PHILOSOPHY BEGINS IN WONDER--so says Socrates in the Theaetetus-- but where does it end? The Theaetetus itself ends in such a puzzling way as to be the cause of apparently interminable dispute. Although its theme is the nature of knowledge, neither Socrates nor his interlocutors ever present a definition that gains unanimous approval. The definitions of knowledge as perception, as true opinion and as true opinion with an account are all rejected. This fact has understandably inclined (...) most interpreters to maintain that the dialogue fails to reach its explicit goal. Nevertheless, Socrates' attitude about the apparent failure of his conversation with Theaetetus is markedly distinct from his express attitude in those early dialogues with which the Theaetetus is often compared. Whereas early dialogues conclude with self-deprecation and exhortation to continue the quest, the Theaetetus concludes in satisfaction, indifferent to the possibility of further study. As midwife Socrates has successfully delivered Theaetetus of his phantom offspring; beyond that he can do no more. Thus the apparently negative conclusions of the dialogue are at least not negatively intoned, and readers can barely avoid the suspicion of having missed something. One response is to argue that an authorized definition of knowledge can be found by a careful reexamination of the very arguments Socrates rejects. But the fact that our suspicion is aroused by a dramatic consideration commends a search for resolution through the drama, however that might happen to bear on the problem of knowledge. (shrink)

The love of wisdom carries a certain absurdity. What kind of animal falls into a hole while contemplating the sky, or stands outside all night, just thinking? When Plato and Aristotle say that philosophy begins in wonder, it sounds attractive – wonderful even – but it is in those moments of contemplative wonder that the lion snatches us, or someone walks off with our backpack.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophical Adventures in the Lands of Oz and EvGareth B. Matthews (bio)Charles Dodgson, using the pen name “Lewis Carroll,” was the first author in English to write philosophical fantasy for children. In naming his first Alice book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,1 Lewis Carroll may have been inspired by the famous saying of Aristotle that philosophy begins in wonder. More exactly, what Aristotle said was (...) this: “For it is owing to their wonder (thaumazein) that people both now begin, and first began to philosophize (philosophein)” (Metaphysics I, 1982b12-13). Plato expresses a similar idea in his dialogue Theatetus: “This is an experience characteristic of philosophy,” Plato has Socrates say, “this wondering: this is where philosophy begins and nowhere else” (155d).A reader might suppose that the wonder Plato and Aristotle thought could stimulate us to do philosophy was a Kantian awe at “the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me.”2 But, in fact, the wonder Plato and Aristotle allude to is a surprised recognition that something we thought we understood perfectly well actually presents a challenging perplexity (aporia). So for both Plato and Aristotle, philosophy begins in the wonder at a philosophically interesting perplexity.3 And, indeed, Alice’s adventures in Wonderland are adventures in philosophical perplexity.The first American writer of philosophical fantasy for children was L. Frank Baum, author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz4 and a number of other Oz books. For Baum philosophical fantasy took a rather different form from the fantasy of Lewis Carroll. This should hardly be surprising. After all, Carroll was a philosopher and an Oxford don whose specialty was logic. The hallmark of his fantasy is clever and thought- provoking [End Page 37] repartee, such as one might hope to hear at high table in an Oxford college. Consider this passage from chapter 7 (“A Mad Tea-Party”) of Alice in Wonderland:“Take some more tea,” the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.“I’ve had nothing yet,” Alice replied in an offended tone, “so I can’t take more.”“You mean you can’t take less,” said the Hatter: “it’s very easy to take more than nothing.”5As this passage helps us realize, “A has had more tea than B” is normally taken to imply that, although both A and B have had some tea, the amount that A has had is more than the amount that B has had. However, it can also be taken to mean simply that the amount A has had is more than the amount B has had, even where, in the case of B, that amount is zero. Or consider this exchange from chapter 6 (“Humpty-Dumpty”) of Through the Looking-Glass:“I don’t know what you mean by ‘glory,’” Alice said.Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously, “Of course you don’t—till I tell you.I meant ‘There’s a nice knock-down argument for you!’”“But ‘glory’ doesn’t mean ‘a nice knock-down argument,’” Alice objected.“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone,“it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.”“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.”“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty, “which is to be master—that’s all.”6This characteristically clever and amusing exchange forces readers to make a distinction between lexical meaning and speaker meaning. Of course the word “glory” does not mean “there’s a nice knock-down argument for you,” but what a speaker might mean to communicate by using the word “glory” is another issue. Moreover, the relationship between lexical meaning and speaker meaning is a very interesting issue in linguistics and the philosophy of language.Nothing like this clever repartee is to be found in the Oz books. Nor should that fact be very surprising. Frank Baum never took a philosophy course; he never even went to college. He was a theater producer and journalist. Yet, despite this lack of academic background, perhaps the most striking feature7 of Baum’s writing—something almost universally ignored in the scholarly literature on Baum... (shrink)

wonder is the feeling of a philosopher, and philosophy begins in wonder. He was not a bad genealogist who said that Iris [the messenger of heaven] is the child of Thaumas [wonder].1 (Plato,Theaetetus, 155d)When our first encounter with some object surprises us and we find it novel, or very different from what we formerly knew or from what we supposed it ought to be, this causes us to wonder and to be astonished (...) at it. . . . I regard wonder as the first of all the passions. (Descartes, PS, 350)Wonder . . . is the passion of that which is already born and not yet reenveloped in love. . . . It is the passion of the first encounter. And of perpetual rebirth? . . . the place of incidence and junction of body and spirit, which has been covered over again and again, hardened through repetitions that hamper growth and flourishing (croissance et épanouissement [unfolding, blossoming])? . . . A third dimension. An intermediary. Neither the one nor the other. Which is not to say neutral or neuter. The forgotten ground of our condition between mortal and immortal, men andgods, creatures and creators. In us and among us. (Irigaray, ESD, 81–2). (shrink)

Philosophy begins with wonder, according to Plato and Aristotle. Yet Plato and Aristotle did not expand a great deal on what precisely wonder is. Does this fact alone not raise curiosity in us as to why this passion or concept is important? What is wonder.

This book is the compilation of over fifty years of teaching Metaphysics, Philosophy of the Person, Epistemology, and Ethics, including Virtue Ethics, in the classroom setting. Philosophy Begins in Wonder offers the classroom dynamic on the written page. Here you will find philosophical questions raised, many possible answers provided, guidance in discerning how to evaluate the answers, and encouragement for even greater considerations beyond the scope of this book. Philosophy that begins in (...) class='Hi'>wonder is open to proceeding further in a lifetime journey of wonder, avoiding the unnecessary pitfalls of cynicism, pessimism, and despair. This spirit of wonder offers to one a life of amazement, joy, gratitude and, therein, often the unexpected moments of knowledge, understanding, insights, and occasionally wisdom. --- back cover of book. (shrink)

Plato claims that “philosophy begins in wonder”. To genuinely question the unquestioned opens a hole in the floor of certainty. This feeling is the prerequisite to true philosophical thinking. However, paradoxically, it is often the absence of irreverence that prevents true awe. In order to provoke moral seriousness in students, it is common to inadvertently “flatten” the moral world by injecting seriousness into everything; however, when everything is serious, nothing is serious. This paper explores (...) the role of conceptual and tonal irreverence, and situates this topic more generally within the role of humor in pedagogy. Finally, the presentation demonstrates connections to social justice and the ways that educational reform, in flattening the moral world, have omitted the opportunity to generate wonder and reverence. Platon tvrdi da “filozofija počinje s čuđenjem”. Istinsko preispitivanje neispitanoga izaziva nesigurnost. Taj osjećaj preduvjet je istinskom filozofskom mišljenju. Međutim, paradoksalno, često je upravo nedostatak humora ono što sprječava istinsko čuđenje. Kako bi se izazvala moralna ozbiljnost u studenata uobičajeno je da se nehotice moralni svijet predstavi dosadnijim nego što uistinu jest, dajući svemu ozbiljan predznak; no ništa nije ozbiljno kada je sve ozbiljno. Ovaj rad istražuje ulogu konceptualnog i tonalnog humora te ovu temu općenitije pozicionira u sferu uloge humora u pedagogiji. U konačnici, prezentacija prikazuje veze s društvenom pravdom i načinima na koje je obrazovna reforma, putem prikaza morala kao ozbiljne teme, propustila priliku za stvaranje čuđenja i poštivanja. (shrink)

The first philosophers paved the way for the work of Plato and Aristotle - and hence for the whole of Western thought. Aristotle said that philosophy begins with wonder, and the first Western philosophers developed theories of the world which express simultaneously their sense of wonder and their intuition that the world should be comprehensible. But their enterprise was by no means limited to this proto-scientific task. Through, for instance, Heraclitus' enigmatic sayings, the (...) poetry of Parmenides and Empedocles, and Zeno's paradoxes, the Western world was introduced to metaphysics, rationalist theology, ethics, and logic, by thinkers who often seem to be mystics or shamans as much as philosophers or scientists in the modern mould. And out of the Sophists' reflections on human beings and their place in the world arose and interest in language, and in political, moral, and social philosophy. This volume contains a translation of all the most important fragments of the Presocratics and Sophists, and of the most informative testimonia from ancient sources, supplemented by lucid commentary. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Dramatic Frame and Philosophic Idea in PlatoWilliam A. JohnsonIn a minority of plato's dialogues the central philosophic discourse is presented indirectly, refracted through the lens of a dramatic frame of more or less complexity.1 Scholars typically divorce the question of the dramatic frame from the philosophy of the dialogues: the frame is often simply set to one side by analytic philosophers, and tends to be considered in (...) terms of characterization, narrative technique, intratextual associations and the like by students of the "literary Plato."2 I here consider the four dialogues that mark Plato's most ambitious experiments in construction of a complex narrative frame: Phaedo, Symposium, Parmenides, and Theaetetus. By focusing on the effect that the indirect narration has on the reader, I construct a view of these narrative experiments that puts them together with the philosophic program of the dialogues. Baldly stated: I argue that the elaborate indirectness of the dramatic frame means to reflect, and to make vivid for the reader, not only the remove between written representation and the doing of philosophy, but also the remove between perceptible and Ideal world as suggested in Plato's vision of the Ideas.PhaedoAt the beginning of Plato's Phaedo, Echecrates asks Phaedo to tell him about the last hours of Socrates' life. He points out, "None of the people in Phlius go to Athens much these days, and it is a long time since we had any visitor from there who could give us any definite information, except that he was executed by drinking hemlock" (57a–b).3 The reader thereby comes to realize: (1) the conversation is situated in Phlius, a somewhat remote town on the Peloponnesus far from Athens (and far from anyone who might be able to correct or verify Phaedo's account); (2) since "no Phliasian goes to Athens much these days" and "it is a long time since we had any visitor from Athens who could give us any definite information," Phaedo's arrival in Phlius comes at a significant temporal distance from Socrates' death; (3) on the same grounds, the reader is led to wonder how long a time might have lapsed between this conversation and its report to Plato back in Athens (if indeed this is based on a report, on which see below); (4) on the other hand, Phaedo, as an intimate of Socrates, is presumed to be able to provide "definite information" (σαφές τι). Echecrates goes on to ask Phaedo to "be kind enough to give us a really detailed account" (σαφέστατα, 58d2) of Socrates' last day. When Phaedo says that he is willing, Echecrates urges again: "Now try to describe every detail as carefully as you can" (, 58d8). The bulk of Phaedo will be this account, told by Phaedo to Echecrates. The desire for accurate detail is emphasized. But Echecrates' insistence on accuracy sits uneasily with the spatial and temporal remove introduced at the beginning. How accurate, really, is Phaedo's account?The answer to this question—is the account accurate?—is, however, not at issue here. What is more interesting, or at least what interests me, is the fact that the dramatic frame seems designed to bring such questions into play. Bald historical questions (Did Socrates really say that? How does Plato know? Is Phaedo's memory accurate?) may seem unsophisticated, but they are natural questions for the reader to pose—as generations of readers and commentators attest. The questions are natural only in the sense that the text is constructed so as to prompt [End Page 578] them. Questions of historicity arise almost inevitably from the tension in the dramatic frame between, on the one hand, the repeated emphasis on the desire for accuracy, and, on the other hand, the strained relationship—elaborately indirect and distant both spatially and temporally—between the words of the text and the words of Socrates.A further, telling detail appears directly before Phaedo's narrative begins. In response to a question by Echecrates, Phaedo lists the friends of Socrates who were present. In the course of this list, Phaedo famously remarks, "I believe that Plato was ill" or perhaps better (Jowett) "but Plato, if I am not mistaken, was... (shrink)

Wonder’s significance is a recurrent theme in the history of philosophy. In the Theaetetus, Plato’s Socrates claims that philosophy begins in wonder (thaumazein). Aristotle echoes these sentiments in his Metaphysics; it is wonder and astonishment that first led us to philosophize. Philosophers from the Ancients through Wittgenstein discuss wonder, yet scant recent attention has been given to developing a general systematic account of emotional wonder. I develop an account of (...) emotional wonder and defend its connection with apparent or seeming value. Recently, several philosophers invoke wonder to back non-eudaimonistic value judgments. I introduce methods to incorporate these judgments into a eudaimonistic moral framework. On the analysis presented, wonder requires its object to seem valuable, but whether the object is in fact valuable remains an open question. Wonder enraptures us with objects that might be of true or merely illusory value, grounded either in our own well-being or in non-eudaimonistic value. (shrink)

