Dr. Seuss and Philosophy - Jacob M. Held [32]
The most straightforward example that Seuss provides is in “The Big Brag.” The poem starts with a rabbit, feeling self-important, exclaiming aloud that he is the best of all animals. An offended eavesdropping bear calls the rabbit ridiculous and claims the title as his own. Attempting to prove his superiority, the rabbit has the bear witness him use his long ears to hear the cough of a fly on a mountain ninety miles away. The bear in response smells a smell six hundred miles beyond the mountains. In a nest in a tree on a farm by a pond are two hummingbird eggs, and the one on the left smells a little bit stale. So which is the best of all animals?
Well, each has an ability that surpasses the same capacity in the other, and both capacities seem important. So it is difficult to judge, even if we take the issue as seriously as they do. We can immediately recognize, however, that the question itself is a bit silly and that we should question the framing of their inquiry, as Socrates would. First, it is vague. Something is always only “good” in some respect and so can only be “the best” in some respect, and that respect is not specified here. Or, if we take it that it is specified, then “being the best animal” would mean “being the best at being what an animal is.” Since neither smelling nor hearing are necessary to being an animal, both rabbit and bear are barking up the wrong tree (if you can forgive mixing in the canine imagery). Second, neither rabbit nor bear is in a position to verify the claims of the other. Bear can’t hear the cough, and rabbit can’t smell the egg. If we assume they are being truthful, Mr. Bear should be able to smell the fly, which would corroborate the rabbit’s claim; Mr. Rabbit, on the other hand, has no easy means to check the bear’s claim (unless he seriously underplayed his hand . . . or ears, as the case may be).
Third, and perhaps most importantly, establishing the claim of who’s the best animal doesn’t seem to serve a purpose, except to inflate the egos of our braggarts. Show-offs will say whatever it takes to reach the conclusion they desire and are not really open to the possible validity of their opponent’s replies. It’s their self-importance that motivates them. Socrates often took the opportunity to humble those who professed great knowledge simply to promote their own importance. In the Euthyphro, for example, we find Socrates suckering a bold and self-righteous, self-proclaimed religious authority into a line of inquiry that ultimately reveals his ignorance with regard to the nature of piety, a topic of which he considers himself an expert. Both Seuss and Socrates are inviting us to examine how often we spout off because our ego is on the line.
It’s the little worm who pops up and plays the role of Socratic gadfly in order to settle the debate and set the two braggarts straight. The worm says that he can see farther than either of the two can smell or hear. He looks straight ahead and all the way around the world right back to where the three are gathered to see “the two biggest fools . . . who seem to have nothing else better to do / Than sit here and argue who’s better than who!” (Brag). With that, the worm dived back to his hole to get back to something better to do. The rabbit and bear are taken off guard by the worm, and the worm leaves them with surprise in their eyes. He has no reason to stay longer, since what happens next is not up to him. We don’t see what happens next, but the two braggarts have a choice: they can recognize that their present endeavor to prove superiority is intellectually bankrupt and driven by insecurity, or they can ignore the worm’s critique, remaining oriented on their egos instead of truth.
The worm’s critique of the braggarts is reminiscent of Socrates