Meet Tony. He's my student. He's about my age, and he's in San Quentin State Prison. When Tony was 16 years old, one day, one moment, "It was mom's gun. Just flash it, scare the guy. He's a punk. He took some money; we'll take his money. That'll teach him. Then last minute, I'm thinking, 'Can't do this. This is wrong.' My buddy says, 'C'mon, let's do this.' I say, 'Let's do this.'" And those three words, Tony's going to remember, because the next thing he knows, he hears the pop. There's the punk on the ground, puddle of blood. And that's felony murder -- 25 to life, parole at 50 if you're lucky, and Tony's not feeling very lucky.
Este é Tony. É alumno meu. Ten a miña idade e está na prisión estatal de San Quentin. Cando Tony tiña 16 anos, un día, un momento, "Era a pistola de mamá. Ensínaa, asustao. É un vándalo. Colleu algo de diñeiro. Collerémoslle os cartos. Para que aprenda. Entón, no último minuto, penso: "Non podo facer isto. Isto está mal". O meu amigo dime: "Veña, ímolo facer". Eu digo: "Fagámolo". E Tony ha recordar esas tres palabras porque o seguinte que sabe é que escoita o disparo. O vándalo está no chan, un regueiro de sangue. Un homicidio... De 25 anos a perpetua, condicional aos 50 se tes sorte. E Tony non é moi afortunado.
So when we meet in my philosophy class in his prison and I say, "In this class, we will discuss the foundations of ethics," Tony interrupts me. "What are you going to teach me about right and wrong? I know what is wrong. I have done wrong. I am told every day, by every face I see, every wall I face, that I am wrong. If I ever get out of here, there will always be a mark by my name. I'm a convict; I am branded 'wrong.' What are you going to tell me about right and wrong?"
Coñecímonos na miña clase de filosofía no seu cárcere presenteime: "Nesta clase, falaremos dos fundamentos da ética". Tony interrómpeme. "Que me vas ensinar ti sobre o ben e o mal?" Eu sei que é o mal. Eu fixen o mal. Dinmo todos os días, en cada cara que vexo, cada muro que encontro, que fixen mal. Se algún día saio de aquí, sempre terei unha marca no meu nome. Son un recluso. Teño a etiqueta de malo. Que me vas contar sobre o ben e o mal?"
So I say to Tony, "Sorry, but it's worse than you think. You think you know right and wrong? Then can you tell me what wrong is? No, don't just give me an example. I want to know about wrongness itself, the idea of wrong. What is that idea? What makes something wrong? How do we know that it's wrong? Maybe you and I disagree. Maybe one of us is wrong about the wrong. Maybe it's you, maybe it's me -- but we're not here to trade opinions; everyone's got an opinion. We are here for knowledge. Our enemy is thoughtlessness. This is philosophy."
E dígolle a Tony: "Perdoa, pero é peor do que pensas. Pensas que coñeces o ben e o mal? Entón, pódesme dicir que é o mal? Non te limites a darme un exemplo. Quero coñecer a maldade en si, a idea de mal. Cal é esa idea? Que é o que fai que algo sexa malo? Como sabemos que é malo? Se cadra non estamos de acordo. Se cadra un de nós equivócase sobre o mal. Se cadra ti, se cadra eu... pero non estamos aquí para trocar opinións; todos temos unha opinión. Estamos aquí para coñecer. O noso inimigo é a irreflexión. Isto é filosofía".
And something changes for Tony. "Could be I'm wrong. I'm tired of being wrong. I want to know what is wrong. I want to know what I know." What Tony sees in that moment is the project of philosophy, the project that begins in wonder -- what Kant called "admiration and awe at the starry sky above and the moral law within." What can creatures like us know of such things? It is the project that always takes us back to the condition of existence -- what Heidegger called "the always already there." It is the project of questioning what we believe and why we believe it -- what Socrates called "the examined life." Socrates, a man wise enough to know that he knows nothing. Socrates died in prison, his philosophy intact.
E algo muda para Tony. "Pode ser que me equivoque. Estou farto de equivocarme. Quero saber o que está mal. Quero saber o que sei". O que Tony ve nese momento é o proxecto da filosofía, o proxecto que comeza preguntándose o que Kant chamou "admiración e veneración ao ceo estrelado sobre min e a lei moral dentro de min". Que poden saber criaturas coma nós sobor estas cousas? É o proxecto que sempre nos retorna á condición de existencia... o que Heidegger chamou "sempre xa". É o proxecto de cuestionarse qué cremos e por qué o cremos... o que Sócrates chamou "a vida examinada". Sócrates, un home sabio dabondo para saber que non sabe nada. Sócrates morreu en prisión, a súa filosofía segue intacta.
So Tony starts doing his homework. He learns his whys and wherefores, his causes and correlations, his logic, his fallacies. Turns out, Tony's got the philosophy muscle. His body is in prison, but his mind is free. Tony learns about the ontologically promiscuous, the epistemologically anxious, the ethically dubious, the metaphysically ridiculous. That's Plato, Descartes, Nietzsche and Bill Clinton.
Tony comeza a facer os deberes. Aprende todos os detalles, as súas causas e correlacións, a súa lóxica e a súas falacias. Resulta que Tony ten o músculo da filosofía. O seu corpo está no cárcere, pero a súa mente é libre. Tony aprende o ontoloxicamente promiscuo, o epistemoloxicamente ansioso, o eticamente dubidoso e o metafisicamente ridículo. É dicir, Platón, Descartes, Nietzsche e Joel Clinton.
So when he gives me his final paper, in which he argues that the categorical imperative is perhaps too uncompromising to deal with the conflict that affects our everyday and challenges me to tell him whether therefore we are condemned to moral failure, I say, "I don't know. Let us think about that." Because in that moment, there's no mark by Tony's name; it's just the two of us standing there. It is not professor and convict, it is just two minds ready to do philosophy. And I say to Tony, "Let's do this."
Cando me dá a súa redacción final, na que argumenta que o imperativo categórico quizáis sexa demasiado inflexible para tratar co conflicto que afecta o noso día a día e desafíame a contarlle se entón estamos condenados ao fracaso moral, eu dígolle: "Non o sei. Pensemos niso". Porque nese momento, non hai marca no nome de Tony; só somos ámbolos dous. Non somos profesor e presidiario, só somos dúas mentes listas para filosofar. E dígolle a Tony: "Fagámolo".
Thank you.
Grazas.
(Applause)
(Aplausos)