The Ancient Cynics, and Their Discontents?

An essay occasioned by Ansgar Allen’s Cynicism. Draft as of February 2022. Posted here because I remain fond of it, and I don’t imagine I will do anything to publish it officially.

1. The Cynics and “Philosophy”

The ancient Cynics formed a distinctive clique of sorts. They were undoubtedly unique in their public behavior, evidently also in their beliefs, and perhaps too in their apparent ability to expose the temperaments—both philosophical and otherwise—of their audiences, readers, and interpreters.

This somewhat passive power is likely due not only to the outrageousness of Cynic lives and practices (with respect to cultures both past and present), but also to the rather cryptic, even literary form in which they have been preserved in our historical records. We essentially have no primary Cynic source materials; Cynic words and deeds are instead captured predominantly in short anecdotes, or chreiai, written by ancient historians and philosophers centuries after the Dogs prowled the streets of Athens, perhaps most notably by Diogenes Laertius’s in Book VI of his Lives of the Eminent Philosophers from the third century AD.

One issue this obviously creates is that of determining the veracity of accounts of the Cynics, not only biographically but also with respect to the claims they made or beliefs they seem to have manifested. Another problem—and one around which this paper pivots—is that the almost viscous translucency of these accounts, combined with the brash, often indirect “cheekiness” of their contents, makes it difficult to determine what Cynic claims or beliefs they actually convey—even if any at all, as it is still a major point of contention whether Cynicism was, or was in any nontrivial way related to, (a) philosophy, or whether it was merely a “way of life”. Throw in the moderate disorder of much of the source material, and the apparent contradictions between some of the stories, and it can seem nigh on impossible to extract a plausible, interesting narrative.

I believe that this stubbornness to exegesis, combined with the proportionate intrigue of supposedly Cynic activities, can generate a temptation for commentators to offer readings of the Cynics which are significantly influenced by the commentators’ substantive reactions to these deviant exploits, reactions due in part to their own broadly philosophical dispositions. On top of that, I would not be surprised if the disjointedness of the principal Cynic literature enables a kind of pickiness about the texts, conscious or otherwise, that can lead to neglect of countervailing evidence. And I think that these reactions tend to produce a rather firm or even totalizing stance regarding Cynicism’s link or relevance to philosophy.

We can see this, at least somewhat superficially, in treatments of the Cynics by contemporary intellectuals, on both sides of the Atlantic. Some hard-nosed analytic inheritors of the Platonic and Aristotelian traditions, for example, appear quick to dismiss the Cynics. Martha Nussbaum, for one, suggests that “[i]t is hard to know whether to grant Diogenes the title ‘philosopher’ at all, given his apparent preference for a kind of street theatre over Socratic questioning”.¹ John Cooper more decisively claims that Cynicism was “popular offshoot of philosophy, not a philosophy of its own, i.e., a life based on sustained philosophical analysis and argument”.² And Anthony Kenny says outright that “Cynicism was not a set of philosophical doctrines, but a way of life”.³ For these commentators, making explicit your principles and reasonings seems paramount to philosophy and its practice. (Such readings are perhaps not too surprising, given the historical targets of Cynic critique.)

Recognizing the risk of caricature, and of drawing misleading distinctions, it is worth noting that certain “continental” thinkers find what they take to be a decidedly philosophical richness in the Cynic tradition, in particular in its treatment of culture, power, and praxis. In particular, Peter Sloterdijk and Michel Foucault may be responsible for a “renewed interest” in Cynicism in response to their major works of the nineteen-eighties. Sloterdijk, in his Critique of Cynical Reason, designates Diogenes as the initiator of resistance to “the “linguistification” of the cosmic universalism that called the philosopher to this occupation”, having smelled “the swindle of idealistic abstractions and the schizoid staleness of a thinking limited to the head”⁴—a grand title indeed, perhaps carrying with it a whiff of “pragmatism”. For Foucault, this resistance did have a theoretical framework, but even so it did not take precedence because of the precise way in which “for Cynicism, philosophy is a preparation for life”, a virtuous life of relentless, scandalous truth-telling.⁵ Foucault is even inclined to claim that “Cynicism was precisely the form of philosophical heroism in its most general, rudimentary, and also demanding aspect […] the philosophical life as heroic life”.⁶

Though these comparisons are hardly definitive, I nevertheless believe that they are indicative of the opportunity the Cynics and the “original” literature about them provide for a commentator to project their philosophical temperament into a reading or interpretation of Diogenes and Co. Some deny that Cynicism had any “rational basis”, and on these grounds reject its claims to being (a) philosophy, while others readily admit the existence of an underlying Cynical conceptual structure (however crude), while maintaining that such a thing is not the primary determinant of its status as a philosophy. Moreover, it seems that the extremity of Cynic practices can quite easily be matched by a correlative potency or pointedness in one’s reading of them.

A recent entrant into the fray is Ansgar Allen,⁷ who offers an interpretation of the ancient Cynics significantly influenced by Sloterdijk and Foucault, and which is tied and elongated into a history of the evolution, cooption, and distortion of the very concept of Cynicism, arriving at a reading of modern lowercase-‘c’ cynicism—an amorphous discontent, a semi-dormant fractured agitation (perhaps the kind to arise under some sort of cinematic cyberpunk techno-authoritarianism)—with which I am sure we are familiar. Unfortunately, I believe that because of this connection, Allen in fact adds to that history of distortion, in an extreme way. It seems that, beginning with a conception of modern cynicism, he reads into the ancient Cynics what he wants to find there so that they can serve as a sort of model protestor for our own times. And it looks to be on this basis that he makes so of his more radical claims, of particular concern here that the Cynics had no philosophical principles or ends, no telos.

My task here is to understand and try pick apart Allen’s reading of the Cynics, to see why and where it fails. In so doing, we hopefully will come to see that there is considerable reason to attribute to the Cynics some sort of articulable “philosophy”. If we want to take seriously the idea that they were critics of the culture in which they lived—as does Allen—we may recognize even more pressure to understand the Cynics as philosophers. In my estimation, it is at least an admissible way to extract a balanced, consistent picture of the Cynics, one which stays true to the texts, renders their sayings and doings intelligible, and displays matters of real philosophical interest.

2. Allen on the Cynics

I will begin here by providing a general picture of Allen’s views on the Cynics, and the interpretative method which he employs to arrive at them. In the following section, I will turn to take a critical look at more detailed components of his reading.

According to Allen, the Cynics were a “loosely connected group” of mendicants who were identifiable by “their deliberate self-impoverishment, unrefined manners, lack of shame, perplexing behavior, and barking tone”.⁸ Perhaps surprisingly, it was not despite these qualities but because of them that Allen seems to believe that such figures were philosophers: these traits were considered, purposive, and directed, the instruments of a life lived critically.

Diogenes of Sinope, for example—Allen’s Cynic par excellence⁹—had an exceptionally dim view of his fellow Greeks, believing them to be corrupt, dishonorable people whose culture, norms, and values were a sham. More generally, from the Cynic standpoint all features of supposedly “civilized” life were “treated with suspicion, incredulity, even outright contempt”.¹⁰ And yet, Diogenes did not simply spurn his contemporaries, and in fact was “committed to changing the conditions by which they lived”.¹¹ As Allen understands it, Cynic philosophy overall “was committed, politically engaged, and joyfully affirmative, even at its most dissenting […] a positive, life-affirming disposition rather than a sign of social decay”.¹² So understood, the Cynics

criticized the culture in which they found themselves by adopting a way of life designed to scandalize contemporaries, draw out their prejudices, and bear witness to the possibility of a completely different attitude to existence.¹³

[…]

The Cynic invites ire and welcomes disgust so as to redirect it, interrupting its habitual expression and direction of travel. Cynicism causes those it first scandalized to eventually doubt the forces that produced their everyday scorn of all that is lowly and base.¹⁴

These critical practices distinctively demand “an expenditure of effort and a degree of prior training”¹⁵ which can be seen in their self-imposed penury and consequent begging, subjection to the elements, active seeking of hardship in general, and so on. Clearly, the Cynics were not “cultural critics” from on high—quite the contrary. They lived their criticism through intentional, confrontational, shameless public deviance, in order to at once draw attention to what they saw as the arbitrariness of the prevailing principles of conduct, and also publicly manifest and so display the possibility of an alternative life.