Regarding the relation of Plato’s early and middle period dialogues, scholars have been divided to two opposing groups: unitarists and developmentalists. While developmentalists try to prove that there are some noticeable and even fundamental differences between Plato’s early and middle period dialogues, the unitarists assert that there is no essential difference in there. The main goal of this article is to suggest that some of Plato’s ontological as well as epistemological principles change, both radically (...) and fundamentally, between the early and middle period dialogues. Though this is a kind of strengthening the developmentalistic approach corresponding the relation of the early and middle period dialogues, based on the fact that what is to be proved here is a essential development in Plato’ ontology and his epistemology, by expanding the grounds of development to the ontological and epistemological principles, it hints to a more profound development. The fact that the bipolar and split knowledge and being of the early period dialogues give way to the tripartite and bound knowledge and benig of the middle period dialogues indicates the development of the notions of being and knowledge in Plato’s philosophy before the dialogues of the middle period. -/- Keywords Plato; early dialogues; middle dialogues; being; knowledge; development -/- Introduction The differences between two groups of the early and middle period dialogues have always been a matter of dispute. Whereas the developmentalists like Vlastos, Silverman (2002), Teloh (1981), Dancy (2004) and Rickless (2007) think that from the early to the middle dialogues Plato’s philosophy changes, at least in some essential points, the unitarists like Kahn, Cherniss and Shorey believe that there happens no development and the differences must be taken as natural, ignorable and even pedagogic. In his well-known article, Socrates contra Socrates in PLATO, Vlastos lists ten theses of difference between two groups of dialogues. The first group which includes Plato’s early dialogues he divides to 'elenctic' (Apology, Charmides, Crito, Euthyphro, Gorgias, Hippias Minor, Ion, Laches, Protagoras and Republic I) and 'transitional' (Euthydemus, Hippias Major, Lysis, Menexenus and Meno) dialogues. These transitional come after all the elenctic dialogues and before all the dialogues of the second group which compose Plato’s middle period dialogues, including (with Vlastos' chronological order) Cratylus, Phaedo, Symposium, Republic II-X, Phaedrus, Parmenides and Theaetetus (1991, 46-49). Vlastos asserts strictly that his list of differences are 'so diverse in content and method that they contrast as sharply with one another as with any third philosophy you care to mention, beginning with Aristotole’s' (ibid, 46). Vlastos’ list of differences between two Socrateses is considered a view breaking sharply between the early and the middle dialogues. Besides all ten differences between the two Socrateses in Vlastos’ list that can be supportive for our doctrine here, we intend to focus on some ontological as well as epistemological distinctions that have not completely been discussed hitherto. Contrary to the developmentalist theory of Vlastos, unitarian theory of Charles Kahn wishes to eliminate any substantial difference between the early and the middle dialogues. He distinguishes seven 'pre-middle' or 'threshold' dialogues including Laches, Charmides, Euthyphro, Protagoras, Meno, Lysis and Euthydemus from the other Socratic dialogues which he calls 'earliest group' (1996, 41). The threshold dialogues, Kahn thinks, 'embarke upon a sustained project' that is to reach to its climax in the middle period dialogues, namely Phaedo, Symposium and Republic. Believing in that there is no 'fundamental shift'between the early and middle dialogues (ibid, 40), Kahn thinks the Socratic dialogues are just the 'first stage' with a 'deliberate silence' towards the theories of later periods (ibid, 339). One of the reasons of the surprising fact that Plato gives no hint of the metaphysics and epistemology of the Forms in the early dialogues, he thinks, is the pedagogical advantages of aporia. He thinks that Plato 'obscurely', and mostly because of education, hinted to some doctrines and conceptions in his early dialogues and with the aim of clarifying them only in the later ones (ibid, 66). The seven threshold dialogues, Kahn asserts, 'had been designed from the first' to prepare the pupils and readers for the views expounded in the middle period dialogues (ibid, 59-60). To show that the differences of the two Socrateses of the early and middle period dialogue are in their onto-epistemological grounds and thence cannot be explained by a unitaristic view, we try to draw the ontological and epistemological principles of the early dialogues in the first part below in order to show, in the second part, that those principles have been developed in the middle period dialogues. -/- A. The Onto-Epistemologic Principles of the Early Dialogues Socratic dialogues are paradoxical about knowledge because while being knowledge-oriented always searching for knowledge, they deny it and even never discuss it directly. Three elements of Socrates’ way of searching Knowledge throughout the early dialogues, i.e. Socratic 'what is X?' question, his disavowal of knowledge and his elenctic method combined together produce something like a circle which works, more or less, in the same way in these dialogues. Though this circle is an embaressing inquiry always resulting in ignorance instead of knowledge, its motivation is surprisingly Socrates’ passionate enthusiasm for knowledge, an intensive love of wisdom. The starting point of this circle is Socrates’ confession of having no knowledge which might be explicitly asserted or presupposed, maybe because it was one of the famous characteristics of Socrates; a confession always paradoxically accompanied with his intense longing for knowledge (e.g., Gorgias 505e4-5). Every time Socrates encounters with someone who thinks he knows something (οἴεταί τι εἰδέναι) (Apology 21d5) and tries to examine him. This examination seems to be the simplest one asking just what it is that he knows. Socrates’ elenchus, therefore, is always connected with 'what is X?' (τίς ποτέ ἐστιν) question, a question that most of the early dialogues of Plato are concerned with; 'what is courage?' in the Laches, 'what is piety?' in Euthydemus, 'what is temperance?' in Charmides and 'what is beauty?' in Hippias Major. This question we call here 'Socratic question' and probably is the very question the historical Socrates used to employ, is tightly interrelated with both his disavowal and his elenchus. He disclaims knowledge because he cannot find the answer to the question himself and he rejects others’ since they cannot offer the correct answer too. Every interlocutor can claim he knows X, if and only if he can answer the Socratic question. Otherwise, he is more of an ignorant than of a knower of τί ποτέ ἐστι X. Knowing the answer to this question is, thus, knowledge’s criterion for Socrates. Having found out that he cannot answer what it is which he would claim to know, the interlocutor comes to the point Socrates was there at the beginning. The least advantage of this circle is that he becomes as wise as Socrates does about the subject, becoming aware that he does not know it. At the end of the circle they are both still at the beginning, not knowing what X is. So let us first take a glance at these three elements. Socratic disavowal of knowledge is strictly asserted in some passages. At Apology 21b4-5, Socrates says: -/- I do not know of myself being wise at all (οὔτε μέγα οὔτε σμικρὸν σύνοιδα ἐμαυτῷ σοφὸς ὤν) -/- Moreover, at 21d4-6: -/- None of us knows anything worthwhile (καλὸν κἀγαθὸν εἰδέναι) …. I do not know (οἶδα) neither do I think I know. -/- In Charmides Socrates speaks about a fear about his probable mistake of thinking that he knows (εἰδέναι) something when he does not (166d1-2). The somehow generalization of this disavowal can be seen in Gorgias. After calling his disavowal 'an account that is always the same' (509a4-5), Socrates continues (a5-7): -/- I say that I do not know (οἶδα) how these things are, but no one I have ever met, like now, who can say anything else without being absurd. -/- At the end of Hippias Major (304d7-8), Socrates affirms his disavowal of knowledge of 'what is X?' this time about the fine: -/- I do not know (οἶδα) what that is itself (αὐτὸ τοῦτο ὅτι ποτέ ἐστιν). Some other passages, however, made a number of scholars dubious about Socrates’ disavowal. Vlastos mentions Apology 29b6-7 as an evidence : 'that to do wrong and to disobey one’s master, both god and men, I know (οἶδα) to be evil and shameful'. He thinks that if we give this single text 'its full weight' it can suffice to show that Socrates does claim knowledge of a moral truth (1985, 7). Vlastos’ claim is not admittable since it would be too strange, I think, for a man like Socrates to violate his disavowal claim just after emphasizing it. We can see his claim just before the already mentioned passage: -/- And surely it is the most blameworthy ignorance to believe that one knows what one does not know. It is perhaps on this point and in this respect, gentlemen, that I differ from the majority of men and if I were to claim that I am wiser than anyone in anything it world be in this, that, as I have no adequate knowledge (οὐκ εἰδὼς ἱκανῶς) of things in the underworld, so I do not think I have (οὐκ εἰδέναι) (Apology 29b1-6) Vlastos tries to solve what he calls the 'paradox' of Socrates’ disavowal of knowledge distinguishing the 'certain' knowledge from 'elenctic' knowledge (1985, 11) and thinking that when Socrates avows knowledge, we must perceive it as an elenctic knowledge, a knowledge its content 'must be propositions he thinks elenctically justifiable' (ibid, 18). Irwin’s solution is the distinction of knowledge and belief. He approves that Socrates does not 'explicitly' make such a distinction, but still thinks that Socrates’ 'test for knowledge would make it reasonable for him to recognize true belief without knowledge, and his own claims are easily understood if they are claims to true belief alone' (1977, 40). While I agree with Vlastos up to a point, I strongly disagree with Irwin about the early dialogues. As I will try to show below, we are not permitted to consider any kind of distinction within knowledge in Socratic dialogues because only one category of knowledge is alluded to there and the distinction of knowledge and belief thoroughly belongs to the second Sorcates. Although no kind of distinction can be admittable here, I think Vlastos’ distinction can be accepted only if we regard it as a distinction between knowledge, which is unique and without any, even incomparable, rival, and a semi-idiomatic and ordinary one that is a necessary requirement for any argument, and thus, unavoidable even for someone who does not claim any kind of knowledge. An apparent evidence of this is Gorgias 505e6-506a4: -/- I go through the discussion as I think it is (ὡς ἄν μοι δοκῇ ἔχειν), if any of you do not agree with admissions I am making to myself, you must object and refute me. For I do not say what I say as I know (οὐδὲ γάρ τοι ἔγωγε εἰδὼς λέγω ἃ λέγω) but as searching jointly with you (ζητῶ κοινῇ μεθ᾽ ὑμῶν). -/- The minimal degree of knowledge everyone must have to take part in an argument, conduct it and use the phrase "I know" when it is necessary is what Socrates cannot deny. We can call it elenctic knowledge only if we agree that it is not the kind of knowledge that Socrates has always been searching, the one that can be accepted as the answer of Socratic 'what is X?' question. His disavowal of knowledge is applied only to the knowledge which can truly be the answer of Socratic question and pass the elenctic exam; a knowledge that, I believe, is never claimed by first Socrates. Socrates conducts his method of examining his interlocutors’ knowledge, our second element here, by almost the same method repeated in Socratic dialogues. That whether we are allowed to regard all the examinations of Socrates in the early dialogues as based on the same or not has been a matter of dispute. Vlastos himself (1994, 31) distinguished Euthydemas, Lysis, Menexenns and Hippias Major from the other Socratic dialogues because he thinks Socrates has lost his faith to elenchus in there. Irwin (1977, 38) distinguishes Apology and Crito where Socrates’ own convictions is present. Contrary to some scholars like Benson (2002, 107) who take elenchus in all the Socratic dialogues as a unique method, Michelle Carpenter and Ronald M. Polansky (2002, 89-100) argue pro the variety of methods of elenchus. Thomas C. Brickhouse and Nicholas D. Smith (2002, 145-160) even reject such a thing as Socratic elenchus which can gather all of the Socrates’ various arguments under such a heading. There can be no solution for the problem of elenchus, they think, is due to 'the simple reason that there is no such thing as 'the Socratic elenchos"'(p.147). Though we consider elenchus a somehow determined process and a part of Socratic circle in the early dialogues, all we assume is that whatever differences it might have in different dialogues, it has the same onto-epistemological principles and, thus, we are not going to take it necessarily as a unique method. This method sets out to prove that the interlocutors are as ignorant as Socrates himself is. That whether elenchus is constructive, capable of establishing doctrines as Vlastos (1994) or Brickhouse and Smith (1994, 20-21) believe or not is another issue to which this paper is not to claim anything. What is crucial for our discussion here is that elenchus does not reach to the very knowledge Socrates is looking for. This is strictly against Irwin who thinks that not only elenchus leads to positive results, 'it should even yield knowledge to match Socrates’ conditions'(1977, 68, cf. 48). He does not explain where and how they really yield to that kind of knowledge. He explains his elenctic method in his apology in the court (Apology 21-22), that how he used to examine wise men, politicians, poets and all those who had the highest reputation for their knowledge and every time found that they have no knowledge. If we accept, as I strongly do, that Socrates’ disavowal of his knowledge is not irony, it might seem more reasonable to agree that the process that has that disavowal as its first step cannot be irony as well. The key of the circle which can explain why Socrates disclaims knowledge and how he can reject others’ claim of having any kind of knowledge lies in the third element, Socratic question. In Hippias Major (287c1-2), Socrates asks: 'Is it not by Justice that just people are Just? (ἆρ᾽ οὐ δικαιοσύνῃ δίκαιοί εἰσιν οἱ δίκαιοι). He insists at 294b1 that they were searching for that by which (ᾧ) all beautiful things are beautiful (cf. b4-5, 8). At Euthyphro 6d10-11 it is said that the Socratic question is waiting for 'the form itself (αὐτὸ τὸ εἶδος) by which (ᾧ) all the pious actions are pious; and at 6d11-e1: -/- Through one form (που μιᾷ ἰδέᾳ) impious actions are impious and pious actions pious. -/- Since the X itself is that by which X is X, knowing 'X itself' is the only way of knowing X. It is probably because of this that Socrates makes the distinction between the ousia as a right answer to the question and effect as a wrong one: -/- I am afraid, Euthyphro, that when you were asked what piety is (τὸ ὅσιον ὅτι ποτ᾽ ἐστίν) you did not wish to make clear its nature itself (οὐσίαν … αὐτοῦ) to me, but you said some effect (πάθος) about it. (Euthp. 11a6-9) -/- 1. Knowledge of what X is Now it is time to look for the onto-epistemological principles of Socratic circle and its three elements. It cannot reasonably be expected from the first Socrates to present us explicitly and clearly formulated principles of his onto-epistemology when such explications cannot be found even in the second Socrates who has some obviously positive theoris. Since there must be some principles underlying this first systematic inqury of knowledge, we must seek to them and be satisfied with elicitation of the first Socratas’ principle. What will be drawn out as his principles cannot and must not, thus, be taken as very fix and dogmatic principles. Some very slightest principles and grounds suffice for our purposes here. The first principle that is the prima facie significance of the Socratic question and his implementation of all those elenctic arguments I call the principle of 'Knowledge of What X is' (KWX): -/- KWX To know X, it is required to know what X is. -/- Aristotle (Metaphysics 1078b23-25, 27-29, 987b4-8) takes Plato’s τί ἐστι question as seeking the definition of a thing that is the same as historical Socrates’ search but applying to a different field. That Plato’s 'what is X?' question was a search for definition became the prevailed understanding of this question up to now. I am going neither to discuss the answer of Socratic question nor to challenge taking it as definition. What I am to insist is that knowledge is attached firmly to the answer of the question: Knowledge of X is not anything but the knowledge of what X is. It entails, certainly, the priority of this knowledge to any other kind of knowledge about X but it also has something more fundamental about the relation of knowledge and Socratic question. Socrates’ exclusive focus on the answer of his question can authorize the consideration of such an essential role for KWX in his epistemolgoy. The total rejection of his interlocutors’ knowledge when they are unable to answer the question can be regarded as a strong evidence for it. Socrates’ elenctic method and his rejection of others’ knowledge in the early dialogues, which all end aporetically with no one accepted as knower and nothing as knowledge, prevent us from finding any positive evidence for this. We have to be content, therefore, of negative evidences which, I think, can be found wherever Socrates rejects his interlocutors’ knowledge when they are not able to give an acceptable answer to his 'what is X?' question. 2. Bipolar Epistemology Socrates’ rejection of his interlocutors’ knowledge has another epistemological principle as its basis. Let me call this principle Bipolar Epistemology' (BE): BE There is no third way besides knowledge and Ignorance. -/- BE says that about every object of knowledge there are only two subjective statuses: knowledge and Ignorance. Socrates’ disavowal, however, says nothing but that he is ignorant of knowledge of X because he does not know what X is. This means that BE is presupposed here. Socrates’ elenchus and his rejection of interlocutors’ having any kind of knowledge are the necessary results of the fact that he does not let any third way besides knowledge and ignorance. The first Socrates never let anyone partly know X or have a true opinion about it, as he would not let anyone know anything about X when he did not know what X is. -/- 3. Bipolar Ontology The principle of BE in first Socrates’ epistemology is parallel to another principle in his ontology. Plato’s bipolar distinction between being and not being is as strict and perfect as his distinction between knowledge and ignorance. This principle I shall call the principle of 'Bipolar Ontology' (BO): BO Being is and not being is not. BO is apparently the same with the well-known Parmenidean Principle of being and not being (cf. Diels-Kranz (DK) Fr. 2.2-5). Euthydemus’ statement against the possibility of false knowledge can be good evidence for this principle: -/- The things which are not surely do not exist (τὰ δὲ μὴ ὄντα … ἄλλο τι ἢ οὐκ ἔστιν). (Euthydemus 284b3-4) -/- He continues (b4-5): -/- There is nowhere for not being to be there (οὖν οὐδαμοῦ τά γε μὴ ὄντα ὄντα ἐστίν). -/- That BE does not let true opinion as a third option besides knowledge and ignorance seems to be related to BO’s rejecting a third option besides being and not being, which is itself the basis of the impossibility of false belief. Socrates’ elaborate discussion of the problem of false belief in Theatetus that leads to a more decisive discussion and finally to some solutions in Sophist can make our consideration of BO for the first group of dialogues authentive. -/- 4. &5. Split Knowledge and Split Being The fourth principle I shall call the principle of 'Split Knowledge' (SK): -/- SK Knowledge of X is separated from any other knowledge (of anything else) as if the whole knowledge is split to various parts. -/- This Principle is hinted and criticized as Socrates’ way of treating with knowledge in Hippias Major: -/- But Socrates, you do not contemplate the entireties of things, nor do people you have used to talk with (τὰ μὲν ὅλα τῶν πραγμάτων οὐ σκοπεῖς, οὐδ᾽ ἐκεῖνοι οἷς σὺ εἴωθας διαλέγεσθαι). (301b2-4) -/- Contrary to Rankin who regards the passage as 'antilogical, almost eristic in tone rather than presenting a serious philosophy of being' (1983, 54), I think it can be taken as serious. Hippias criticizes Sorcates that he does not contemplate (σκοπεῖς) the entireties of things (ὅλα τῶν πραγμάτων), a critique which Socrates is not its only subject but all those whom Socrates accustomed to talk with (ἐκεῖνοι οἷς σὺ εἴωθας διαλέγεσθαι). This last phrase, I think, extends this critic beyond this dialogue to other Socratic dialogues. Hippias’ use of the perfect tense of the verb ἔθω (to be accustomed) is a good evidence of this extension. We can get, thus, these ἐκεῖνοι as Socrates’ interlocutors in his other dialogues that hints that this criticism has the epistemological groundings of the previous dialogues as its subject. What ἐκεῖνοι οἷς σὺ εἴωθας διαλέγεσθαι points to is that Hippias does not have in mind Socrates’ way of treating things only in this dialogue, but he is also criticizing Socrates’ way throughout his dialogues. At 301b4-5, Socrates and his interlocutors’ way of beholding things is described as such: -/- You people knock (κρούετε) at the fine and each of the beings (ἕκαστον τῶν ὄντων) by taking each being cut up in pieces (κατατέμνοντες) in words (ἐν τοῖς λόγοις). This leads us to our next principle that is parallel to, and the ontological side of, SK, the principle of 'Split Being'(SB): -/- SB Everything (being) is separated from any other thing as if the whole being is split to many beings. -/- Socrates and his interlocutors and thus, as we saw, the Socratic dialogues are accused to regard everything as it is separated from all other things. This separation is en tois logois that, I think, can reasonably be taken as saying that Socratic dialogues (it refers of course to the dialogues before Hippias Major) cut up all things which have the same name/definition from all other things and try to understand them separately, without considering other things that are not in their logos. They, for example in Hippias Major, are cutting up to kalon and try to understand what it and all others inside this logos are by separating it from all other things. This is directed straightly against Socratic question and the way Socratic dialogues follow to find its answer, every time separating one logos. As Meyer (1995, 85) points out, every question 'presupposes that the X in question in a logos is something' and 'every answer to every question aims at unity' (84). The critique of Hippias Major is, therefore, at the same time a critique of SK and SB. It is also a critique of KWX because it is only based on KWX that Socratic dialogues could search for the answer of 'what is X' question supposing that knowing what X is is enough for the knowledge of X. SK and KWX are absolutely interdependent. What Socrates and all his previous interlocutors have neglected in Socratic dialogues, Hippias says, was 'continuous bodies of being' (διανεκῆ σώματα τῆς οὐσίας) (301b6). Either this theory actually belongs to the historical Hippias as it is being said or not, it is strictly criticizing SB. We have the same phrase with changing sūma to logos some lines later at 301e3-4: διανεκεῖ λόγῳ τῆς οὐσίας. Although this theory that can be observed as both an ontological and an epistemological theory is rejected by Socrates (301cff.), it is still against first Socrates’ onto-epistemological principles and might let us look at what is rejected as Socratic prineple. -/- 6. Knowledge is of Being The sixth principle that I think is presupposed by the first Socrates, is the 'Knowledge of Being' Principle (KB): -/- KB Knowledge is of Being. -/- This principle is obviously the source of the problem of false knowledge, a very important problem throughout Plato’s philosophy. We face this problem maybe for the first time in Euthydemus. In less than 20 Stephanus’ pages, 276-295, we are encountered with different interwoven problems about knowledge , all grounded in the problem of false opinion. Having challenged the obvious possibility of telling lies at 283e, at 284 Euthydemus discusses it saying that the man who speaks is speaking about 'one of those things that are (ἓν μὴν κἀκεῖνό γ᾽ ἐστὶν τῶν ὄντων)' (284a3) and thus speaks what is (λέγων τὸ ὄν) (a5). He must necessarily be saying truth when he is speaking what is because he who speaks what is (τὸ ὄν) and the things that are (τὰ ὄντα) speaks truth (τἀληθῆ λέγει) (a5-6). This is based on Parmenidean principle of the impossibility of being of not being which Euthydemus restates (284b3-4) and we mentioned discussing BO principle above. The things that are not are nowhere (οὐδαμοῦ) and there is no possibility for anyone to do (πράξειεν) anything with them because they must be made as being before anything else can be done, which is impossible (b5-7). The words, then, are of things that exist (εἰσὶν ἑκάστῳ τῶν ὄντων λόγοι) (285e9) and as they are (ὡς ἔστιν) (e10). The result is that no one can speak of things as they are not. It is this impossibility of false speach that is extended to thinking (δοξάζειν) at 286d1 and leads to the impossibility of false opinion (ψευδής … δόξα) (286d4). The general conclusion is asserted at 287a extending this impossibility to actions and making any kind of mistake. Not only knowledge is of being but speech, thought and action are of being simply because of the fact that nothing can be of not being. -/- B. First Socrates’ Principles in the Middle Period Dialogues Out of what were presupposed or criticized mostly in five dialogues, Euthyphro, Euthydemus, Hippias Major, Laches and Charmides, we tried to draw the first Socrates’ principles. Our inquiry here is directed to find out the fate of these principles in the three dialogues of the middle period, Meno, Phaedo and Republic. To do this, first we ought to check the situation of Socratic circle in these dialogues. The Socratic circle that was predominant in the early dialogues, does not look like a circle here anymore though they certainly have some features in common. Meno, Phaedo and Republic II-X are not committed to the principles of the circle and the whole circle in disrupted in them. The difference of the two Socrateses towards acquiring knowledge is obvious. The Socrates of Meno, Phaedo and Republic is evidently more self-confident that he can get to some truths during his arguments as he does. They are in their first appearance, as almost all other dialogues, committed to Socrates’ disavowal. All of them try to keep the shape of the Socratikoi Logoi genre, which is committed to the historical Socrates’ way of discussion; a dramatic personage who is to challenge his interlocutors, ask them and refuse the answers. Nevertheless, the fact is that what we have in common between two groups of dialogues is mostly a dramatic structure. Whereas the first group’s arguments are based on Socrates’ disavowal and lead to no positive results, the second group is decisively going to achieve some positive results. The aim of the first Socrates was to show others that they are ignorant of what they thought they knew. The new Socrates of Meno, on the opposite, makes so much efforts to show that the slave boy has within himself true opinions (ἀληθεῖς δόξαι) about the things that he does not know (οἶδε) (85c6-7). Despite his lack of knowledge, he has true opinions nevertheless. The way from these true opinions to knowledge, as Socrates states, is not so long. These true opinions are now like a dream but 'can become knowledge of the same things not less accurate than anyone’s' (οὐδενὸς ἧττον ἀκριβῶς ἐπιστήσεται περὶ τούτων) (c11-d1), if they be repeated by asking the same questions. The most outstanding text regarding Socrates’ disavowal is Meno 98b where he explicitly claims knowledge: -/- And indeed I also speak as (ὡς) one who does not know (εἰδὼς) but is guessing (εἰκάζων). However, [about the fact] that true opinion and knowledge are different, I do not altogether expect (δοκῶ) myself to be guessing (εἰκάζειν), but if I say about anything that I know (εἰδέναι) -which about few things I say- this is one of the things that I know (οἶδα). (98b1-5) This passage is very significant about Plato’s disavowal of knowledge. There can hardly be found, I think, anywhere else in Plato’s corpus where Socrates speaks about his knowledge of something as such. He says first that he speaks as someone who does not know. This ὡς οὐκ εἰδὼς λέγω comparing with what he used to say in the first group, οὐκ οἶδα, has this added ὡς. Socrates does not claim strongly anymore that he does not know anything but speaks only as someone who does not know. He needs this ὡς not only because he is going to accept that he does know some, though few, things immediately after this sentence, but also because he needs his previous disavowal to be loosened from Meno on. He does not merely say here that he knows something. It is then different from the examples mentioned before which could be taken as idiomatic or at least not emphatic. Socrates’ remarkable emphasis on distinguishing εἰδέναι from εἰκάζειν departs it from all other passages where he says only he knows something. Moreover, he claims definitely that he has knowledge about few (ὀλίγα) things. From the early to the middle dialogues, Socrates’ attitude to knowledge has totally renewed its face. He brings forth a new concept, true opinion, and he does not speak of knowledge as he used to before; the rough, perfect and unachievable knowledge of the first group has turned to something more smooth, realistic and achievable. Comparing with the early dialogues that did not set out from the first to reach positive results, the middle ones are extraordinarily and surprisingly positive and hence destroy the basis of the Socratic circle. The questions and answers are purposely directed to some specific new theories; most of them are not directly related to the topics or the main questions of the dialogues. They are suggested when Socrates draws the attention of the interlocutor away from the main question because of the necessity of another discussion. Even if the main question remains unanswered, we have still many positive theories, prominently of metaphysical type. These theories are so abundant and dominant in these dialogues, especially Phaedo and Republic, that one might think that they may appear to be arbitrarily sandwiched in there. This helps dialogues to keep their original Socratic structure while they are suggesting new theories. Hence, the Socratic question of 'what is X?', though is still used to launch the discussion, is loosened and is forgotten for most part of the dialogues. Meno that has first a differently formulated question, 'can virtue be taught?', leads finally to the Socratic question of 'What is virtue?'