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In their quest to discover exactly what rhetoric is, Socrates compares rhetoric with cookery, stating that they both pursue the same ends (Gorgias 462e). Socrates places rhetoric well below the 'political art' in the hierarchy of human activities. Rhetoric, cookery and cosmetics are all activities that use experience as their paradigm. Specifically, for Socrates, rhetoric concerns itself with the experience of grace and pleasure (462cd). It takes immediate pleasure and gratification as the highest good and thus does not contemplate the actual good life. The good life, which, as he intimates in the Protagoras, is the harmony between the soul and the life as a whole, necessitates contemplation that reaches beyond the pleasures and experiences of the here and now (P&M 313a). The good life requires patience, diligence, and responsibility that has not only listened to itself but to others as well. Socrates develops, then, a dichotomy between rhetoric and philosophy that implies that philosophy is neither governed, nor involved in experience. Hence, if one follows this to its limit, the 'true political art' learns nothing from experience; for the experience of pleasure and pain should not dictate the pursuit of the good.

This throws the question of the good life into a strange light, and I question whether it is possible to conceive of the good life without reference to experience either of pleasure or of pain. I think, at this point, Socrates is quick to draw strict lines between rhetoric and the 'political art.' Furthermore, I believe that Socrates actually foreshadows what may be a certain softening to the skill of rhetoric when he indicates that "whether the rhetoric that Gorgias pursues is this, I do not know," (Gorgias 463a). For now, he leaves the question of a better type of rhetoric open as a possibility, a rhetoric that may have higher pursuits in mind. Thus, I do agree with Nicolas in that Socrates may be open to a certain appropriation of rhetoric within philosophy. Indeed, it seems impossible for philosophy to leave some understanding of pleasure behind.

This does not mean, however, that Socrates paints rhetoric in an appealing light. Rhetoric is a skill, but it is not an art. It "is skilled at guessing, courageous, and terribly cleaver by nature at associating with human beings;" it is "not an art but experience and routine" (463b). Rhetoric's object is human beings, studying them in order to control them, in order to know their desires and reciprocate those desires. At worst and on its own, it attempts little at understanding human beings by listening and understanding, but structures a routine response and treatment of them. Rhetoric is a self enclosed skilled; its goal is to produce pleasure and its response is to give pleasure. In other words, its results will always attempt to correlate directly with what it thinks the other's desires are. This, at least, is my understanding of Socrates' ascription of the term flattery to rhetoric. It should be noted, however, that he, again, refuses to condemn and reduce rhetoric completely to flattery (466a).

Socrates' claim that rhetoric "is a phantom of a part of politics," also sheds light on his understanding of the relationship between rhetoric and the true political art. He seems to ascribe a certain mimesis to rhetoric, but not a mimesis that learns and expands, nor one that simply betrays itself by becoming another; indeed, posing is its occupation. Rhetoric is a deceitful imposter. Like flattery, "it pretends to be... and gives no heed to the best but hunts after folly with what is ever most pleasant, and deceives, so as to seem to be worth very much," (464d). Rhetoric can be like a parasite on the possibilities of the 'political art.' Rather than genuinely debating and "giving a reasoned account," of what it claims to tend to or its own project, rhetoric promotes blindness to both itself and the very question of the good - its only concern being the search for pleasure.

Yet, it seems implausible that Socrates would deny that the pleasurable and the good could coincide. It seems the very question of turning oneself toward the good life must also necessitate a cultivated desire for the good life, a desire that views the good life as agreeable and is always striving to attain that pleasure. Moreover, experience and art cannot be so easily dichotomized, especially if part of the art of philosophy is to "give a reasoned account," one must assume that experience and its relation to pleasure has its place in this discussion. Basically, Socrates' speech brings to light the dangers of rhetoric, but at this point, in his analogies with cookery and cosmetics, he does not give rhetoric a fair discussion. Not to mention, as a side note, his speech is full of rhetoric, insisting that rhetoric is shameful, and flattering Polus repeatedly(463c-467c).