In fact, Allen is explicit that this defiant aberrance serves as his guiding principle for deciphering the Cynics. He introduces this interpretative stance by way of contrast. One way of approaching Cynic scholarship, he notes, involves an attempt to “enrich” the most outrageous and so most famous Cynic deeds, first by gradually easing the reader toward these brash acts, and then by attempting to alleviate their repulsiveness by incorporating them into “a distinct and venerable philosophy [… or] a greater good”.¹⁶ This is decidedly not Allen’s exegetical task. Rather, in order to avoid “distancing”¹⁷ us too greatly from the tangible radicalism of the Cynic’s life, he makes it his methodological mission to return “insistently to the matter of Cynic deviance”.¹⁸ Cynicism for Allen is a countercultural practice.¹⁹

But even if in Allen’s view this investigative mode can yield a somehow better or more “faithful” account or conception of Cynicism, it still poses its own problems, and reveals other, more general issues for Cynic scholarship as well. For example, though Allen believes that ancient Cynicism was always transgressive, he stresses that it should not be understood purely or flat-footedly in these terms. To center and emphasize their deviance is to risk characterizing the Cynics as merely oppositional. Moreover, it is to risk essentializing them in these terms. This is a hazard for Allen, at least, because he unambiguously denies that there was an “essence” to Cynicism, that the Cynics had any properly “philosophical” principles or aims; they had no telos.²⁰ As such, to understand Cynic life and practice through the filter of canons or maxims or core commitments would be a mistake; “Cynic philosophy […] did not reduce itself to commandments”.²¹ Given this analysis, Allen carefully maneuvers to qualify his various characterizations of Cynic philosophy so as to avoid having specifications of what were undoubtedly e.g. oppositional lives and practices becoming essentializing descriptions (e.g. one “defining” the Cynics as simply antagonistic).

However, Allen does not consequently believe that nothing interesting or substantial can be said about Cynicism. Even supposing the Cynics were mostly or even solely concerned with ethics,²² it is largely uncontroversial that the historical records do not put in their mouths anything like explicit postulates, no precise rules or criteria for the direction of thought and action. Though some commentators have attempted to supply them with a Polaris—freedom (of speech), nature, happiness, or self-mastery, to name a few²³—Allen believes the aim to do so is misguided. Rather, following Bracht Branham, he suggests that it is best to think of what may seem to be central Cynic concepts, creeds, or values as having “grown out of a continual process of ad hoc improvisation”.²⁴ Nothing was assumed, nothing given, in such a way that what are now taken to be “key Cynic ideas and methods were identified only retrospectively”.²⁵ But, again, for Allen this is not to say that these alleged views or practices identified ex-post constitute anything like “Cynic philosophy” or the “Cynic tradition”, as this “would reify Cynicism, rendering it inert, as it marginalized the rebellious impulse [… and] the devious improvisation that distinguished it from all other philosophies”.²⁶

With such ostensibly restrictive expressive resources, it might seem difficult to make headway with the task of comprehending and interpreting both the vulgar performances and the general practical standpoint of the Cynics. However, Allen maintains that progress is possible if, in the broad frame of the Cynic’s cunning countercultural tendencies, we spotlight their “situated and crafty playfulness”,²⁷ their “flexibility and inventiveness” which manifests in a sort of direct “tactical engagement” with prevailing norms and values.²⁸ We do not advert to supposed “Cynic principles” in explaining what the Cynics said or did. Rather, we should respect their dexterous spontaneity, their remarkable adaptability and sensitivity to circumstance, as it is actualized for specific purposes in (highly) local contexts. The Cynic was “the philosopher of contingency, of life in the barrel”.²⁹

An example may help to clarify. Famously, having given a grand public oration, Diogenes squatted in front of the audience that had amassed to listen, and shat on the ground.³⁰ One possible reading of this event is that in debasing himself so thoroughly, Diogenes established his authority as “truth-teller”, a concealer of nothing unbound by any convention. Allen, however, is wary of this analysis, as it hazards an inadvisably reductive conception of Cynicism, “as if the key maneuver in any Cynic engagement is to first authenticate one’s Cynicism […] by an act of shameless courage that places the Cynic center-ground and beyond doubt”.³¹ Instead, Allen urges that we scour the details of the situation. Diogenes’ “engagement begins with the context it seeks to subvert and defines itself in tactical opposition to that context, paying far less attention to matters of fealty to Cynic tradition”.³² Able to captivate passersby with oration, Diogenes was clearly versed in the “sophisticated” arts of Athenian culture, and he demonstrated the ease with which he could, however disingenuously, at least appear to operate within accepted social standards. Crucially, he also had a clear sense of timing, a sensitivity to the psychology of his audience, voiding at the height of their rhetorical engrossment³³ to induce a maximally jarring reaction. Allen argues that, synthesized, these considerations suggest that Diogenes’ defecation was a keenly situated “attack on cultured refinement, a blast from below, by someone who is all too familiar with what he attacks”.³⁴ In this way, we see the Cynic operating from within the confines of his critical target, rather than merely trying to step outside of it through straightforward contrariety.

Allen’s aim is to treat various other aspects of Cynicism similarly. Importantly, he believes that this closer scrutiny of the particularities can help to better capture the true subversiveness of the Cynics, bringing their shameless debauchery closer to us in a way that compels us to confront its character and substance more directly. We respond more acutely to hearing of Diogenes shitting—i.e. to wading thoroughly in the dirty details—than to consideration of, say, his having abided a more “formal” principle of action, even one of deviance.

Yet, such careful examination can only take us so far in shaping a proper conception of Cynicism. Allen believes that no piece of scholarship about Cynicism “will be adequate to its object”.³⁵ In part, this is because in any purely written account “the obscene, confrontational force of Cynicism will be somewhat reduced”,³⁶ reduced by its being written. Reading about Diogenes’ vulgar acts, even in detail, does not, or perhaps even cannot, have the same rhetorical, or psychological, or perlocutionary effects as witnessing them. It is deviance qua practice and not as somehow “theoretical” that is at the heart of Cynicism. However, Allen also seems to believe that this attenuation is not merely a contingent consequence of this presentational mode. Rather, the very writing of a book on Cynicism is itself an instance of those solemn, self-assured intellectual activities which “only signify distance from Cynic philosophy and failure to appreciate its radicalism”.³⁷ Thus, merely having the impulse to “investigate” Cynicism in our typical academic mode—as at present—entails, in Allen’s view, that one does not fully, or genuinely, or even adequately understand Cynic philosophy. The upshot of these considerations is that

there is something about Cynicism that must defy understanding […] to the extent that ancient Cynicism retains anything of its former vitality, it will confound its interpreters, evading those who would like to understand where it came from, how it functioned, and what it hoped to achieve.³⁸

By way of review, it is worth noting that Allen endorses Foucault’s interpretation of the fabled Delphic injunction— parakharattein ta nomisma—as a directive for Diogenes to alter and not merely deface the social currency, i.e. the norms and values of his society.³⁹ The Cynic is not only to break “totally and on every point with the traditional forms of existence”.⁴⁰ Rather, by producing a better currency,⁴¹ through an immanent critique of this life, Cynicism demonstrates that “an other life”⁴² is possible. To undertake such critique, the Cynic coopts and disfigures the traditional “philosophical” life—the life unconcealed, self-possessed, dedicated to higher principle—guided by the conviction that the “marvels” of civilization produce its worst excesses. But, according to Allen, Cynic critique so understood does not employ or deliver doctrine, has no use for argument. Cynic critique is steadfastly practical and mobile. Cynicism lives in its “tactical suppleness”, evading reduction to a single essential quality, and remaining “the predicament of those who look about them and find everything wanting”.⁴³ The Cynic thus lives literally unconcealed, shamelessly shitting and masturbating in public and speaking the truth without fear. For (the possibility of) the other life can only be approached from the outside as scandal, as offense, as attack on “taste” and “decency” and all other “refinement”.⁴⁴

3. Allen on C/cynicism: a critical discussion

Before setting on, I should begin with some methodological assumptions regarding investigation into (the idea of) Cynicism or Cynic philosophy⁴⁵ which will figure in what follows: Be true to the texts. That is, try to find a coherent, explanatory picture consistent with as much of the source material as possible; this should be well-situated within the appropriate historical context, which includes the attitudes and activities of other philosophies or philosophical schools both prior to and contemporaneous with the subject of interest.⁴⁶ Provide particular textual evidence for, or for the plausibility of, interpretative claims. Do not, at least in isolation, take absence of evidence for evidence of absence. Grounds for dismissal of, or skepticism regarding, the fidelity of certain of the prima facie relevant texts must be adequate; this can often take the form of having a well-specified, independently substantiated reason for doubting some text(s) in particular. Should any of these directives prove ill-advised, appropriate corrections will have to be made in the discussion below.

Allen’s prose is notably eloquent, and deftly concise. His discussions are nuanced and detailed, and they depict an intriguing figure with an unfettered and shameless orientation toward the world, a stance which is nonetheless perceptive and distinctively practical. The main issue with his reading, however, is that Allen’s outwardly hostile, endlessly perplexing schemer is not a Cynic. In quite a number of respects, his characterizations of Cynicism are misleading or even straightforwardly mistaken, seemingly owing to overemphasis or exaggeration of some of the more “rebellious” aspects of Cynic life.