. Phaedo is dedicated to the demonstration of the immortality of soul and the life after death without having a central Socratic question. The case of Republic is more complicated. The first book, on the one hand, has all the criteria of a Socratic circle: its 'what is justice?' question, Socrates’ strong disavowal (e.g. 337d-e), his rejection of all answers and coming back to the first point without finding out any answer. This Book, considered alone, is a perfect Socratic dialogue, as many scholars regard it as early and separated from other books. The books II-X are, on the other hand, far from implementing a Socratic circle. They have still the 'what is justice?' question as their incentive leading question, but they are, in most of the positive doctrines and methods that encompass the main parts, ignoring the question. Even these books that, I believe, are the farthest discussions from the Socratic circle are so cautious not to break the Socratic structure of the dialogue as long as it is possible. What is changed is not the structure of the dialogue but the ontological and epistemological grounds based on which new theories are suggested. -/- 1. Knowledge of the Good We can clearly see in the second group of dialogues that the KWX principle loses the place it had before in our first group. It is not, of course, rejected, but still we cannot say that it has the same situation. KWX that was based on Socratic question, as we discussed before, was the leading principle of the first Socrates’ epistemology and of the highest position. Other epistemological principles, SK directly and BE indirectly, were relying on Socratic question and therefore on KWX. Such a position does not belong to KWX from Meno on. What makes it different in the second Socrates is another principle that is needed it not only as its complementary principle but also as what is more fundamental. Plato, then, does not reject KWX in this period, but, it seems, he transcends to another more basic principle; a principle we shall call the principle of 'Knowledge of the Good' (KG): -/- KG Knowledge of X requires knowledge of the Good. -/- Whereas all the dialogues of our first group are free from any discuscon about KG, it bears a very important role in the second group so as becomes the superior principle of knowledge in Republic. Trying to solve the problem of teachability of virtue, Socrates says that it can be teachable only if it is a kind of knowledge because nothing can be taught to human beings but knowledge (ἐπιστήμην) (Meno 87c2). The dilemma will be, then, whether virtue is knowledge or not (c11-12) and since virtue is good, we can change the question to: whether is there anything good separate from knowledge (εἰ μέν τί ἐστιν ἀγαθὸν καὶ ἄλλο χωριζόμενον ἐπιστήμης) (d4-5). Therefore, the conclusion will be that if there is nothing good which knowledge does not encompass, virtue can be nothing but knowledge (d6-8). What let us discuss KG as an epistemological principle for the second Secrates is the relation he tries to establish between knowledge and the Good which, though is alongside with the mentioned thesis and the idea of virtue as knowledge, goes much deeper inside epistemology asking to regard the Good as the basis of knowledge. The effort of Phaedo cannot succeed in establishing the Good as the criterion of explanation and knowledge since, I think, it needs a far more complicated ontology of Republic where Socrates can finally announce KG. What is said in Republic is totally compatible with Phaedo 99d–e and the metaphor of watching an eclipse of the sun. In spite of the fact that we do not have adequate knowledge of the Idea of the Good, it is necessary for every kind of knowledge: 'If we do not know it, even if we know all other things, it is of no benefit to us without it' (505a6-7). The problem of our not having sufficient knowledge of the Idea of Good is tried to be solved by the same method of Phaedo 99d-e, that is to say, by looking at what is like instead of looking at thing itself (506d8-e4). It is this solution that leads to the comparison of the Good with sun in the allegory of Sun (508b12-13). What the Good is in the intelligible realm corresponds to what the sun is in the visible realm; as sun is not sight, but is its cause and is seen by it (b9-10), the Good is so regarding knowledge. It has, then, the same role for knowledge that the sun has for sight. Socrates draws our attention to the function of sun in our seeing. The eyes can see everything only in the light of the day being unable to see the same things in the gloom of night (508c4-6). Without the sun, our eyes are dimmed and blind as if they do not have clear vision any longer (c6-7). That the Good must have the same role about knowledge based on the analogy means that it must be considered as a required condition of any kind of knowledge: -/- The soul, then, thinks (νόει) in the same way: whenever it focuses on what is shined upon by truth and being, understands (ἐνόησέν), knows (ἔγνω) and apparently possesses understanding (νοῦν ἔχειν). (508d4-6) -/- Socrates does not use agathon in this paragraph and substitutes it with both aletheia and to on. He links them with the Idea of the Good when he is to assert the conclusion of the analogy: -/- That which gives truth to the objects of knowledge and the power of knowing to the knower, you must say, is the Idea of the Good: being the cause of knowledge and truth (αἰτίαν δ᾽ ἐπιστήμης οὖσαν καὶ ἀληθείας) so far as it is known (ὡς γιγνωσκομένης μὲν διανοοῦ). (508e1-4) Knowledge and truth are called goodlike (ἀγαθοειδῆ) since they are not the same as the Good but more honoured (508e6-509a5). KG, which had been implicitly contemplated and searched in Phaedo, is now explicitly being asserted in Republic. As what was quoted clearly proves, this principle is the very one which we can observe as the most fundamental principle of the second Socrates in Republic, corresponding to the role KWX had in the first Socrates. The Form of the Good in Republic, of which Santas speaks as 'the centerpiece of the canonical Platonism of the middle dialogues, the centerpiece of Plato’s metaphysics, epistemology, ethics and …' (1983, 256) much more can be said. Plato’s Cave allegory in Book VIII dedicates a similar role to the Idea of the Good. The Idea of the Good is there as the last thing to be seen in the knowable realm, something so important that its seeing equals to understanding the fact that it is the cause of all that is correct and beautiful (517b). Producing both light and its source in visible realm, it controls and provides truth and understanding in the intelligible realm (517c). -/- 2. Tripartite Epistemology BE is thoroughy rejected in the second Socrates and substituted by its opposite, the principle of 'Tripartite Epistemolgy' (TE): -/- TE Opinion is an epistemological status between knowledge and ignorance. BE of the first Socrates was denying any third way besides knowledge and ignorance which was the foundation of Socratic circle without which Socrates could not reject his interlocutors’ possessing any kind of knowledge. We cannot say, however, that the first Socrates had a third epistemological status in mind but rejected it. Such a status was unacceptable for him so that one can say that he would reject any kind of such status if suggested. There were only two possibilities about knowledge: either one knows something or he does not know it. TE, thus, was not the first Socrates’ discovery and, I think it is not the second Socrates’discovery. All we can see in our second group of dialouges is that he uses this principle as an already demonstrated one. Having examined the slave boy in Meno for the prupose of showing the working of recollection, it truns out that he has some opinions in him while he still does not know. Without trying to prove it, Socrates takes this as the distinction between knowledge and opinion: -/- So, he who does not know (οὐκ εἰδότι) about what he does not know (περὶ ὧν ἂν μὴ εἰδῇ) has within himself true opinions (ἀληθεῖς δόξαι) about the same things he did not know (περὶ τούτων ὧν οὐκ οἶδε) (85c6-7). -/- The same distinction is set between ὀρθὴν δόξαν and ἐπιστήμην at 97b5-6 ff. (also cf. 97b1-2: ὀρθῶς μὲν δοξάζων … ἐπιστάμενος). He connects then their difference to the myth of Daedalus, the statue that would run away and escape. So are true opinions, not willing to remain long in mind and thus not worthy until one ties them down by αἰτίας λογισμῷ (98a3-4). Socrates says that this tying down is anamnesis. We face, in Phaedo, the same relation is settled between knowledge as the process of being tied down and getting the capability to give an account, on the one hand, and anamnesis, on the other hand. When a man knows, he must be able to give an account of what he knows (Phaedo 76b5-6) and since not all people are able to give such an account, those who recollect, recollect what once they learned (76c4). Although the distinction between knowledge and opinion is not explicitly used in Phaedo, referring to the parallel link between knowledge plus account and anamnesis in Phaedo and Meno, one can say that those who cannot recollect are not able to give account and, thus, are in a state of opinion. What is said at Phaedo 84a, though not yet a definite distinction between knowledge and opinion, makes a distinction between their objects so as we can agree that it is presupposed. The soul of the philosopher, Socrates says, follows reason, stays with it forever and contemplates the divine, which is not the object of opinoin (ἀδόξαστον) (84a8, cf. Meno 98b2-5). The distinction of knowledge and belief in Republic has a significant difference with what we discussed in Meno and Phaedo since the distinction of Meno was based on anamnesis and thus more an epistemological distinction. Even in Phaedo that we do not have any elaborate discussion about the distinction, the only hint to the matter at 76 is bound to the theory of anamnesis. In addition to the relation of the distinction with this theory, there is another evidence that does not permit us to consider the distinction as an ontological distinction. Let’s see Meno 85c6-7: -/- So, he who does not know about what he does not know has within himself true opinions about the same things he did not know (τῷ οὐκ εἰδότι ἄρα περὶ ὧν ἂν μὴ εἰδῇ ἔνεισιν ἀληθεῖς δόξαι περὶ τούτων ὧν οὐκ οἶδε). (85c6-7) -/- This last sentence persists that the objects of knowledge and true opinion are the same. What Socrates is to say here is that whereas he does not know X he has true opinion about the same X. I think Socrates’ sentence that the slave boy οὐκ εἰδότι ἄρα περὶ ὧν ἂν μὴ εἰδῇ and his restatement of it by saying περὶ τούτων ὧν οὐκ οἶδε is because he wants to emphasize that the slave boy who does not know, has true opinion about the same thing. Socrates could say this just with using τούτων and there would be no necessity to bring περὶ ὧν ἂν μὴ εἰδῇ for οὐκ εἰδότι if he did not want to emphasize. -/- 3. Tripartite Ontology The distinction between knowledge and true opinion in Republic, on other side, has nothing to do with recollection, but is based on an ontological principle, 'Tripartite Ontology' (TO): -/- TO There are things that both are and are not. -/- This principle I confine, among our three dialogues of the second group, to Republic not extended to Meno and Phaedo, is obviously the opposite of BO. Speaking about the lovers of sights and sounds in the fifth book, Socrates distinguishes them from philosophers because their thought is unable to understand the nature of beautiful itself besides beautiful things (476a6-8) and hence they can only have opinions. The philosopher who, on the contrary, believes in beautiful itself and can distinguish it from beautiful things (476c9-d3), has knowledge because he knows, contrasting others who have opinion because they only opine (d5-6). Since those whose knowledge were degraded as opinion will complain about Socrates’ such calling their thought, he provides them the following argument (476e7-477b1): -/- - Does the person who knows, knows (γιγνώσκει) something (τὶ) or nothing (οὐδέν)? - He knows something (τί). - Something that is (ὂν) or is not (οὐκ ὄν)? - Something that is (ὂν) for how could something that is not be known (πῶς γὰρ ἂν μὴ ὄν γέ τι γνωσθείη)? - Then we have an adequate grasp of this: No matter how many ways we examine it, what completely is (παντελῶς ὂν) is completely knowable (παντελῶς γνωστόν) and what is in no way (μὴ ὂν δὲ μηδαμῇ) is in every way unknowable (πάντῃ ἄγνωστον). - A most adequate one. - Good. Now, if anything is such as to be and also not to be (ὡς εἶναί τε καὶ μὴ εἶναι), won’t it be intermediate (μεταξὺ) between what purely is (εἰλικρινῶς ὄντος) and what in no way is (μηδαμῇ ὄντος)? - Yes, it’s intermediate. - Then as knowledge (γνῶσις) is set over what is (τῷ ὄντι), while ignorance (ἀγνωσία) is of necessity set over what is not (μὴ ὄντι) mustn’t we find an intermediate between ignorance (ἀγνοίας) and knowledge (ἐπιστήμης) to be set over the intermediate, if there is such a thing? -/- From the third status of being we must reach to the third status of knowledge. The simple reading of this text can be an existential reading, taking the "is" of the mentioned sentences as existence. The problem is that when it is said that there is something that both is and is not reading "is" existentially, it sounds too bizarre to be acceptable. It cannot easily be understandable to have something as both existent and non-existent at the same time. This problem arose so many debates and led many scholars to reject the existential reading of "is" and suggest some other readings like predicative or veridical readings. I think though Plato’s complicated ontology of Republic cannot be correctly understood by a simple existential reading, this "is" cannot be free from existential sense of being and, thus, cannot be reduced to just a predicative or veridical sense of being. -/- 4. Bound Knowledges In addition to KG, the Good is also the basis of another principle in the second Socrates, namely the principle of 'Bound Knowledge' (BK): -/- BK Knowledge of everything is bound to the knowledge of the Good. -/- We distinguished BK from KG because we want to insist, in BK, on what had not been insisted upon in KG, that is, the binding role that the Good plays in the second Socrates, contrasting the absence of such a role in the first Socrates. Socrates remembers, in Phaedo, his wonderful keen on natural philosophers' wisdom when he was young. The origin of this enthusiasm was Socrates’ hope to know the cause of everything as they used to claim. When he was searching the matters of his interest on their basis, Socrates says, he became convinced he can get no acceptable answer from them and found himself blind even to the things he thought he knew before. One day he hears Anaxagoras’ theory that 'it is Mind that arranges and is the cause of everything (ὡς ἄρα νοῦς ἐστιν ὁ διακοσμῶν τε καὶ πάντων αἴτιος)' (Phd. 97c1-2 cf. DK, Fr.15.8-9, 11-12, 12-14) and thinks that he can finally find what he has always expected, i.e. something which can explain all things. What I intend to show here is that what makes Socrates hopeful is that Anaxagoras’ theory tries 1) to explain all things by one thing and 2) this explanation is understood by Socrates as if it is based on the concept of the Good. That Socrates was searching for one explanation for all things can be proved even from what he has been expecting from natural philosophers. The case is, nonetheless, more clearly asserted when he speaks about Anaxagoras’ theory. In addition to διακοσμῶν τε καὶ πάντων αἴτιος of 97c2 mentioned above, we have τὸ τὸν νοῦν εἶναι πάντων αἴτιον (c3-4) and τόν γε νοῦν κοσμοῦντα πάντα κοσμεῖν (c4-5) all emphasizing on the cause of all things (πάντα) which can clearly prove that one of the reasons which caused Socrates to embrace it delightfully was its claim to provide the cause of all things by one thing. Another reason was that Anaxagoras’ Mind, at least in Socrates’ view, was attempting to explain everything by the concept of the Good. This connection between Mind and Good belongs more to the essential relation they have in Socrates’ thinking than Anaxagoras’ theory because there are almost nothing about such a relation in Anaxagoras. The reason for Socrates’ reading can be that Mind is substantially compatible with Socrates’ idea of the relation between good and knowledge. Both the thesis 'no one does wrong willingly' and the theory of virtue as knowledge we pointed to above are evidences of this essential relation. Nobody who knows that something is bad can choose or do it as bad. The reason, when it is reason, that means when it is as it should be, when it is wise or when it knows, works only based on good-choosing. In this context, when Socrates hears that Mind is considered as the cause of everything, it sounds to him like this: good should be regarded as the basis of the explanation of all things. We see him, thus, passing from the former to the latter without any proof. This is done in the second sentence after introducing Mind: -/- I thought that if this were so, the arranging Mind would arrange all things and put each thing in the way that was Best (ὅπῃ ἂν βέλτιστα ἔχῃ). If one then wished to find the cause of each thing by which it either perishes or exists, one needs to find what is the best way (βέλτιστον αὐτῷ ἐστιν) for it to be, or to be acted upon, or to act. On these premises then it befitted a man to investigate only, about this and other things, what is the most excellent (ἄριστον) and best (βέλτιστον). The same man must inevitably also know what is worse (χεῖρον), for that is part of the same knowledge. (97c4-d5) This passage is a good evidence of Socrates’ leap from Anaxagoras’ Mind to his own concept of the Good that can explain why Socrates found Anaxagoras theory after his own heart (97d7). Mind is welcomed because of its capability for explanation on the basis of good to 'explain why it is so of necessity, saying which is better (ἄμεινον), and that it was better (ἄμεινον) to be so' (97e1-3). What Socrates thought he had found in Anaxagoras can indicate what he had been expecting from natural scientists before. Socrates could not be satisfied with their explanations because they were unable to explain how it is the best for everything to be as it is. It can probably be said, then, that it was the lack of the unifying Good in their explanation that had disappointed him. We must insist that we are discussing what Socrates thought that Anaxagoras’ theory of Mind should have been, not about Anaxagoras’ actual way of using Mind. Phaedo 97c-98b, is not about what Socrates found in Anaxagoras but what he thought he could find in it. On the contrary, it should also be noted that it was not this that was dashed at 98b, but Anaxagoras’ actual way of using Mind. It was Anaxagoras’ fault not to find out how to use such an excellent thesis (98b8-c2, cf. 98e-99b). Socrates gives an example to show how not believing in 'good' as the basis of explanation makes people be wanderers between different unreal explanations of a thing. His words δέον συνδεῖν (binding that binds together) as a description for the Good we chose as the name of BK principle: They do not believe that the truly good and binding binds and holds them together (ὡς ἀληθῶς τὸ ἀγαθὸν καὶ δέον συνδεῖν καὶ συνέχειν οὐδὲν οἴονται). (99c5-6) -/- Having in mind Plato’s well-known analogy of the sun and the Good at Republic 508-509, we can dare to say that his warning of the danger of seeing the truth directly like one watching an eclipse of the sun in Phaedo (99d-e) is more about the difficulty of so-called good-based explanation than its insufficiency, a difficulty which is precisely confirmed in Republic (504e-505a, 506d-e). Moreover, BK is asserted in a more explicit way in the Republic, where the Good is considered not only as a condition for the knowledge of X, as was noted above discussing KG, but also as what binds all the objects of knowledge and also the soul in its knowing them. At Republic VI, 508e1-3, when Socrates says that the Form of the Good 'gives truth to the things known and the power to know to the knower (τοῦτο τοίνυν τὸ τὴν ἀλήθειαν παρέχον τοῖς γιγνωσκομένοις καὶ τῷ γιγνώσκοντι τὴν δύναμιν ἀποδιδὸν)', he wants to set the Good at the highest point of his epistemological structure by which all the elements of this structure are bound. This binding aspect of the Good is by no means a simple binding of all knowledges or all the objects of knowledge, but the most complicated kind of binding as it is expected from the author of the Republic. The kind of unity the Good gives to the different knowledges of different things is comparable with the unity which each Form gives to its participants in Republic: as all the participants of a Form are united by referring to the ideas, all different kinds of knowledge are united by referring to the Good. If we observe Aristotle's assertion that for Plato and the believers of Forms, the causative relation of the One with the Forms is the same as that of the Forms with particulars (e.g. Metaphysics 988a10-11, 988b4), that is to say the One is the essence (e.g., ibid, 988a10-11: τοῦ τί ἐστὶν, 988b4-6: τὸ τί ἢν εἶναί) of the Forms besides his statement that for them One is the Good (e.g., ibid, 988b11-13) the relation between the Good and unity may become more understandable. Since the quiddity of the Good (τί ποτ᾽ ἐστὶ τἀγαθὸν) is more than discussion (506d8-e2), we cannot await Socrates to tell us how this binding role is played. All we can expect is to hear from him an analogy by which this unifying role is envisaged, the sun. The kind of unity that the Good gives to the knowledge and its objects in the intelligible realm is comparable to the unity that the sun gives to the sight and its objects in the visible realm (508b-c). The allegory of Line (Republic VI, 509d-511), like that of the Sun, tries to bind all various kinds of knowledges. The hierarchical model of the Line which encompasses all kinds of knowledge from imagination to understanding can clearly be considered as Plato’s effort to bind all kinds of knowledges by a certain unhypothetical principle. The method of hypothesis starts, in the first subsection of the intelligible realm, with a hypothesis that is not directed firstly to a principle but a conclusion (510b4-6). It proceeds, in the other subsection, to a 'principle which is not a hypothesis' (b7) and is called the 'unhypothetical principle of all things' (ἀνυποθέτου ἐπὶ τὴν τοῦ παντὸς ἀρχὴν) (511b6-7). This παντὸς must refer not only to the objects of the intelligible realm but to the sensible objects as well. Plato does posit, therefore, an epistemological principle for all things, a principle that all things are, epistemologically, bound and, thus, unified by. -/- 5. Bound Beings The ontological aspect of BK we shall call the principle of 'Bound Beings' (BB): -/- BB Being of all things are bound by the Good. -/- We saw in our principle of Split Being (SB) how the first Socrates was criticized because of his approach to split being and separate each thing from other things. The principle of Bound Beings intends to make the things more related, a duty which is done again by the Good. In the allegory of Sun, there are two paragraphs that evidently and deliberately extend the binding role of the Good to the ontological scene: -/- You will say that the sun not only makes the visible things have the ability of being seen but also coming to be, growth and nourishment. (509b2-4) -/- This clearly intends to remind the ontological role the sun plays in bringing to being all the sensible things in order to display how its counterpart has the same role in the intelligible realm (b6-10): -/- Not only the objects of knowledge (γιγνωσκομένοις) owe their being known (γιγνώσκεσθαι) to the Good, but also their existence (τὸ εἶναί) and their being (οὐσίαν) are due to it, though the Good is not being but superior to it in rank and power. That the Good is here represented as responsible for being of things in addition to their being known means, in my opinion, that Plato wants to posit BB in addition to BK. The allegory of Cave at the very beginning of the seventh Book (514aff.) can be taken as another evidence. The role of the Good, one might say, is confined to the intelligible realm because it is asserted that the role the Good plays in this realm is corresponding to that of the sun in the visible realm. The fact that Plato wants to observe the Good also as the ontological cause of the sensible things is obvious from his saying, in the allegory of Cave, that the Form of the Good 'produces light and its source (τὸν τούτου κύριον) [i.e. the sun] in the visible realm' (517c3). We can conclude, then, that the ontological function of the Good is not confined to the intelligible realm in which it is the lord and provides truth and understanding (c3-4) because it is also responsible to produce τὸν κύριον of light. 6. Proportionality of Being and Knowledge Insofaras BE and BO principles of the first Socrates gave way to TE and TO principles of the second Socrates, we cannot expect him to preserve KB in the same way as it was in the first Socrates. The new tripartite ontology and epistemology necessitates some modifications in KB which results in the principle of 'Proportionality of Being and Knowledge' (PBK): -/- PBK To every class of being there is a proportionate category of knowledge. -/- This principle, of course, does not entail the refutation of KB and thus is not kind of rejecting PBK but only a more complicated version of it. Based on PBK, we can still agree that knowledge is of being (KB) but the issue is that since none of the concepts of knowledge and being in the second Socrates are as simple as they were for the first Socrates, we need a more complicated principle for their relation here. Although from Meno 97a where the distinction of knowledge and true opinion is drawn out in the second group of the dialogues, we can expect a new relation, it is articulated in its most complete way in Republic and specifically in the allegory of Line. All the beings are divided there hierarchically to four classes, to each of them belongs a class of knowledge: imagination to images, belief to the sensible things (more correctly: the things of which they[in previous class] were images (ᾧ τοῦτο ἔοικεν)), thought to mathematical objects (?) and understanding to the Forms and the first principle. The degree of clarity that each of the classes of knowledge shares in (σαφηνείας ἡγησάμενος μετέχειν) is proportionate to the degree that its object shares in truth (ἀληθείας μετέχει). (511e2-4) -/- Conclusion From the six onto-epistemilogical principles of the first Socrates, four principles turn to their opposite in the middle period dialogues. While bipolar epistemology and ontology of the early dialogues give place to tripartite epistemology in the middle period dialogues and tripartite ontology in Republic, the split knowledge and being of the first Socrates are inclined to be substituted by bound knowledges and bound beings in the second Socrates and specifically in Republic. Not all our system of principles in this article is necessarily determinative. Either they are rightly formulated or not, our result would not be vulnerable if we accept that 1) making the distinction of knowledge and belief, 2) accepting the being of not being and 3) trying to bind both being and knowledge by the concept of the Good happens only in middle period dialogues, having been absent in the early ones. These are the favourite results all those somehow arbitrary and even oversimplified principles were to illustrate; that there is kind of a development in the epistemological as well as the ontological grounds of Plato’s philosophy. -/- Notes . (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Genres in Dialogue: Plato and the Construct of PhilosophyDavid EngelAndrea Wilson Nightingale. Genres in Dialogue: Plato and the Construct of Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. xiv + 222 pp. Cloth, $57.95.The old saw "Everybody's a comedian" has its counterpart in contemporary academia: "Everybody's a philosopher." Biologists. Psychologists. Linguists. Physicists. Anthropologists. Historians. Even jurists. Many scholars of comparative literature, English, and history can be heard (...) describing what they do, not as literary criticism or history, but as "philosophy." One may even wonder whether we need philosophy departments anymore. Philosophy's private domain has shrunk from what it was under Aristotle (just about every subject short of wagon repair) to its present emaciated condition: it can claim almost nothing for itself alone. The other disciplines have encroached upon it bit by bit. This book is a timely contribution to an important current issue: what is philosophy, [End Page 316] and what does it have to offer? Nightingale argues that Plato faced similar questions. Rhetoricians, tragedians, and comedians all peddled what they had to say as wise (sophon), while dismissing other claims and pursuits as foolishness or worse. Against them and their respective discourses Plato proposed a new candidate: philosophia.Prior to Plato, philosophia meant just "intellectual cultivation." According to Nightingale, it was Plato who made it into a full-blown discipline--or, as she says, invented the discourse. As a way of privileging philosophia (in Plato's new sense of the word) above rival discourses, he parodied them. Nightingale's claims about the parody of other genres and Plato's privileging of philosophia are novel, insightful, and very persuasive. Perhaps it is overstatement to credit Plato with inventing philosophy, but that hardly diminishes the overall impression of this fine book's main arguments.Among Plato's contemporaries, the foremost challenger for the title "practitioner (and teacher) of sophia" was Isocrates. Nightingale uses his Antidosis to show that (1) Isocrates wanted to claim philosophia for himself, and (2) his version of philosophia was significantly different from Plato's. She concludes that the term was still a subject of genuine contention: its meaning mattered to both Plato and Isocrates. As Isocrates advocates rhetorike as philosophia, Plato argues that philosophy is both different from rhetoric and better than rhetoric. Rhetoric aims, ultimately, at public utility as the public perceives that utility, and rhetoric's value is gauged only by the political influence of those who practice it. Plato rejects that entire value system. At bottom it is also the value system of the other genres which, as Nightingale persuasively shows, Plato also parodies.Plato's "parody" (Nightingale's use of the word is broad, but unexceptionable) is "a device for defining and privileging his own pursuits" (59). Moving from rhetoric to tragedy, she considers Gorgias' echoes of Euripides' Antiope. Plato's parody of tragedy subtly criticizes tragedy qua discourse. The tragedian is "ignorant of truth... imitating appearances... gratifying the multitude... fostering the inferior part of the soul," that is, he is precisely what the philosopher is not (67). Socrates and Callicles evoke Euripidean characters: respectively, Amphion (who advocates a private life devoted to the liberal arts) and Zethus (who argues for a life of political activity) (69-70). Plato's unambiguous allusions to Antiope juxtapose not only Socrates and Callicles (and, through them, two irreconcilable views of what philosophy is) but also the tragic hero and the philosophical one (72-73). Plato's "life of the mind for its own sake" orientation wins, ultimately, in both comparisons. Furthermore, just as Amphion's arguments fail to persuade Zethus in Antiope but are eventually vindicated by Hermes' appearance at the play's conclusion, so too Socrates' arguments fail to convince Callicles, and Gorgias' concluding underworld myth parallels Antiope's deus ex machina: affirmation that the view which had been rejected (Amphion's and Socrates') was right, after all (87-88). [End Page 317]Nightingale then examines encomium. Publicly performed epitaphioi and their fictive counterparts (e.g., Menexenus) influenced one another, and the techniques of the encomium, although salient in that genre, occurred elsewhere, including deliberative and forensic situations. In her view, Plato's concern is not narrowly with encomium... (shrink)

