Hercule Poirot, between criminology and philosophy

Le Regard Libre No. 20 – Jonas Follonier

Why do we need philosophers? Yes, when it comes down to it, what do we serve Those self-proclaimed intellectuals who, reeking of pipe tobacco, lecture us on the meaning of life? These questions are so foolish. The very verb «to serve» alone would be worth a murder. Yet I won’t commit one, knowing full well that the killer would be found, no matter how subtle my method. That is indeed the lesson taught to us by the investigations in’Hercule Poirot.

Why, then, should we have philosophers? To answer this question, let’s use a teaching tool that is very common in philosophy: analogy. And this analogy—which we could also call a comparison here—will be the focus of this article. The aim is to compare the method Hercule Poirot uses to solve his mysteries with the approach a philosopher must take to answer his questions.

In the episode Hercule Poirot's Indiscretions, one of the characters asks the famous detective: «Why would we need a private detective? — To help you see things more clearly, sir.» This line from Poirot could be quoted verbatim to answer the question we were asking ourselves. Indeed, a philosopher does not invent the world, nor does he transform it (with all due respect to Marx); he light it up. Or rather, he tries to get a clearer picture, to discern in the world a structure of things, moral laws, a way of conceiving matter, a way of conceiving aesthetics, etc.

The comparison cannot end there. Indeed, while both the detective and the philosopher do everything in their power to lift the veil of reality, this «unveiling» is merely the consequence—or, rather, the goal—of their journey. The’subject of their journey—that is, the truth, defined as the correspondence between our thoughts and reality, that is, what exists.

It is essential to rid our minds of the image of the bohemian philosopher—half-poet, half-sociologist—who constructs a semblance of ethics for slugs and daydreams of perpetual peace among humankind. Above all, we must put an end to phrases like «to each his own,» «there are as many truths as there are human beings,» and other paradoxical sayings that should be buried once and for all. There is only one truth; it must apply to all thought, and it is this truth that philosophers worthy of the name seek. Just like Hercule Poirot, to whom a character in the short story The Valley says, «You must be very interested in the psychology of characters to solve your cases!» and he replies brilliantly, «No. I’m only interested in one thing: the truth.»

To uncover the truth, Detective Hercule Poirot relies on a formidable weapon—the very essence of his «method»: rationality. No serious person can claim to possess any form of knowledge unless they acknowledge that everything is rational. Just as we are born of a man and a woman, and just as water can be explained by the composition of two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom, events themselves can be explained methodically. So whenever two murders are linked, Poirot first investigates the one that caused the other. By virtue of his rationality, he also favors the classic method of eliminating suspects one by one.

To clearly highlight Poirot’s meticulousness, the writer Ariadne Oliver appears in certain episodes to present a contrasting «method»—one that relies on feminine instinct and emotions—which is essentially no method at all. Hercule Poirot, for his part, is quick to tell an inspector: «It is easy to let a tender feeling cloud one’s judgment.» Contrary to what some analysts—who are a bit too influenced by current trends—might say, the presence of this female character who fails is in no way sexist; rather, she serves as a counterexample to Poirot’s method.

In short, if Hercule Poirot were a philosopher, he would belong to the Enlightenment movement. Reason—and reason alone—is what allows him to solve the mystery. This does not make Poirot a cold and austere person; quite the contrary. How often do readers or viewers feel sympathy for this Belgian character who, as much as he loves the truth, abhors cruelty? The ending of Silent Witness: «When one has such a hard heart, Madam, one deserves no pity.»

And the final characteristic that makes him resemble a philosopher—which I will discuss here—concerns the detective’s relationship to time. Time, for Hercule Poirot as well as for Stanley Kubrick in film, for Michel Polnareff in music, or for Marcel Proust in literature, is of no importance whatsoever. Time exists all the time, and yet… it is nothing. «If you’ll allow me, I, Hercule Poirot, will conduct this investigation myself. Quite right, Hercule Poirot will be traveling to Yorkshire. —That’s very kind of you, but it might take up some of your time. – But in the face of death, what does time matter?» Solving a murder, he tells us, has value regardless of how long the investigation takes. Similarly, when faced with the beauty of a work of art, what does time matter to an artist? And when faced with the world, what does time matter to a philosopher?

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