Fat Tony versus Socrates

FAT TONY VERSUS SOCRATES

How would Fat Tony have handled the cross-examination by the relentless Athenian? Now that the reader is acquainted with our hefty character, let us examine, as a thought experiment, an equivalent dialogue between Fat Tony and Socrates, properly translated of course.

Clearly, there are similarities between the two characters. Both had time on their hands and enjoyed unlimited leisure, though, in Tony’s case, free time was the result of productive insights. Both like to argue, and both look at active conversation (instead of TV screen or concert hall passivity) as a main source of entertainment. Both dislike writing: Socrates because he did not like the definitive and immutable character that is associated with the written word when for him answers are never final and should not be fixed. Nothing should be written in stone, even literally: Socrates in the Euthyphro boasts for ancestry the sculptor Daedalus, whose statues came alive as soon as the work was completed. When you talk to one of Daedalus’ statues, it talks back to you, unlike the ones you see in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Tony, for his part, did not like writing for other, no less respectable reasons: he almost flunked out of high school in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

But the similarities stop somewhere, which would be good enough for a dialogue. Of course we can expect a bit of surprise on the part of Fat Tony standing in front of the man described to him by Nero as the greatest philosopher of all time: Socrates, we are told, had looks beyond unprepossessing. Socrates was repeatedly described as having a protruding belly, thin limbs, bulging eyes, a snub nose. He looked haggard. He might even have had body odor, as he was said to bathe much less than his peers. You can imagine Fat Tony sneering while pointing his finger at the fellow: “Look, Neeero, you want me to talk to … dis?” Or perhaps not: Socrates was said to have a presence, a certain personal confidence and a serenity of mind that made some young men find him “beautiful.”

What Nero was certain of was that Fat Tony would initially get close to Socrates and form his opinion on the fellow after some olfactory investigation—and as we said, Fat Tony doesn’t even realize that this is part of his modus operandi.

Now assume Fat Tony was asked by Socrates how he defined piety. Fat Tony’s answer would have been most certainly to get lost— Fat Tony, aware of Socrates’ statement that not only would he debate for free, but he would be ready to pay for conversation, would have claimed one doesn’t argue with someone who is ready to pay you to argue with him.

But Fat Tony’s power in life is that he never lets the other person frame the question. He taught Nero that an answer is planted in every question; never respond with a straight answer to a question that makes no sense to you.

F AT T ONY: “You are asking me to define what characteristic makes a difference between pious and nonpious. Do I really need to be able to tell you what it is to be able to conduct a pious action?”

S OCRATES: “How can you use a word like ‘piety’ without knowing what it means, while pretending to know what it means?”

F AT T ONY: “Do I actually have to be able to tell you in plain barbarian non-Greek English, or in pure Greek, what it means to prove that I know and understand what it means? I don’t know it in words but I know what it is.”

No doubt Fat Tony would have taken Socrates of Athens further down his own road and be the one doing the framing of the question:

F AT T ONY: “Tell me, old man. Does a child need to define mother’s milk to understand the need to drink it?”

S OCRATES: “No, he does not need to.”

F AT T ONY (using the same repetitive pattern of Socrates in the Plato dialogues): “And my dear Socrates, does a dog need to define what an owner is to be loyal to him?”

S OCRATES (puzzled to have someone ask him questions): “A dog has … instinct. It does not reflect on its life. He doesn’t examine his life. We are not dogs.”

F AT T ONY: “I agree, my dear Socrates, that a dog has instinct and that we are not dogs. But are we humans so fundamentally different as to be completely stripped of instinct leading us to do things we have no clue about? Do we have to limit life to what we can answer in proto-Brooklyn English?”

Without waiting for Socrates’ answer (only suckers wait for answers; questions are not made for answers):

F AT T ONY: “Then, my good Socrates, why do you think that we need to fix the meaning of things?”

S OCRATES: “My dear Mega-Tony, we need to know what we are talking about when we talk about things. The entire idea of philosophy is to be able to reflect and understand what we are doing, examine our lives. An unexamined life is not worth living.”

F AT T ONY: “The problem, my poor old Greek, is that you are killing the things we can know but not express. And if I asked someone riding a bicycle just fine to give me the theory behind his bicycle riding, he would fall from it. By bullying and questioning people you confuse them and hurt them.”

Then, looking at him patronizingly, with a smirk, very calmly:

F AT T ONY: “My dear Socrates … you know why they are putting you to death? It is because you make people feel stupid for blindly following habits, instincts, and traditions. You may be occasionally right. But you may confuse them about things they’ve been doing just fine without getting in trouble. You are destroying people’s illusions about themselves. You are taking the joy of ignorance out of the things we don’t understand. And you have no answer; you have no answer to offer them.”