Socratic Questioning?
To reason one’s way to conclusions, taking into account others’ perspectives, sets the stage for Socratic questioning’s full flourishing.
Written by Christopher Phillips
Though I have not attended one of Richard Paul’s workshops, I have familiarized myself with his work, since he is considered one of the longtime leaders of the critical thinking ‘movement’ in the United States, and is an ardent proponent of Socratic inquiry as the principal/foundational means for developing critical thinking skills. Considered an international authority on critical thinking, Paul is a founder of the Foundation for Critical Thinking and professor at Sonoma State University in California. What is intriguing about Paul’s approach to Socratic inquiry is that he lays little intellectual- scholarly foundation for it.
In The Thinker’s Guide to the Art of Socratic Questioning (2006) Paul and co-author Linda Elder, a fellow at the Foundation for Critical Thinking, characterize their approach as one of ‘Socratic questioning.’
Socratic questioning is a discussion:
1. led by a person who does nothing but ask questions,
2. that is systematic and disciplined (it is not a free-for-all),
3. wherein the leader directs the discussion by the questions he/she asks,
4. wherein everyone participating is helped to go beneath the surface of what is being discussed, to probe into the complexities of one or more fundamental ideas or questions. (2006, p. 24)
I agree that Socratic questioning is a type of discussion, and it might well require a leader of a sort, namely a facilitator who guides the discussion to make sure all have ample opportunity to participate. Yet anyone in the group, in my view, should be able to ask questions, though a facilitator may well ask more than the rest (especially when a group is in the throes of forming, and a facilitator is trying to model a form or forms of reasoned questioning that he hopes other participants might emulate in their singular ways). Further, even in a classroom setting (which is the primary venue on which Paul places emphasis), anyone should be able to make normative statements, including the facilitator (though, ideally, infrequently), as a way of providing an objection or alternative, or perhaps of supporting a proffered perspective, or by way of offering what is deemed a relevant or pertinent example that relates to the question.
However, Socratic questioning, in my view, need not be systematic, though it should be imbued with method. As maintains Justus Buchler, who was professor of philosophy at Columbia University, and chair of its famed Contemporary Civilization program, “Socrates was methodic, but not systematic” (1961, p. 118), by which he meant that the historical Socrates is “not concerned with a schematic interrelation” of the results of his inquiries. (p. 119) A dictionary, for instance, as Buchler points out, systematically lists words in alphabetical order, but that is not tantamount to method, which would require a deliberate attempt to bring about an interrelation of the constituent parts as rubric for an overarching conceptual scheme. (p. 36) One may well disagree with Buchler that Socrates was not systematic. One may argue that Socrates engaged in methodic attempts at questioning that not only aimed to solve or shed light on specific problems, but to take on ones that were interrelated. If this is so, Socrates strategies might be considered both methodic and systematic attempts at developing an overarching (though by no means exhaustive or ‘closed’) conceptual scheme on the nature of virtue. The answers discovered might shed light on what Socrates is said by Plato to have considered one of the most important matters for any human being to investigate, namely how we should live. [1]
Even so, Buchler’s point — that not all systematic inquiry is methodic, and that lack of system does not necessarily diminish at all employment of method — remains valid. Socrates Café, for instance, is (or attempts to be) methodic, and yet almost altogether lacks a system. Arguably (and hopefully), this does not diminish the worth of the dialogues or lessen their value in terms of advancing the objectives of the nonprofit Society for Philosophical Inquiry.
Paul and Elder hold that in Socratic questioning, one in effect goes “beneath the surface of what is being discussed, to probe into the complexities of one or more fundamental ideas or questions.” (2006, p. 24) As an example, they present the question, ‘What is history?’ Paul and Elder claim that in order to answer such a question, one would first have to “consider this list of questions we would need to answer to address the larger question”. (p. 18)
- What do historians write about?
- What is ‘the past?’
- Is it possible to include all of the past in a history book?
- How many of the events during a given time period are generally excluded in a history of that period?
- Is more information excluded than included?
- How does a historian know what to emphasize?
- Do historians make value judgments in deciding what to include and what to leave out?
- What variables might influence a historian’s viewpoint?
- Is it possible to simply list facts in a history book, or does all history writing involve interpretations as well as facts?
- Is it possible to decide what facts to include and exclude without adopting a historical point of view?
- How should we judge a historical interpretation?