Independent on Sunday October 2nd One of the country's lead­ing philosophical counsellers, and chairman of the Society for Philosophy in Practice (SPP), Tim LeBon, said it typically took around six 50 ­minute sessions for a client to move from confusion to resolution. Mr LeBon, who has 'published a book on the subject, Wise Therapy, said philoso­phy was perfectly suited to this type of therapy, dealing as it does with timeless human issues such as love, purpose, happiness and emo­tional challenges. (...) `Wise Therapy, is part of a series aimed at promoting an integrative attitude as its ethos. Among all the many perspectives of psychotherapists and counselors, philosophy needs to take its place and needs to find its voice. Tim LeBon has provided an effective means by which counselors can bring philosophy into their work with clients' - APPA journal `Tim Le Bon's Wise Therapy is a comprehensible and well argued book dealing with the practical therapeutic applications of philosophical research that may well be of interest to philosophers but -- as the author himself intends -- will be of most obvious benefit to therapists and counselors, both by informing their dialogue with clients in new ways and by helping them become more informed about ways to resolve the ethical dilemmas arising within the context of their own work' - Metapsychology `A fascinating workshop for therapists and clients, backed up a thorough degree if philosophical acuity' - Journal of the Society for Existential Analysis `I strongly recommend the book for philosophers as well as practitioners, teachers, students and supervisors in counselling and psychotherapy' - Self and Society `Provides some additional and valuable arrows for the therapist's quiver' - Irvin Yalom, author of Love's Executioner `Like Aristotle, Tim LeBon examines what is said and extracts what is best from it…. There are many fascinating exercises designed to bring out and enlighten the client's values, conception of the good life, well-being, happiness, pleasure, and the proper place of reason in life…. Wise Therapy is well written and engaging. The case histories are illuminating examples of therapeutic techniques at work, the thought experiments are well designed, and the philosophical position adapted from the internal debates of the philosophers is level headed…. I recommend it highly to philosophers with an interest in counselling, and psychological counsellors with an interest in philosophy' - Jeff Mason, The Philosophers' Magazine `Tim LeBon has… authored a text which should become a staple on the philosophical counsellor's bookshelf…. Wise Therapy is a concise, well-written book…. His ability to relate philosophical concepts to counselling concerns is admirable and attests to the skill and knowledge he possesses as a working counsellor. But, by far the most important part of Tim LeBon's book to PC is the last chapter, "The Counsellor's Philosophical Toolbox"' - Craig Munns in The Examined Life ` Tim LeBon has done a good job of offering practical approaches to some of the most important and vexing issues that arise in counselling…. Tim LeBon's book contains helpful suggestions, practical information, and useful examples, and would make a good addition to the library of any counsellors willing to allow philosophy to turn mere client sessions into wise therapy' - Peter Raabe, Practical Philosophy Wise Therapy is an original and practical guide to how philosophy can benefit counselling and psychotherapy. Tim LeBon argues that therapy, informed by philosophy, can help clients make better decision and achieve emotional wisdom. He uses philosophical approaches to explore issues of right and wrong, the emotions and reasons, well-being and the meaning of life, and develops a 'counsellor's toolbox' of techniques that can help practitioners apply the wisdom of philosophy to good therapeutic practice. For counsellors who may find philosophical approaches to therapy useful, this work addresses key philosophical topics - the emotions, free will, the meaning of life and ethics. It is jargon-free where possible and assumes no previous philosophical training. From The Independent, 16th November 2004 Plato is my agony aunt It was the end of a love affair that broke her heart. Could the wisdom of the great philosophers show her how to be happy again? Claire Smith tries a novel form of therapy "The unexamined life is not worth living," Socrates said. Nor is the life you're left with after your boyfriend has left you for another woman - at least, that's how it felt in October last year when mine broke rank and went off with an art student from Cleveland, Ohio. We were over there for the opening of his new art exhibition. He'd flown over four days before me and had met her at a party. Supposedly, they "connected". The five months that followed were a roller-coaster of confusion, vitriol and despair. I knew there'd been problems in our relationship. We saw the world very differently; he delighted in the charm of the ordinary, I wanted maximum divinity. He walked; I galloped. He drank tea; I loathed the stuff. But, along the banks of the Thames, we'd made a promise to always stick together. Our love was something unique: "transcendental", I called it. And besides, we recycled. Surely a commitment to save the world would save our relationship? Alas, no. So there I was, a woman scorned. Hell truly hath no greater fury. And what made it worse was that I still believed in our transcendental love. If I wanted to change the way I was feeling, I needed to alter the way I was thinking. But how? A few bottles of wine and a sharp blow to the head might have done the trick. Fortunately, there's an older, more trusted way of turning your head on its head that counsellors are starting to use: philosophy. The idea of employing Plato as an agony aunt was begun in 1981 by the German philosopher Gerd Achenbach. Although philosophy spends a lot of its time asking real-life questions that affect real-life people - What is happiness? And is it always wrong to lie? - most of the debate goes on in ivory towers. What Achenbach and subsequent philosophers including Tim LeBon, the chairman of the UK's Society for Philosophy in Practice, wanted to do was "give practical application" to this gigantic library of great thoughts. So how does it work? Like most types of therapy, you sign up for a set of sessions. "Two would give you a new perspective on one issue; six would help you to make a major life-decision, like a career change; with 12 you can start to rethink your entire life philosophy," explains LeBon. Each session lasts 50 minutes and costs £50 - and, no, you don't have to have any previous knowledge of philosophy. "If you think of Friends, it would suit Ross and Chandler more than Joey," LeBon says. "It's for anyone who wants to make their emotions more intelligent. Or for those who have tried other kinds of therapy, and want something more cerebral." The first session begins with the patient venting off about whatever's troubling them. The rant over, the counsellor then picks out some key concepts that are crucial to the problem - in the case of heartbreak, it is love and happiness that come hurtling to the fore - and then gets the patient to define what they mean. So, what is love? What is happiness? To kick-start the patient's thinking, LeBon describes what a great philosopher had to say about it. In my case, he tells me what Plato wrote about love in his Symposium: that to stop man fighting the gods, Zeus decided to cut each human in two, so they would lose their strength. "This, then, is the source of our desire to love each other," Plato said. "Each of us is a 'matching half' of a human whole, because each was sliced like a flatfish, two out of one, and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him." This method of probing what we might think are "obvious" ideas, such as love and happiness, was devised by Socrates in the squares of Athens. "The only I thing I know is that I know nothing at all," he boasted. What Socrates showed was that although many of the thinkers of his time thought they knew what justice, happiness and goodness meant, their understanding was tied in to their personal agenda and world view, and, what's more, when pushed, their ideas often contradicted themselves. A bit like me on love. Whereas part of my understanding of love was something that gave life meaning, made it worth living and bound us together, I also believed that true love was "transcendental": that it was out of this world, and it didn't matter if the two people who loved each other couldn't get along in the day-to-day. Love was bigger than the mundane. But when it came to the next stage of the therapy, critical thinking - "to check out whether your assumptions stand up to examination" - I walked head first into a contradiction. If I think love's purpose is to make life worth living, but then say it's irrelevant to daily life, surely my two ideas of love are not compatible? As the cogs in my brain start to creak into motion, I feel myself taking a step back from my predicament: thinking about how I've been thinking. This idea I had of transcendental love might have started off as a romantic dream. But when the relationship stopped working, and I found myself feeling trapped and frustrated, I used it to justify the mechanics of a relationship that just didn't work in the daily grind. I used it to lie to myself. In the final stage, LeBon gets me to start thinking about how to go forward. "You can't change what has happened," he says. "You can't change that he's left you, or how you behaved in the relationship. So, as the Stoics did, let's work on controlling the controllables: the things that you can change." To work out what can be changed, he gets me to try out a thought experiment, a method often used in philosophy to imagine other worlds where people can have different codes of behaviour. Thought experiments shatter your preconceived ideas of how the world should be and let your imagination run wild to how the world could be. "I find Viktor Frankl very useful here, the Austrian psychiatrist and concentration-camp survivor who actually believed that everything in life happens for a purpose," LeBon says. "Suppose this break-up did happen for a reason that will work to your benefit," he suggests. "What might that be? The answer might be that you can now focus on something important that was denied in the relationship. Or - the Hollywood version - so you'll meet someone who is really right for you." Temporarily freed of any sense of responsibility for the relationship that was, and its sorry demise, the list came fast. I could now travel more; he didn't like me travelling on my own, but too often he didn't want to go anywhere, preferring to stay in his studio and make art. I'd love to meet someone with a similar sense of adventure to mine. For the first time in two years, I was being honest with myself about what I really wanted - listening to those voices that we all have inside our heads, and too often try to muzzle. So did philosophy save me? Well, I'm now dating a travel writer I have to run to keep up with. I still haven't got over the fact that my replacement came from Cleveland, Ohio. But I guess I never will. Tim LeBon can be reached by e-mail at [email protected] A FEW WORDS FROM THE WISE Compiled by Ed Caesar · "At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet" - Plato · "There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness" - Friedrich Nietzsche · "That man shall live as his own master and in happiness who can say each day 'I have lived'" - Horace · "The good of man is the active exercise of his soul's faculties in conformity with excellence or virtue... Moreover this activity must occupy a complete lifetime; for one swallow does not make spring, nor does one fine day; and similarly one day or a brief period of happiness does not make a man supremely blessed and happy" - Aristotle · "There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than friendship" - Thomas Aquinas · "Whatever you do... love those who love you" - Voltaire · "Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination" - Immanuel Kant · "Happiness is a state of which you are unconscious. The moment you are aware that you are happy, you cease to be happy" - Jiddu Krishnamurti · "Love is an ideal thing. Marriage is a real thing" - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe I shrink, therefore I am Therapy has many answers, but some questions require the help of a philosopher, says Clint Witchalls Sunday November 21, 2004 The Observer Danny had worked in the City of London for 10 years. As a research analyst, stockbroker and fund manager, he'd made a lot of valuable contacts, earnt a lot of cash, and learnt some important business skills. However, as he approached his mid-thirties, he no longer felt good about himself or what he did for a living, and he found his colleagues cold and unfriendly. A chronic illness made him realise his mortality, and he began to reassess his priorities. Danny had been struggling with his career conundrum for nearly five years when he met David Arnaud, a philosophical counsellor. After a few soul-searching sessions, Danny arrived at a decision. Today, he teaches economics to sixth-formers, and he loves it. 'It's a much better lifestyle,' he says. Many people are turning to philosophical counsellors to get answers to questions such as: 'How do I make sense of myself?' 'What is important to me?' 'Where am I going?' These are perhaps not the sort of questions that require psychiatric intervention, but Arnaud, who recently completed the first empirical study of philosophical counselling in the UK, has found that within just five sessions the majority of clients, with important decisions to make, tend to move from a state of concern and confusion to a resolution. Modern philosophical counselling can be traced back to 1981, when the philosopher Gerd Achenbach opened the first practice near Cologne. Achenbach referred to the new discipline as 'therapy for the sane.' Today, there are hundreds of philosophical counsellors around the world, with the movement particularly strong in the US, Britain and the Netherlands. 'The dilemmas people face aren't always primarily psychological,' says Alex Howard, a philosophical counsellor from Newcastle. 'If people face problems that are social or economic, it doesn't make sense to define their problems in purely psychological terms.' Tim LeBon, a founder member of the Society for Philosophy in Practice (SPP) and author of Wise Therapy, adds: 'We are faced with far more life choices than our grandparents, yet have far fewer resources to deal with them. Our grandparents may have gone to a priest or to other family members for advice; most people don't trust these solutions any more and so want to make their own well-informed, well thought-out choices. Philosophical counselling can help these people - people in mid-life crises who are wondering how to make the most of the rest of their life. People who want to take stock of their values.' Where stressed executives might once have been prescribed a course of tranquillisers or antidepressants, they can now get a dose of Bertrand Russell instead: 'Success is too dearly purchased if all the other ingredients have been sacrificed to obtain it.' While some philosophical counsellors do recommend books for their clients to read, most sessions are about helping the client identify faulty thoughts. For example, a briefing in Aristotelian logic might show a client why their beliefs are erroneous. The person might infer that they're a screw-up because they've screwed up. The counsellor could point out that they're making an error called 'fallacy of composition' - that is, what's true of the part isn't necessarily true of the whole. In philosophical counselling, problems aren't pathologised as they are by the psychiatric profession, and the dialogue between client and counsellor is more like a meeting of equals, compared to many therapies where the client is treated like a patient and seen as someone who is, in some way, inadequate. 'Anybody can benefit from philosophical counselling,' says Howard. 'But it does require someone who is willing to take stock.' Lou Marinoff, author of international bestseller Plato Not Prozac! has done much to promote philosophical counselling. 'Some people who have stabilised their neurochemistry and validated their emotions now wish to examine or re-examine the criteria of their beliefs, the principles of their conduct, or the meaning of their lives,' he says. 'With whom shall they do this? Psychologists and psychiatrists can shed light on such issues - as can rabbis, priests, imams and gurus. Philosophers are now rejoining the ranks of helpers.' LeBon believes certain therapies (such as cognitive behavioural therapy) don't go far enough in helping their clients. 'For instance, if you are anxious about your relationship, a cognitive therapist would try to dispute your catastrophising and jump to conclusions to make you feel less anxious,' says LeBon. 'A philosophical counsellor would do this, but would also look for existential meaning in your anxiety - perhaps you really don't want to be in the relationship and that is what your anxiety is telling you.' LeBon also gives short shrift to psychoanalysts. 'There's very little evidence for the Freudian unconscious, and it's time to move on to more intellectually satisfying and helpful therapies,' he says. However, Alain de Botton, the man who popularised philosophy as self-help, isn't ready to bury psychologists and their ilk just yet. 'The truth is that psychoanalysis grew out of philosophy - it's not some completely new idea, and in fact, done properly, psychoanalysis is philosophical anyway. It may even be dangerous to the mental health of some people to suggest a philosopher rather than a properly trained analyst. The knowledge of analysts when it comes to many emotional problems is now much greater than that of most philosophers.' Guardian Unlimited © Guardian Newspapers Limited 2004. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:BOOK REVIEWS 87 Rationalism in Greek Philosophy. By George Boas. (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1961. Pp. xii + 488. $7.50.) This is an interesting and provocative work. It is not, as Boas warns his readers, a history of Greek philosophy in general. It is concerned, rather, with several large topics which the author uses to explicate the general theme of Greek rationalism. The topics chosen are: (...) the distinction between appearance and reality, the methods used to draw this distinction, the conception of human life, and ethics. The treatment of these topics, so central and important in the history of Greek thought, results in a work of very considerable scope. In temporal span also the work is substantial, for it studies and interprets these selected topics from the Pre-Socratics through the Neo-Platonists. The work is complex. Each chapter undertakes to resolve controversial questions both of textual and philosophical criticism. Boas's judgment in these matters is often insightful, always fresh and stimulating. In a difficult and compressed Preface, Boas explains what he understands by rationalism. Rationalism is described as a "systematic study" of accepted premises, which means, in part, the testing of the implications of accepted premises for logical consistency. A premise is, ideally, a generalization from experience, for "... general laws... are wanted in science and philosophy" (p. vii). But premises may sometimes be derivative from such sources as common sense or intuition. Whatever their source, premises and their implications must run the test of consistency and, in addition provide a "... verifiable account of an important set of facts" (p. x). Quite apart from the troubling remark about "general laws," two elements are mentioned in the Preface which constitute what Boas intends by "rationalism." One wonders at the beginning bow these methodological criteria will serve in the interpretation of Greek rationalism. Boas, in practice, uses a much more generous conception of rationalism as a method than that proposed in the Pre[ace.Sometimes rationalism stands for the appeal to reason or experience or both in contrast to the appeal to authority and revelation. It is toward the end of the book that one finds perhaps the best statement of rationalism as a method which has guided this study. Professor Boas writes, reflecting back on the course ol Greek thought: We know too little about the Milesians and the Pythagoreans to say more than that they translated the ancient myths of cosmic birth and decay into rational language. But when we come to the figures of lteraclitus, Parmenides, and Democritus, we meet with that independence of mind which seems to us characteristic of the great scientific investigators. The double role of reason, that of criticism and that of construction, was played wholeheartedly by them, and apparently the mere fact that a belief was traditional did not give it special plausibility. The same may be said of both Plato and Aristotle (p. ~54). It dearly requires some conception such as this, in contrast to that of the Preface, to understand, on the methodological side, Boas's strong claims that Plato and Aristotle are "... the greatest rationalists in the history of philosophy..." and that Plato is the "major defender of rationalism" (p. 128). One needs, however, much more than just the commitment of the "double role of reason" to understand these claims about Plato and Aristotle. Rationalism is also used to denote a number of philosophical doctrines, some of which Plato and Aristotle shared in common. It is carefully argued, for instance, that both Plato and Aristotle are committed to the epistemological view that reason alone is the source of knowledge in the strict sense, a doctrine, which in the case of Aristotle, is sometimes obscured. To this 88 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY basic feature of rationalism Boas adds the following: "The inability, or perhap the unwillingness, to conceive of anything transient as real is at the heart of the rationalist tradition..." (p. 184). It is this notion of rationalism as certain substantive philosophical doctrines which often dominates Boas's account of this central theme in the history of Greek thought. It becomes especially clear in an interesting chapter on Aristotle that it is adherence to certain philosophical doctrines rather than adherence... (shrink)