What’s more, Allen’s descriptive claims about the Cynics are provided in light of almost no explicit discussion of, or reference to, any of the historical source materials. In this way, Allen at least appears to make no attempt to validate his readings. And if he does in fact do so, it is only by way of deference to interpretations already on offer, such as those provided by Branham and especially by Sloterdijk and Foucault. A decision to do so appears to be given justification at the beginning of his second chapter, based on two considerations. One is that it is part of Allen’s overall task, he says, to give closer attention to the consequences of Cynicism qua countercultural practice than did Sloterdijk or Foucault; for this reason his analysis may seem to privilege their earlier ones.⁴⁷ And second is an invocation of general doubt about the trustworthiness of the extant Cynic historical records; they are “of questionable accuracy if not outright distortions and falsifications of Cynic philosophy”.⁴⁸⁴⁹ However, little if anything at all is said in support of such comprehensive doubt.

It seems to be only this severe dialectical setting that may render plausible one of Allen’s more striking claims, namely that Cynic philosophy had neither principles nor telos. I believe this conclusion is, if not mistaken, then at least unwarranted given his account of Cynicism overall. Thus, in the following section I will sift critically through several of Allen’s characterizations of Cynicism, or Cynic philosophy, in light of the historical texts. My aim here is to demonstrate the ways in which his claims are misleading, unfounded, or more straightforwardly inaccurate; and in so doing, the textual evidence adduced will hopefully tame the Cynics to a fair degree, thus inviting doubt regarding the prima facie “anti-philosophical” philosophy ascribed to them by Allen. In the section after that, I will offer a “diagnosis” of his more severe reading of the Cynics, based particularly on its relation to his interest in and conception of “modern” cynicism. More specifically, I believe Allen projects his antecedent conception of cynicism on Cynicism, as he looks back to the ancients for a model of “ideal praxis”. Finally, and building on some remarks made immediately below, I will suggest that there are reasons—even given other aspect of Allen’s general interpretation of Cynicism—to attribute some sort of articulable, normative attitudes which are appropriately identified as philosophical (even if the “content” of such attitudes remains significantly unspecified).

a. Are Allen’s Cynics Cynics?

To begin with, I believe that Allen overstates the severity of certain aspects of Cynicism, which was, perhaps disappointingly, not quite as rebellious as he claims it was, or at least not in the way he portrays it.

Take, for example, the Cynic practice of parrhesia, i.e. “free” or “fearless” speech, which Diogenes, we are told, thought to be the most valuable thing in the world.⁵⁰ According to Allen, the Cynics “distorted the nature of parrhesia”, both by appropriating it from the classes of citizens or elites, and by using it to insult, rather than to respectfully communicate a possibly uncomfortable truth.⁵¹ Let us grant this. Even so, Allen goes on to say that in practicing parrhesia, a Cynic “would not be so courteous as to engage in respectful dialogue”.⁵² Rather, civil discourse is replaced “by diatribe and insult”, or even flatly suspended as e.g. the Cynic shamelessly shits in the street.⁵³ In this way “the Cynic risks the vengeance of his auditors more openly”.⁵⁴ By whichever of these means, the Cynic thus “gives cause to riot”.⁵⁵

This is undoubtedly dramatized, exaggerating the ferocity of both the Cynic’s act and the responses to it.

Not only does Allen not cite evidence for these claims, but the texts seem to present retaliation against the Cynic as exception and not the rule. It is perhaps worth noting that it is variously attested that neither Philip II nor Alexander—likely the two most powerful, imperial-minded men Diogenes ever directly encountered—responded to his utter contemptuous with even a hint of hostility. In fact, they are said to have been quite amused by Diogenes, indeed admired him,⁵⁶ and Philip was supposedly so impressed by Diogenes’ audacity that he freed the Cynic from capture at war.⁵⁷ Of course, these tales are nearly too perfect, improbably mischievous, and even supposing that they were accurate, they do not preclude there having been retaliation by the many others accosted by him and other Cynics. And admittedly, there is some mention, but just a wee bit, of physical aggression directed at them.⁵⁸ But for all they are reported to have said and done, there is relatively little reference to reprisal, and in some of these circumstances it is not even clear that aggression was directed at them qua Cynics.⁵⁹ And regardless, there is little by way of positive indication that they were uniquely and regularly, if ever, in the kind of palpable danger suggested by the term “vengeance”—let alone did people riot. Even when Diogenes stopped orating, squatted, and “performed an unseemly act”, his audience “called him crazy, while the sophists on hand booed him loudly”.⁶⁰

Adding to the claims by Allen quoted above, the obverse of the remarks regarding vengeance against the Cynics is Allen’s contention that “there is something deliberately, openly violent about Cynic philosophy”.⁶¹ Again, Allen cites not a single piece of text, not any historical anecdote, to justify this strong claim. And although the Cynics were undeniably rude and antagonistic in certain ways, I believe it is quite a stretch to conceive of them as having been violent. While violence need not always be realized physically, it is still worth noting again that there is very little of such belligerence coming from the Cynics;⁶² and they were certainly not routinely if ever threatening in this way.

In fact, insofar as violence has any role to play here, it may even be plausible to say that the Cynics were almost “aggressively” non-violent. The reported reactions of the Cynics to hostility aimed at them, even outright bodily assault, are exceptionally telling.⁶³ For example, Diogenes Laertius relays to us that when someone struck him with a beam and yelled “Look out!” Diogenes responded, “Why? Are you going to strike me again?”.⁶⁴ We are also told, “When someone punched him, he said, “Heracles! How could I have forgotten to walk out without my helmet?”.^{65, 66} Not only does Diogenes not respond in kind, he is often remarkably unperturbed, perhaps just the slightest bit frustrated by a minor nuisance, even joking about it. Whether the Cynics were professedly pacifists is not entirely clear,⁶⁷ but it does not seem that it was part of Cynic (parrhesiastic) practice generally to stoke violence. It is also worth noting that this responsive passivity—and more generally Cynic insouciance toward, and disdain for conventional authority and power—was possibly rhetorically potent, perhaps able to deflate and maybe even reverse, if only momentarily, the felt dominance of the (would-be) aggressor, in respect of his intended target. Yet this kind of non-response does not appear to be purely performative, as though the Cynics “really” aggressive. In fact, Crates was reported to have freely entered people’s homes, welcomed at least favorably, often to settle quarrels.⁶⁸

Quite plainly, of course, the Cynics were not peppy and gracious, and I am not intending to suggest as much in these comments on violence and vengeance. What I am trying to get across is that these Cynic escapades are not as obviously and archetypically roguish as Allen would have them be. There seems to be more variation and less intensity in the valence of Cynic practices and their consequences than he emphasizes. What I mean to be stressing, and will continue to stress below, is that through an insistently deviant lens, Allen sees things with a temperature and tint which I do not believe are entirely or uniformly appropriate for the setting, nor which he even feigns to rigorously if at all justify.

Now, these comments may seem to be no more than minor quibbles, and perhaps even unfair to Allen. After all, did I not recognize above that in his general view of the Cynics, they were positive, joyful, and even life-affirming? I certainly did. Yet it is one thing to give such a characterization outright, and another to consistently work it into an extended, detailed interpretation. (“Show, don’t tell!”) And I do not believe the latter is adequately done in Allen’s treatment of the Cynics. The result of this, and the importance of it, is that repeated exposure to his perspective of deviance can, in context, appear to justify other, even more drastic claims. I think there are further statements Allen makes which we should attend to in order to see this, especially comments regarding the body, the mind, and what we might very loosely call “Cynic epistemology”. These are again somewhat exaggerated, and sometimes misdirected, and together with the foregoing remarks, they may seem to render plausible the “unprincipled” and “aimless” philosophical stance he ascribes to the Cynics.

Allen correctly maintains, I believe, that the Cynics were not (merely) anti-cultural and anti-intellectual, and that in fact they “were not hostile to attempts to understand the world in which they lived”.⁶⁹ In contrast to, say, a Platonic rationalism, Allen suggests we might understand the Cynic life to be “an experiment, determined to perturb and explore the boundaries of ordinary existence”.⁷⁰ In his treatment, these seem to be mostly social boundaries, as this experiment “often takes the form of a hostile engagement, where the philosopher sends out provocations, examines the retorts provoked by them, and comes to understand the limits these retorts reflect”.⁷¹ The Cynic then aims to work in and live along these limits through their practices, where

[b]y rejecting the consolations and comfortable illusions of intellectual culture, by risking social marginalization, alienation, and political retribution, by actively seeking destitution and physical hardship, the Cynic discovered the world through a series of practical confrontations with it.⁷²

Insofar as one learns about the world via these experimental practical confrontations, the body qua receptive and reactive subject—the body in its relationality, to the world and to others—would seem to be functionally central, especially insofar as the vengeance and aggression discussed above are supposed to be some of the possible results of these “probes”. While there is no doubt that bodily experience and bodily control of the sort intimated are vital to the Cynic in various respects, I believe that Allen’s dialectical approach and means of description both here and elsewhere overemphasize certain roles they play, occluding sight of crucial contributions to Cynicism made by the mind and reason. Moreover, I believe Allen again overstates the level of unpredictability and risk involved in these encounters.