- How should we judge a historical point of view? (2006, p. 18)
All of these questions, in the estimation of Paul and Elder, are prior questions that effectively interrogate the initial question in ways that will lead to more productive answers, and so they must be asked. Yet with the possible exception of ‘What is “the past”?’, not a single one of these questions necessarily needs to be asked in order to gain insight into the question, ‘What is history?’, at least in the context of having a fruitful Socrates Café dialogue.
One might, instead, ask: ‘What does history do?’ (‘What is its function?’ ‘What are its functions?’) ‘Who or what “makes” history?’ ‘What is history made of?’ ‘Does history require a past, or pasts, and if so, what kind(s), and why?’ ‘Does history require tenses?’ ‘Does history require there to be a present and/or a future?’ ‘What kinds of history are there?’ ‘What makes them history?’ ‘When does history occur?’ ‘Does history require memory?’ ‘Does any example of history require agreement, shared perspectives, shared languages, among one or more people or among a group?’
These questions are not so much prior questions, but just possible questions that one might explore along the way as a strategy for exploring more deeply the initial question. Each prospectively or potentially invites the proffering of an array of perspectives on what history does or might amount to. My list, in turn, might be considered inadequate, and another person may present an altogether different set of questions that obviate mine, and present nonetheless a compelling set of queries that could be probed if ‘What is history?’ is to be illuminated to their satisfaction. Still another may believe few or any additional questions are needed besides the initial one, and that instead, one should then set about listing criteria for what constitutes history of any sort (or even refer to a dictionary definition, as if that somehow would settle the matter).
In any event, it is difficult to see how the list of questions Paul and Elder set forth in any way meet their own criteria of ‘going beneath the surface’ of the initial question, which they consider a ‘fundamental’ one. It seems that virtually any question can potentially be fundamental or foundational, depending on the reasons it is posed, and whether it is attempting to solve a perplexing problem or conundrum of some sort that one considers in vital need of exploration, be it philosophical or otherwise, or whether one is attempting to develop a conceptual or categorical schemata of some sort to render more intelligible some aspect of experience that is considered murky or enigmatic. At least, one might want to examine, ‘What is a foundational question?’ I am not sure if any question that is asked subsequent to an initial philosophical question ‘gets beneath the surface.’ All questions may be ‘on the surface,’ yet may help us see the surface in a different way, or enable us to examine a different part of the surface.
In the Thinker’s Guide to the Art of Socratic Questioning (2006), Paul and Elder further distinguish three kinds of questions: established- or one-system questions; no-system; and conflicting system questions. (2006, p. 14) One-system questions have “an established procedure or method for finding the answer.” (p. 15) Examples of such questions are, “What is the boiling point of lead?” “What is the differential of this equation?” (p. 15) No-system questions, or “questions of preference,” have “as many answers as there are different human preferences.” (p. 15) Examples of such questions include, “How do you like to wear your hair?” “Do you like to go to the opera?” (p. 15) Conflicting system questions are tantamount to “questions of judgment”; hence they “require reasoning, but with more than one arguable answer.” (p. 16)
I fully agree with the authors that when a question is posed, one is well-served to ‘question the question’ (p. 17, p. 22). However, a questioning of questions should go beyond simply finding out into which of the categories enumerated by Paul and Elder a question falls. To Paul and Elder, only the third category of questions, questions of judgment, includes the possibility of ‘conflicting system,’ calling for judicious reasoning. Yet the categories that they set forth do not necessarily have the neat divides that they perceive them to have. Even what they distinguish as a question of preference, it seems to me, is not necessarily arbitrary, but can be based on judgment. If people are asked how they like to wear their hair, or whether they like to go to the opera, a follow-up question, like, ‘Why?’, would then perhaps elicit a response in which they explain how it is that they have one preference and not another. Such a preference may turn out to be based on a system of some sort; even one of elaborate reasoning. Even if it turns out that most of our preferences are based on a system of some sort, one may still agree with Paul and Elder that there are “as many answers as there are different human preferences.”
However, it might be that a limitless variety of preferences among people is nonetheless based at least somewhat on a shared set of criteria when it comes to setting forth one’s ‘philosophy of preference.’ For instance, one person may prefer a red sweater, and another a blue one, because each deems it the color that ‘looks best’ on him. On the other hand, criteria also help discern reasoned differences. One may prefer a sweater made of synthetic materials, because he does not like to use any product derived from another living creature; and another may prefer wool, because he does not like to wear anything made of potentially toxic chemicals. Further, one might argue that not only questions or issues of preference, but also so-called one-system questions, almost always entail types of judgment.