In closing I would like to remind how at the beginning of our semester, when discussing the opening pages of the Protagoras, Professor Long noted the playfulness of the exchange between friends, and Socrates' 'defense' of his erotic love for Alcibiades. If I remember correctly, Professor Long suggested that, according to the Greek conceptions of love and knowledge, the pursuit of wisdom begins with erotic love. It seems to me that this love must have some connection to the experience of pleasure. And, while this is not the highest form of love, it does have its place in the pursuit of wisdom. It recognizes at bottom that human beings are embodied and must always remain connected to the earthly body in their pursuit of the realm of the good. To dichotomize them completely would ignore what sparked the quest in the first place. Thus, I do not believe that Socrates can completely dismiss rhetoric, even though he dismisses rhetoricians. What he condemns, in fact, is the lack of movement beyond the pursuit of pleasure alone. Any search must necessarily combine itself with new experiences and sidestep its own project, and in that, it moves beyond its original paradigm to a new more enriched one. Socrates (and perhaps Plato) wants to remind, however, that the question concerning the good life should always be the projected goal. In that way, philosophy, as an attempt to give a rational account of its project and its objects of discourse - its rationale fundamentally grounded in the contemplation of the good life - can combine with disciplines such as rhetoric to enrich both of their projects. As a phantom, or image of true politics, then, rhetoric, at worst and on its own, is a degenerated form of the true political art. It is, however, not necessarily extricable from the practice of politics, and is an important step in the process of conceptualizing the good life.

Among the numerous places where one finds Protagoras and Socrates having a major disagreement is over Simonides poem. According to Protagoras' understanding of Simonides poem, there is a contradiction in Simonides discussion of being good (339d). Socrates argues against this point by pointing to the difference between being and good and becoming good. This distinction gives way to what seems to be a critique of the use of poetry. The text reads:

"I've always felt that discussions about poetry are exactly like those parties thrown by low-class, vulgar people-they do the same: they aren't capable of entertaining each other over their drinks just with their own company, with the sound of their own voices and their own ideas-because of their lack of sophistication-so they drive up the price of flute-girls by paying a lot of money to get a "voice" in from somewhere else-the sound of the flute-and then rely on that "voice" for entertaining one another. But at parties where decent, classy people are drinking together, educated people, you won't find any flute-girls, or dancing girls, or harp-girls. No. You'll find they're quite capable of entertaining one another just with their own company, without any of that kind of silly, adolescent nonsense, relying on the sound of their own voices, taking turns to speak and to listen to one another in an orderly fashion- even if they drink a whole lot of wine. The same applies to meetings like this one here: as long as the people taking part are the sort of people most of us claim to be, then they shouldn't need any outside voice, not even the voice of poets and songwriters- who can't be asked anything about what they're saying, and usually when people bring them into a discussion you get some people saying the poet means one thing and discussing something they have no way of proving one way or the other. No, they don't bother with those sorts of discussions; they just engage with one another through their own ideas making their own claims, and testing and defending them in turn" (337b-348a). 

The initial reading of this quote might be understood as a criticism of the use of poetry itself. Yet, this understanding is complicated by the fact that a few lines later Socrates quotes the poet Homer (348d). Perhaps this is just a contradiction, but there seems to be more to the issue than this.

            If we take seriously that there is more to be taken from Socrates' quote than a mere disdain for poetry, one might find that it makes sense to consider Socrates concern to be an issue of the misuse of poetry rather than poetry itself. Thus, Socrates' problem lies in what he considers to be the difference between educated and uneducated uses of poetry. Socrates is critiquing Protagoras methodological use of poetry. Protagoras, according to Socrates, has fruitless methods insofar as he attempts to provide Socrates with an account of what was meant by the poet.  This approach ends all chances for dialogue since one person cannot be more prepared to express what the poet meant than any other person since there is no way to confirm this (specifically if the poet him/herself is not there for confirmation). A point to be added to this is that one can never fully come to terms with the implications of one's words even if one is careful to attempt to establish certain goals for those words. Therefore even the poet may not know all that is to be understood from his/her poem. This method is juxtaposed to the ways in which educated persons use poetry. For the educated the focus is not on the truth of the poet or the poem, but rather a truth that comes as the result of dialogue. Dialogue not about what the poem was intended to mean, or truly means, but about one's ideas of the poem.

                 The final line of the quote suggests that dialogue about poetry is not pointless conversation, but dialogue aimed at testing and defending ideas. But the question remains as to the purpose of testing and defending one's ideas about poetry. Charles L. Griswold Jr. provides some insight into an answer to this question in his essay "Relying on Your Own Voice: An Unsettled Rivalry of Moral Ideals in Plato's Protagoras." Griswold begins by turning the readers' attention to the breakdown in conversation between Protagoras and Socrates at 336a-b. Here we find that Socrates threatens to end the conversation if Protagoras does not agree to answer Socrates' questions with more precise answers. On a superficial level this seems to be a clash between sophistical and philosophical techniques, but Griswold argues that this clashing suggests something far deeper. It suggests a difference in Protagoras' and Socrates' moral ideals. Put differently, the potential end of dialogue between Socrates and Protagoras sheds light on the difference between each speaker's stake in the conversation and thus their differential idea of relying on one's own voice.