Now, there are plainly a number of chreiai in which Diogenes plainly derides “academic” philosophy and its methods. He mocks, for instance, a fixation on formal argument by deploying a number of sophisms of varying clarity and transparency.⁷³ Relatedly, he makes adequately clear his disdain for “high theory”—i.e. something like “traditional” metaphysics and epistemology—through several objections to the claims of others which have seem to have an empiricist or pragmatist flavor. Told that motion is impossible he gets up and walks.⁷⁴ He casts doubt on the existence of Plato’s Forms by saying he cannot see them.⁷⁵ And, notoriously, he is said to have plucked a chicken which he then brought to the Academy to present as a counterexample to Plato’s definition of man as a featherless biped.⁷⁶ What the exact impetus was behind these “practical objections” is not straightforwardly evident, and we should surely not assume too quickly that they were somehow strongly grounded in “rational principles”. Nevertheless reason or the mind seem to be in some nontrivial way indispensable to Cynicism.

First, note that we have record of several commendatory remarks by the Cynics about the mind and reason. We are told, for instance, that upon seeing a young person studying philosophy, Diogenes proclaimed “Well done, Philosophy! You’re turning lovers of the body’s beauty toward beauty of mind”.⁷⁷ One could conceivably take this to be sarcastic, a dig at Philosophy rather than praise. Yet the comparison with bodily beauty suggests otherwise, and in any case, there are a number of other instances in which even Diogenes at least appears to have a favorable attitude toward the mind and reason, whether stated explicitly or as demonstrated through his actions. He allegedly used to say both that against misfortune “he countered luck with courage, convention with nature, and emotion with reason”,⁷⁸ and that “to get through life one needed either reason (logon) or a noose (brochon)”.⁷⁹ During his inauguration to philosophy, he told an irritated Antisthenes who was wielding a stick, “Strike, for you’ll not find wood hard enough to keep me away from you, as long as I think you have something to say.”^{80, 81} Why would Diogenes bother persisting if he were not interested in listening and conversing, learning and reasoning? Perhaps one could explain away this episode as a youthful, pre-Cynic earnest plea. Yet we are also told that Diogenes the Cynic was “witty in debate”, and that he also had “astonishing powers of persuasion”.⁸² If we are to sincerely consider Diogenes as actually having had an overarching well-intentioned, other-regarding posture—as does Allen—is it plausible to assume that in such exchanges he (almost) never offered anything more than sarcastic parodies, insults, and aphorisms, or only aimed to deceive?

Certainly, these considerations do not suggest that Diogenes celebrated the mind or reason as conceived by the more “authentic” or “official” philosophies of the schools, e.g. as faculties which when properly purified and employed provide cognitive access to The Truth. But it does not seem that even he held reason as such in contempt. We might understand the chicken incident, for example, not as an indictment of philosophy tout court, but as at once a jab at the futility of distant, isolated, distinctly theoretical reasoning, and also a sneering critique of the foolish arrogance of those who believe they have a special, privileged access to a greater unalloyed realm.⁸³ Moreover, other of Diogenes’ practical objections could indicate not a dismissal but rather a check on reason per se—perhaps even a rejection of theoretical but endorsement of empirical and/or “practical” reason—subordinating the doings of the mind to the deliverances of experience. What seems clear enough is that if the Cynics had a role for the mind or reason, they must have been differently conceived.⁸⁴

Perhaps instructive on these matters are the passages in which we are informed of what are Diogenes’ supposed views on training and its connection to virtue:

He used to maintain that training was twofold, encompassing both mind and body; that in the case of physical training, ideals are engendered that foster the suppleness needed to perform virtuous deeds; and that neither facet was complete without the other, since health and strength are equally essential for training both the mind and the body. He would offer proofs that exertions in the gymnasium readily give rise to virtue, and declared that one could see in the mechanical and other arts that their practitioners acquire extraordinary dexterity from practice, citing the degree to which flute players and athletes acquire surpassing skill through constant application, and asserting that if these men had shifted their attention to the training of the mind, their efforts would not have been useless and incomplete.^{85, 86}

He used to say that no success can be achieved in life without training, which he said could overcome anything. Therefore if men would live happily, they should choose, in place of useless toils, those that are in keeping with nature. But instead, through their own folly, they live wretched lives.⁸⁷

Even if a concept of “the mind” is not here philosophically articulated, nor its role made precise, these passages are nonetheless quite suggestive. Linking the interdependence of the training of body and mind, to the connection between gymnastic training and virtue, suggests that the training and operation of the mind may together play a critical role in the achievement of virtue. Perhaps, however, the invocation of mind here is merely supposed to indicate the need for “grit” and “determination”, in which case the importance of these remarks to the present investigations may be diminished. However, reference to virtue certainly rings with a more philosophical timbre than does mere endurance through toil and hardship, especially in consideration of the number of other instances in which Diogenes speaks favorably of related (normative) matters, e.g. virtue, virtues like justice, and living well.⁸⁸ And he elsewhere says that it was philosophy—aspiration after knowledge⁸⁹—that prepared (i.e. trained) him for any contingency.⁹⁰ We could, perhaps, attempt to interpret all of these relations in bodily terms—e.g. perhaps involving only knowing-how as opposed to knowing-that—but this does not seem to be made explicit elsewhere in the texts, in which we do find body and mind repeatedly distinguished, if not “theoretically”.⁹¹

Turning now to the Cynics somehow epistemically charged “practical confrontations” with the world, we can briefly note that insofar as ordinary perceptual knowledge is concerned, there is little here to say. More central to Allen’s discussion seem to be social and cultural knowledge, where the “boundaries” or limits of acceptability in ordinary Greek society are discovered by the Cynic by something like “trial and error”: engaging others with hostility, marking their responses, and adjusting their own practices accordingly.

But such episodes as Allen characterizes them do not appear to be all that prevalent in the texts, and there not many, if any at all, with the sort of uncertainty and precarity here connoted. His talk of experiment and boundary-testing connotes a much higher degree of tension and possible fallout than seems to have been the norm, and he writes as if the experimental, investigative aspect of these Cynic behaviors was a regular or even essential component of them. Unfortunately, things do not look to be quite as thrilling. For one thing, it is far from clear that e.g. the Cynic’s wit “always carried with it an element of danger”,⁹² as many of the reported quips seem to be comparatively dull yet pithy remarks, that were potentially even groaners;⁹³ dogs may be territorial, but they are also playful, man’s best friend. Moreover, Diogenes, for example, seems to have almost never been apprehensive or trepidatious whatsoever in his capers, but instead was confident and often flatly arrogant;⁹⁴ it is not apparent that he spent much effort “testing the waters” to see what Athenian society would permit of him.⁹⁵ And relatedly, it is not clear that many, if any, of the chreiai give the impression that Diogenes had set out to use these social shenanigans as “learning experiences” in the way Allen suggests. Certainly, it would be hard to maintain that the Cynics never learned in this way from their often-scandalous public acts and social exchanges.⁹⁶ But for the most part e.g. Diogenes thought he was right in his thinking and doing, and also seems to have believed that he knew what he could get away with (hence the minimal vengeance remarked on above).

Given these considerations, I suspect that Allen unduly externalizes “Cynic epistemology” broadly understood, in the sense that the focus is placed primarily on the body—the body as experiment, the body in the world, the social body as other. And he correlatively understates the relevance of mind and reason to Cynicism. At one point, Allen even openly expresses hesitation about turning the gaze of Cynicism “inward”,⁹⁷ specifically in relation to the thought of a Cynic’s “use” in some sense of philosophical principles. These two elements of the overall interpretation come together in such a way that mind and reason (and whatever concomitants they tow), even when understood quite permissively, do not seem to play any significant role in Cynic life, practice, or philosophy. Of course, this is likely not entirely true, as Allen makes much of the flexibility and craftiness and inventiveness that the Cynics display in their “performances”; nonetheless, it is not quite clear in what these capacities consist, e.g. whether they are something “phenomenologically intuitive” or more robustly cognitive. At the very least, Allen makes no obvious effort to seriously incorporate the mental, which seems to stand against the suggested importance of empirical and “practical” reasoning considered above.

