes both draw attention to the way in which such a mode of thinking about the self and about action is inescapable in its all-pervasiveness yet is enabled by being based on our freedom, which in turn permits space for resistance. The authors both aim to make visible the detail of the present operation of this form of power in order that we can locate ourselves within it and thus act accordingly. This aspect, the possibility of resistance, is often overlooked in the use of the governmentality perspective and thus criticism in these terms risks becoming formulaic. Having drawn attention to this approach and the mode of subjectivation of the individual in the knowledge economy it reveals, in the remainder of the paper I am concerned to show how a form of resistance may be effected. In the following sections I take the themes of visibility, accountability, and economy to discuss ways in which they appear historically, how they might otherwise be understood, and thus how they might be (to use a term suggested by Stanley Cavell) sublimated, that is, shifted according to a moral imperative in relation to the way we understand ourselves and our relation to education. Following a brief discussion of aspects of Plato’s The Republic, I turn to Stanley Cavell and then to Foucault to consider how ideas found in Plato’s text are reworked. PLATO’S THE REPUBLIC I consider two aspects of Plato’s The Republic here. First, I show how an early interaction between Socrates and his interlocutor introduces an understanding of economy that exists in the dialogue form itself. Second, I refer to the allegory of the cave to discuss the understanding of education found there. The dialogic form found throughout Plato’s text can be said to represent a mode of education, a constant willingness to question and be questioned, to displace one’s former assumptions. There is something productive about this dynamic form, then, but also inherently negative in the sense of the need to be open to loss. The opening exchange of the text indicates the need for this willingness in the line, ‘You can’t persuade people who won’t listen’ (Plato, 2003, p. 4; 327c). No change (education) will occur without the willingness to be so. r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain 116 N. Hodgson In an exchange between Socrates and Cephalus they briefly discuss wealth, in which they seem concerned with more than its monetary sense. Socrates asks Cephalus whether he inherited his fortune or made it himself (p. 6; 330a). Cephalus replies: As a business man I rank somewhere between my grandfather and my father. For my grandfather, after whom I am named, inherited as much as I have now have and multiplied it several times over, while my father Lysanias reduced it to less than what it is now: for myself, I shall be pleased enough if I leave the boys of mine a little more than I inherited (p. 6; 330b). Socrates continues with a further question: – What do you think is the greatest advantage you have gained from being so rich? – One . . . which many will perhaps not credit. For you know, Socrates, when a man faces the thought of death there come into his mind anxieties that did not trouble him before . . . he is filled with doubts and fears and begins to reckon up and see if there is anyone he has wronged (p. 7; 300d-e). This brief exchange seems to point toward the nature of the educational value of the exchange found throughout the text. The fortune Socrates refers to is monetary, but is perhaps also luck on the one hand and some sort of intellectual or moral wealth on the other. As such, the inheritance, while referring to the monetary success of the businessman, may also refer to the concern to pass something on. There is perhaps humility in the contentment to pass on just a little more to his sons than he inherited. This concern with inheritance recurs in the final part of the citation, as one becoming concerned in old age with what one leaves behind. The idea that many will not ‘credit’ this implies that it is a reason one may not be willing to give oneself over to. This exchange draws attention to the ubiquity of reference to economy and accounting in everyday language and implies an orientation to self and other in its usage here with implications for an understanding of education. The second aspect of the text I draw on here relates to the concern with visibility discussed earlier, and the idea of education in relation to the self. In Plato’s allegory of the cave a particular relation to light and what is visible depicts an understanding of education as the transition between ignorance and enlightenment. Socrates describes the cave thus: Imagine an underground chamber like a cave, with a long entrance open to the daylight and as wide as the cave. In this chamber are men who have been prisoners there since they were children, their legs and necks being so fastened that they can only look straight ahead of them and cannot turn their heads. Some way off, behind and higher up, a fire is burning, and between the fire and the prisoners and above them runs a road, in front of which a curtain-wall has been built, . . . there are men carrying all sorts of r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain What Does It Mean to Be an Educated Person? 