                 Griswold interprets Protagoras' understanding of relying on one's own voice as being able to provide an interpretation of a text and to account for that interpretation. In Griswold's words "Protagoras spoke in his own voice, answering Socrates challenge point-by-point and giving every indication of taking responsibility for his account" (290). This differs starkly from what Griswold believes Socrates means by relying on one's own voice. For Socrates the core of relying on one's own voice has nothing to do with originality or exegesis. It is about self-reliance, responsibility and accountability.  Self-reliance refers to an unwillingness to rely on the voice of others, unless one exams that which is being said. Accountability refers to holding oneself to the standards of reason when responding to questions. Responsibility refers to standing by or abandoning one's view in accordance with reason (292). As such relying on one's own voice, for Socrates, involves a type of dialogue in which one both speaks and listens, and in listening one remains open to changing one's position.

                 Griswold highlights Socrates and Hippocrates discussion about Protagoras as a clear example of Socrates illustrating what he means by relying on one's own voice. When Hippocrates speaks to Socrates about Protagoras, Socrates asks Hippocrates if he has considered what learning from Protagoras will do to his soul. The soul, Socrates explains, is the "thing which determines (by turning out either bad or good) whether you whole life goes well or badly" (313a). Griswold considers this to be Socrates appeal to the idea that concern with one's welfare has to involve a concern for one's soul, particularly the direction of one's soul. The direction of one's soul is determined by using philosophical reason which requires seeking an answer to the question 'what is best for one's soul?' (296).   The best direction cannot be determined by following that which nourishes the soul; it requires a search for that which is good for the soul.

                 Socrates presses Hippocrates to search for what is best for his soul. But, such an approach is almost oppositional to the approach of Protagoras. Protagoras, according to Griswold, is concerned with orienting the soul towards mastery. As a sophist, Protagoras seeks to master what he teaches which will result in wealth and reputation (303).  Thus in conclusion we find that Protagoras is not concerned with using philosophical reason to work towards finding the truth of what is best for the soul. He has an idea of what is best for the soul and promotes it; this does not take seriously the usefulness of dialogue; It does not take seriously the reciprocal relationship between speaking, listening, and being open to changing one's position. All of which are crucial to Socrates ethical ideal and his notion of the proper use of poetry and thus relying on one's own voice. Such an understanding of Socrates' and Protagoras' differential uses of poetry might also be useful for coming to terms with how it is that both Socrates and Protagoras both use rhetoric, but only Protagoras is identified as a sophist.

 

Works Cited:

• Charles L. Griswold Jr. "Relying on Your Own Voice: An Unsettled Rivalry of Moral Ideals in Plato's Protagoras." The Review of Metaphysics 53, no. 2 (Dec 1999): 283-307.

• Plato (2005). Protagoras and Menos. London: Penguin Classics. Trans. Adam Beresford.

 

I have been spending a great amount of time thinking about the place of Simonides' poem in the Protagoras. What I am most troubled by is this notion of poetic interpretation and the place of the interpreter. Specifically, I am pointing to the creative interpretations of this poem that Socrates offers. What is problematic for me is this idea that Socrates' perspective is perhaps so far away from the interpretation Simonides intended. At this point I wonder: "What is point is Socrates wanting to make in his interpretations since he knew the poem so well?" In other words, I am having some trouble reconciling the fact that Socrates knows the poem, but wants to almost "rewrite" it in the sense that his interpretations almost lack context.

So, I have decided to grapple with this issue by addressing it in another way. I think now that what is most important to Socrates in this public display of his interpretations is that he does it to share. In this sense, his outrageousness is to demonstrate that we should utilize our own voices when thinking about things, and in particular, poetry. Most importantly, I think, Socrates shows that he is willing to challenge himself in thinking critically. It is by this act of challenging himself that others can engage with him on what is being described. By doing this, Socrates engages in what we have talked about before; community in dialogue. The fact that the interpretation is "right" or "wrong" doesn't matter much. Moreover, the context of the poem itself and what we believe to have been the purpose of the writer means something very different than what we would normally give it. What do you think?