Finally, and once again keeping especially in mind the initial discussion of violence and vengeance, it hopefully has become clear that accompanying Allen’s general deference to deviance, as the central node of interpretation, is the ubiquity of language such as: ‘obscenity’, ‘confrontation’, ‘violence’, ‘vengeance’, ‘aggression’, ‘disfigurement’, ‘disgust, ‘outrage’, ‘hostility’, ‘ad hoc improvisation’. Collectively, these terms and their employment impart to the dialectic as a whole a general sense of chaos, of unpredictability and utter contingency. The Cynic body is, according to Allen, “essentially ungovernable.”⁹⁸ Lawlessness reigns. Of course, there is no doubt that the lives of the Cynics often had a spur-of-the-moment character, issuing shameless invitations to anger and abhorrence. But the situation here is too frenzied and dire. Perhaps it is worth noting, in this respect, how contrived some of the Cynics’ stunts must have been. For example, Diogenes is clearly at least portrayed as clever, a demonstrated by, for example, his admonishment of Plato aptly using one of the philosopher’s own technical metaphysical terms, μετέχειν.⁹⁹ This precision screams of intent. Moreover, in this context, Diogenes even seems to be setting up a “trap” for Plato to fall into, giving Diogenes the chance to rag on Plato in this way, which is highly suggestive of a premeditated encounter. And this “attack” by Diogenes, if we could call it that, is remarkably tame, niche, and even geeky; if Plato both understood and responded to the joke, he almost assuredly groaned without “violent reprisal”. Other like examples are not too hard to come by.¹⁰⁰

The confluence of these aspects of Allen’s overall account of the Cynics—i.e. the general absence of mind and reason; the relative emphasis on the body and the “externalization” of Cynic epistemology; and the hyperbolized levels of conflict in a setting disposed to disorder—serves to yield an impression of plausibility to what I take to be his most striking assertions, namely that Diogenes’ mature Cynicism (and so, it seems, Cynicism per se) was “unprincipled and doggedly subversive”,¹⁰¹ and (perhaps concomitantly) that it had no telos. Now, if I have succeeded in taking a fair bit of air out of the above interpretative claims, we might be less convinced of the aptness of these characterizations. Perhaps we can pause here and pick ourselves up out of the dirt. But if I have tamed the Dogs to some extent, hopefully I have done so in a way that in fact gestures toward conclusions contradicting Allen’s. There is not only less aggression, but also more variation and nuance in the comments and activities of the Cynics than Allen attributes to them, and with explicit links drawn between practice, reason or the mind, and virtue, we might try to recover a “Cynic philosophy”, in some sense of the latter term. I would like to suggest and discuss an approach to doing so below. And I would like to go even a bit further and claim that if we are to maintain that the Cynics were truly, forthrightly engaged in critique—and especially if we are to hold that their criticism had a largely stable, circumscribed target (i.e. the conventions and values of a society)—then there is at least real pressure on us to ascribe to the Cynics philosophical principles and a telos, or at least their having had some such. This reveals a tension in Allen’s account, regardless of its overall accuracy. To consider these matters, I will next begin with a detour by investigating the reasons behind that may have driven Allen’s reading of the Cynics.

b. “Modern”, small-‘c’ cynicism

Regardless of the above discussion, there is still a fair amount of difficulty in directly assessing Allen’s “anti-philosophical” philosophical claims about the Cynics. For one thing, he does not elaborate much on what count as philosophical aims and principles. As to the latter, there are some pertinent remarks, e.g. that the Cynics did not reduce themselves to “commandments”;¹⁰² or that we must avoid interpreting Cynic acts in terms of their attempting to preserve “fealty to Cynic tradition”;¹⁰³ or even that they refused to have their practices “identified by any one trait”.¹⁰⁴ But these comments at least superficially suggest what might be an oversimplified conception of “moral” principles, perhaps as snappy heuristics or reductive, exceptionless rules one has a duty to follow, such as “always speak truth to power”.¹⁰⁵ Moreover, an emphasis on fealty to tradition may run afoul of something akin to Bernard Williams’ “one thought too many”¹⁰⁶ (especially insofar as this fealty is construed de dicto, as Allen seems to present it). We might wonder whether there is a different, possibly more general conception of philosophical principles within reach, one that truly deserves the moniker.

Additionally, it is not clear what Allen takes a “proper” telos to be. As noted, he explicitly denies that the Cynics had one. Yet his account of Cynicism repeatedly signals otherwise. He says, for example, that Diogenes was committed to changing the conditions by which his contemporaries lived;¹⁰⁷ that the Cynics redirected ire and disgust to cause those around them to question the origins of their conventional values;¹⁰⁸ and even that it was “the Cynic project to unsettle our educational commitments from within”.¹⁰⁹ What is attributed to the Cynics here almost unquestionably seem to be broad-scope practical objectives and intentions grounded in considered evaluative and practically normative beliefs or attitudes. What about this fails to be “philosophical”?

Even more tellingly, the deeds and views attributed by Allen to the Cynics are expressly classified as critical. In his view, the Cynics criticized the culture in which they lived,¹¹⁰ rejected its framework of principles for public and private conduct¹¹¹ and its false notions of decency.¹¹² Cynic critique derides¹¹³ the counterfeit social “currency”.¹¹⁴ Given these characterizations and others like them, it would seem to be hard for Allen to deny that there is some sense in which the Cynics exhibited a “reasoned” or “rational” or somehow “intelligent” repudiation of the norms and values of their societies. Critique is not “pure” negation, not merely contrarian, but the critic takes themselves to have a reason for their censorious engagements, a reason to claim or otherwise make manifest that their targets objectionably err. To deem otherwise risks judging the Cynics to have been artless antagonists, which is untenable even to Allen.¹¹⁵

Of course, what has just been said does not itself specify in what this percipient appraisal consists. Were the targets taken to be false merely because there are not actually any “true” norms and values, or is there instead, according to the Cynics, an alternative, “genuine” framework? In other words, were the Cynics nihilists, mocking and shocking the masses for their naivety and ultimately empty values? Or did they rather have a different conception of the good, or the right, or, namely, virtue (or at least believe that there was some such conception to be had)? Conceivably, Allen could object to the very posing of these questions, on the grounds that there is a “third way”, another possible basis for critique in, say, some form of ethical particularism. After all, he does stress the importance of Cynic sensitivity to the varied aspects of the specific, local contexts in which they staged their shamelessness. However, such a view is not articulated or suggested in the book, and if the following analysis of his interpretation is right, he does not seem to be well-positioned to read the Cynics in this way. More precisely, and as I will discuss below, I believe that the sort of perspicacity to which Allen adverts is more of a sensitivity to the rhetorical or dialectical requirements of a particular situated act than it is a responsiveness to moral or broadly evaluative considerations which are present, a distinction which he does not seem to mark.

Given the task of his book overall, and also Allen’s general interest in modern, lowercase-‘c’ cynicism evinced by his other works,¹¹⁶ I am going to make what is admittedly a speculative proposal: In his analysis of the ancient Cynics, he yields to a tendency to romanticize an indulgent (modern) cynicism, an idealized life of ambivalent disaffection and disobedience, which he is enabled to do by the sort of tempting narrative freedom that much of the historical literature on the Cynics can at least seem to afford, the existence of which I proposed at the beginning of this paper. To see this possibility and to understand its consequences, we must first review Allen’s conception of this cynicism of and for our own times.

For Allen, modern cynicism is in one respect “a conflicted, melancholic state”¹¹⁷ that refuses to accommodate or even acknowledge the “crisis of legitimation” pursuant to Nietzsche’s death of God—i.e. the loss of external standards for meaning and action, of a “cosmic sense of reason”.¹¹⁸ Even if loss as such is recognized, there remains “a failure to understand precisely what was lost”, resulting in a splintered yet vague malaise that

endures with such force, and is so difficult to combat, because it is impossible to fully reconcile oneself to a loss that one can only vaguely comprehend […] modern cynicism remains stuck within an abstract but utterly debilitating sense of disappointment.¹¹⁹

However, Allen does not believe that this disappointment is incorrigible, and nor does he conceive of it in a negative light, as a disorder requiring specialized treatment. Rather, he sees in modern cynicism an incomplete dissatisfaction, and urges the cynic to give in to disappointment, to push it to its limits. In fact, the book ends with an entreaty to mobilize, a call to harness the “morally disillusioned, politically disaffected distrust” of the promises of modernity that lives within contemporary cynicism, transforming discontent into “a revolutionary politics that does not shrink from the necessity of overcoming the current order”.¹²⁰ And it is here that Allen believes the modern cynic may look back the ancients for guidance.

