Double Vision: Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Aquinas
on Silence
Sarah Honeycutt, University of Dallas
Abstract
Benjamin Franklin has no shortage of modern followers and admirers
who hail his utilitarian system as useful to everyone and offensive to
no one. However, I argue that Franklin's system gives us not use, but
abuse—abuse of the human soul and of Truth itself. Franklin subordinates
virtue to success, and thus twists the Western tradition epitomized by
Thomas Aquinas, with disastrous results. A liberating tradition becomes
constraining, and betterment of the soul becomes destruction of the soul.
Ultimately, Franklin's system is incapable of producing or recognizing
great men.
Benjamin Franklin has no shortage of modern followers and admirers who
hail his utilitarian system as useful to everyone and offensive to no
one. However, I argue that Franklin's system gives us not use, but abuse
– abuse of the human soul and of Truth itself. Franklin subordinates virtue
to success, and thus twists the Western tradition epitomized by Thomas
Aquinas, with disastrous results. A liberating tradition becomes constraining,
and betterment of the soul becomes destruction of the soul. Ultimately,
Franklin's system is incapable of producing or recognizing great men.
An understanding of why and how Franklin redefined the Western tradition is essential to understanding Franklin's philosophy. His early life set him on the path towards a revolutionary understanding of morality. Franklin began life with a traditional education in grammar school. As he grew older, financial constraints made further liberal education impossible, and he became an apprentice at his brother's print shop. After a serious disagreement with his brother, Franklin left home for Philadelphia with no money, reputation or possessions, thereby thrusting himself into a fight for survival. Franklin found himself forced to deal with the dichotomy between his desire for individual success and his training in traditional morality. Franklin, a clever man, claimed to have discovered a way to reconcile the two. He simply used the traditional virtues to serve an external end — that of success. His book, The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, contains a list of virtues, which if practiced, will lead to wealth, reputation, and social harmony. Most of the virtues appear to be steeped in the Western tradition; however, Franklin has made significant alterations to their practice and end. The changed virtues are many, but here I focus on silence.
For an idea of how the virtue of silence was regarded in pre-Franklin times, we turn to Josef Pieper's The Silence of St. Thomas. Pieper tells us of accounts from fellow friars that St. Thomas “could be seen pacing up and down the convent halls in great strides, head erect, alone, meditating…his heart was entirely directed toward the divine.”[1] Silence served God and Truth. In the medieval sense, silence sets the mind free to explore the treasures of the eternal realm, to contemplate and receive God, and to rest in the Truth. The lone human mind is faced with a reality much greater than itself and is able to transcend time and place. Silence serves to highlight man's elevation above all other creation as a thinking being who can recognize and understand eternal truths. A society of contemplatives is always aware of the dignity of a human being as a body and soul.
Franklin's sense of the virtue is quite different. His explanatory addendum to the virtue states: “Speak not but what may benefit yourself or others. Avoid trifling conversation.”[2] Since it serves the self rather than the Truth, silence becomes constraining rather than liberating. Silence forces the mind to focus only on the present work by removing distraction. Franklin's silence narrows the mind to one moment in time, one person, one goal. Of course, the medievals also advocated focus during work, but a supernatural motive was always present. Franklin's system considers nothing outside of the self; the person becomes a monomaniac, applying his entire being to accomplishing technological work for the sake of advancing the self and society.
By creating a system designed for the worker qua worker, Franklin ultimately debases a human being to a unit of labor. His primary focus is how to maximize the worker's efficiency and utility to the whole, thus sacrificing the human being's dignity as a being with intellect and spirit. Franklin's system reduces each human to a part of the machine of society, valuable only if productive. What Pieper warns becomes a reality: “[In a technological society,] man might, erroneously, come to regard the world as a whole and the created things in it — above all man himself — in the same manner in which he regards correctly his own artifacts belonging to the technological sphere.”[3] Human nature is seen as no more excellent than the nature of a sophisticated computer. In fact, the nature of the computer becomes something for which to strive; the human mind, to retain a right to a place in society, must be able to perform a function with the exactness and single-mindedness of a software program.
Franklin argues that by practicing silence and thus being a more productive worker, society will be benefited greatly. Numerous glowing biographies of Franklin cite his contributions to his fellow men as proof that the Franklin personality, silent and focused on work, is the most beneficial for society. However, utilitarian contributions can never surpass the contributions of those who are liberally educated in the Thomistic tradition. Franklin's virtuous man can only help society in material ways. Even the intellectual contributions of Franklin seem empty when examined. He did found a university, but it was fundamentally a vocational training school. He did found philosophical discussion groups, but the only subject matter discussed was science and natural philosophy. His writings are full of witticisms, but they are untenable as serious philosophy and only serve for passing amusement.