117 gear along behind the curtain-wall, projecting above it . . . (p. 241; 513e–515b). All that the prisoners can see are the shadows, and their being unable to move means that they assume the shadows to represent ‘the real things’. On being released within the cave, the prisoner must grow accustomed to the light before accepting the truth of what it is that he sees and what was merely illusion. The ascent towards the fire, the light, into the upper world is ‘the upward progress of the mind into the intelligible region’ (p. 244; 517b), where one has access to the form of the good: ‘anyone who is going to act rationally either in the public or private sphere must have sight of it’ (p. 244; 517b-c). Socrates suggests unsightedness can result not only from transition from dark to light but also from light to dark. He relates the view that the education of the philosopher rulers—the attainment of the highest form of knowledge by the best minds—implies an obligation on their part ‘to return again to the prisoners in the cave below, and share their labours and rewards’ (p. 246; 519d). In a society that produces philosophers ‘involuntarily and unintentionally’ those philosophers should feel no obligation ‘to repay for an upbringing which it owes to no-one’ (p. 247; 520b). The philosopher-rulers, however, have not been bred for their own benefit but for that of the whole community and thus they are told they must: . . . descend each in turn and live with your fellows in the cave and get used to seeing in the dark; once you get used to it you will see a thousand times better than they do and will distinguish the various shadows, and know what they are shadows of, because you have seen the truth about things admirable and just and good. And so our state and yours will be really awake . . . (p. 247; 520 b-d). The knowledge of the philosopher-ruler then is of value for the society at large and part of the value of the knowledge lies in its enabling a becoming accustomed to the dark in a superior way. The attainment of the higher form of knowledge required of the philosopher-ruler requires not only an intellectual orientation to learning, the orientation of the mind’s eye, but also a re-orientation, being shifted from one’s position to elsewhere in relation to knowledge. But this is not solely for the benefit of the individual; this orientation is also informed by a moral imperative. In Cavell’s essay ‘Plato’ this moral imperative is further explored but in relation to questioning the relation to the self and other assumed in the ascent from the cave. CAVELL, MORAL PERFECTIONISM, AND THE ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE Plato’s image in the allegory of the cave, of education as ‘a path upward, from darkness to light, concluding in a state of perfection and r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain 118 N. Hodgson comprehension of the Forms’ (Cavell, 2005, p. 315) is countered, in Cavell’s view, by Ralph Waldo Emerson’s moral perfectionism, pictured in his essay Experience as ‘finding ourselves someplace on a series of stairs, perceiving those stairs below us that we have ascended and those above us that we have not reached (without a first or last)’ (ibid.). This perfectionism ‘does not envisage, even deplores, the prospect of arriving at a final state of perfection’ (ibid.) as in Plato’s image. Cavell is concerned with the beginning of Plato’s path and ‘the darkness within which the desire for a step toward another, liberating perspective asserts itself’ (ibid.), and with identifying Plato’s The Republic as a source of a ‘thematics of perfectionism’ (p. 320). Cavell situates the allegory of the Cave within the context of The Republic thus: ‘I take the opening of the allegory of Cave, which is the opening of the journey to philosophy, to be Plato’s portrait of the everyday, the customary public space in which philosophy is first encountered’ (p. 324). He reads the allegory also, therefore, as a recapitulation of the opening conversation of the text, the beginning of an exchange. Cavell’s interest in conversation and everyday language, informed in part by Wittgenstein, enables the reading of Plato’s text in perfectionist rather than perfectible terms. In Cavell’s view, Plato and Wittgenstein ‘share the sense of liberation as requiring the intervention of a new or counter voice’ (p. 328) but Wittgenstein, he says, does not share ‘the Republic’s idea of a goal of perfectibility, a foreseeable path to a concluding state of the human’ (p. 329). Cavell suggests that references to turning in Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations capture ‘the sense that philosophy’s task requires a reorientation of thought’ and thus ‘if momentary, of one’s life’ and therefore, ‘challenges the claim of Plato’s myth to describe the trajectory of a total, unified human life’ (p. 328). Rather, Cavell understands the impulse for the reorientation of the self thus: The measure of direction, or progress, is not assured by a beacon from afar, or what seems to be meant by what today is spoken of as a moral compass, but rather pointed to by what Emerson figures as a gleam of light over an inner landscape, and which is concretely guided, and tested, by whether the next step of the self is one that takes its cue from the torment, the sickness, the strangeness, the exile, the disappointment, the boredom, the restlessness, that I have claimed are the terms in which Philosophical Investigations portrays the modern subject. By a step that ‘takes its cue’ from these conditions I do not mean one that attempts to escape them but one that judges the degree to which these conditions must be borne and may be turned (some might say sublimated) constructively, productively, sociably. This puts tremendous weight on one’s judgment, critically including one’s judgment of whose judgment is to be listened to most attentively (p. 329). This reference to critical judgment of who one might listen to recalls a line in the opening of the Republic, which Cavell sees echoed in the allegory of the cave: ‘You can’t persuade people who won’t listen’ (Plato, p. 4; 327c). r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain What Does It Mean to Be an Educated Person? 