Desire, Virtue, and the Good Life
Socrates: Let us speak of how to live — not of death. I taught that virtue is knowledge: that no one does wrong willingly, that evil arises from ignorance of the good. A just person is one who has ordered their soul correctly — with reason governing spirit and appetite. This is not the suppression of desire, but its correct ordering. The philosopher does not abolish pleasure. He directs it toward what is truly good. Plato, my student, sketched a city in which each part performs its proper function. The good life is one in which the soul performs its proper function — which is knowing.
Buddha: I taught the Middle Way — not the suppression of desire through asceticism, which I tried and abandoned, nor its indulgence, which I left behind when I left the palace. Suffering arises not from desire as such, but from taṇhā — thirst, craving — the grasping at things as though they could provide permanent satisfaction. Your ordering of the soul by reason is admirable. But I would ask: is the rational philosopher who has subordinated appetite still attached? Does he crave the truth? Does he need the argument to go well? Attachment can wear very refined robes.
Socrates: A sharp question. I answer it this way: the philosopher loves wisdom as one loves a person — not to possess, but to be in relation with. The lover of wisdom is not grasping but receptive, not controlling but attending. My eros — and I spoke of this in the Symposium — begins with the love of a beautiful body, rises to the love of beautiful souls, then to the love of beautiful practices and laws, then to the Form of Beauty itself. This is a desire that transcends the objects it passes through. It does not cling to any particular beautiful thing. Is this what you call craving? I do not think it is.
Buddha: The ascent you describe in the Symposium is beautiful and I do not dismiss it. But notice: it still presupposes a self that rises, a Forms that it rises toward, a final vision that rewards the journey. At each stage, something is released — but only to grasp something higher. The Buddhist path does not end in a vision of the Beautiful. It ends in the release of the one who seeks visions. I do not say your eros is wrong. I say it does not go far enough — or perhaps it goes in a direction I would call sideways. You offer ascent. I offer release.
Socrates: And I must be honest: release, without something to be released toward, does not move me as a goal. You describe nirvāṇa as the cessation of craving, the extinction of grasping. But when I asked the tyrant Callias what he would want if his children were colts — what made them excellent — I was pointing at something. Excellence has a shape. The good has a Form. A soul without that Form — without orientation toward the Good — is not liberated. It is merely empty. I fear that what you call release, I would call the loss of what makes the examined life worth living.
Buddha: And I fear that what you call the Good — that luminous Form toward which the soul ascends — is one more beautiful object to cling to, albeit the most refined. The monk who is truly liberated does not need a Form of the Good to orient himself. He acts with wisdom and compassion because craving has ceased — not because he has found the right thing to crave. The tree that is well-rooted does not need to be tied to a stake. I do not offer emptiness. I offer a freedom from needing anything to be other than it is.