Compare this to the intellectual fruits of St. Thomas's system: “all ways of creaturely knowing have been followed to the very end — to the boundary of mystery.”[4] The mind is continuously pushing limits, learning and achieving more. Technological advances will surely not be neglected by the liberal mind, for a well-trained intellect will easily apply science and creativity to inventive purposes. These progresses will be far more meaningful, and more truly progresses, if made with a free mind. Instead of technological progress at the expense of intellectual and spiritual progress, technological progress will serve and be compatible with the far greater intellectual and moral ends. Thomas's system produces a whole man — developed and in harmony.
To be silent is to practice a form of asceticism in both systems, but with quite opposite results. Thomas's asceticism leads to higher goods. His contemporaries report “that Thomas loved peace; that he was sparing regarding himself, humble and full of goodness for his fellows. He was a lover of poverty.”[5] His peaceful silence, Pieper says, was to achieve the “condition of purity” which is linked to discovery of the truth. Thomas sacrificed the earthly pleasure of idle chatter in order to attain the higher pleasure of knowledge of God.
Franklin's asceticism, however, leads to massive confusion in the soul. Silence and many of his other virtues, including temperance, resolution, frugality, moderation, and chastity, deny the senses comfort and pleasure. Yet, the goal of Franklin's system is to be successful enough to be able to enjoy these same earthly comforts, not something greater. His means contradict his ends. Though his virtues train the soul to turn from base pleasures, his motivation for practicing these virtues is the hope of later acquiring a “State of Affluence and some Degree of Reputation in the World.”[6] This contradiction results in a strange division of the soul. On the one hand, after practicing sincerity, moderation, humility, and justice, one cannot help but acquire philanthropic habits. Franklin indeed was the consummate humanitarian throughout his public life. On the other hand, underlying these good habits is an intellect which still views pleasure and success as the end of human existence. Franklin's penchant for rich foods and sexual promiscuity is thus explained, for he needs an escape from his altruistic lifestyle. His self-contradictory system has resulted in a peculiar state of the soul — his passions are trained for the noble, yet his reason clings to the base.
Pieper explains why Franklin's system fails where Thomas's system is successful: “Only he who wants nothing for himself, who is not subjectively 'interested,' can know the truth.”[7] Franklin, by always retaining the fundamental interest in self, ties his soul to baseness. Neither his philanthropy nor his self indulgence can bring him true joy since neither seems to be what he really desires.
With the individual man debased and divided by Franklin's silence, the formation of a hero is impossible. To illustrate this, I examine how the reputation of the Western hero Socrates would fare in each system. By medieval standards, Socrates would still be a hero. Though known for his method of dialogue, Socrates is recorded as having been frequently engaged in silent contemplation. For instance, the beginning of Plato's Symposium recounts the progress of Aristodemus and Socrates to a dinner party. Aristodemus arrives promptly, but Socrates has stopped on a porch, for he is suddenly moved to contemplate. Aristodemus tells us that “It's one of his habits: every now and then he just goes off like that and stands motionless, wherever he happens to be.”[8] Whenever Socrates is moved to think, he puts all else on hold and retreats into the silence of his own thoughts until he has come to a conclusion. When he finally arrives, Agathon chides, “It's clear you've seen the light. If you hadn't, you'd still be standing there.”[9] St. Thomas would undoubtedly laud Socrates's willingness to sacrifice the party for silent contemplation.
Additionally, like St. Thomas, Socrates was willing to speak at the right time and at the right place. Thomas's virtue does not entail a vow of perpetual silence; rather, the silence serves to make what one does say that much more meaningful. Thomas devoted much time to teaching. Pieper tells us that “the best energies and best part of his life he devoted not to a work of 'research' but to a textbook for beginners.”[10] To keep the fruits of one's contemplation to oneself is not allowed in the Thomistic system. The fruits of one person serve to educate others, and to act as a foundation. Thomas would have been delighted if his students would expand upon his ideas. Pieper notes that Thomas's Summa Theologica was left unfinished. He suggests that this was an intentional move by Thomas, showing his audience that the philosophical questions he endeavored to answer are indeed not answerable by him. He leaves his system open to be expanded upon by future generations. Similarly, Socrates devoted a great deal of energy to teaching, leaving the legacy of the Socratic method. His brilliant system not only imparts his own knowledge to the student, but actively forces the participation of the student's own mind by using the engaging question and answer method.
The summit of Socrates's nobility is his unjust execution. For his strange behavior and innovative teachings, the Athenian jury tried Socrates and sentenced him to death by hemlock. In the Apology, Plato presents a Socrates who has remained a faithful servant of the truth until the end of his life. Socrates says in his final speech to the jury, “I would much rather die after this kind of defense than live after…contriving to avoid death at any cost…I leave you now, condemned to death by you, but you are condemned by truth to wickedness and injustice.”[11] Throughout his life, Socrates guided his actions by what was True and Good, and he dies in adherence to these principles. Those following St. Thomas recognize the beauty in giving one's life for virtue and truth and label Socrates as a hero.