119 To be persuaded implies a loss of previously held belief and thus a willingness in listening attentively to experience such loss, a willingness to be changed. For Cavell, this return to the self and other in everyday conversation problematises the view of education and the everyday presented in the allegory of the cave as a linear moving away from darkness toward a unified, enlightened self. The Socratic dialogue throughout the Republic can be seen as exemplifying this continual questioning. I turn now to Michel Foucault’s analysis of Socratic dialogue as parrhesia to explore further the moral imperative that Cavell draws attention to. FOUCAULT’S ACCOUNT OF SOCRATIC PARRHESIA Parrhesia, translated by Foucault as ‘free speech’, is a particular way of speaking that was central to Athenian democracy due to the critique it provided of those in power. The parrhesiastes, one who speaks the truth, must be free to choose whether to speak, but does so, despite any risk, out of a sense of moral duty. The parrhesiastes does not speak from a position of power or statutory authority, but is always less powerful than who he addresses. What the parrhesiastes says is also always a critique of himself, that is, there is a harmony between what the parrhesiastes says and how he acts. It is the ethical relation of the self to the self—according to which one chooses to speak the truth—that was seen to guarantee one’s access to the truth and thus the willingness of the hearer to listen. Foucault identifies in The Republic Plato’s concern for the implications of parrhesia, the right to free speech, for democracy. He fears that liberty and free speech will result in everyone having ‘his own manner of life, his own style of life’ to the detriment of the common good of the city (Foucault, 2001, p. 84). Foucault suggests, therefore, that parrhesia became more related to one’s choice of existence, that is, freedom of thought increasingly becoming freedom of action. Foucault suggests Socrates’ role in dialogue is typical of the parrhesiastes and finds Socratic parrhesia to take a particular form. Rather than speaking the truth in the public domain, Socratic parrhesia takes place face to face with another, as seen in The Republic for example. Foucault draws attention then to the relationship between parrhesia and care of the self, giving the example of Plato’s On Courage. Lysimachus and Melesias are concerned about the education they should give to their sons (p. 92). Despite belonging to eminent families and their own fathers’ prestige, Lysimachus and Melesias have made no great accomplishments (ibid.): ‘Clearly . . . having a high birth and belonging to a noble Athenian house are not sufficient to endow someone with the aptitude and the ability to assume a prominent position or role in the city. They realise that something more is needed, viz., education’ (p. 93). Foucault relates the concerns expressed in the text to the broader role of parrhesia at the time. The ability to criticise and speak freely in the social and political arenas was now found in relation to education, and r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain 120 N. Hodgson hence the question arose: ‘if you yourself are not well-educated, how then can you decide what constitutes a good education?’ (ibid.). Socrates advice is sought. He reminds the men that ‘education concerns the care of the soul [185d]’ (p. 95). Nicias, previously consulted by Lysimachus and Melesias due to his military eminence, agrees for ‘his soul to be ‘‘tested’’ by Socrates, i.e. . . . he will play the Socratic parrhesiastic game’ (ibid.). This entails being led into giving an account of oneself. Playing the parrhesiastic game with Socrates first requires face to face contact, a proximity to him (p. 96). Second, the being led into giving an account of oneself requires a certain passivity of the hearer, which ‘consists in being persuaded by what he listens to’ (ibid.). This echoes the reference to listening found in the opening of The Republic that Cavell also drew attention to. The purpose of the accountability drawn out in Socratic parrhesia is of a different order than the confessional sense predominant in Christian culture. It is not oriented toward an admission of faults or an autobiographical recounting of events. Instead giving an account of your life, your bios, is: . . . to demonstrate whether you are able to show that there is a relation between the rational discourse, the logos, you are able to use, and the way that you live. Socrates is inquiring in to the way that logos gives form to a person’s style of life; for he is interested in discovering whether there is a harmonic relation between the two (p. 97). For example, when Socrates asks Laches the reason for his courage he does not seek ‘a narrative of his exploits’ in the war but ‘the logos which gives rational, intelligible form to his