Perhaps crucially—and notably occurring in the midst of an extended discussion of modern cynicism— Allen claims that ancient “Cynic critique does not explain exactly what it finds repellent about society”.¹²¹ Instead, in the context of scandal the audience must marshal their own incumbent moral frameworks if they are to engage with the Cynic’s provocation. But these extant evaluative structures will be unable to make sense of the Cynic act, “or at least, this is the effect Cynicism seeks to have by way of willfully bizarre, queer acts of transgression”.¹²² Allen believes that this mode of critique—of revolt—can be adapted and employed by the modern cynic just described. Like ancient Cynicism, this augmented modern cynicism would not justify itself through an account of the catastrophe that is the “civilized” world. Instead,

it would focus on affirming its own amorphous but sustained sense of discontent […] a bizarre choice […] that must to some extent remain incoherent. Why affirm your cynicism? There is no adequate answer. But like ancient Cynicism, this affirmative act indicates the possibility of a different life.¹²³

The modern cynic thus eschews “formal” engagement, issuing in its place “a glance that is blank before inspection” which “confounds power and confronts it with its failure to organize”.¹²⁴

Accordingly, in Allen’s view there seems to be something that remains inscrutable about modern cynicism, about the modern cynic psyche. And this seems to be central to his account as well. This modern cynic can look back to the practices of their ancient predecessors, taking the activities of the latter to serve as a model for how to affirm their own amorphous discontent, how to submit to their incomplete disappointment. Some measure of incoherence remains inevitable, and there is no adequate reason why to so engage.¹²⁵ The modern cynic does not explain themselves because they cannot.

But herein may lie some of the primary reasons for which Allen claims the ancient Cynics had neither principles nor telos. He sees in the Cynics a kindred grievance, a similar distrust and outright disdain for power, institutions, and conventional norms and values. And in also recognizing the frequent if not regular indirectness of their exploits as presented in the chreiai—e.g. the use of jokes, recitations of Homeric verse, nonverbal acts of shamelessness—he may be projecting back onto the Cynics a similarly nebulous and inexpressible unrest, a perhaps intuitive, sweeping, overwhelming sense that something is wrong in the world, that the world is wrong. It is this they may be ascribed, rather than some “philosophical” or “rationally articulated” principles and aims. If so, it seems that Allen could be taking the absence of any explicit explanation regarding the reasons for Cynic sayings and doings, for the absence of (the possibility of) any such explanation at all, i.e. the absence of any such reasons which could serve as its ground. On this line of thought, the ancient Cynic does not explain themselves because they too cannot—as they would be able to if, namely, they grounded their activities in certain philosophical principles or had a philosophical aim. If the moderns cannot explain themselves, then neither can the ancients, or so would seem.

This is certainly a conjecture, a retrospective retelling of the genesis of Allen’s interpretation. But I do not believe we should underestimate the centrality and influence of small-‘c’ cynicism here. For one thing, Allen opens the book by telling us its aim is to “compare ancient and modern forms of cynicism in order to better understand the latter”.¹²⁶ With this in mind, we can observe that he also suggests that we can think of Diogenes as “a model protestor”,¹²⁷ and as already discussed, he explicitly claims to be conceiving of ancient Cynicism as a countercultural practice; this certainly rings with a twentieth-century tone. And given that Allen does not provide much of a more direct justification for his eschewal of the idea of Cynic principles and aims—e.g. without much if any reference to the historical sources—something like the indicated mode of inference might be at play here.

Moreover, this approach may have been enabled in part by a failure to recognize the different kinds of reasons for action that are at play in even Diogenes’ most vulgar acts. Even if the Cynic “does not explain exactly what it finds repellent about society”, this need not be understood as a consequence of their actually having nothing articulable to say. Rather, I believe this is more plausibly understood as a result of the rhetorical or dialectical requirements of the kinds of actions they decide to undertake. More particularly, in general it is not rare that some things must remain unsaid if an act is to have its intended effects. You do not explain a joke, but not because the joke does not in some sense have an explanation. You do not explain it because doing so would undermine (in that context) its standing as a joke, as a source of humor.

9. So please do not write to tell me about any more beautiful blue things. To be fair, this book will not tell you about any, either. It will not say, Isn’t X beautiful? Such demands are murderous to beauty.¹²⁸

Similarly, if the acts of the Cynics were markedly performative—especially if they intended in part to induce a thick emotional response in their subjects—it should not be too surprising that they did not break character. But we should not be too quick to infer the absence of Cynic philosophical principles from, at least in part, the absence of any straightforward articulation of some such, or of the reasons and reasoning which issue from them; and nor should the latter absence be taken straightforwardly as evidence for a sort of formless if potent Cynic discontent.

Moreover, it is almost patently not the case that the Cynics aimed (in general) to remain inexplicable to their audiences—quite far from it. Often, the point of a Diogenic joke, for example, is quite near the surface, such as when he casually refers to temple magistrates as thieves.¹²⁹ The same can be said of some even his most “shameless” acts. Consider, say, the occasion in which, while masturbating in the marketplace, he said “If only one could relieve hunger by rubbing one’s belly.”¹³⁰ The deflationary message here is obvious. The point of the “exercise” seems to be to generate a certain cognitive-emotional response, perhaps to first induce disgust and then reflection, e.g. on Diogenes rather blasé attitude about the whole thing; “Is this really such a big deal?”. Of course, supposing this was the aim of such conduct, at least in part, the behavior was clearly only marginally effective, if at all. Nevertheless, it does still seem that the Cynics are often trying to make a point to their audiences, and a fortiori that they do have some sort of background reasons for which they ultimately engage in their acts. (One might wonder what kind of “transformative” effects such actions could have if they were forever left unintelligible.¹³¹)

I have been arguing that Allen may have been led by a dominant concern for, and conception of, modern cynicism to give an account of the Cynics as having had no philosophical principles or telos. This conclusion would seem to cause trouble for Allen’s account overall, as throughout his book he frequently claims that the Cynics were engaged in critical activities. What then is the basis of their critique? One way of getting around the issue would be, as I suggested on his behalf, to claim a sort of ethical particularism on e.g. Diogenes’ behalf. However, were the story I have just told correct, I believe it precludes Allen from taking this particularist stance, as this would require that one nevertheless be able to appreciate the “moral” reasons for action in a given circumstance. But if all we are ever left with is something like a vague, visceral, incommunicable discontent we might wonder how he can account for Cynic critique. A final option might be to try to furnish the Cynics with some kind of ineffable intuition, a capacity to “see through the bullshit”, to just see the world and its evaluative structure as they really are. This is no place to elaborate such an experiential mode, and would have to tell an adequate story about how exercises of this capacity can issue or be employed in critique. But in any case, it seems that something has to budge or change if Allen’s account is to even be consistent, never mind accurate.

For Sloterdijk, the modern cynic “feels nauseated in principle: for him, everything is shit; his overdisappointed superego does not see the good in the shit.”¹³² The ancient Cynics, in contrast, never became nauseous, because like children “who do not yet know anything about the negativity of their excrement.”¹³³ However, Allen takes this assessment of the ancients to be unfair, as “Cynic engagements with excrement can be understood as tactical rather than infantile”.¹³⁴ I want to say something analogous about Allen’s treatment of the Cynics (and, I suppose, the cynics). The disintegration of a clearly “rational basis” for the practices of the Cynics makes their story less and not more radical as it underappreciates the complexity of their thinking and insight. It seems unlikely that we will get much by way of (interesting) critique out of only an aggravated, indeterminate disaffection. Shitting on the ground in front of a group of people is not “deep” if propelled by nothing but angst. If the culture and values of Athens were a sham, we should like to know why, and I believe we underestimate the Cynics if we deny that they had much if anything to say on the matter.

4. Ancient Cynicism, a tale

We may not have direct records of the Cynics as spouting principles on the mount, but do we not have reason enough to claim some sort of “philosophy” on their behalf? That the Cynics had disdain for conventional norms and values does not seem to be in contention here. But not only did they have these critical attitudes, they seemed to have thought that there was not just an other life available, but a better life. Allen recognizes this, claiming that the Cynics aimed not only to undermine all extant evaluative structures—to demonstrate the worthlessness of conventional social currency—but also to put “the true currency with its true value into circulation”.¹³⁵ If we observe and take seriously the references in the texts to things like virtue, and justice, and living well,¹³⁶ we might be tempted to say there is some sort of articulable Cynic moral framework, and a conception of the good life to which it aspires.¹³⁷

There are obviously a number of obstacles to explicating “Cynicism” in this sense: the lack of precision in the prima facie moral discourse attributed to the Cynics, the absence of truly primary sources, the scattershot and sometimes contradictory nature of the chreiai, and so on. What I want to do below is suggest a way toward a more balanced reading of the Cynics, informed also by the attempted domestication of the Dogs given in §3. The ultimate aim is to extract from the historical texts considered together—of course while being careful to evaluate and situate each one of them—something that seems to comprise a plausible, coherent “core” of the beliefs, attitudes, and activities of the Cynics. Once this is established, I think a finer investigation can then be initiated.