Some commentators have stressed that the first words of the Gorgias are crucial for understanding the dramatic framing of the dialogue: polemon kai machen (a war and a battle). Of course, this points out the fact that philosophy and rhetoric have conceived themselves as rivals that pursue antagonistic aims. To interpret those first words under the light of a battle that is going to take place between the rhetorician and the philosopher is not absurd. But still, it seems to me that Socrates' allusion to his being late for a feast shall not be interpreted in an ironical way, but rather as an acknowledgment that there is something to share and learn from Gorgias.

After Socrates blames Chaerephon of his late arrival he immediately states: boulomai gar puthestai par autou, tis he dunamis ths techne tou andros (I want to find out from the man what is the function of his art. 447c1-3). If we take this statement seriously then there is something that Socrates desires from Gorgias. I take this desire to be either the concern of the philosopher to come into terms with some type of rhetorician, that is, the recognition that philosophy lacks something which rhetoric has, or that this dichotomy should be overcome in the name of a philosophical rhetoric. If it is the former, then the question is in what sense could rhetoric be helpful for the philosophical activity in the terms that Socrates understands it. Therefore I think that the framing of the dialogue has to be understood not only as a confrontation between two enemies in a war, but also as a feast share by friends that need each other. We have inevitably to ask the following question: Would real philosophers "naturally reject rhetoric for dialectics?"(Doyle 2006)

It's important to remember that the Gorgias is a dialogue posterior to the Protagoras -in the dramatic temporal life of Socrates. This is crucial because we can only understand the outcome of the Protagoras by relating it to the Gorgias. The reason why I say this is because I think Socrates has, in certain degree, changed his perspective regarding certain rhetoricians. The agonistic conversation that Socrates had with Protagoras is transformed by a peaceful and harmonious conversation between he and Gorgias. If we conceive rhetoric in a non-technical and wider sense, then we can sustain that rhetoric has a motivational component that allows somebody to move another toward a certain direction, without forcing her. In other words rhetoric opens the space to be receptive to the claims of others, it "opens the capacity to be moved by the other as a result of the persuasive appeal"(Colapietro 1988, 157).

Andrew Stauffer in his book The Unity of Plato's Gorgias. Rhetoric, Justice and the Philosophic Life argues that the implicit analogy that Socrates poses at the beginning of the dialogue between rhetoric and weaving clothes, as well as that of rhetoric and music (449d1-5), reveal something essential to rhetoric: "[it] resembles an art that provides protection through the creation of cloaks and an art that sways men's passions than it does an art that clarify the path to true health" (Stauffer 2006, 21). This shows the tension that appears within rhetoric, on one hand, conceals something by protecting it, while on the other, moves us towards something else. In short, with the rhetorical art we are concealed and swayed, protecting us and at the same time giving ourselves to the other. Yet the fundamental thing here is that rhetoric cannot clarify the path to true health, that is, rhetoric cannot clarify the path towards the good. Nevertheless, it can move us toward one path or the other. If Socrates is trying to turn individual souls toward the good and if, as Ryan Pollock stated in his post couple of months ago, "those who practice virtue, whatever this would ultimately mean, cannot in advance of their undertaking have a precise conception of their final goal" (Pollock), then rhetoric becomes crucial for the practice of dialogue. Without a robust conception of the good and a determinate conception of what it would mean to turn individuals toward the good, rhetoric becomes fundamental. It allows that the people that engage in a dialogue are open to be moved by the other, are open to sway their passions in the direction that the other suggests, in other words, allow themselves to hear the music of other's utterances but without giving away their cloak that protects them from blind sway of their passions. It seems to me that when Gorgias tells the anecdote of the one time that he went with his brother to the sick person that was not willing to take his medication, and then Gorgias declares: "the doctor being unable to persuade him, I persuade him, by no other art than rhetoric" (456b4-5); the sick person was able to be receptive to the other, that is to say, he was open to be moved by the words of the other. It was the rhetorician who was able to move the sick person, not the doctor that had the knowledge of his illness. As I said in class, this kind of interplay between rhetoric and dialogue is crucial for the exercise of the true political art, an art that aims to turn individuals towards the good, by being also open to be moved by the other. In short, this interplay can be conceived as overcoming the traditional prejudice of separating with an axe, using Peirce's metaphor, philosophy and rhetoric as two unrelated activities.