courage’ (ibid.). The result of such listening, then, is a shifted orientation to how one thinks and expresses the relationship between one’s thought and action and a recognition of the ethical relationship between the two: ‘one becomes willing to care for the manner in which he lives the rest of his life, wanting now to live in the best possible way; and this willingness takes the form of a zeal to learn and to educate oneself no matter what one’s age’ (p. 98). This willingness recalls the perfectionist (rather than perfectible) understanding of the self and of education that Cavell finds in The Republic. The distinctive aspect of Socratic parrhesia in relation to other forms being its appearance in ‘a personal relationship between two human beings’ (p. 101) may suggest that the willingness to listen, to be changed, involves a greater risk and discomfort than its public, political form. Yet arguably it is the willingness to subject oneself to such critique that is, for Socrates, part of what it is to be an educated person. In both Cavell’s and Foucault’s readings of Socratic dialogues, a form of economy, of accounting for the self, and a willingness to submit to a form of lifelong learning are necessary. In the final section I will consider how their reworking of the ideas found in The Republic offer a critique of the current discourse of the entrepreneurial self and a richer understanding of what it means to be an educated person. r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain What Does It Mean to Be an Educated Person? 121 CONCLUSION: THE EDUCATED PERSON AND THE POSSIBILITY OF SUBLIMATION Fejes’ (2008) and Simons’ (2007) analyses discussed earlier draw attention to the ways in which the economic imperative operates across all areas of our lives such that it is no longer distinct from the social. The governmentality perspective they employ is based on the understanding that such effects of power operate on the basis of our freedom. Their critique then, as in Foucault’s work, is not simply intended to condemn the particular operation of power and the manifestation of it in current European education policy. Such work forms part of an ongoing critique, in which attention is continually paid to one’s location within power relations. As such the focus on the self advocated by Cavell, in speaking of moral perfectionism, conversation, and the everyday, and by Foucault, in focusing on the face to face location of Socratic parrhesia, forms part of this critique. The account of parrhesia in particular draws attention then to the importance of this orientation of critique for our political participation in democracy. Foucault’s historical account of the emergence of governmentality drew attention to the intensification of the focus on economy as the object of governance. Throughout the texts considered here the language of economy and accounting is shown not only to refer to the abstract but also to a level of reality concerned not only with our relationship to things but also to others. The form of accountability identified by both Fejes and Simons, however, renders the individual subject to a form of accounting for the self in line with the strict economic sense, in which, for example, one is subject to skills audits, educational institutions are measured according to the added values of the alumni they produce, and individuals, institutions, and nations compare each other on league tables. This is a form of accounting that ensues from the demand for visibility that Fejes illustrated. In order to draw attention to ways in which the resistance Foucault insisted was inherent in his understanding of power relations might be effected in the course of the everyday, I have drawn on Foucault’s and Cavell’s reworking of Plato’s The Republic and other texts, to show how attention paid to the level of the individual and to one’s moral and ethical relation to self and other may enable the possibility of the sublimation of the language of economy in relation to the understanding of what it means—the value—of being an educated person. Cavell suggests the term ‘sublimation’ in relation to his questioning of the allegory of the cave. The view of education as progress toward a light from afar, or our being oriented by a moral compass, suggests some external and universal source of moral orientation and that this will always lead along a path on which we only accrue the right knowledge of the world. Cavell draws attention to our negative or mundanely everyday experiences, which he takes from Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations—‘the torment, the sickness, the strangeness, the exile, the disappointment, the boredom, the restlessness’—that constitute our education as humans. Similarly to r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain 122 N. Hodgson Foucault’s perspective on the necessity of continual negotiation of the operation of power, Cavell’s reference to sublimation suggests the use of one’s judgment (in the sense emphasised by Cavell) in coming to terms with the world as we find it, in a way that is informed by a moral imperative. Foucault’s account of Socratic parrhesia gives an illustration of this ethical relation to self and other in pointing to the condition that the account that one gives of oneself must be commensurate with how one acts. This, and his understanding of critique as implying an ongoing negotiation of the location of the self in the operation of power, draws