In this article, I begin by saying something about what metacognition is and why it is desirable within education. I then outline how Plato anticipates this concept in his dialogue Meno. This is not just a historical point; by dividing the cognitive self into a three-in-one—a ‘learner’, a ‘teacher’ and an ‘evaluator’—Plato affords us a neat metaphorical framework for understanding metacognition that, I contend, is valuable today. In addition to aiding our understanding of this concept, (...) class='Hi'>Plato’s model of metacognition not only provides us with a practical, pedagogical method for developing a metacognitive attitude, but also for doing so through doing philosophy. I conclude by making a case for philosophy’s inclusion in our school systems by appeal to those aspects of philosophy that are metacognitive or that are conducive to developing metacognition, as revealed by the insights afforded us by Plato’s Meno and Theaetetus. (shrink)

Aristotle asserts that philosophy, which begins in wonder, seeks principles and causes in the world, just as mythology does, but each in a different way. This article argues that Homer analyzes the world according to Vico’s imaginative genera; early Greek philosophy according to natural genera, and philosophers in the strict sense according to rational genera. Thus, Homer’s rainbow is the goddess Iris, which Xenophanes divides into natural object and divinity, and which Aristotle calls principles (...) or causes. In the transition from imaginative to natural genus, wonder is lost because the enchanted world of mythology has become explicable in terms of the five senses. Plato’s and Aristotle’s philosophical approach seeks to restore wonder without remythologizing the world. Homer’s Oceanus myth is examined, in relation to the testimony of Thales and the fragments of Xenophanes, and as reflected explicitly and implicitly in the works of Plato and Aristotle. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Ritual and Reverence in Ancient China and TodayStephen C. AngleReverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue. By Paul Woodruff. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2001. Pp. 248.It is a sad commonplace that works in moral philosophy rarely do much to make their readers more moral. Unusually gifted classroom teachers can sometimes make a difference in students' lives, though, and now and again there appears a piece of (...) philosophical writing that makes a similar impact. Paul Woodruff has written an extraordinary book that has a chance of joining this select company. Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue wears its scholarship and philosophy lightly; in addition to lucid exposition and argument, it employs anecdotes, readings of a range of poems, and in one chapter a question-and-answer format in order to engage readers in the very real, very contemporary concerns that motivate the book. Woodruff believes that we have largely forgotten how to talk about reverence, even though its practice has not disappeared, so his sources for the theory of reverence are largely ancient-both Greek (his specialty) and Chinese. He weaves together classical text and contemporary issue in masterful fashion, producing a book that is both philosophically challenging and potentially transformative. I will comment mainly on its philosophical themes, but I urge one and all to experience the book's power.Reverence, says Woodruff, is a virtue: indeed, one of the most important of virtues. It is the "well-developed capacity to have the feelings of awe, respect, and shame when these are the right feelings to have" (p. 8). He characterizes the "belief in human imperfection" as the "central belief of reverence" (p. 199), and this makes sense, even though reverence is not primarily about beliefs. The idea that we are limited or imperfect informs each of the three feelings through which reverence is expressed. It is easy to see how this works with awe, but respect and shame are more complicated, requiring further discussion below. Woodruff offers the following initial formulation of the interrelationship among the three:Reverence begins in a deep understanding of human limitations; from this grows the capacity to be in awe of whatever we believe to be outside our control—God, truth, justice, nature, even death. The capacity for awe, as it grows, brings with it the capacity for respecting human beings, flaws and all. This in turn fosters the ability to be ashamed when we show moral flaws exceeding the normal human allotment,(p. 3)He continues by saying that this syndrome was recognized by the Greeks before Plato, and that "the immediate followers of Confucius thought much the same." [End Page 471]Woodruff's tying of reverence to specific thinkers immediately makes one wonder what word or words he is translating as reverence, if it was known in Greece and China. Comparative philosophers will also ponder the words "much the same": is there really a single virtue called "reverence" that, without our previously realizing it, can be found in both the Greek and Chinese traditions? Or are there two, more loosely related, ideas?Woodruff's answer is that there is a single virtue, but that it is realized and theorized somewhat differently in different contexts. Indeed, he does not insist that the concept of reverence that he finds in ancient Confucianism is the only Confucian concept of reverence. He relies only on the Analects and Mencius as sources, and readily acknowledges that his picture is partial and simplified (p. 230). He makes similar qualifications with respect to his Greek sources. His "reverence," then, is in the first instance a rational reconstruction built upon the ideas/terms of different traditions as well as his own philosophical reasoning. In the Greek case, he says that the concept he is exploring is "named both by hosiotēs and its near synonym eusebia, which is frequently translated as 'piety'" (pp. 225-226). Once we know this, it is easy to see that his topic was discussed in Greek texts and to ask how these texts fit the awe-respect-shame schema he has identified.Rather than pursue this topic—on which see particularly Woodruff's chapter 5—I am going to spend some time... (shrink)

One will never be able to interrogate wonder philosophically except by way of a questioning that the operation of wonder will already have determined. It is a well-known teaching in the writings of both Plato and Aristotle that wonder (thauma) is the beginning of philosophy. But few philosophers have given wonder much thought—certainly, no philosopher that I am aware of has, like Professor Sallis, returned time and again to think through (...) class='Hi'>wonder. Sallis’s thinking through wonder is guided by his reading of ancient Greek philosophy, and furthermore, as I hope to show, it opens up a reengagement with Greek philosophers—in particular, with those early Greek thinkers who are known collectively as the .. (shrink)

“Enthusiastically acclaimed in Europe, Cornelis Verhoeven’s The Philosophy of Wonder starts with the premise that any authentic philosophy begins as a posture of wonder before reality. “Wonder is the foundation of the whole of philosophy,” he states. “It is not the beginning of thought in the sense that it might lead on to something better founded, something like philosophical principles, which could be cheerfully manipulated without any ambiguity. Nor does the philosopher (...) begin by wondering, proceed to an examination, and thus rid himself of a tiresome guest. It is not the beginning but the principle, the basic structure. It is not only the beginning but also the end; it guides and accompanies thought. It has not only the first but also the last word” Verhoeven develops his posture-the posture of one who thinks rather than one who merely learns a system-from the starting point of a striking reverence for reality. Wonder is possible only to one who is truly open to what reality is, is ruled by it, and who stands in fascination of the fact that what is there is there. Verhoeven’s approach to authentic thought and philosophy implies a rebellion against prevailing attitudes, against the tyranny of mediocrity that today’s world often imposes. Wonder is a rebellion against certitude and security. Authenticity demands that one remove himself from the tyranny of the revenge, that one slow down in a past-moving world. It demands that one receive reality with reverence and in a mood of contemplation rather than manipulation.The Philosophy of Wonder is neither a textbook nor a do-it-yourself philosophy book with “foundations” and “concepts.” Rather, it is a prod that engenders wonder. Wonder is not a quasi-romantic, wide-eyed passivity; it is an aggressive action, an exciting adventure, an exercise in free fall. Whenever philosophy has become a system, says Verhoeven, it has surrendered its birthright.”- Publisher. (shrink)

It is often said that to understand Plato we must understand his times. Many readers who might accept without question this saying of historical criticism may still wonder why we should think it necessary to begin our enquiry as far back as Homer and beyond. In the case of Plato there is an even greater need to pursue the argument back to the very beginnings of the historical period in which he lived and worked. It (...) is quite impossible to understand the genesis of Plato's ideas without understanding the profound change that Greek society underwent in the post-Homeric period that preceded him. This change in social structure created a mercantile, progressive Greek society, one which laid the foundations for all the subsequent history of Europe and the West. The Genesis of Plato's Thoughtis particularly highly regarded because it departs vigorously from the traditional abstract, static view of Plato's thought. Winspear's volume on Plato's thought traces, in a realistic fashion, the deep-reaching social and economic roots of Plato's concept of the state and society. Winspear believes that nowhere can the social roots of philosophy be more sharply seen and more firmly apprehended than when one is dealing with the origins of Western philosophy among the Greeks. His book contains the body of information which any reader should have if they wish to approach Plato as a historical figure. To make the book useful to a wide circle of readers, brief biographical identifications for the various important figures of Greek life are introduced in the text. (shrink)

Clear, concise, and easy to read, this eye-opening book offers readers a walk through some of the greatest and most thought-provoking arguments from classical, modern, and contemporary philosophy. Along the path, it looks closely at: Socrates' answer to the question, "Did God create morality, or did he discover it?"; what Descartes meant when he said, "I think, therefore I am"; why Berkeley thought that matter and the material world don't really exist; an argument that shows that (...) God necessarily exists; whether we can really know anything at all; and finally, why (and whether) you owe any allegiance to the rules or laws of your government and society. An expert educator with more than twenty years' experience bringing these ideas to life for students, the author presents these influential, surprising philosophical arguments in a delightful and accessible way. While the topics span the four corners of western philosophy, the unifying theme here is one about philosophical skepticism, and how it's applied as a tool for greater intellectual inquiry. The book doesn't presuppose any familiarity with philosophy, though it certainly rewards those with a strong curiosity about big important ideas. After all, as Plato famously quipped, philosophy begins in wonder. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 27.2 (2003) 415-427 [Access article in PDF] Wisdom, Wine, and Wonder-Lust in Plato's Symposium M. Andrew Holowchak PLATO EMPLOYS A VARIETY of literary and philosophical tools in Symposium to show how eroticism, properly understood, is linked to the good life. These have been a matter of great debate among scholars. Cornford, for instance, argues that Symposium must be read along with (...) Republic, in that the latter examines mostly the lower education of gymnastics and music (the "lesser mysteries"), while the former elucidates principally the higher education of philosophers (the "greater mysteries"). 1 Thus, stylistic differences correspond to differences in philosophical aims between the two works. Neumann says that Diotima's teaching is essentially sophistic. Eros by nature aims at the good without the "guidance of reason," which subserves eros. There is no need of conceptual oneness with the good as an independent formal entity, for the aim is reproduction is "always the particular good of a particular being." 2 Dover states that Symposium presents a consilience of reason and desire, which then continually reinforce each other, through a quest for good, which, if reached, is a fusion of reason and desire. Eros, then, is the cosmic force that "propels us on that road." 3 Bretlinger says that the eulogies of Symposium proceed in the manner of the Dionysian cycle of birth, struggle, death, and rebirth. 4 Markus maintains that the confusion of philosophical and literary exposition [End Page 415] and aim is a result of Plato insisting on a philosophy of love, based on eros, that greatly transcends eros in interest and scope. 5 Socrates' own perplexity in the dialogue as well as his insistence that he knows what he is talking about are perfect illustrations of a dialectical growth that eventually even transcends language. In short, the literary style mimics the philosophical maturation and understanding of Socrates' transcendent path. Thus, scholars themselves are far from general consensus on just what Plato was trying to do in this work.This difficulty is compounded by there being, as Dover observes, "so much unjustified and implausible assertion and so little rigorous argument." 6 These are reasons enough why many philosophers neglect the work. The problem is that in Symposium the rich philosophy of love that Plato expounds is nearly eclipsed by his multifold array and skillful use of literary tools. This makes bringing to light the philosophical merits of the work a much more difficult task than with other works. In consequence, a precise articulation of Plato's own thoughts on love seems an impossible task, or nearly so.In this article, I argue that Plato's philosophy of love unfolds primarily, though not exclusively, through his exposition of two sets of erotic contrasts: one concerning the proper method of eulogizing (rhetoric versus Socratic dialectic, Socratic dialectic versus "Platonic" eroticism); another concerning character (Socrates versus Alcibiades). If so, then Symposium distinguishes itself from the ethically driven, "Socratic" dialogues of Platoin two ways. First, not only does Plato in Symposium appeal to a much broader spectrum of philosophical interests, he also gives a non-dialectical account of love that is passed on to the symposiasts through Socrates qua "pupil" (and messenger) of the priestess Diotima. Second, in Symposium, Plato uses Socrates the man, not Socrates the dialectician, as a model of excellence of character in order to illustrate the very ideals sketched within the work. I A correlate of my thesis is that Symposium itself reads like an act of copulation that climaxes both in literary and philosophical senses. On the one hand, Plato artfully builds sexual tension through the story line. First, Socrates delays in seeing the Lenaian victor Agathon by one day. This lends itself to erotic frustration both in the obvious sense of Socrates not being able to see the handsome young orator immediately after his success and in terms of Socrates having to put off practice of [End Page 416] his true love—philosophy. Second, when he does go to see Agathon, Socrates' preparation is uncommon: he bathes and even puts on sandals. 7 Furthermore... (shrink)

