Random | Best Philosopher Name Ever

Sextus Empiricus

Over the years, I have become a connoiseur in the sound of crickets chirping. When my jokes fall flat, as they often do, I can hear them singing to me gently in imaginary meadows. Warm, soft focus dandy lion seeds drift gently in the wind, a subtle scent of flowers and pollen, a sense of peace and familiarity wash over me as another idea is launched into the air, only to drift away into the ether. The phantom chirping is the only reply that echoes across the void.

I was doing a search on "Inductive Reasoning" because my pregnant friend was a week past her due date. The doctors decided not to allow the baby to release itself on its own recognizance, so they scheduled a time to induce childbirth. I warned that it wasn't safe to trust the doctors in this case because they arrived upon their decision using inductive reasoning.

Silence.

And then the chirping. But in this case it wasn't the bucolic, cathartic chirping. The meadow in my mind turned gray and ominous with a distant hum. The hum grew louder, and in a moment the meadow was engulfed in darkness, the hum becoming a rumble, a roar, as a swarm of locusts rolled in and stripped the meadow bare to teach me an important lesson. Using humor in attempt to diffuse a stressful situation can be risky. Specifically, any joke about childbirth is going to be a stretch.

Chirp. Chirp.

When the locusts of failed humor left the area, they hadn't stripped the meadow bare after all. In my search for information about inductive reasoning, I stumbled across perhaps the greatest philosopher name in all of history.

Inductive reasoning, simply stated, is what we do when we generalize. We assume our personal experiences with elements in the world can be attributed to larger sets of the same elements. For example, every elephant I have seen is quite large. Therefore I assume all elephants are quite large. Inductive reasoning has a long and rich history. It's the kind of reasoning that supports prejudice, allows police to racially profile, and generates excellent ratings for Bill O'Reilly.

Historically, there are two names that are instantly associated with inductive reasoning. An eighteenth-century British philosopher named David Hume, and a second-century Greek philosopher named Sextus Empiricus. If you are like me, you had to go back and read that second name again, the equivalent of a literary double take.

If you had never studied philosophy and heard those names for the first time, you might think David Hume was the host of a British talk show. But you would actually be confusing yourself with Brit Hume, who is a talk show host, and also not British. David Hume helped develop a system of natural philosophy, which was quite influential for many new, secular movements of the time, leading to revolutions in philosophy, science, and mathematics. Hume was even close friends with Adam Smith, the father of modern day economics!

Sextus Empiricus, on the other hand, sounds like a Greek porn star, the original inventor of the missionary position in 200 A.D., or a gladiator who, in front of a silent, gaping crowd, defiantly slew 100 lions with his penis.

You know how Pedro translates from Spanish into English as Peter, Guillermo translates into William, and Guido becomes Penelope? Well Sextus Empiricus translates into Empirically Sexy. That's right, this guy's name declares to the world, to history, to posterity, that it's not a matter of opinion or debate. By any measure, he is sexy. A little more investigation reveals what might be completely expected (or completely unexpected because of the size of gonads required), Sextus Empiricus was not his original name. His original name was probably something boring like Jorgos Bacillus, or Sofronio Rastus. After graduating from ancient Greek medical school and becoming a famous philosopher, he either wasn't getting enough attention from the ladies, or was getting plenty of attention from the ladies but wanted more. So he did what any rising celebrity does, changed his name to something stupid.

The reality is, even if he wasn't all that, he probably managed a number of conquests based on his name. Imagine the scene at a Greek night club; minstrels playing Funky Town on the lute, candles blinking as strobe lights on the walls, people dancing and drinking from glowing green sheep bladders. In the corner at a table, in a seductive supine position surrounded by grapes, olives, and adoring women, Sextus Empiricus is explaining that only by suspending judgment can we truly reach a state of ataraxia. A seductive, strong-willed Greek chyck strolls up to the table, "So you think you are empirically sexy?" she interrupts the conversation. "That's what it says on my sports chariot, beba," He replies winkingly. "Well prove it!" She blurts out. At which point, Sextus begins to construct a logical proof using the predicate language to establish a first order truth. The lesson being, you have to be careful when you ask a professional philosopher to prove anything.

There is also a sad side to this whole story about philosophers changing names for publicity purposes. Alas, David Hume was not that man's original name either. He had changed it from David Home. While the change probably didn't win him any female conquests, he did get to spend valuable time with Adam Smith's Invisible Hand.