attention back to the ethical implications of our use of language and our accountability to ourselves and others in a democracy. The attention to language here in the exploration of what it means to be an educated person differs markedly from the conceptual analysis approach developed by R. S. Peters. It perhaps addresses concerns raised by Katz (2009) that Peters’ account of education underplayed the necessity of a critical relationship to the construction of knowledge that questions of what it means to be an educated person should address. I have sought to show how language operates in a particular current discourse of education in making us, as humans, subjects and to explore how this might be resisted. This entails seeing philosophy and education as present in the ethical relationship between self and other rather than restricting it to the formal educational institution or to a particular developmental stage. The idea of accountability in the knowledge economy was described above as being for external ends. This is problematised by the moral imperative in the idea of sublimation. Cavell contrasts the beacon to which those in the cave move towards, an external source, with ‘what Emerson figures as a gleam of light over an inner landscape’ (Cavell, 2005, p. 329). This invokes the sense of the small, everyday choices we make, the small flash of clarity that enables us to go on within the complex contingent reality in which we exist. Rather than the view of education as the overcoming of darkness, Cavell’s account recognises that this is where our education occurs. What is frequently drawn attention to in the texts considered here in relation to the educational value of the Socratic dialogue is the willingness to listen. This implies then the value of acknowledging a passivity, a willingness to be changed, that defies the current preoccupation with visibility and the anxious activity that accompanies measurable objectives. Correspondence: Naomi Hodgson, Institute of Education, 20 Bedford Way, London WC1H 0AL, UK. E-mail:nhodgson@ioe.ac.uk. NOTE 1. The Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain Student Essay Competition takes place each year. The winner receives a prize and is offered free attendance at the subsequent Annual r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain What Does It Mean to Be an Educated Person? 123 Conference of the Society, held at New College Oxford. For details see: http://www.philosophyof-education.org/students/default.asp. REFERENCES Cavell, S. (2005) Cities of Words: Pedagogical Letters on a Register of the Moral Life (Cambridge, MA, Harvard University Press). Cuypers, S. E. and Martin, C. (2009) (eds) Rereading R. S. Peters on Education Today, Journal of Philosophy of Education Special Supplementary Issue 43 (S.2). Fejes, A. (2008) European Citizens Under Construction: The Bologna Process Analysed from a Governmentality Perspective, Educational Philosophy and Theory, 40.4, pp. 515–530. Foucault, M. (1982) Afterword: The Subject and Power, in: H. Dreyfus and P. Rabinow (eds) Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics (Brighton, Harvester). Foucault, M. (1991) Governmentality, in P. Rabinow (ed.) The Foucault Reader: An Introduction to Foucault’s Thought (Harmondsworth, Penguin). Foucault, M. (2001) Fearless Speech (Pearson, J. ed. (Los Angeles, Semiotext(e)). Haydon, G. (2009) Peters’ Paradox of Moral Education, in: S. E. Cuypers and C. Martin (eds) Rereading R. S. Peters on Education Today, Journal of Philosophy of Education Special Supplementary Issue 43 (S.2). Katz, M. (2009) R. S. Peters’ Normative Conception of Education and Educational Aims, in: S. E. Cuypers and C. Martin (eds) Rereading R. S. Peters on Education Today, Journal of Philosophy of Education Special Supplementary Issue 43 (S.2). Luntley, M. (2009) On Education and Initiation, in: S. E. Cuypers and C. Martin (eds) Rereading R. S. Peters on Education Today, Journal of Philosophy of Education Special Supplementary Issue 43 (S.2). Peters, R. S. (1970) Education and the Educated Man—Some Further Reflections, Journal of Philosophy of Education, 4.1, pp. 5–20. Plato (2003) The Republic, D. Lee, trans. (Harmondsworth, Penguin). Rose, N. (1999) Powers of Freedom (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press). Simons, M. (2007) Learning as Investment: Notes on Governmentality and Biopolitics, in: J. Masschelein, M. Simons, U. Bro?ckling and L. Pongratz (eds) The Learning Society from the Perspective of Governmentality (Oxford, Blackwell). r 2010 The Author Journal compilation r 2010 Journal of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain Copyright of Journal of Philosophy of Education is the property of Wiley-Blackwell and its content may not be copied or emailed to multiple sites or posted to a listserv without the copyright holder's express written permission. However, users may print, download, or email articles for individual use. ESSAY 2: YOUR DEFINITION OF EDUCATION AND SUCCESS Overview: So far we’ve been talking about making arguments, and this essay is a simple argumentative essay. However, I think you’ll find the question a little more complicated than it seems. If the basic question is this, “What does it mean to be educated,” you are going to have to argue WHY you define “being educated” in the way that you do. Further, you will use readings and a video in order to provide support for your definition. Keep in mind that an argument