Perhaps the war and battle that was referred to at the beginning of the dialogue is more an anticipation of what would be the conversation between Socrates and Callicles. I think this is why Callicles was the one that expressed those words, and not Gorgias. While Socrates really wanted something from Gorgias, maybe he knew that a feast was waiting for him, a feast that was going to be shared with a future friend, a friend from whom he would learn something important for his philosophical practice. It seems to me that the dialogue is not only about battle and war, but also about friendship, alliance, and community between two old enemies that might become future friends. Philosophy and Rhetoric have to come into terms; the alliance between the two can intensify both activities, and thus open new possibilities of meaning of what is the philosophical life.

Works Cited

• Colapietro, Vincent. "Human Agency: The Habits of our Being." The Southern Journal of Philosophy XXVI, no. 2 (1988): 153-168.
• Doyle, James. "On the First Eight Lines of Plato's Gorgias." The Classical Quarterly 56, no. 2 (December 2006): 599-602.
• Plato. Gorgias. Great Britain: Loeb Classic Library, 1996.
• Stauffer, Andrew. The Unity of Plato's Gorgias. Rhetoric, Justice and the Philosophical Life. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006.

In the Protagoras, does Protagoras live up to everything negative that Socrates accuses of the sophists?  Surely he does use grand, flowery speeches--and these do distract his audience at times--but is it clear that his desire truly is to win the argument at the expense of truth and justice?  

In the Protagoras, the Socrates presents his audience (including his readers) with a negative image of Protagoras as a sophist before the reader first meets him.  Early in the dialogue, Socrates narrates his attempts to dissuade the young Hippocrates from becoming a pupil of Protagoras: "Wouldn't you be embarrassed, going around Greece presenting yourself as a sophist?" (312a-b.)  

There is a seeming tension between Socrates' generally negative attitude towards Protagoras as a sophist, exhibited in this scene (and accompanied by his possible evident desire to win the argument) and the (possibly ironically) positive ways that Socrates speaks to and of Protagoras.  Repeatedly, Socrates refers to Protagoras as a great intellectual and verbally conveys his respect for Protagoras as a thinker--usually to Protagoras's face, but also at 309d when speaking to his group of friends ("that is, if you think the greatest living intellectual is...") but his remarks carry a suggestion of irony and even sarcasm.  We as readers are left unsure about Socrates' full intentions when he makes comments such as "I look on you as someone of wide experience and great learning, and as an original thinker as well" (320b-c).  I believe that in these remarks there is a mixture of irony and seriousness that is important to our understanding of Socrates and Protagoras' role.

Over the course of the dialogue, the reader, who is probably accustomed to identifying with Socrates as the protagonist (or so the conventional reading of Plato goes) is struck by Socrates' behavior in the dialogue.  In many places, Socrates' behavior borders on -or simply is--unfair, obnoxious, self-important, and unsympathetic to most or all of what Protagoras argues.  Protagoras' face analogy, as we discussed in class (which if examined sympathetically as an analogy might be compelling and in certain respects does work, if we treat it for what it is) is one important example of this.  Once Protagoras conveys his analogy, Socrates immediately goes to work finding its limits, and using these to make the whole analogy appear faulty--a move that does convey some of the limits of the analogy, but that simultaneously obscures some of its important deeper insights.

Plato's attitude and treatment of Protagoras becomes even more striking when we examine Protagoras in a wider context.  According to Schiappa, Protagoras was well-respected as a philosopher in fifth and fourth century Greece.  "It is appropriate to classify Protagoras' interests as philosophical as long as it is kept in mind that the term is used in a modern sense" (14).  He had an influence on Aristotle, who for the most part refers to Protagoras in a positive light (14) and who agrees with Protagoras on issues such as "civic training" and "civic virtues" (193).  And according to Classen (as referenced by Schiappa), Aristotle avoids referring to Protagoras as a Sophist out of respect (14).  Schiappa continues to say that

Protagoras has been called the first positivist, the first humanist, the forerunner of pragmatism, a skeptic, an existentialist, a phenomenalist, an empiricist, an early utilitarian, a subjective relativist, and an objective relativist (15) (In a long footnote here, Schiappa cites thinkers who analyze Protagoras in each of these respective lights.)