The purpose of this paper is to reassess some mathematical examples in Plato’s dialogues which at a first glance may appear to be nothing more than trivial puzzles. In order to provide the necessary background for this analysis, I shall begin by sketching a brief overview of Plato’s mathematical passages and discuss the criteria for aptly selecting them. Second, I shall explain what I mean by ‘mathematical examples,’ and reflect on their function in light of the discussion on (...) παραδείγματα outlined in the Sophist and the Statesman. Against this framework, I shall move to a close examination of specific examples drawn from the Theaetetus (154c–55d), the Republic (523c–24d), and the Phaedo (96d–97b, 100e–101d). By placing these examples in the broader context of pre-Euclidean mathematics, I shall show that their mathematical content is often less elementary than might appear at first sight. Moreover, by placing emphasis on the specific philosophical concerns that motivated their introduction, I shall argue that the examples are not merely nonsensical jokes. Even if their illustrative purpose is not always immediately clear, and even if they can sound playful and bizarre, they in fact fulfil an important function: by virtue of their power to generate wonder or confusion, they serve as exercises and act as a trigger with respect to the difficult philosophical issues they are intended to clarify. (shrink)

The thesis of this book is that "wonder is the foundation of the whole of philosophy.... It is not only the beginning but also the end; it guides and accompanies thought. It is not only the first but also the last word." This is because "wonder is man’s attitude in the face of the mystery of things." That is, "in wonder, things are no longer what they were and it can thus be said (...) class='Hi'>that they lose their identity.... Only when we decide to think no further do things acquire an apparent identity." Thought and wonder live only in the distance between the trivial identity of things and their infinitely deferred divine identity. Wonder, and therefore philosophy, are threatened on many sides: by a complacency which takes things as simply thus and so, by general education which equips one to converse about many things but gives knowledge of nothing, by haste which rushes by things without noticing them, by systematization and certitude impatient with identity deferred. The study of philosophy as an academic discipline is no guarantee of wonder and can even be its enemy. The author’s intent is to excite wonder, to provide an incitement to philosophy. The ten chapters of the book orchestrate his theme from different starting points and by different paths. The starting points are as different as the symbolism of the noonday sun, Plato’s myths, poetic response to a rose in bloom, and the nature of gift and festivity. The paths are lyrical, etymological, phenomenological. The cumulative effects are not so much clear and distinct ideas as paradoxes. The result is a provocative and often obscure book, which makes considerable demands upon the reader. As such, it hardly seems like the sort of book one would hand to an undergraduate who wanted to know what philosophy is about. Rather, it might better be thought of as a book for people who think they know what philosophy is about, a book which could serve to make one wonder if he does know what philosophy and many other things are and are not.—H. F. (shrink)

From the introductory chapter. The distinctions taken between the necessary and the contingent, in philosophical discussion no less than in common life, are ordinarily supposed to be so definitive and are permitted so deeply to influence our conceptions that it seems well worth one's while to examine them in their origin. And the Aristotelian system will best serve our purpose as a corpus vile for very obvious reasons. In the first place, Aristotle is the earliest systematic philosopher who essayed (...) to treat consistently of all the greater problems of life and thought, and whose works remain to be studied. His method, too, was such that, standing as he did just on the verge of formalism, the definitions which he attempted still bear definite traces of the purely functional meaning of those terms, while his formulation of their significance has led naturally to their solidification as objective facts in the world. For Aristotle was wont to preface his own conclusions by inquiring, rather superficially to be sure, into the psychology of the conceptions in question ; yet, while the inadequacy of his psychology is now admitted on all hands, the inferences as to fact which he deduced therefrom are even now in part accepted as conclusive. When one reflects upon it this state of the question strikes one as absurd. For this reason there appears to be the greater justification for an analysis of the presuppositions on which these conceptions rest. If one grants their validity, the conclusions and the resultant contradictions of the system must be accepted as ultimate. But I am convinced that Aristotle's presuppositions and his real problems were wholly unreconcilable with each other, and so his contradictions serve all the better to point out the direction in which their solution lay. Plato made the acute observation that surprise is the beginning of philosophy, and Aristotle appropriated and further applied the thought.' The full sweep of the truth contained in these words is vastly greater, however, than they knew. The feeling of wonder is indeed the point of departure for philosophy ; but what precisely does it mean? It indicates first of all that an old habit has been broken up. Old conceptions, like the proverbial old bottles, have become so surcharged with the new wine of meaning that they have burst. But to say this is to describe the phenomenon merely as A brute fact without according it any symbolic value. This state of surprise must acquire an ideal worth, an indicative function, if it is really to become the parent of philosophy. Briefly, then, we may say : surprise indicates the need of reconstructing our supposed facts. And this statement is to be taken at its full value, with all its implications, if philosophy is to be achieved.... (shrink)

Plato’s dialogues show Socrates at different ages, beginning when he was about nineteen and already deeply immersed in philosophy and ending with his execution five decades later. By presenting his model philosopher across a fifty-year span of his life, Plato leads his readers to wonder: does that time period correspond to the development of Socrates’ thought? In this magisterial investigation of the evolution of Socrates’ philosophy, Laurence Lampert answers in the affirmative. The chronological route (...) that Plato maps for us, Lampert argues, reveals the enduring record of philosophy as it gradually took the form that came to dominate the life of the mind in the West. The reader accompanies Socrates as he breaks with the century-old tradition of philosophy, turns to his own path, gradually enters into a deeper understanding of nature and human nature, and discovers the successful way to transmit his wisdom to the wider world. Focusing on the final and most prominent step in that process and offering detailed textual analysis of Plato’s _Protagoras_, _Charmides_, and _Republic_, _How Philosophy Became Socratic_ charts Socrates’ gradual discovery of a proper politics to shelter and advance philosophy. (shrink)

Available from UMI in association with The British Library. ;Plato's philosophy of mathematics must be a philosophy of 4th century B.C. Greek mathematics, and cannot be understood if one is not aware that the notions involved in this mathematics differ radically from our own notions; particularly, the notion of arithmos is quite different from our notion of number. The development of the post-Renaissance notion of number brought with it a different conception of what mathematics is, and (...) we must be able to see the differences before we can begin to appreciate Plato's views, which must never be seen as applying to a revolutionary notion of mathematics . For this reason the first part of this dissertation must comprise a detailed analysis of these differences, along with some criticisms of those of Plato's modern interpreters who have not taken this point. Much of what will be found here can be found in Jacob Klein's Greek Mathematics and the Origin of Algebra, which will be extensively quoted and interpreted. This book is often quoted, but very seldom understood; or at least, those lessons which should be taken from it are rarely applied to Platonic exegesis. In the second part I attempt a better explanation of Plato's mathematical ontology, beginning with the most extensive passage in the dialogues, the triple image of Sun, Line and Cave in Republic. This reveals a relation between sensibles and forms which is at odds with the traditional view that mathematical objects are never precisely accurate instances of their forms--but this view can be refuted. Plato's view of the nature of mathematical objects will be seen to be a metaphorical way of saying what Aristotle says logically, and is entirely appropriate to the aims and methods of his contemporary mathematicians. Aristotle's criticism of Plato's views is examined and found to make sense and to be appropriate to views which Plato could consistently have held. (shrink)

_Why Philosophize?_ is a series of lectures given by Jean-François Lyotard to students at the Sorbonne embarking on their university studies. The circumstances obliged him to be both clear and concise: at the same time, his lectures offer a profound and far-reaching meditation on how essential it is to philosophize in a world where philosophy often seems irrelevant, outdated, or inconclusive. Lyotard begins by drawing on Plato, Proust and Lacan to show that philosophy is a (...) never-ending desire - for wisdom, for the ‘other’. In the second lecture he draws on Heraclitus and Hegel to explore the close relation between philosophy and history: the same restlessness, the same longing for a precarious unity, drives both. In his third lecture, Lyotard examines how philosophy is a form of utterance, both communicative and indirect. Finally, he turns to Marx, exploring the extent to which philosophy can be a transformative action within the world. These wonderfully accessible lectures by one of the most influential philosophers of the last 50 years will attract a wide readership, since, as Lyotard says, ‘How can one not philosophize?’ They are also an excellent introduction to Lyotard’s mature thought, with its emphasis on the need for philosophy to bear witness, however obliquely, to a recalcitrant reality. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Method in Ancient PhilosophyDavid K. GliddenJyl Gentzler, editor. Method in Ancient Philosophy. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998. Pp. viii + 398. Cloth, $72.00.The fifteen papers in this collection constitute revisions of conference proceedings and reflect the varied interests of participants. The ensemble exhibits a thoroughly modern methodology. Whatever and however various ancient methods of philosophy may have been, in Anglo-American scholarship it is standard practice to first (...) address established scholarly interpretations as the primary entry point to critical discussionóoften displacing antiquity with a critical vocabulary of philosophical modernity. Scholars may come to understand each other better, but at the risk of asking the wrong questions or sacrificing ancient texts themselves as mere means of producing papers.Most scholars are progressives. They believe philosophy has advanced past the comparatively primitive wisdom of antiquity, and so such scholars feel perfectly entitled to make better sense of ancient texts, by patiently explaining what the ancients would have meant had they only been able to get it right. There are, of course, exceptions. And some papers in this collection suggest deeper faith in our philosophic fathers. So, the battle between the ancients and the moderns is joined once more, between those who would adorn their papers with footnotes for their peers and those who would attempt more anthropological an inquiry into ancient philosophic practices.Ian Mueller and Robert Bolton each address the same passage in Plato's Phaedo, both beginning with an article from Vlastos, first published in 1969. Mueller thoughtfully explores three different yet related accounts of what we might call scientific method in explaining Plato's views on natural change. Bolton wonders whether scholars are asking the wrong questions. Patricia Curd attempts a progressivist account of Eleatic thought, notwithstanding her recognition of the paucity of ancient sources. Complete with elaborately numbered sentences, Gail Fine focuses primarily on Burnyeat (1976) on Plato on Protagoras. Constance Meinwald presents a rather near-sighted account of two passages in the Philebus that employ the peras-apeiron distinction, with a view toward Plato's allegedly modernist mathematization of understanding. Lesley Brown revisits five pages of the Sophist that were hotly debated in the 1960s. With charity and elegance, she offers several plausible solutions to puzzles posed by previous scholars. Sometimes time smoothes over differences.A. A. Long's essay on Plato's presentation of Socrates in the Theaetetus might appear more philosophically anthropological. Yet Long reveals progressive sympathies, suggesting that Plato dispatches Socrates in the Theaetetus, so as to prepare the way for a more rigorously academic form of philosophizing, such as that exhibited in the Sophist. [End Page 111] In this way, Long speculates, Plato abandoned practical ethics for the academic life of research, so familiar to university professors and conference participants. It might be hard to square such speculation with Plato's Laws and the reception of Plato's writings among his own contemporaries. Still, Socrates' shifting role in Plato's dialogues is well worth pondering.By comparison, T. H. Irwin's contribution is wonderfully old-fashioned. His paper addresses the background knowledge to be presumed by ancient readers of Plato's dialogues and how that knowledge is artfully put to use in Plato's depiction of Socrates' reflections on the unity of virtue. By speculating on Plato's relation to his ancient readers, Irwin displaces many modernist preoccupations, though not without himself falling victim to that peculiar scholarly obsession of dating Plato's dialogues by their doctrines.With characteristic conservatism, Gisela Striker cautions scholars not to over-read Aristotle's Prior Analytics. While that extraordinary work may have deep implications for the history of formal logic, it probably was instead intended to be part of a general account of argument. In a similar vein, Charlotte Witt attempts to rescue Aristotle from scholars who would delimit Aristotle's multifarious uses of the "for the sake of" explanation, which altogether pervade his metaphysics, physics, biology and ethics. Yet, Witt soon finds herself competing in a contest over interpretive distinctions, a sport that will certainly never capture Aristotle's own authorial intentions.Facing another mass of scholarship, in this case on Aristotle's dialectic, C. D. C. Reeve sensibly attempts to... (shrink)

Aristotle suggests there is a close connection between philosophy and myth, or at least between the myth-lover and the philosopher or wisdom-lover. In a sense, he says, “the myth-lover is a philosopher, because myths are full of wonders” and philosophy “first began and begins in wonder”. It is wonder that connects them, a wonder that can generate perplexity and awareness of ignorance and the desire to understand. The myth-lover may be content to (...) remain wondering or filled with wonder, or seek out new wonders. The philosopher seeks wisdom but could recognise wonder as the first cause or generator of such seeking as its necessary condition. Wisdom, or the love of it, may require recognition of the ignorance that wonder engendered. Philosophy, to be genuine, may need to recognise its humble beginnings in its greatest achievements. Wisdom and myth seem both born of wonder and could be always full of it. (shrink)

History of African Philosophy This article traces the history of systematic African philosophy from the early 1920s to date. In Plato’s Theaetetus, Socrates suggests that philosophy begins with wonder. Aristotle agreed. However, recent research shows that wonder may have different subsets. If that is the case, which specific subset of wonder inspired the beginning of … Continue reading History of African Philosophy →.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Rhetoric 35.2 (2002) 138-152 [Access article in PDF] Respecting the Rupture: Not Solving the Problem of Unity in Plato's Phaedrus James L. Kastely Plato's Phaedrus is a particularly instructive example of the double nature and status of rhetoric, for it embodies a tension at the heart of rhetoric. The first half of the dialogue presents three examples of rhetorical practice, while the second develops (...) a theoretical justification of rhetoric as an art. Thus, the dialogue would seem to offer a productive negotiation of the practice/theory tension. What makes the dialogue interesting, however, is the fact that this negotiation does not occur. The dialogue does not bring theory and practice into a harmonious relation, for there is a troubling discontinuity between its two halves, and rhetorical practice feels fractured. The exploration of eros that had occupied the first half of the dialogue is abandoned before the beginning of the second half, and then, following a logic that is at best associational, Socrates and Phaedrus explore the standards that should govern the practice of rhetoric. The infelicity of this transition raises a question: why did Plato structure the Phaedrus in such a way that it emphasized the dissonance between the two halves of the dialogue? To pose the question this way, however, is to go in a direction different from many of the best contemporary interpretations of the dialogue, which either argue that the dialogue is unified (Griswold 164) or suggest that the dissonance between its two halves reflects a shift in Plato's approach to philosophy (Kahn 373; Nehamas 352). In contrast, I will argue that the rupture in the dialogue is thematically purposive, for it points to an inescapable schism within rhetoric that makes rhetoric philosophically interesting.Socrates' second speech, his palinode to Eros, is a rhetorical tour de force that closes the first half of the dialogue. The importance of the palinode, however, is not limited to its role as an exemplary rhetorical performance, [End Page 138] for it also plays a crucial role in resolving the problem of erotic madness that organizes the intellectual drama of the first half. It would seem reasonable to expect that such an important and powerful moment in the dialogue would, at the very least, play a significant role in the philosophical discussion that composes the dialogue's second half. But that doesn't happen. While Socrates does refer to the palinode in his theoretical discussion of rhetoric, he makes little use of it, and, more important, he is silent on the subject of eros. Both the dramatic organization of the second half of the dialogue and its theoretical discussion cooperate to turn the rhetorical triumph of the palinode into a problem. Why has eros been abandoned as a philosophic topic, and what does this abandoning imply about the erotically grounded rhetoric that Socrates practiced and defended?To make matters worse, Socrates himself dismisses the palinode as a serious effort. He characterizes the speech as little more than a pleasant game, one that is not without value only because "these two certain forms (of gathering and dividing) were stated by chance" (265c). Far from viewing the palinode as possessing philosophical significance, Socrates appears to value it principally for its being a so-so example of a work of rhetoric that has been shaped by dialectic. While it is hard not to take Socrates' dismissal of the seriousness of the speech as partially disingenuous (just prior to his dismissal, he refers to the palinode as serious and reverent [265b]), he also does seem to mean what he says. Whether he is being straightforward or ironic does not finally matter because in either case the problem that occupies him and Phaedrus in the first half has disappeared from the dialogue. And that creates a problem: for if the philosophic issues of the first half of the dialogue drop out, then the dialogue is not coherent.This incoherence is especially troubling given Socrates' explicit endorsement of coherence as an important rhetorical value. In fact, when he begins his... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Literature Against Philosophy, Plato to Derrida: A Defense of PoetryPaul M. HedeenLiterature Against Philosophy, Plato to Derrida: A Defense of Poetry, by Mark Edmundson; 239 pp. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995, $59.95 cloth, $17.95 paper.In this age of suspicion, it is refreshing to meet a believer like Mark Edmundson, someone merging “versions of freedom and fate” (p. 235). To many, such an accommodation (...) is automatically suspect; to many, a voice as sweet and civil as his is enough to make the molars ache. Not that Edmundson always makes believing look easy, but he dances rather gracefully with the “descendental” (p. 236) as he sings a late-millennial tribute to “the poems we love” (p. 237). His analysis of sophisticated doubters is impressive for its respectful tone. Edmundson models how a traditional literary intellectual uses, rather than bests, not only what important philosophers promise, but also what literature delivers.Edmundson’s discussion begins with Plato’s dismissal of literature as “a harmful diversion” (p. 7). This establishes the classical sources of philosophy’s antipathy to literature’s “pleasure and vitality” (p. 237) and sets the tone for an analysis of “descendentalism,” the various modern and postmodern searches for “ultimate truths” in “the bedrock” of experience (p. 22).To Edmundson’s mind, Freud’s general hypothesis that there are analyzable forces in the unconscious legitimizes various contemporary attempts to subordinate literature to philosophy. For example, de Man’s metaphor of blindness and insight follows Freud as “a figure for [the] dramatic irony... that arises when speakers say more than they know, and... where the surplus of meaning is taken in by some third party” (p. 42).Power issues are in the foreground as the critic becomes an analyst/interpreter of meanings that would otherwise be latent or repressed (p. 43). As Edmundson shows, de Man can transform symbol and allegory into instances of repression, tropes “that record... how they will be misunderstood...” (p. 49). Such pre-Derridean insights still allow de Man to offer an approximate defense of highly allegorical texts that “proffer images for their own correct deconstruction” (p. 49). Only these, finally, are “worthy of being called literature” (p. 49).In short, “de Man succeeded in transferring the Freudian model of repression from the sphere of analytic therapy to that of rhetorical analysis” (p. 53) thus initiating “a self-perpetuating order” (p. 55). Does Edmundson decry such orders? Generally, yes, but gently. One of the strengths of this book is Edmundson’s desire not to compete with his subjects; predominantly, he avoids for himself the authoritarian positions he suspects, choosing instead to stir up the “trouble between poets and philosophers... that keeps them in productive dialogue and competition” (p. 63).Derrida’s chief role in this competition, his polemic against presence, and “his proffered alternative” (p. 79), différance, remind Edmundson of de Man’s [End Page 538] analysis of repression. “Derrida seems to think,” Edmundson writes, that “the texts of Western metaphysics surrender their secret holdings when one simply listens...” (p. 80). Like Freud and de Man, then, Derrida is out to unlock what is repressed: “we might think of différance as... a name for those powers that Derrida’s deconstruction strives to release” (p. 81).For Edmundson, however, Derrida’s chief insight—that “philosophy is a tissue of words, manifold [not unified] in their associations”—contradicts philosophy’s self-described superiority to and dominance over literature (p. 84). For if both literature and philosophy are merely made of words, “how,” Edmundson asks, “can philosophy conceivably function as a stable template to discipline and delimit literary range, to disenfranchise poetry” (p. 84)? Walking this tightrope, Derrida dramatizes “the struggle between poetry and philosophy... [on] a level of extraordinary and unprecedented refinement” (p. 84). Edmundson’s purpose—as it was with de Man—is not to debunk Derrida, but to redescribe him: no longer metaphysics’ “fearsome terminator,” he is a philosopher “within” this tradition (p. 96). Because Derrida continues Freud’s idea of authority, his analyses are “disturbingly mistake-proof,” risking little themselves but asking of literature great sacrifices of “vital force” (p. 112).Edmundson then takes on historicism. After a... (shrink)

