We live in a how-to culture. How to be more productive, how to sleep better, how to write a book, cook a steak, raise a child, fix your calendar, declutter your inbox. The list is endless.
We chase method before meaning.
And only later—if at all—do we pause and ask: Wait… why am I doing this in the first place?
This isn’t a new pattern. It runs deep. And if you look at the lives and legacies of Aristotle and Socrates, you start to see the shape of it.
Aristotle gave us how. Socrates kept asking why.
Aristotle was the practical one. He mapped the world. He created systems for ethics, logic, rhetoric, biology—essentially inventing categories we still use today. He asked how things worked, how to live well, how to act with virtue. His thinking was clear, ordered, and applicable.
Socrates, on the other hand, didn’t write anything down. He asked questions. And then more questions. He was disruptive, irritating by design. He didn’t teach people what to do—he helped them uncover what they believed, and whether those beliefs could stand. Socrates wasn’t about how. He was about why—and whether your answer held up under the weight of deeper inquiry.
It’s no wonder Aristotle’s legacy shows up in schools and systems. He gave us tools.
Socrates left us with doubt—and the idea that maybe, just maybe, you don’t know what you think you know.
So why do we gravitate to “how” first?
Because how gives us motion. And we mistake movement for progress.
Because how feels safe. Why exposes us.
Because how solves the surface problem. Why digs up what we’re afraid to confront.
It’s far easier to follow a 5-step method than to sit with an uncomfortable truth:
- You might be solving the wrong problem.
- You might be working toward a goal someone else set for you.
- You might be optimizing a life you never actually chose.
How is tactical. Why is existential.
Aristotle built maps. Socrates set fires. We love maps. Fires? Not so much.
Tolstoy, Socrates, and the trouble with answers
In the book Open Socrates by Agnes Callard, the comparison between Tolstoy and Socrates keeps surfacing—and for good reason. Tolstoy searched for clarity, a unifying philosophy, a stable moral ground. He wanted a why that could hold.
But Socrates never gave final answers. He was always undermining certainty. He didn’t hand out meaning. He challenged people to construct it for themselves—brick by brick, choice by choice, question by question.
If Aristotle helps you get somewhere, Socrates asks whether it’s worth going.
What this means for our lives and work
Most of us start with how because we’re hungry for clarity, traction, and relief. There’s nothing wrong with that. We want momentum. And Aristotle helps us build it. But if we never circle back to why, we risk becoming efficient at the wrong things.
I’ve seen it in productivity again and again. People master systems before they understand their rhythms. They fill calendars before understanding their commitments. They build habits before knowing who they’re trying to become.
Asking why doesn’t always give you the neat answer you’re looking for. But it gives you orientation. It turns a productivity system into a practice. A to-do list into a tool for meaning.
And it turns life into something lived on purpose, not just by method.
Start with how if you must. But don’t stop there. At some point, you’ll need to meet your inner Socrates.
And if you’re lucky, he’ll ask the one question that changes everything: Why did you choose this path in the first place?