In the end, as Schiappa argues, Protagoras does have an influence on Plato.  This influence is, in part, Protagoras as a thinker to be refuted--in particular, in his relativistic "human measure" argument.  In this, Plato and Aristotle both argue that Protagoras' statement contradicts itself, as for them it implies that one thing could be at the same time both good and bad (or both beautiful and ugly, etc.) if as Protagoras suggests it is the person that measures the goodness or badness of the thing.   But for Schiappa, "Both Plato and Aristotle argue from an either/or logic, whereas Protagoras used a both/and logic. To him experience was rich and variable enough to be capable of multiple--and even inconsistent--accounts" (italics mine, 193).  (And this is perhaps one of the regards in which Protagoras is argued to be a "forefunner of pragmatism.")  Schiappa argues that in all likelihood both Plato and Aristotle were ultimately aware that they had not sufficiently refuted Protagoras--but they did succeed in diminishing the prestige and popularity of his philosophies (193).  Ultimately, however, as Schiappa argues, Protagoras provided Plato and Aristotle with tools and methods, his relativism was influential (194), and, ultimately, Plato and Aristotle did assimilat certain aspects of Protagoras' philosophies in important ways--especially Aristotle (193-194).

The Protagoras ends unresolved and unconcluded.  We have no answers as to whether arête is teachable, or what an apt metaphor for it would be.  And in this regard, we the readers are, like Plato and Aristotle, left with the option of assimilating Protagoras' perspectives, in spite of the ways in which Socrates takes them down. Because in the end we are left with an image of a Protagoras who offers some compelling arguments and analogies, and who appears to have good intentions: his desire to make the youth better people seems to be genuine, and he appears to be less focused on winning the dialogue than Socrates. In this text, Socrates' negative mannerisms and his role as a dislikable protagonist may function as an aid to cultivating the reader's sense of sympathy for Protagoras and his arguments, whether or not that was Plato's intention.

In the most recent Digital Dialogue entitled "Eros and Democracy," a conversation with Mark Munn, Dr. Long made some statements which I find to be especially pertinent to the topic of our class. As either it is impossible, or I have not been able to figure out how, to rewind/fast-forward the audio player for the dialogue I will have to paraphrase these statements (in other words, feel free to call to it to my attention if I have caricatured/butchered what you said in the Dialogue). Dr. Long states that Socrates, although he may attempt to extract an account of the Good from his interlocutors, does not have an account of the Good himself; or, at least not a determinate conception of the Good. Instead, Socrates is more interested in turning others toward the Good and, this I believe is the central point, in the process of this turning one is already on a move toward the Good.

These considerations give rise to two interrelated questions which I think are vital for understanding the nature of Socratic politics.

1. What exactly is meant by an indeterminate conception of the Good? 
2. What does it meant to "turn someone toward the good," as opposed to simply teaching or transmitting a conception of the Good?

Each of these questions will be considered here in turn. With regards to the first question it seems that this returns us to the concept of techne and the "logic of fabrication" which were discussed early in the class. In Of Art and Wisdom: Plato's Understanding of Techne, David Roochnik provides a thorough discussion of the role that techne plays throughout the Socratic dialogues. After recounting the history of the notion of techne in Greek thought Roochnik makes a distinction between what he calls techne1 and techne2. Furthermore, he provides a list of criterion which distinguishes each of these. Without fully reproducing these lists here it can be said that techne1 is analogous to a strict interpretation of the logic of fabrication. A techne1 contains a determinate subject matter which must be practiced by an expert. Furthermore, insofar as it displays such determinacy its results are reliable and its methods are teachable (Roochnik, 44). The paradigm for this type techne is that of the precision involved in mathematics (Roochnik, 50). The example of the shoemaker we have been utilizing in class falls under this category. In this craft there is a clearly defined goal which does not come about without the particulars skills of the shoemaker. Additionally, its methods are sufficiently stable to the point that it can be effectively taught. Perhaps what is most important for our purposes here is the conception of the reliability of techne. This reliability is manifest in a relationship between a techne's function and end; consequently, in the case of techne1 "its function is identical to its end" (Roochnik, 45). The shoemaker's function is to produce shoes and he or she is evaluated by precisely whether this end is brought about. This can be understood more clearly when it is contrasted with techne2. Techne2 is exemplified by the practice of medicine. Several considerations of medicine differentiate it from a techne1 like shoemaking; for instance, sometimes those who become ill become better without seeing a doctor thereby questioning the necessity of a physician (Roochnik, 44). Additionally, "the results of medicine are not entirely reliable; some patients who are treated are not cured" (Roochnik, 44). Here we see that in techne2 its function, treating patients, is not wholly identical with the end, curing patients.