We are told that the Cynics were accused of taking a “shortcut to virtue”.¹³⁸ One way to understand this, if crudely, is as follows. Both Plato and Aristotle thought that the virtues were essential to living well. Plato thought that true virtue could be achieved only if one succeeded in rigorous matters of theory, including the achievement of knowledge of e.g. mathematics and the nature of goodness. Aristotle disagreed, and thought instead that we needed to understand how the various virtues hung together in a whole. Additionally, on Aristotle’s view, to become virtuous a person must be raised in a certain way, developing certain habits, such that one learns to become attuned to the variety of moral considerations present in any given situation. Now, Antisthenes believed too that virtue could be taught,¹³⁹ but he also claimed that virtue was (more) a matter of deeds or actions, rather than learning or erudition.¹⁴⁰ We could perhaps see this in part as a rejection of half of Aristotle’s account, namely that one first needs to know how all the virtues hang together in order to become virtuous. Rather, one becomes virtuous just by doing, being guided by reason in the process. Moreover, the virtues of the Cynic may be differently conceived.

Though it contains none of that (supposedly) signature Cynic shamelessness, I believe that the speech about “true” wealth by the character of Antisthenes in Xenophon’s Symposium is quite illuminating of Cynicism in general, and especially with respect to the possible etiology of the philosophy and the nature of the virtues it champions. There seems to be here a rich and possibly indispensable, if not complete, core to the Cynic “ideology”.

Here we are told by Antisthenes that “wealth and poverty relate not so much to a man’s possessions as to his soul”.¹⁴¹ He seems to believe this after, and based on, observation of greed and the wrongdoing perpetrated in the name of acquisition, such as that even of “rulers who commit far worse crimes for money than the poor […] who will […] kill people in the thousands, even reduce cities to slavery, all for money”.¹⁴² And he says he pities such people, as despite having not a penny to his name he is quite content just to have enough to eat and to stay warm; to have a place to rest; and to satisfy “the itch for sex” without fanfare.¹⁴³ He enjoys simple pleasures when the craving comes, making the experience that much nicer,¹⁴⁴ and his most precious possession is that, if he were robbed of all his wealth, he would accept any job, not matter how harsh, to support himself.¹⁴⁵ Significantly, according to Antisthenes a person with simple tastes will be more ethical, and this because they in having these tastes will be less covetous of the possessions of others.¹⁴⁶ Moreover, wealth of the soul makes one generous and proud, and Antisthenes says of himself, “I make no effort to hide my magnificence […] and am ready to share my soul’s riches with anyone”.¹⁴⁷ And vitally, for Antisthenes, “leisure, the most enviable thing of all”, is also there for him to enjoy.¹⁴⁸

Of course, both the person and the life described by Antisthenes seem pure and even holy almost, stripped of the cruder and more indecent regalia with which they are usually adorned. But I believe we can see in this figure the basic materials out of which the Cynic is formed and sculpted. After Xenophon’s Antisthenes states that true wealth resides in the soul—as opposed to being constituted by possession of money—he appears to begin explaining or justifying this claim by an appeal not only to the envy generated by a desire for riches, but also to the acts of violence and even the sheer atrocities committed by tyrants for financial gain. Then, after outlining the various ways in which he instead is content with so little, he claims, almost certainly by way of comparison, that people like him—i.e. “men of simple tastes”¹⁴⁹—are more ethical than “men bent on amassing wealth”.¹⁵⁰ I believe we can see in this line of thought something that lies at the core of Cynicism in several respects. Here I think it is worth separating, at least conceptually, the etiology of Cynicism form the practice or persistence of it—and perhaps also the introduction, for a particular person, to the Cynic life, from that person’s “mature” Cynicism. This is useful, I believe, because it can help us to better consider both why someone might, as a matter of historical fact, come to be a Cynic, and also what is “behind” (their) Cynicism, in particular an explanation of why the Cynic takes conventional values to be fraudulent—something Allen fails to offer—and of why they embody and advocate the alterative they do in turn.

Suppose Xenophon’s Antisthenes provides a largely accurate if incomplete presentation of the views of the real man, which can be significantly supplemented by the beginning of Laertius’ Book 6. Here the actual Antisthenes is attributed some beliefs similar to those already canvassed,¹⁵¹ and is also said to have maintained e.g. that: virtue and Socratic resolve are sufficient for happiness;¹⁵² to die happy was the greatest blessing;¹⁵³ and reasoning is our greatest defense.¹⁵⁴

We then seem have here an account, at least in part, of how he was led to the Symposium beliefs and why—i.e. on what grounds—he holds them; this could be important if Antisthenes was the “first Cynic” or even the (final) “proto-Cynic”, or something along these lines. If we move on to Diogenes, we can see that the exact story of his transition to Cynicism, including to both his beliefs and practices, is difficult to discern with great detail. But there are a number of things to observe in this regard. For example, Laertius says that it was when Diogenes became a pupil or disciple of Antisthenes that he adopted the simple life, and this too since he was an exile.¹⁵⁵ This might suggest that Diogenes turned to Cynicism in part as a matter of coping with his circumstances. Additionally, it is said that he may have taken the jar in the Metröon as a dwelling because of the delay by a man who was supposed to procure him a house.¹⁵⁶ Here we may have an example of adaptability to the contingencies of life and its material conditions, as stressed by Allen.

Considerations such as these would seem to indicate as a matter of historical fact that Diogenes did not embrace Cynicism through a straightforward, “traditional” philosophical education. He was not “merely persuaded” by what Antisthenes had to say, and so in this way adopted a philosophical framework. Even if obvious, it is useful to state this explicitly as a point of contrast. Instead, the development of both his normative or evaluative beliefs, and of his practices, was probably winding and somewhat spontaneous, as is neatly captured by e.g. his supposed (and likely apocryphal) acceptance of the life of simple contentment through observing and contemplating the basic activities of a mouse.¹⁵⁷ But even if this is so, we can still wonder whether through such experiences and events he ultimately arrived at a relatively stable set of beliefs and basic practices, his “mature” Cynicism. That is, even accepting that he was and remained throughout his life flexible and adaptable and in need of little, did Diogenes reach some manner of reflective equilibrium, perhaps in part through an initial process of considerable “ad hoc improvisation”? I believe we have reason to answer affirmatively, and also to imagine that his beliefs about living well (and relatedly about convention) were in a crucial way remarkably similar to those of “Antisthenes”, even if his practices markedly differed.

I think there is a story to tell here, one that would be partially comprised of the following, admittedly crude suggestions. Being an exile and non-citizen of Athens, Diogenes was “forced” to become flexible and accommodating just to get by; he did not become Diogenes the Cynic overnight. Undoubtedly, he also became familiar with the philosophical scene in Athens and may have found some solace in the ethical teachings of Antisthenes. As time passed Diogenes sustained a life of relative poverty and hardship (though not yet necessarily self-imposed). And as he adapted and coped, he learned through experience—not just by external observation (e.g. of the mouse), but also through an encompassing and reflective inward gaze—what little he actually did need to be content. Or, more accurately, what he would need were he not still hampered by various desires, fears, irritations, perhaps feelings of shame, and so on—i.e. were he to detoxify his values.¹⁵⁸ Simultaneously, he came to see, perhaps in part through the seed of thought planted in his head by Antisthenes, what horrible, absolutely dreadful exploits can emerge from these “conventional values”, manifesting as greed and anxiety and overwhelming, artificially-conditioned desires.¹⁵⁹ It is plausibly an insight like this which may at least have initiated for Diogenes the revelation that the codes of Athenian society were deeply disingenuous, pretentious, and corrupt.

If so, then maybe the confluence of these various thoughts and affairs gave rise to some of his ethical beliefs and austere practices. It was, perhaps in this context, reflection on what one needs for simple contentment (and the concomitant absence of disappointment) that he came to attitudes regarding what is (or is not) truly shameful, and certain views about living by “nature”, notably a distinct and ultimately complex conception of nature at that. In this way there also could have appeared ideas about the likely interrelated Cynic virtues of e.g. independence, self-mastery, self-sufficiency, freedom (of speech), and so on. This is not to say that they all came at once, as if through a bout of theorizing. Rather, it is through experience that one comes to learn, through trial and exposure, what is needed of one to live well. And in this vein, Diogenes knew, from his own experience, how difficult it is to eliminate and keep away the residual wants and fears and humiliations that impeded achievement of these virtues and the way of life they bring. And this could be the impetus and reason for his elective schedule of hardships, in support of developing these virtues to secure contentment.

