Courage: The Politics of Life and Limb

4. Moral Courage and Autonomy

four Moral Courage and Autonomy Up to now you were only apparently free. You had only the precarious freedom of a slave to whom nothing has been commanded. Now be really free. Learn to become your own master. Command your heart, Emile, and you will be virtuous. —Rousseau, Emile Suffering Rousseau After the battle at Thermopylae an inscription was left for the fallen: “Go, stranger, and tell the Spartans that we lay here in obedience to their orders.”1 The inscription is both awe-inspiring and revolting . That the Three Hundred were able to accomplish what they did, that they never wavered in their courage, and that they set the historical standard for martial courage and honor is indeed awe-­ inspiring. One must ask, however, What kind of city’s laws and orders demand this action of her people? Moreover, what kind of people would obey the orders of the city so fanatically? In the previous chapter we discussed the Athenian objection to this Spartan 139 140  Courage sort of courage and consequent Spartan way of life. Martial courage and the love of honor fell under serious scrutiny because of their inextricable connection with violence. Instead, we discovered a recurring effort to infuse courage with reason, to redirect the good of courage to softer, more relaxed, more just ends. The distinctions were clear: justice rather than honor, and reason rather than violence . What is not evident in the Socratic objection is a questioning of this sort of unbridled obedience to laws, as epitomized in the inscription on Leonidas’s tomb. In fact, quite the contrary is evident in Platonic thought. In the Crito, for instance, Plato portrays Socrates in his jail cell awaiting his execution. Crito has bribed the jailor so that Socrates may escape and go into exile or “flee” (feu/gein).2 As Crito tells him, he should choose “just what the good and manly man [a)nh\r a)gaqo\j kai\ a)ndrei=oj] would choose” and accept the offer to flee into exile (45d). Socrates, like the good warrior Plato makes him out to be, refuses Crito’s offer to flee and stays in jail. To justify this decision, Socrates invokes the laws of Athens: first, they have afforded him a legitimate birth, educated him, and nurtured him; second, he could have left anytime previously; and finally, it would not be courageous for Socrates to defy the laws because it would undermine the order of the city (51a). For Socrates , running away, just like running away in war and battle, is the epitome of cowardice because it leaves one’s battle brothers in the lurch. To ignore the laws would be to act for one’s own interest to the detriment of the whole—and such selfish acts are never courageous acts. Instead, running away “would be doing just what the paltriest slave would do” (52d). In short, Socrates stays in the line; he “stands his ground” (parame/nontaj) and refuses to abandon his orders.3 He selflessly accepts the laws, even though they are unjust, and accepts his cup of hemlock.4 To the bitter end he is obedient to the laws, and the inscription on his tomb might well read, “Go, stranger, and tell the Athenians that I lay here in obedience to their orders.” It is a fitting memorial for the new Achilles—a fitting memorial for the courageous hunter-philosopher fighting discursively for his erotic love of justice. Moral Courage and Autonomy   141 Yet an objection can be voiced with regard to this image of the courageous citizen. How can one be a courageous citizen if one is slavishly beholden to externally imposed laws? Is not the dictum “Obey or die” the very definition of a slavish existence? How can we possibly admire visions of courageous citizenship that result in the ostracizing of Aristodemus for his blindness or the execution of Socrates for his philosophizing? Is courage necessarily wedded to this sort of absurd heteronomy? If not, can one be courageous for the sake of something other than honor and justice? These are precisely the sort of questions that arise in the thought of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Like other thinkers, Rousseau is enamored with courage and heroism, but his fundamental care is not honor or justice but autonomy, or, literally, self-rule. Rousseau does care for honor and justice, but these are not ne plus ultra cares. For Rousseau...