requires support and evidence. And that is where you come in! Task: The basic task of this essay is to answer the following questions: • In your own words, what does it mean to be educated? And how does this definition relate to you and your educational goals here at El Camino? • How does your definition of “being educated” relate to your version of success? In your essay: • You will need to use the readings we’ve done in the course to define what you think it means to be educated. • You will need to use your critical voice to connect your definition of being educated to success. • If you use exact words or paraphrased passages from a text, cite responsibly using quotation marks. • Write at least 3-4 complete pages of composition and include a Work Cited page. Rubric: Achieving all four of the following elements will result in a high pass. If you are struggling in a few areas, your grade will lower to a pass, or low pass. If you do not meet the following elements, you will receive a not yet passing. Unity: ____ Develops a clear main idea, both directly stated as a thesis and implied through narrative detail. Support: ____ Incorporates enough reading material and descriptive detail to support the main idea of the essay. Coherence: ____ Logically organizes details and reinforces connection to the main idea with unified, controlled paragraphs. Sentence Skills and Format: ____ MLA heading and paper format, a unique title and 3 pages of composition. ____ Clear sentence structure with polished grammar and usage Total Worth:______ High Pass _____ Pass _______ Low Pass ______Not yet passing This is Water David Foster Wa!ace There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and “Morning, boys, how's the water?” And the two young fish swim on bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and “What the hell is water?” meet says, for a goes, If at this moment, you're worried that I plan to present myself here as the wise old fish explaining what water is to you younger fish, please don't be. I am not the wise old fish. The immediate point of the fish story is that the most obvious, ubiquitous, important realities are often the ones that are the hardest to see and talk about. Stated as an English sentence, of course, this is just a banal platitude — but the fact is that, in the day-to-day trenches of adult existence, banal platitudes can have life-or-death importance. That may sound like hyperbole, or abstract nonsense. 1 A huge percentage of the stu? that I tend to be automatically certain of is, it turns out, totally wrong and deluded. Here's one example of the utter wrongness of something I tend to be automatically sure of: Everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute center of the universe, the realest, most vivid and important person in existence. We rarely talk about this sort of natural, basic selfcenteredness, because it's so socially repulsive, but it's pretty much the same for all of us, deep down. It is our default-setting, hard-wired into our boards at birth. Think about it: There is no experience you've had that you were not at the absolute center of. The world as you experience it is right there in front of you, or behind you, to the left or right of you, on your TV, or your monitor, or whatever. Other people's thoughts and feelings have to be communicated to you somehow, but your own are so immediate, urgent, real — you get the idea. But please don't worry that I'm getting ready to preach to you about compassion or other-directedness or the so-called “virtues.” This is not a matter of virtue — it's a matter of my choosing to do the work of somehow altering or getting free of my natural, hard-wired default-setting, which is to be deeply and literally self-centered, and to see and interpret everything through this lens of self. People who can adjust their natural default-setting this way are often described as being “well adjusted,” which I suggest to you is not an accidental term. Given the triumphal academic setting here, an obvious question is how much of this work of adjusting our default-setting involves actual knowledge or intellect. This question gets tricky. Probably the most dangerous thing about college education, at least in my own case, is that it enables my tendency to over-intellectualize stu?, to get lost in abstract arguments inside my head instead of simply paying attention to what's going on right in front of me. Paying attention to what's going on inside me. As I'm sure you guys know by now, it is extremely di?cult to stay alert and attentive instead of getting hypnotized by the constant monologue inside your own head. Twenty years after my own graduation, I have come 2 gradually to understand that the liberal-arts cliché about “teaching you how to think” is actually shorthand for a much deeper, more serious idea: “Learning how to think” really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think. It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience. Because if you cannot exercise this kind of choice in adult life, you will be totally hosed. Think of the old cliché about “the mind being an excellent servant but a terrible master.” This, like many clichés, so lame and unexciting on the surface, actually expresses a great and terrible truth. It is not the least bit coincidental that adults who commit suicide with firearms almost always shoot themselves in the head. And the truth is that most of these suicides are actually dead long before