In §3a I discussed the relationship which Diogenes is said to have found between gymnastic training, mind, and virtue. Now, gymnastics is but one kind of training, i.e. apparently that required to “foster the suppleness needed to perform virtuous deeds”. Yet, one might reasonably maintain that these connections generalize, that is, that the forms of physical and mental hardship other than gymnastics, which the Cynics intentionally bring upon themselves—subjection to the elements, self-imposed penury, the seeking out of emotional abuse¹⁶⁰—also involve a sort of body-mind interdependence which is then related in some generative way to (the pursuit of) virtue. In other words, these practices were of a piece. And this suggests to me the following, especially insofar as we understand there to be nontrivial association of independence broadly conceived, with virtue: These behaviors and (re-in)forced habits seem to have served primarily as input to a reflexive, reflective process of self-discovery and self-mastery—i.e. to philosophy. One achieves Cynic self-knowledge—i.e. knowledge of oneself as human, of (one’s) human “nature”—in part through consistent, conscious trials which, if deliberate, can immediately disclose to the subject their present dispositions and temperaments, especially their recalcitrant fears and desires and irresolution. That is, one can learn in this way their current station along the road to virtue. This willful self-abasement then provides guidance for future efforts, and bolsters resolve to both undertake and withstand future austerity.

The mind or reason or whatever you want to call it is absolutely crucial here. One needs to undertake these all of these “exercises” in the right frame of mind, understanding why not only they do perform them but why they should. That is, insofar as these efforts are deliberate, one needs to take themselves as having (a) reason for carrying them out¹⁶¹, i.e. to have some sort of normative attitude toward them. Thus Diogenes speaks of giving attention to the training of the mind, choosing those toils that are in keeping with “nature”, however the latter is ultimately to be understood.¹⁶² And insofar as he was out to “change the currency” too—to help them achieve these virtues—such attention to the mind is paramount, as without it, Diogenes would not know what coin to mint in its place. In order to know what is truly good one must know and understand oneself and what kind of being one is. Through this “training”, broadly understood, one comes to understand and master, and thus know oneself, learning and achieving what is required for a life of simple contentment. Thus, Diogenes says that philosophy has prepared him for whatever happens,¹⁶³ “to be of truly good heart and never distressed, wherever one is and whatever the moment may bring”—to be happy.¹⁶⁴

But Diogenes’ was not a fundamentally egoistic philosophy, despite what emphasis on traits like independence and freedom and self-sufficiency may connote. Rather, he wanted these things for others as well.¹⁶⁵ He seems to have thought that he could “teach” others virtue too, as he professed the ability “Govern men”¹⁶⁶ with expertise; after all, the virtuous are the true nobility. This a matter that must treated with more care than can be done here. For example, we would ideally need to elaborate on why Diogenes came to adopt his particularly charged methods, e.g. those of insult and disgust. Drawing on the discussion of “training” above, perhaps part of the picture involves a conviction of Diogenes’ that one must expose or manifest e.g. their attitudes toward certain activities or ways of living in order to properly interrogate them. One must feel disgust at the sight of Diogenes performing the act of Aphrodite in the agora, while simultaneously becoming stupefied at his detachment from it. Only then will one be impelled or even have the opportunity to reflect on, say, shame. (Note, however, that the need for experience in learning and (obviously) in practicing virtue need not imply there are no articulable, “philosophical” beliefs at play here.) Nevertheless, it is likely that some such barbs were thrown, and some acts staged, out of outright disdain, the expression of which calls for understanding. And almost certainly, parrhesia is vital to these “educational” practices.

This narrative I have been sketchily articulating is ambitious, speculative, incomplete, and probably mistaken in numerous ways. However, I do think its direction is apt. In theorizing the Cynics, there is a tendency to overplay not only Diogenes, but also his more ludicrous and shameless displays. But much of his behavior, and much of what he says, often takes a milder form, e.g. as a sarcastic, pointed, or even silly joke or gesture. Yes, he spit in a man’s face in the man’s own home.¹⁶⁷ But Diogenes also instructed a man who wanted to study philosophy to carry around a fish, his first “educational” task on the way to virtue;¹⁶⁸ this is surely worth a relaxed chuckle, even if we find it insightful. Recognition of these less exciting yet still amusing aspects and anecdotes lightens the mood a bit, and in this way makes the connection of the “true”, (Post-)Diogenic Cynicism to the views of our supposed Antisthenes more imaginable.

In this regard, it is important to see that Diogenes too valued leisure. Laertius’ telling of the tale in which he tells Alexander to move out of his light begins by informing us that Diogenes was basking in the sun.¹⁶⁹ Seemingly relaxing while others were busy preparing for battle, he started rolling his tub around to make it look like he was hard at work.¹⁷⁰ He very well may have enjoyed cakes,¹⁷¹ and is said to have liked wine—as long as it was someone else’s.¹⁷² Turning toward other figures, we see that several Cynics—e.g. Crates, Hipparchia, Metrocles, Onesicritus¹⁷³—actively spurned the wealth they had, perhaps as their “initiation” to the Cynic life. Crates is reported also to have converted Metrocles to Cynicism with a well-timed fart, having “put new heart in him”.¹⁷⁴ Crates and Hipparchia attended dinners together,¹⁷⁵ yet were not lavish, as e.g. Crates was content with that which nature provides.¹⁷⁶ Add to these remarks regarding Cynic levity made throughout discussions above and I think the picture becomes a bit clearer.

Even if it was stretched and transformed in various ways, especially by Diogenes, I think it is possible in general to discern the values of Antisthenes, and perhaps even the reasons for them, operating if not transparently then not far below the surface in other Cynic lives. And I believe that if we want to understand what, say, nature is for Diogenes, and also what independence, self-mastery, self-sufficiency, and freedom (of speech) are (not to mention the connections between these concepts), we would do well to keep the basic framework of Antisthenes, including its apparent telos of happiness qua simple contentment, in mind. If this is right, and if Antisthenes had something philosophical to say regarding these matters—as it seems he did—then I do not see why we should fail to ascribe a “philosophy” to the Cynics, even if at this point we cannot quite make out the fine print.

5. Postscript

At the beginning of my critical remarks on Allen’s reading of the Cynics in §3, I noted how he introduces a comprehensive doubt about the accuracy or reliability of all of the historical sources about Cynicism. And he does so without much justification, other than a remark about the purposes for which some of the records may have been made.¹⁷⁷ But if this is the case, where is he getting textual support for his interpretation? Seeing as he provides very little in this regard, we might shrug our shoulders. Yet later on the book, in discussion of the devolution of Cynicism into a “street philosophy”, Allen says that we cannot

accurately assess the vitality of Cynic philosophy in its street-level form, because most of the sketches and sayings on which we depend were composed and passed on by commentators who were not themselves Cynics, and had at best only partial affinity for what Cynic philosophy was attempting to achieve.¹⁷⁸

Now this seems to be, if not implied, then eerily reminiscent of the earlier remarks about assessing ancient Cynicism proper. And moreover, one of Allen’s main opening tasks seems to be to emphasize the “vitality” of the ancients, a vitality that will forever elude the interpreter.¹⁷⁹ But given these several introductions of suspicion, what grounds could he possibly have for claiming this vitality on the Cynics’ behalf? How has he not undermined his own authority in a seemingly irredeemable way?

This claim about the vitality of the Cynics is curious too. Allen believes that no “academic” account of Cynicism can really, truly understand it. Appeals to theory “will fail to grasp the significance of ancient Cynicism”.¹⁸⁰ Self-serious scholarly activities “only signify distance from Cynic philosophy and failure to appreciate its radicalism”.¹⁸¹ Why is this the case? I believe that, insofar as Allen understands Cynicism as a countercultural practice without any sort of discursively explicable “philosophical” core—no justification of itself—he is left only with the practical aspects of Cynicism as some kind of “essence” (even if he would likely reject such a characterization). If the “radical subversion in action” is Cynicism, then perhaps he is right in some sense that a purely written study will not fully “capture” the Cynics. And this sense seems to be, or at least be analogous to, the sense in which one must “experience” Cynicism—e.g. watching Diogenes shit and feeling disgust—in order to truly be moved by it. This is intriguing inasmuch as it suggests, say, that one can only understand Cynicism if one is subjected to it; but maybe not even this is enough to really “grasp its significance”. Does one have to be a Cynic in order to understand Cynicism? It is unclear, and that would make for quite a distinct “philosophy”, if we could still call it that. For as far as I can tell, I “understand” to the extent possible mathematical Platonism without buying it for a second. I would like to know more about this missing conceivability of the ancient Cynics.

In any case, if my commentary, analyses, and/or reading above have any drive behind them, we might reasonably maintain that there is more to Cynicism than Allen supplies them with, that there is a “rational”, conceptual, detailed account of Cynic philosophy to be had. We can talk about Cynicism in a way that does “get at it”, in a way such that one can understand it without (essential) remainder. And I think we should do this. Otherwise, their supposed “critiques” would be shallower and less cutting, unclearly “motivated”. We would have less reason to see them as having summarily seen through the bullshit, recognizing the pervasive pretenses assembled to conceal the self-interest, social apathy, and the attendant malice and violence of “civilized” society. We must resist the urge to romanticize a disobedient, unfettered life in the way that I believe Allen does.

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References

Notes

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