Reale points out that the good and the demiurgic intelligence are radically distinct, a conclusion denied by J. Seifert in the last paper of the book. Fourteen characteristics of the idea of the good are listed by T. A. Szlezák. It is obvious, he argues, that the theory of principles of Plato’s unwritten doctrines is not identical with what Republic 6 and 7 say about the good, but there is no real opposition. In the next paper, however, (...) H. W. Ausland, after a sober evaluation of the esoteric teachings, suspects that Reale and Szlezák succumb to a certain romanticism. According to L. Brisson, the good belongs to the sphere of being, even if it is not being ; it is not in every way beyond being. Plotinus was the first to place it above being. M. Erler shows what must be the attitude of the philosopher with regard to the information orally received by him. Although Plato did not want to define the good, he pointed out several of its characteristics. The good, M. Migliori notes, combines in itself beauty, proportion, and unity. The Philebus pursues the doctrine of the Republic and goes into the direction of the unwritten doctrines. The ultimate reality, however, is beyond our understanding. E. Cattanei attempts to explain how for Plato mathematics is a way of access to the knowledge of the good. R. Ferber, on the other hand, stresses that Plato nowhere directly says that the essence of the good is the one. Beauty, symmetry, and truth are not the good itself. According to C. Gill, Gadamer demystified the idea of the good, a view which shows some common ground with the position of analytical philosophy: the good is not a transcendent entity. M. Vegetti, however, upholds the transcendent character of the good as a cause of being. G. A. Press argues that over the past hundred years Plato was considered a dogmatic philosopher, and it was believed that the leading speaker in the dialogues states Plato’s own views, but the situation is far more complex. Plato wants us to acquire a vision rather than propositional knowledge. The idea of the good should not be accorded a special position. C. Rowe tries to demystify some current interpretations, whereas F. Ferrari insists on the causality of the good, and sees Plato’s teaching as the origin of the entire tradition of negative theology. Yet some texts give the impression that the good belongs to the ontological order. C. Porebski reminds us that problems of ethics are the starting point of what Plato says about the good in the Republic. According to F. Trabattoni, Aristotle’s description of Plato’s theory of principles is wrong and his philosophy differs fundamentally from Plato’s. The School of Tübingen is a prisoner of Aristotle’s interpretation. Plato’s reluctance to describe the good in detail may mark the beginning of a skeptic trend in the Academy. The Parmenides tells us, E. Berti says, that one has first to remove all hypotheses before a definition of the Good can be given. E. Moutsopoulos draws attention to some simplistic and wrong qualifications of Plato’s thought as related to idealism and mentions Kant and Hegel’s attitudes with regard to Platonism. J. F. Crosby points to a clear leaving behind of the Socratic “no one knowingly does wrong” in the Alcibiades 216b: as Plato explains in the Protagoras, one may live according to one’s lower appetite or follow the insight of the rational soul. G. Santos makes a strong stand in favor of the identity of goodness and reality. L. P. Gerson examines theories of Platos’s development: there is no evidence of a theory of the form of the good earlier than the Republic. Aristotle, J. Dudley writes, upheld an ethical ideal resembling that of Plato, substituting the contemplation of the unmoved mover for that of the idea of the good. In the last paper J. Seifert argues that Plato identified the demiurge and the good. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:From Politics to Philosophy and Theology:Some Remarks about Foucault's Interpretation of Parrêsia in Two Recently Published SeminarsCarlos LévyAt the beginning of his seminar entitled Le courage de la vérité, Foucault gives a first definition of parrêsia (2009, 10–12), which I take as my point of departure.Parrêsia is a fundamental political concept; it denotes outspokenness, and Foucault distinguishes between two versions of it, one negative, the other positive. The (...) first meaning implies the articulation of everything, "n'importe quoi" (whatever), an expression that in French is indeed derogatory. For Foucault this meaning finds an illustration in a passage from Plato's Republic in which the philosopher describes the appalling state of the democratic city, where everyone tries to impose their own desires on others.1 The positive meaning implies that truth will be stated "without dissimulation, reservation, set clause, or rhetorical ornament that could encode or hide it" (2009, 11). But Foucault says that to effectuate this positive meaning it is not enough to merely state everything and state it truthfully. It is also necessary for the speaker of parrêsia, the parrêsiastês, to personally involve himself in what he says and to take a risk. As Foucault says himself, this is to speak "truth while taking the risk of violence" (2009, 12). [End Page 313] This risk is nonetheless attenuated by what Foucault calls "the parrêsiastic play," that is, the capacity of the interlocutor (assembly, tyrant) to tolerate outspokenness.Even though Foucault never sets the problem out in these terms, one may construe parrêsia as both a passion, since it entails an emotional investment, and a virtue, insofar as it is still linked to courage. It is common to say that somebody has "a passion for the truth" or that he has "the courage of his convictions." However, Foucault uses the term "passion" very sparingly. An analysis of word frequency in his seminars for the period 1982 to 1984 reveals that the term "virtue" occurs often, while "passion" is almost entirely absent, except about tragedy (2008, 105–35). By refraining from speaking of the "passion of truth," Foucault rejects the possibility of analyzing the concept of parrêsia in a more unitary way. For him, there is a good and a bad parrêsia, a situation that emphasizes the difficulties usually inherent in dualism: how can two opposite realities coexist, especially within the same concept? These difficulties are carefully analyzed in the seminars, but there is also a methodological difficulty: do historical sources force us to accept the dualistic interpretation or, better, the reconstruction proposed by Foucault in such a persuasive way? Or do they prompt us to introduce the notion of passion, somehow or other, as being present even in the "good" parrêsia?In my view, one does not compromise Foucault's position by saying that, for him, the dualism inherent in political parrêsia has a functional nature. It is linked to what he calls the right functioning and the worsening functioning of democracy, as they are articulated in his seminar of 2 February 1983 (2008, 157–69). In his exposé some postulates are expounded using the metaphor of the rectangle: the existence of parrêsia requires democracy, and thus democracy forms the first vertex of this rectangle. But one of the most interesting elements in Foucault's subsequent seminars is his effort to demonstrate that parrêsia can nevertheless exist under tyranny without its most essential features being undermined.Democracy, in Foucault's opinion, can't be lively and dynamic without the second vertex, which he calls "le pôle de l'ascendant"—the pole of ascending leadership; that is, in his own words, "the problem of those who, speaking before others and above them, are heard by them, persuade them, lead them, and have control over them" (2008, 157). Foucault's use of the term "problem" is itself somewhat... problematic. It is not clear why the existence of this ascendancy is a problem to the extent that it can be seen as the condition of a democratic and parrêsiastic functioning. In Foucault's [End Page 314] own words, the... (shrink)

In this paper, I explore the centrality of διάνοια in Plotinus’ philosophy. Plotinus says that the real “we” is found to be the subject of διάνοια and “upwards.” This fundamental definition elicits several pressing questions. First, how is the subject of discursive reasoning related to the subject of appetitive and affective states? Second, how does the subject of discursive reasoning come to recognize its ultimate destiny as an undescended and disembodied intellect? Finally, why should we think that, (...) as Plotinus says, there is “no falsity” in discursive thinking? The answers to these questions begins with Plotinus’ reflections on Plato’s Divided Line and the sharp distinction between διάνοια and δόξα. I argue that διάνοια is the embodied expression of disembodied νοῦς. It is the focus of our ambiguous and conflicted personal identity. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 39.4 (2001) 581-582 [Access article in PDF] Gerald A. Press, editor. Who Speaks for Plato? Studies in Platonic Anonymity. Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield Publisher, Inc., 2000. Pp. vi + 245. Cloth, $63.00. Who Speaks for Plato? contains sixteen essays, each apparently composed specifically for this volume, which challenge what its editor, Gerald Press, identifies as the basic assumption implicit in (...) the "modern" (1) or "traditional" (5) interpretive approach to Plato's dialogues: "that the words and arguments of some character in a Platonic dialogue can be taken to state Plato's (or the historical Socrates') own beliefs and arguments" (5). Throughout the volume this is refered to as the "mouthpiece" theory.The essays in Part I are general methodological pieces, which aim to dismantle the assumptions operative in the mouthpiece approach. So, for example, D. Nails reminds us that "we have no uncontroversial statement from Plato that Socrates is his mouthpiece" (17). Press looks for the hermeneutical argument that would justify "an interpreter in quoting or referring to the words of a named character in a Platonic dialogue and attributing the words or their meaning to Plato as his own opinion," (28), and he finds none in traditional scholarship. J. Waugh and H. Tarrant bring in historical considerations to bolster the antimouthpiece position.The essays in Part II treat individual dialogues, but do so with the general theme in view. E. Benitez offers a brief reading of the Laches, P. C. Smith and R. Blondell take up Book I of the Republic, G. Scott and W. Welton address the Symposium, F. Gonzalez looks at the Sophist and the Statesman, H. Ausland suggests a way of reading the Timaeus. Each aims to disconnect the words stated by the principal speaker of the dialogue from Plato himself.Part III begins with a dissenting view. L. Gerson begins by arguing against using the Phaedrus or the Seventh Letter on behalf of the antimouthpiece view. More interestingly, he describes how "arguments have a life of their own," and as a result are "not character bound" (205). As such, it is permissible, indeed it is incumbent upon the philosophical reader, to attribute arguments found in the dialogues to Plato himself. He concludes his essay thus: "If Plato is intentionally hiding himself, he is a philosopher either with no views or with views diverging from those easily derived from the dialogues." The former alternative Gerson finds "preposterous," the latter "perverse" (210).E. Ostenfeld conceives of Plato's views as in a process of continual development and self-criticism. As a result, he concludes, almost paradoxically, that "everyone" in the dialogues speaks for Plato. In other words, precisely because they were not homogeneous or definitively formulated, a wide variety of characters express the wide variety of views Plato himself held. [End Page 581]J. Mulhern gets the final word in this book, presumably because it was he who coined the phrase "Mouthpiece Fallacy" in a 1971 article. Surveying the literature of the past 30 years, he sees little improvement. In other words, commentators still regularly make the illicit transition between "what an interlocutor says to a similar sentence reporting what Plato says by stating the interlocutor is Plato's mouthpiece" (223).Who Speaks for Plato? is an interesting book that takes up an important issue. Its several hundred footnotes provide a useful guide to the enormous amount of literature on the hermeneutics of the dialogue form.While it is unquestionably valuable, this collection of essays is also frustrating. For the sake of argument, assume that a reader cannot legitimately attribute any views expressed by a character in a dialogue to Plato himself. What, then, counts as the philosophical result of a Platonic dialogue? The volume contains answers like these: Ostenfeld tells us that the dialogues "make us think for ourselves" (212). Nails says that, "The dialogue form provides a means of encouraging readers and listeners to reason dialectically to defensible positions of their own" (16). Waugh adds that the dialogues are "teaching how to philosophize" (49).The problem with these... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 38.1 (2000) 1-26 [Access article in PDF] "What Will Surprise You Most": Self-Regulating Systems and Problems of Correct Use in Plato's Republic Patrick Maynard University of Western Ontario 1. Republic's Third Wave: "On Philosophers" The title of this paper is taken from a line in Book VI of Plato's Republic that appears to reject not only the accounts of (...) moral justice and other virtues argued in Book IV, but also an axiom of Plato's earlier dialogues: that the virtues are good and beneficial things. It reads: "What will surprise you most, when you hear it, is that each of the things we praised in that nature tends to corrupt the soul that has it and to drag it away from philosophy. I mean courage, moderation, and the other things we mentioned" (491b7-10). Although these other things specifically include justice, magnanimity, grace, love of truth, and a tendency to consider "the form [idea] of each thing that is" (486d10), for their part, commentators have never shown surprise at this passage; indeed they have tended either to neglect or minimize it.1 To recall the context of 491b7-10, it actually comes as a second surprise, hard on the heels of a remarkable admission by Socrates, in early Book VI. The admission came in response to Adeimantus' challenge to Socrates' attempt to show that 'Platonic' philosophers, in the famous Book V sense of those who believe in the [End Page 1] forms, will be just and virtuous people, capable of political leadership (484d8-487a5). Book VI's page 487 thus contains Adeimantus' blistering attack on Socratic method, and a counter-argument against the idea of philosopher-rulers, based on common opinions about philosophers—an argument that should give pause to those who say that Republic left elenctic method behind with Book I. It is Socrates who now faces a forceful elenchus: that is, an inconsistency between the philosopher-rulers position he has just argued and another view he himself accepts, for his reply to Adeimantus is that "they seem to speak the truth" (487d10, 489d5), and "what he says is true, that the best among the philosophers are useless to the majority" (489b2), but that "the greatest and more serious slander on philosophy... results from those who profess to follow the philosophic way of life," especially the "vicious" ones (489cd).Most commentators, teachers, readers, eager to join the account of forms at the end of Book V with that of the form of the good well into Book VI, bridge over this discussion of philosophers' reputations, perhaps noting such of its features as the true pilot, the tinker, the figure in the dust storm, etc., but with little attention to argument structure.2 However, low estimate of structure in Plato's writings is usually a mistake, especially with Republic, and some commentators do make space to shape this bit of text, before getting on to what really interests them. They usually bracket the whole philosophers' reputations discussion, including 491b, as an early part of the so-called "third and greatest wave" (472a, 473c) of objections and replies, regarding the feasibility of the earlier social proposals of Republic: specifically, the objection to the possibility of philosopher-rulers. Socrates' reply to the third wave is usually taken to conclude with the transition at 502c7-503d12, which begins: "now that this difficulty has been disposed of, we must deal with what remains"—that is, with how such rulers could come about, and how they would be educated, a transitional remark that makes the gateway to the scholars' great attractor of the form of the good, with its discussions of the sun, the divided line, the cave of shadows—and few readers ever look back. Thus one recent commentator who does discuss the early part of Book VI moves on to those topics as follows: "Now that the combination of traits required in a philosopher-king has been shown to be a natural possibility... (shrink)

The paper begins with consideration of Plato and Aristotle, but the question addressed in this essay is the following: What has been meant--and what role has been played--in the succession of doctrines of physics we have had since the seventeenth century, by notions of “power” and of “cause”? The essay concludes with consideration of field theories set in relativistic space-time.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Plato and Aristotle in Agreement? Platonists on Aristotle from Antiochus to PorphyryR. M. DancyGeorge E. Karamanolis. Plato and Aristotle in Agreement? Platonists on Aristotle from Antiochus to Porphyry. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2006. Pp. x + 419. Cloth, $125.00.Coleridge wrote: “Every man is born an Aristotelian or a Platonist. I do not think it possible that anyone born an Aristotelian can become a Platonist; and I (...) am sure that no born Platonist can ever change into an Aristotelian. They are two classes of man, beside which it is next to impossible to conceive a third.”Ancient Platonists could not be counted on to accept this kind of dichotomy, and that is what Karamanolis’s book is about. (It may be usefully compared with Lloyd P. Gerson’s 2005 book, Aristotle and Other Platonists.) It covers Antiochus (second century BC), Plutarch [End Page 634] of Chaeronea, Numenius, Atticus, Ammonius Saccas, Plotinus, and Porphyry (third century AD). And it does so with incredible thoroughness, making it a tough read. The book began as a dissertation; it still has something of the air of one.The longest chapter is devoted to Porphyry, whom Karamanolis claims to be the first Platonist to write commentaries on books of Aristotle, and the first to adopt the view that Aristotle simply was in agreement with Plato—the founder of a tradition in scholarship to the effect that “Plato is named as the authority in metaphysics, and Aristotle in logic” (330). His concluding paragraph is this:It is this understanding of philosophizing which lies behind the formation of the Pla-tonist syllabus I described in the beginning of this book. This remains the situation until the Renaissance. When Renaissance humanists revive ancient philosophy, especially Platonism, as happened in Renaissance Florence, they re-establish this very model. Few other shifts in the history of Western philosophy are of such significance as the one which we, quite rightly, attribute to Porphyry.(330)The “Platonist syllabus” to which Karamanolis here adverts is perhaps summed up when he says that “from the third to the sixth century AD... Aristotle was appropriated by Platonists because they found his philosophy, if properly studied, a prerequisite for, and conducive to, an understanding of Plato’s thought” (4). More precisely, Karamanolis’s book is about Porphyry’s view and the background of its formation.Answering Karamanolis’s title question is not what is at stake; rather, he is concerned with how the Platonists listed above answered it. So we are not getting a history of the reading of Plato and Aristotle as agreeing or disagreeing from the very beginning. The early Academy and the skeptical Academy before Antiochus, for example, do not figure, except incidentally, in Karamanolis’s story (although there is a useful appendix on the early peripatetics). There is enough here to keep us busy without this.Dealing with any of Karamanolis’s Platonists is made more difficult by the nature of the material that remains: except for Plutarch and Plotinus, it is almost entirely fragmentary. So it is a question of interpreting not just the target authors, whose works we do not possess, but the sources we have for them, who have their own hobby-horses to ride, and hence are not always reliable. Karamanolis pays suitable attention to such details. But the back-and-forth discussion required can make it difficult to keep the larger picture in view.Karamanolis’s Platonists do not uniformly go for the agreement of Plato and Aristotle. As Karamanolis has it, Porphyry is the only one to swallow it whole: “... nowhere does Porphyry criticize Aristotle,” he concludes (322). This requires him to explain away what he regards as misunderstandings of the evidence (243–45 records some disagreements, and the Porphyry chapter throughout is dedicated to rebuttal). Karamanolis is at least prima facie convincing. At the opposite end of the spectrum are Atticus and Numenius, whose antipathy toward Aristotle is universal.For the rest, whether we are to say that Plato and Aristotle were in agreement obviously depends on what the agreement is to be about. There is, among Karamanolis’s Platonists, a good deal of interesting variation over that. Most of those who... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Plato's Charmides by Raphael WoolfAlan PichanickWOOLF, Raphael. Plato's Charmides. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2023. 282 pp. Cloth, $110.00With the publication of Raphael Woolf's Plato's Charmides, Cambridge University Press releases its second commentary on the dialogue in the last two years. Woolf's contribution is a welcome addition. More than a discussion of the difficulties of defining sophrosune, his approach to the Charmides is distinctive in his (...) attempt to unify the drama and the argument of the dialogue around two elements that prior commentators have not stressed enough: the centrality of eros and the significance of Socrates' first-person narration of the conversation.Chapter 1 begins with an account of two methodological principles: the "principle of agnosticism," which states that "one should not assume, in advance... that one has knowledge of the aims and methods at work... of either Plato or... Socrates." Along with this principle, Woolf adopts what he calls "the principle of separation," which says that "we should not assume that what is said or done by any of Plato's characters is necessarily endorsed by Plato himself." These two principles, as principles, are helpful interpretive tools to confront the dialogue on its own terms. On Woolf's reading, Plato portrays Socrates in conversation with his interlocutors in order to "instill in his readers... the stance of inquiry... [, that is,] an attitude that does not take ideas or arguments on trust but engages reflectively with them." He argues, moreover, that such an endeavor on Plato's part can yield a "unified account" of the structure of the conversation Socrates has with Charmides and Critias, including the rich dramatic introduction to the dialogue.In chapter 2, Woolf turns to five examples from the Charmides that illustrate what he calls the stance of inquiry. In a particularly interesting section, Woolf turns to the ominous ending of the dialogue, in which Charmides conspires with Critias to force Socrates to continue to instruct him. It is a moment in which Plato intends his readers to think of the forthcoming violence of these two tyrants, and it thus prompts readers to confront the question: Was Socrates possibly a bad influence on Charmides? In answer to this question, Woolf suggests that Plato wants readers to reflect on the possibility that Socrates could be flawed (or at the very least, distinctive) in that "he seems sufficiently indifferent to the spatiotemporal world to be pretty much unaffected by the deaths of his comrades in battle," and that we may reasonably doubt that Socrates "would be any more affected by the havoc wreaked by the Thirty and by Charmides' subsequent fate." According to Woolf, such an interest in the abstract over the concrete should not be imitated by readers who have taken up the stance of inquiry toward Socrates.Woolf returns later in the book to defend this provocative claim, especially in chapters 4 and 5, but first turns in chapter 3 to develop his earlier claim that the unity of the dialogue can be grounded in Socrates' erotic concern with Charmides. Here he argues that Socrates' concern for the young man connects to the dominant medical metaphor in the dialogue: Socrates' claim to be a physician of the soul. Woolf makes a [End Page 559] compelling case for the importance of eros in the dialogue, and in drawing attention to the erotic features of the dramatic setting of the conversation, he makes an equally compelling argument that these elements are related to Socrates' role as a soul doctor. In Woolf's own account of the dialogue, it is only after 110 pages of commentary that the reader comes to hear Charmides' first definition of sophrosune (which Woolf prefers to translate as "temperance"). Woolf's procedure is warranted by the richness of the introduction and his persuasive case that this context is essential to understanding the dialogue as a whole. In particular, he demonstrates that the dramatic introduction reveals the importance that Plato lays on conversations in his account of Socratic philosophy. From here emerges Woolf's candidate for definition of sophrosune as "selfrealization." He argues that the dialogue suggests, especially in the dramatic introduction, that sophrosune is... (shrink)