they pull the trigger. And I submit that this is what the real, no-bull- value of your liberal-arts education is supposed to be about: How to keep from going through your comfortable, prosperous, respectable adult life dead, unconscious, a slave to your head and to your natural default-setting of being uniquely, completely, imperially alone, day in and day out. That may sound like hyperbole, or abstract nonsense. So let's get concrete. The plain fact is that you graduating seniors do not yet have any clue what “day in, day out” really means. There happen to be whole large parts of adult American life that nobody talks about in commencement speeches. One such part involves boredom, routine, and petty frustration. The parents and older folks here will know all too well what I'm talking about. By way of example, let's say it's an average day, and you get up in the morning, go to your challenging job, and you work hard for nine or ten hours, and at the end of the day you're tired, and you're stressed out, and all you want is to go home and have a good supper and maybe unwind for a couple of hours and then hit the rack early because you have to get up the next day and do it all again. But then you remember there's no food at home — you haven't had time to shop this week, because of your challenging job — and so now after work you have to get in your car and drive to the supermarket. It's the end of the workday, and the tra?c's very 3 bad, so getting to the store takes way longer than it should, and when you finally get there the supermarket is very crowded, because of course it's the time of day when all the other people with jobs also try to squeeze in some grocery shopping, and the store's hideously, fluorescently lit, and infused with soul-killing Muzak or corporate pop, and it's pretty much the last place you want to be, but you can't just get in and quickly out: You have to wander all over the huge, overlit store's crowded aisles to find the stu? you want, and you have to maneuver your junky cart through all these other tired, hurried people with carts, and of course there are also the glacially slow old people and the spacey people and the ADHD kids who all block the aisle and you have to grit your teeth and try to be polite as you ask them to let you by, and eventually, finally, you get all your supper supplies, except now it turns out there aren't enough checkout lanes open even though it's the end-of-the-day-rush, so the checkout line is incredibly long, which is stupid and infuriating, but you can't take your fury out on the frantic lady working the register. Anyway, you finally get to the checkout line's front, and pay for your food, and wait to get your check or card authenticated by a machine, and then get told to “Have a nice day” in a voice that is the absolute voice of death, and then you have to take your creepy flimsy plastic bags of groceries in your cart through the crowded, bumpy, littery parking lot, and try to load the bags in your car in such a way that everything doesn't fall out of the bags and roll around in the trunk on the way home, and then you have to drive all the way home through slow, heavy, SUV-intensive rush-hour tra?c, etcetera, etcetera. The point is that petty, frustrating crap like this is exactly where the work of choosing comes in. Because the tra?c jams and crowded aisles and long checkout lines give me time to think, and if I don't make a conscious decision about how to think and what to pay attention to, I'm going to be pissed and miserable every time I have to food-shop, because my natural default-setting is the certainty that situations like this are really all about me, about my hungriness and my fatigue and my desire to just get home, 4 and it's going to seem, for all the world, like everybody else is just in my way, and who are all these people in my way? And look at how repulsive most of them are and how stupid and cow-like and dead-eyed and nonhuman they seem here in the checkout line, or at how annoying and rude it is that people are talking loudly on cell phones in the middle of the line, and look at how deeply unfair this is: I've worked really hard all day and I'm starved and tired and I can't even get home to eat and unwind because of all these stupid god-damn people. Or, of course, if I'm in a more socially conscious form of my default-setting, I can spend time in the end-of-the-day tra?c jam being angry and disgusted at all the huge, stupid, lane-blocking SUV's and Hummers and V-12 pickup trucks burning their wasteful, selfish, forty-gallon tanks of gas, and I can dwell on the fact that the patriotic or religious bumper stickers always seem to be on the biggest, most disgustingly selfish vehicles driven by the ugliest, most inconsiderate and aggressive drivers, who are usually talking on cell phones as they cut people o? in order to get just twenty stupid feet ahead in a tra?c jam, and I can think about how our children's children will despise us for wasting all the future's fuel and probably screwing up the climate, and how spoiled and stupid and disgusting we all are, and how it all just sucks, and so on and so forth... Look, if I choose to think this way, fine, lots of us do — except that thinking this way tends to be so easy and automatic it doesn't have to be a choice. Thinking this way is my natural default-setting. It's the automatic, unconscious way that I experience the boring, frustrating, crowded parts of adult life when I'm