The question then becomes under which category, if either, does the political techne, or turning toward the Good, fall. For Roochnik the answer is neither, but instead techne falls within the form of "non-technical" knowledge. In his introduction he recounts what he calls the "Standard Account of Techne" (SAT) and attributes this view to the majority of contemporary Plato scholars. According to this view, Socrates believes the model of technical knowledge which was espoused above can also used within the realm of technical knowledge (Roochnik, 6). A practitioner of virtue using more or less reliable methods (depending on whether it is considered techne1 or techne2) will be able to more or less reliably produce virtue. The reason for this account seems to be that Socrates often attempts to force his interlocutors into the techne analogy when discussing the nature of virtue. Roochnik cites an example from the Apology when Socrates explains that for the excellence of a horse a trainer is needed and then goes on to question Callias who, in an analogical fashion, is necessary for the excellence of a human (Roochnik, 2). This would seem to suggest that Socrates believes that virtue fits into the techne analogy.

However, Roochnik takes very seriously both the fact that Plato's dialogues end in aporia (Roochnik, 89) and that Plato wrote dialogues (Roochnik, 105). The fact that Plato's interlocutors fail to fit virtue within the concept of techne and that the dialogues end in aporia may actually suggest the Plato did not take this to be a proper paradigm for moral knowledge. Furthermore, the fact Plato wrote dialogues is significant because the dialogue form is, according to Roochnik, "the ideal vehicle with which to express nontechnical knowledge" (Roochnik, 106). The fact that an application of the techne analogy to virtue leads to aporia signifies the indeterminacy in Socrates concept of the Good and suggests an answer to question (1). The indeterminacy of the Good is found in that fact that it has no definite means or ends. It is not a techne1, or even a techne2, insofar as its end cannot be precisely articulated.

Those who practice virtue, whatever this would ultimately mean, cannot in advance of their undertaking have a precise conception of their final goal. It is here that we encounter question (2) and where the fact that Plato wrote dialogues becomes central. In the absence of a determinate notion of the Good we are forced to consider the role of dialogical processes. Perhaps the fact that Plato used the form of dialogue points to the central role that discussion plays in the political undertaking. For instance, the change of mind that both Socrates and Protagoras experience through the course of their discussion may point to the transformative power of discussion. Insofar as the Good is not a determinate conception its must be worked out within the sphere of social discussion. It is in these instances that the significance of earlier italicized phrase becomes manifest. To recognize the indeterminacy of the Good, and by implication the necessity of dialogue, is already a move toward accessing the Good to the extent that this can be accomplished.

In an attempt to implement a collaborative research model in the PHIL553 graduate seminar and to offer the undergraduates doing work in the area access to the results of our collaborative research, I have set up a group library for references related to Socratic Politics on Zotero.

Zotero is a free and easy-to-use Firefox extension that allows us to collect, manage and cite research sources.  I invite the students in my PHIL553 graduate seminar on Socratic Politics to:

1. Download Firefox if you don't have it installed.
2. Download the Zotero 2.0 Beta Extension for Firefox, which gives you the ability to share libraries and collaborate with others.
3. Join the Socratic Politics Group Library to begin adding resources to our library.

Students in PHIL200 are encouraged to view the library as a possible source of secondary material related to the study of Plato and Socratic Politics as you move toward your final research project.

I am including here a little video introduction to explain what Zotero is:

I would like to share some thoughts on this debate about "Late Heidegger and Aletheia." First, let me offer the Lyotard text that prompted me to ask, in the first place, about Chris' reading of Heidegger's move away from the human. Lyotard, in defending his appropriation of Heidegger's term Ereignis, agrees that his reading is very much like the discussion found in "On Time and Being,"

[e]xcept that Heidegger's meditation persists in making "man" the addressee of the giving which in the Ereignis gives, and gives itself while withholding itself, and it particularly persists in making the one who receives this giving into the man who fulfills his destiny as man by hearing the authenticity of time [...] The There is [es gibt] takes place, it is an occurrence (Ereignis), but it does not present anything to anyone, it does not present itself, and it is not the present, nor is it presence. (Jean-François Lyotard, The Differend (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988), 75)

Given Lyotard's criticism and the texts in "On Time and Being" to which Joe has drawn our attention, I believe that it is untenable to find Heidegger moving towards a "humanless" philosophy. It is, rather, Lyotard who would like to extract the human from Heidegger's later work.