One-system questions, Paul and Elder neglect to point out, do not mean there are no other systems from which one might have chosen from. One- system may be selected over another, for instance, because it is judged to be of more effective explanatory value.
If this is so, then the element of judgment clearly is integral even here. Hence, even what Paul and Elder consider to be one-system questions may well not be as cut-and-dried as one might think. If one asks a question about differential equations, a specialist in the field would likely further want to know, before answering it, whether the question derives from a linear or nonlinear mathematical system (among others), since he would deem neither system ultimate or foundational.
In many or most instances, each category of questions may not only require reasoning to arrive at answers: each may have more than one reasoned answer, but each of the systems themselves may essentially be reason-based, thus not so different from one another after all. Hence one would benefit from an exploration of their underlying systems, investigating whether they are reason-based, and in what way, whether even the seemingly simplest system has alternative and equally valid competing systems.
While the system of Socratic questioning developed by Paul and Elder is primarily geared for Socratic questioning in the classroom, they also offer workshops that apply the same system to extracurricular inquiry as well, utilizing the same protocol.
One possible outcome of Socrates Café attendance is that a participant will become a ‘more expert questioner.’
There is much to be admired in their method, such as their requirements to question assumptions (p. 21), to ask follow-on questions that seek reasons and evidence for proffered views (p. 21), and to question the concepts being used (p. 23).
However, while the approach to Socratic inquiry set forth by Paul and Elder is systematic, it arguably overemphasizes under-analyzed rules-based protocol and procedure: which may come at the expense of method, or at least impede the employment of method. Whether this ultimately undermines their aim is unclear.
My own conclusion is that it does not. However, it may set back somewhat their aim of fully enabling us to “reason our way to conclusions while we take the reasoned perspectives of others into account.” (p. 16) If they had opted to prescribe few rules, and simply provided this one normative statement then that might have supported the harnessing of the Socratic method.
Arguably, exhorting one to reason one’s way to conclusions, along the way taking into account others’ reasoned perspectives, is in itself the most vital and methodically-oriented element of Paul and Elder’s elaborate guide, setting the stage for Socratic questioning in ways that facilitate its full flourishing.
One possible outcome of Socrates Café attendance is that a participant will become a ‘more expert questioner.’ Among other things, this requires one to question questions: and not just those of other participants, as Paul and Elder stress, but one’s own questions. Additionally, rather than becoming more expert at seeking out specifically questions of judgment, one should strive to become more adept in the judgment of questions.
If one subscribes to Buchler’s categories of judgment, all questions contain within them elements not only of assertive judgment (the type embraced by Paul and Elder), but of active and exhibitive judgment as well. The ‘question’ then becomes, ‘how can a question best be framed in order to facilitate the conscious and conscientious use of these forms in ways that foment methodic, inventive, exploratory query?’ One way to do this is by cultivating the habit of asking oneself, when one is curious or perplexed about something, ‘Is this the best way to ask the question?’ ‘Are there alternative ways of framing the question that might lead to “better” answers that facilitate the possibility of discovering novel or unfamiliar insights?’
Questions like these would seem to point to the possibility of at least a fourth category of questions: imaginative questions, questions asked out of pure wonder and curiosity that on their face, or at first hearing, may not be easily classifiable or recognizable as ‘legitimate’: much like a child often frames questions in ways that are not easily ‘translatable’ to an adult ear, perhaps leading an adult to dismiss them out of hand.
These queries may initially provoke resistance among some participants, including the facilitator, when it comes to interrogating them. Such questions will be reviewed in more detail in the section that examines the Socrates Café facilitation guide.
[1] I believe it is not possible to know whether he was attempting to achieve a systematic exploration in this sense, since the primary evidence we have is from Plato’s dialogues, and to date there is not enough triangulating evidence to support or refute such a contention. However, it is less difficult to argue that Plato is himself engaged in a systematic and somewhat methodical exploration that attempts (imperfectly, as are all attempts, yet quite meaningfully) to construct foundational existential and ontological categories. This can be inferred from his dialogues: from the early set that supposedly features the historic Socrates, to his latter ones, in which Socrates typically is believed to be mostly a mouthpiece for Plato’s own views.