operating on the automatic, unconscious belief that I am the center of the world and that my immediate needs and feelings are what should determine the world's priorities. The thing is that there are obviously di?erent ways to think about these kinds of situations. In this tra?c, all these vehicles stuck and idling in my way: It's not impossible that some of these people in SUV's have been in horrible auto accidents in the past and now find driving so traumatic that their therapist has all but ordered them to get a huge, heavy SUV so they can feel safe enough to 5 drive; or that the Hummer that just cut me o? is maybe being driven by a father whose little child is hurt or sick in the seat next to him, and he's trying to rush to the hospital, and he's in a way bigger, more legitimate hurry than I am — it is actually I who am in his way. Or I can choose to force myself to consider the likelihood that everyone else in the supermarket's checkout line is just as bored and frustrated as I am, and that some of these people probably have much harder, more tedious or painful lives than I do, overall. Again, please don't think that I'm giving you moral advice, or that I'm saying you're “supposed to” think this way, or that anyone expects you to just automatically do it, because it's hard, it takes will and mental e?ort, and if you're like me, some days you won't be able to do it, or you just flatout won't want to. But most days, if you're aware enough to give yourself a choice, you can choose to look di?erently at this fat, dead-eyed, over-madelady who just screamed at her little child in the checkout line — maybe she's not usually like this; maybe she's been up three straight nights holding the hand of her husband who's dying of bone cancer, or maybe this very lady is the low-wage clerk at the Motor Vehicles Dept. who just yesterday helped your spouse resolve a nightmarish red-tape problem through some small act of bureaucratic kindness. Of course, none of this is likely, but it's also not impossible — it just depends on what you want to consider. If you're automatically sure that you know what reality is and who and what is really important — if you want to operate on your default-setting — then you, like me, will not consider possibilities that aren't pointless and annoying. But if you've really learned how to think, how to pay attention, then you will know you have other options. It will actually be within your power to experience a crowded, loud, slow, consumer-hell-type situation as not only meaningful but sacred, on fire with the same force that lit the stars — compassion, love, the sub-surface unity of all things. Not that that mystical stu? 's necessarily true: The only thing that's capital-T True is that you get to decide how you're going to try to see it. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't. You get to decide what to worship... 6 Because here's something else that's true. In the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And an outstanding reason for choosing some sort of God or spiritual-type thing to worship — be it J.C. or Allah, be it Yahweh or the Wiccan mother-goddess or the Four Noble Truths or some infrangible set of ethical principles — is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things — if they are where you tap real meaning in life — then you will never have enough. Never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your own body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly, and when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally plant you. On one level, we all know this stu? already — it's been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, bromides, epigrams, parables: the skeleton of every great story. The trick is keeping the truth up-front in daily consciousness. Worship power — you will feel weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to keep the fear at bay. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart — you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. And so on. Look, the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they're evil or sinful; it is that they are unconscious. They are default-settings. They're the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that's what you're doing. And the world will not discourage you from operating on your default-settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all di?erent kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of 7 freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and e?ort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default-setting, the “rat race” — the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing. I know that this stu? probably doesn't sound fun and breezy or grandly inspirational. What it is, so far as I can see, is the truth with a whole lot of rhetorical bullshit pared away. Obviously, you can think of it whatever you wish. But please don't dismiss it as some finger-wagging Dr. Laura sermon. None of this is about morality, or religion, or dogma, or big fancy questions of life after death. The capital-T Truth is about life before death. It is about making it to 30, or maybe 50, without wanting to shoot yourself in the head. It is about simple awareness — awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, that we have to keep reminding ourselves, over and over: “This is water, this is water.” It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive, day in and day out.