This article discusses Aristotle as a source of data regarding Plato's philosophy. The first pictures Aristotle beginning his intellectual life as a meek and dutiful Platonist and coming into his own as a philosopher only after the passing of his master, some twenty years beyond their earliest association. There are certain controversies regarding each other's approach towards philosophy; because Aristotle later on is seen to be disagreeing with his master on certain issues. Still less is there reason (...) to credit the bewildering contention, common to antiquity and modernity, that Aristotle never developed to the point of grasping the rudiments of Platonic philosophy: “In the first place,” says Burnet of Aristotle, “it is certain that he never understood the teaching of the head of the Academy.” However, keeping aside the above controversies, it must be acknowledged that Aristotle does cite Plato's views in illuminating ways in some of his surviving corpus. It can be concluded that, despite certain difference of opinion, Aristotle's corpus continues to be a great source of information of his master, Plato. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 41.1 (2003) 121-122 [Access article in PDF] Harold Tarrant. Plato's First Interpreters. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2000. Pp. viii + 263. Cloth, $55.00. This is Tarrant's third book on the ancient Platonist tradition, following his Scepticism or Platonism? (1985) and Thrasyllan Platonism (1993). In those earlier volumes his focus was on the first centuries bc and ad. Here his scope (...) is much wider. Stating that "Platonic interpretation is today at a crossroads," he has written a book that explores "ancient attempts to wrestle with this corpus," with the ultimate objective "to encourage a fresh, almost primitive reading of Plato himself" (vii).He begins engagingly by confronting the ancients with questions any modern reader of Plato must ask: What kind of text is this? Are there doctrines here? Where do I look for Plato's doctrines? The second part of his book is a historical survey, taking us from Plato, the early Academy and Aristotle, through the Hellenistic and early Roman Imperial period, and concluding with the principal Neoplatonist interpreters. In the third and longest part, he focuses on the interpretation of specific dialogues, giving most space to the Gorgias and Theaetetus, but also dealing in particular detail with the Meno, Parmenides, and Philebus. Something is said about every dialogue, but Tarrant writes only briefly about such major works as the Republic and Timaeus. He explains his selectivity (not very convincingly) as due to his wish to "discuss issues of meta-interpretation, with emphasis on the period before Plotinus" (198).Taking his book as a whole, one realizes that few strands of modern interpretation were not prefigured to quite a large extent in antiquity. The two most obvious exceptions are the chronological and developmental approach (Early, Middle, and Late), at present under strong attack from some quarters, and the theological, numerological, and allegorical readings practiced by Neoplatonists. Plato's ancient interpreters were doctrinal unitarians, but they implicitly anticipated our tendency to distinguish "Socratic dialogues," which some of them called "gymnastic" and "inquisitive," from such "canonical" works as the Phaedo,Republic, Symposium, and Timaeus, to which they applied the labels "dogmatic" and "expository." And they recognized that both types of characteristics could be found in the same dialogue, as in the Meno and Theaetetus. Plato himself, they proposed, spoke primarily through the voices of Socrates, Timaeus, and the Eleatic and Athenian strangers; but other characters, such as Pausanias in the Symposium, or Protagoras in the dialogue of that name, utter thoughts with some philosophical value. In explaining difficult passages of one dialogue, they would typically refer to passages from other parts of the corpus. An especially intriguing instance is the strategy of the Anonymous Commentator on the Theaetetus, who reads the Meno into the dialogue on which he is officially commenting.Ancient scholars, just like ourselves, asked questions about the unifying themes of complex dialogues. Hence the sub-titles given to certain works: "On the soul" for the Phaedo, and "On justice" for the Republic, etc. For Olympiodorus (whose commentary on the Gorgias Tarrant has recently co-edited [Leiden, 1998]), earlier interpreters have seriously erred by giving too limited an account of that dialogue's scope. It is not, he says, simply about rhetoric, nor about justice and injustice; nor is its theme the divine demiurge (as some Neoplatonists had strangely proposed, on the basis of the concluding myth). Rather, the subject of the Gorgias is "the ethical principles that lead to constitutional well-being" (125). [End Page 121] However, Olympiodorus's eminently "sensible" reading (as Tarrant calls it) is deeply embedded in the Neoplatonic contrast between the "purificatory virtues" of the Phaedo and the "constitutional virtues" of Republic4.Strong or weak scepticism, esotericism, unwritten doctrines, spurious versus genuine, a canon of central dialogues, dramatic considerations, and the philosophical importance or non-importance of the dialogues' prologues—all of these are interpretive approaches that Tarrant surveys in this immensely learned book, and all of them continue to resonate for us. Modern scholars, who emphasize the literary and philosophical unity of each dialogue, are walking... (shrink)

In this book, Eric Havelock presents a challenging account of the development of the idea of justice in early Greece, and particularly of the way justice changed as Greek oral tradition gradually gave way to the written word in a literate society. He begins by examining the educational functions of poets in preliterate Greece, showing how they conserved and transmitted the traditions of society, a thesis adumbrated in his earlier book Preface to Plato. Homer, he demonstrates, has much (...) to say about justice, but since that idea is nowhere in the epics directly stated or expressed, it must be deduced from the speech and actions of the characters. Havelock's careful reading of the Iliad and the Odyssey is original and revealing; it sheds light both on Homeric notions of justice and on the Archaic Greek society depicted in the poems. As Havelock continues his inquiry from Hesiod to Aeschylus, his findings become more complex. The oral Greek world shades into a literate one. Words lose some kinds of meanings, gain others, and steadily become more suited to the conceptualization that Plato strove for and achieved. This evolution of language itself, Havelock shows, was one of the principal accomplishments of the Greek world. Lucidly written and forcefully argued, this book is a major contribution to our knowledge of ancient Greece--its politics, philosophy, and literature, from Homer to Plato. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Body and Soul in the Philosophy of Plotinus AUDREY N. M. RICH BEFORE THE TIME Of Aristotle, there had been no serious philosophical enquiry into the relation existing between the body and the soul. Admittedly, in those Dialogues of Plato in which the problem of Motion begins to assume importance, something approaching a scientific interest in the question starts to emerge. In the Phaedrus, for instance, (...) the soul is considered as the source of all bodily movement and change,1 and in the Timaeus, the interaction of body and soul is given some attention and a special bodily organ allotted to each phase of the tripartite soul (69c-71a). But it is fair to say that on the whole, Plato does not give the impression of being vitally concerned about the soul-body relation. In fact, in the Phaedo, he makes it abundantly clear that he views such an association as morally regrettable rather than scientifically interesting; at this stage of his thought, he prefers, like Socrates, to ignore such questions as those discussed by Empedocles and Alcmaeon, namely, "whether we think with the blood, or whether it is the brain that is the seat of sensation" (96b). Thus, to some extent Plato merits the censure of Aristotle who, in the De Anirna (I:1,407b15-18), ranks him among those who "associate the soul with and place it in the body without specifying why this is so and how the body is conditioned." In Aristotle's opinion, examination of the soul-body connection is essential: "for it is by this association that the one acts and the other is acted upon, that the one moves and the other is moved; and no such mutual relation is found in haphazard combinations" (407b 18-21). Now there is a strong likelihood that Aristotle's criticism of Plato on this point may have led Plotinus to take up the problem to some extent neglected by his master. He must have known the De Anima, probably through the commentaries of Alexander of Aphrodisias which, we know, were read in his school along with the writings of other Peripatetics like Aspasius and Adrastus2; and although he did not himself envisage the soul-body relation in Aristotelian terms, nevertheless his whole enquiry into the subject is deeply colored by the language and influence of the De Anirna. Of course, Plotinus is much too loyal a Platonist to remain untouched by the dualism of the t245c-e; cp. Laws X: 898c5. ~Porphyry, Life of Plotinus, c. 15. [q 2 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY Phaedo, and the undertone of suspicion and hostility toward the body which is lacking in the De Anima but present in much of Plato, runs right through the Enneads of Plotinus. In fact, almost the last words of his final treatise on psychology reveal that this uneasy attitude persists to the end: "Life in the body," he says, "is in itself evil.''~ Strictly speaking, however, the extreme dualism of a Dialogue like the Phaedo has no real place in Plotinus' system. In his view, both body and soul are alike descended from the primal Absolute or One; each represents a different stage in the evolution of plurality from unity; soul is an earlier stage, body, a later; and though soul does not require body in order to exist, nevertheless, without body, it could never come forth fTom the intelligible realm to display its powers in the visible universe (IV: 3.9). Thus, because body is, in a sense, necessary to soul, because, figuratively speaking, it is the only "place" appropriate for the soul's occupation (IV: 3.9), it is impossible to view the relation between body and soul as one of unmitigated hostility. For to some extent, body and soul imply each other. On the cosmic level indeed, they never exist apart. For though we may speak of the "ensoulment" (~Ft~c0oLg) of the cosmos, because the cosmos is, in fact, eternal and uncreated, there never was a time when its soul and its body were dissociated (IV : 3.9). In the case of the human soul and body, however, matters are rather different, since it is evident that the two were separate... (shrink)

Professor Kahn says that Plato and the Socratic Dialogue “presents a new paradigm for the interpretation of Plato’s early and middle dialogues as a unified literary project, displaying an artistic plan for the expression of a unified world view”. To this end, Kahn argues that “[w]hat we can trace in these dialogues is not the development of Plato’s thought,” as Aristotle and others seem to have thought, “but the gradual unfolding of a literary plan for (...) presenting his philosophical views to the general public”. This “unfolding” begins shortly after the Gorgias. Kahn argues that Plato then “created an essentially new form, the aporetic dialogue with a pseudo-historical setting” in order to bridge the psychological distance between the ordinary conception of the world and the radically new world view he would present in the middle dialogues. Kahn calls his interpretation “the hypothesis of ingressive exposition” and says that this hypothesis is “the claim that the seven threshold dialogues [Laches, Charmides, Euthyphro, Protagoras, Meno, Lysis, and Euthydemus] are designed to prepare the reader for the views expounded in the Symposium, Phaedo, and Republic, and that they can be adequately understood only from the perspective of these middle dialogues”. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Notes and Discussions HEDONISM IN THE PROTAGORAS SOME INSOLUBLEPROBLEMSOf historical scholarship are posed by the fact that the hero of Plato's dialogues was also an historical figure. Commentators are prone to identify the Socrates of the dialogues with the man who drank the hemlock and walked the streets of Athens. This is perhaps unexceptionable 9 But beyond this they are often tempted (even when they know better) (...) to speak of the dialogues as if they were reports or descriptions of actual events in the life of the historical Socrates. Even so astute a scholar as Gregory Vlastos, in his recent lucid Introduction to the Protagoras, falls into this pit. The dramatic date of the Protagoras is no later than 433, five years before the birth of Plato. It would require clear and strong evidence (of which there is none) to convince us that a verbatim report of this encounter was preserved for thirty years or more, to be handed on to Plato at the appropriate moment. Vlastos, of course, would laugh at this suggestion, but hear him talking about the logic of Socrates' argument: I trust I have made it clear that Socrates' performance in this argument is much better than would appear from the fact, which it would be folly to hush up, that he has made a definite error. For the error he does make is one that he could easily have detected when he got the chance to think out his moves in a more leisurely moment. He would then have seen that he could have produced a valid deductive argument for his immediate objective, and did not have to revoke a single inference he had made.... This is not to deny that he occasionally makes grave errors. 9 It is only to insist that as a practitioner of logical inference, and one who practices on his feet, in the stress of live debate, and with no calculus or any formal patterns of valid inference to guide him, Socrates is not a bungler, but a master? This is all very well, except that the argument Vlastos is discussing was not constructed in the stress of live debate but rather, as it were, in the cool of Plato's study. Plato was not practicing on his feet, and, we may presume, had ample time to think through and revise the arguments in question. Are we to interpret Vlastos as claiming that in later, real encounters witnessed by Plato, Socrates did argue in this way? And that Plato here has Socrates commit logical errors (which he, Plato, knows are errors; for he has Protagoras object to them) in order to portray Socrates as a man who makes frequent mistakes but thinks pretty well on his feet? 1Plato's Protagoras, edited, with an Introduction, by Gregory Vlastos (New York, Liberal Arts Press, 1956), pp. xxxv-xxxvi. [7s] 74 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY In fact, we tend to think of the dialogues as having two authors, Plato and Socrates, and we frequently cannot choose between them. In the Protagoras it is even worse; for many scholars have assumed the existence of a third author, Protagoras, who is credited with having written at least part of his role in the dialogue. I offer here the radical thesis that the Protagoras has but one author, Plato, and that everything in the dialogue is to be laid to him.2 My assumptions are that from beginning to end the Protagoras is a product of Plato's imagination, and that Plato is primarily a philosopher and only secondarily a biographer--or perhaps we might say he is a biographer of ideas, not of persons. The philosophical stances assumed by the disputants may or may not resemble those of the historical figures, but we have no reason to attribute the words spoken or the turns taken in the argument to anyone but Plato. The question, why does Socrates say this at this point, must, if it is to be sensible, mean why does Plato have Socrates say this at this point. The answers, if there are answers, will be found within the dialogues and not in speculative history. In the final argument in the Protagoras (351b... (shrink)

The book is a translation of the Sophist with a running commentary. Three main points are argued: the dialogue does not present positive doctrine but has the structure of a reductio ad absurdum, Plato's point is to criticize the metaphysics of Parmenides. By failing to account for resemblance, Eleaticism implies an inadequate theory of relations, which makes impossible any understanding of "essence." Consequently, Eleaticism can be taken as the philosophical underpinning for the antithesis of philosophy, lending legitimacy to (...) sophistry, the criticism constitutes an indirect argument for the theory of forms. ;The method of division employed in the Sophist does not proceed "along natural joints" as called for in the Phaedrus, nor can it, since the Eleatic logic that underlies the method used in the Sophist allows for no intermediate in the strict opposition of 'being' and 'not-being.' The only definitions that can be made on this basis are negative definitions. This leads to an inability to account for images on Eleatic terms, providing a refuge for the sophist--he cannot be a maker of deceptive images if there are no images and no falsity. However, the modification of the Eleatic rejection of not-being is incomplete and insufficient. ;The arguments allow only for relations of identity and difference or whole and part, excluding any account of resemblance, the basis for any theory of participation. On these grounds, not-being is defined in terms of difference, affording an incomplete explanation of false statement, while abandoning the initial problem of images. Moreover, the concluding argument directly implies the reduction of 'being' to the newly introduced definition of 'not-being.' The ending turns back to the beginning: the sophist has an art that is no art, and definitions can only be definitions in terms of difference, negative definitions allowing no adequate account of images and no essences. The dialogue ends in a subtle aporia pointing to the failure to acknowledge that to say images both are and are not indicates an order of ontological dependence. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:PLATO'S STATESMAN STORY: THE BIRTH OF FICTION RECONCEIVED by John Tomasi In "Plato's Atlantis Story and the Birth of Fiction," Christopher Gill wants to distinguish the story ofAdantis in the Critias from Plato's earlier stories—like diat in the Statesman.1 These stories, Gill claims, belong to different literary genres. While the Statesman story is but another example of fable, the Adantis story of the Critias represents the (...) first example—the first in Plato and indeed the earliest in all Western written culture—of an exciting new literary genre: narrative fiction. Gill describes narrative fiction as a kind ofgame into which the author invites his audience to join. The invitation to play the game of fiction is an invitation "to share in the willing and conscious acceptance of the false as true" (p. 65). The audience is provided the opportunity to become "willfully self-deceived" about the story's truth. Perhaps the main constraint on a story's belonging to the genre of fiction is the author's ability to transmit this special invitation to his reader. Gill says one major way to do this is by a framework of introductory signals which are mixed in a certain way. The Adantis story, as Gill claims, seems to be framed with signals that a self-deception game is about to begin. Socrates says Critias is like a playwright competing in front of an audience (108a). Gill reads line 107 to mean that Critias is concerned direcdy with "the problem of giving his narrative the illusory realism which he says audiences require." Also, Gill says, "the fact that it is a game is signalled by the overt claim to historical truth in a context in which we are not disposed to accept the claim" (p. 72). Plato thus introduces the Adantis story with a delicate mixture ofconflictingclaims about the story's factual status. Gill suggests the reader should interpret this special mixture of signals as being a Philosophy and Literature, © 1990, 14: 348-358 John Tomasi349 sort of invitation to "make pretend," to play a pleasant game, to allow die reader to become willfully self-deceived. Within die Adantis story itself diere are further marks of die fiction genre. Narrative fiction can be a compelling game, and good fiction writers often slip into the game themselves, writing with a concern for detail and with a word choice so sensitive that the reader may feel that die writer too must believe in this fictional world. The Adantis story certainly exhibits this mark of fiction. As Gill puts it, in writing about Adantis Plato seems at times to have become "momentarily infatuated with the world he is creating."2 Such infatuation, exhibited especially perhaps in the detailed descriptions in the Critias of the splendors of the Adantean city and in the passionate portrayal of the growth of hubris in the citizens' hearts, is perhaps what gives the Adantis story some of its special potency, what makes it especially gripping to us (116c—ll7e; 121a-c). Clearly, it is a story with which writer as well as reader might develop an intimate relationship. In Plato's Atlantis story the framing signals are mixed with a deliberate subtlety, and the reader at times senses the writer's infatuation with his own tale. The Adantis story is thus crafted to get from the reader what Plato is after: "a willed self-deception, a chosen suspension ofincredulity for the duration of the story." Gill concludes, "This new element of intended complicity in the fictional game makes his work the first piece of deliberately fictional narrative in Greek literature" (p. 76). Gill's argumentthat the Adantis story belongs to the genre ofnarrative fiction is provocative and on the whole convincing. But is the Adantis story really the first Western instance of that genre? Is it even Plato's first attempt at fiction? I think it is not. I would like now to examine the storywithin the Statesman, a storywhich Gill says was probablywritten before the Adantis story. Might the Statesman story be a still earlier instance of narrative fiction? The signals framing the Statesman story are mixed indeed. At first, the Stranger tells young Socrates that... (shrink)