In Franklin's system, the same Socrates would be dismissed as a burden to society. Franklin's silence is intended to remove distraction so that work may be done more effectively. Silence is the number two virtue on Franklin's list, meaning that acquiring it will aid him in the perfection of the subsequent virtues. Some of these subsequent virtues are order, resolution, and industry. Thus Silence is the servant of these “higher” virtues. Franklin would scoff at Socrates's use of silence, since in being silent prior to the party he is failing to maintain order in his schedule, Resolution in his progress toward the party, and industry with his time.
Even the Socratic method would not redeem Socrates in Franklin's eyes, for Socrates's conversations would be labeled as the “trifling conversation” which Franklin's virtuous man must avoid. Socrates discovers the definition of justice, knowledge, and indeed the very nature of existence by unhurried dialogue, “following the argument where it leads.” The entire foundation of the Socratic method is the leisurely discussion which Franklin condemns.
Neither would Franklin be able to comprehend the beauty of Socrates's behavior at his imminent execution. Franklin , whose system is based on a neurotic self-preservation, would condemn Socrates's seemingly irrational tenacity to ideals, especially since the Phaedo tells us that Socrates was given the chance to escape prison, but refused for the sake of virtue. Socrates's fate is one shared by other Western heroes, such as Jesus, Thomas More and Abraham Lincoln. I suspect that because of the peril of being an exemplar, Franklin would abandon the struggle for moral excellence. His virtues are virtues only insofar as they yield a product, so if they become dangerous, they must not be practiced. Utilitarian virtue hails mediocrity as the best foundation for a safe and profitable existence. Thus, Franklin would label Socrates, who was anything but mediocre, as an impractical and silly man.
Franklin, because of his narrow philosophy, truly cannot see the merit in this great Western hero. Socrates makes brief spectral appearances in the Autobiography, and his legacy is horribly abused. First Franklin mentions reading about Socrates in Xenophon's Memorabilia, and is so “charmed” that he decides to “put on the humble Enquirer” himself. Franklin relates that “I found this method safest for my self and very embarrassing to those against whom I used it, therefore I took Delight in it.”[12] The Socratic method becomes a political instrument instead of a tool for reaching the truth and bringing others to the truth as well. Other Western figures are similarly stripped of their dignity. Jesus emerges, most notably in the appendage to the virtue of humility: “Imitate Jesus and Socrates.”[13] Franklin portrays Jesus, recognized as God himself in the Christian tradition, not as worthy of love or worship, but as a man who is worth imitating because of his great influence and lasting reputation. Even reason itself is reduced to a mockery by Franklin . Traditionally, philosophers characterize reason as the unique human capacity that allows one to discover the truth. Franklin dissolves this with his musing, “so convenient a thing it is to be a reasonable Creature, since it enables one to find or make a Reason for every thing one has a mind to do.”[14] Franklin views the faculty of reason and these Western giants through the lens of his own philosophy, and thus completely misses the richness they have to offer to the Western tradition.
The underlying cause of all of the above misunderstandings is that Franklin's silence is fundamentally self-serving. We return to Franklin's first tenet, “Speak not but what may benefit yourself or others,” instead of a Thomistic “Speak not but what may benefit Truth.” The Socratic method, worship of Christ and use of reason are intended to serve Truth. St. Thomas exemplified the correct use of these powers during his debates with fellow scholars. As Pieper describes, “For him, an intellectual dispute was a common striving for the victory, not of one of the contenders, but of truth. Even the erring party, he says, is meritorious; for error, too may serve to illuminate the truth.”[15] The self is lost in the mutual quest for enlightenment and the minds of each person become equally valuable instruments in discovering truth.
Franklin's use of the Socratic method and religion serves only the self. His conversations are contests between two people rather than common quests. The assertion of the self over the other person becomes the primary concern, and thus the above methods are abused. These time-honored practices lose their dignity, and the intellect is made to serve not a higher Good, but a lower one, that of vanity.
Thus the praise of modern Americans to Benjamin Franklin is undue. They hail him as the progenitor of a new way of thinking that will lead to better men and a better society, failing to see that the very system Franklin rejects provides the superior training for man and plan for society. Franklin makes mediocrity and external success the focal point of a life of virtuous living, causing the debasing of man and disarray of the soul. Franklin, though witty, presents a system completely void of nobility and effectiveness.
[1] Josef Pieper, The
Silence of St. Thomas, Trans. John Murray, S.J., and Daniel O'Connor
(South Bend, Indiana: St. Augustine's Press, 1999), p. 18.
[2] Benjamin Franklin,
The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, Introduction and Notes
by R. Jackson Wilson (New York: Random House, 1981), p. 105.
[3] Pieper, 92.
[4] Ibid., 38
[5] Ibid., 18
[6] Franklin, 1.
[7] Pieper, 20.
[8] Plato, The Symposium.
In Plato: Complete Works. Ed. J. Cooper (Indianapolis: Hackett,
1997), 461.
[9] Ibid.
[10] Pieper, 24.
[11] Plato, The
Apology . In Plato: Complete Works . Ed. J. Cooper (Indianapolis:
Hackett, 1997), 34.
[12] Franklin , 19.
[13] Ibid., 105.
[14] Ibid., 42.
[15] Pieper, 22.