While I may be willing to agree with Chris that, in "The End of Philosophy and the Task of Thinking," Heidegger perhaps too quickly relegates Homer's aletheia to orthotes, "correctness of representations and statements" (70), he does still ask the question of how it is that the human comes to experience aletheia in this way. He asks, "[h]ow is it that aletheia, unconcealment, appears to man's natural experience and speaking only as correctness and dependability?" (71). Furthermore, Heidegger ends the essay with these lines:

Does the name for the task of thinking then read instead of Being and Time: Opening and Presence? But where does the opening come from and how is it given? What speaks in the "It gives [es gibt]?" The task of thinking would then be the surrender of previous thinking to the determination of the matter of thinking. (73)
 

The "opening and presence" that displaces "being and time" speaks, as Chris pointed out in his original post, but it is precisely the task of thinking--of a thinking that Heidegger only attributes to humans--to decipher what speaks, and what is said, in the es gibt. I find it difficult, in these passages, to see where the human is jettisoned. Now, in Chris' response to Joe, Chris made an assertion that I find puzzling and which I will take, hopefully with fidelity, to be a kind of rebuttal to my last observation and its accompanying Heidegger text. Here are Chris' words:
 

However, part of my claim is that by articulating the happening of the "It gives" in neutered and impersonal terms, Heidegger, to put it provocatively, re-inscribes his thinking into the long tradition of transcendental philosophy he himself wants to undermine.

I take Chris to mean here that when Heidegger asks, at the end of his essay, whence comes the "opening" and the "It gives," the answer to which Heidegger has bound himself is some impersonal transcendental principle, an answer which would have the self-defeating consequences that Chris points out. My puzzlement over Chris' comment is simply my needing clarification of what Chris means by "transcendental." Certainly Being is transcendent with respect to the human (transcendent in the Husserlian sense, by which I mean, at the risk of oversimplifying, "outside"), but is it transcendental? I will assume, again, I hope with fidelity, that by "transcendental" Chris is pointing to the philosophical enterprises of, most notably, Kant and Husserl. But are these projects not criticized by Heidegger for their espousal of a transcendental principle that is immanent to the subject? Is it not their Cartesian subjectivism that Heidegger criticizes, and not the transcendental as such?

Even in Being in Time--a text whose "anthropocentrism" has to be thought in the background of the assertion that Heidegger's later philosophy disposes of the human--Heidegger uses the term "transcendental" numerous times. Most notably, the title of Part One contains the phrase, "Explication of Time as the Transcendental Horizon of the Question of Being" (Being and Time, H. 40, note that I am giving the German pagination). Only two pages earlier, Heidegger writes, "Being is the transcendens pure and simple" and "[e]very disclosure of being as the transcendens is transcendental knowledge. Phenomenological truth (disclosedness of being) is veritas transcendentalis" (H. 38). There are many more examples, including ones in Heidegger's notes, which he made upon re-readings and some of which, no doubt, he made after the "turn" (these are included in Stambaugh's translation). Regardless, my point is this: Even when Heidegger is most closely in danger of an all-too-humanism, in Being and Time, he uses the term "transcendental" to describe Being and its disclosure. This is because, I believe, he has divorced, in his thinking, the transcendental from its modern marriage to subjectivism.

Thus, if Chris has in mind, in his criticism of Heidegger's re-inscription into the tradition of transcendental philosophy, a subjective transcendentalism, I do not see the grounds for this claim. In fact, when Heidegger's philosophy comes "closest" to the subjectivist trap, and being and time are still thought in terms of Dasein, Heidegger puts forth a transcendental principle thought in terms of disclosure and "phenomenological truth" (i.e., this becomes aletheia in Heidegger's later works). If Being, and its "It gives" are transcendental without being subjectivized, then I do not see how such a transcendental principle 1) is a part of the tradition that Heidegger criticizes or 2) takes the human recipient of the "It gives" out of the picture.

Ironically, I am sympathetic to Chris' desire to maintain the human element in truth as aletheia. I see Heidegger as an ally on this front. It is, rather, Lyotard, and others of his ilk, who pose the greater threat of de-humanizing the event of the saying of things.

This post is in response to Chris Long's claim in "Late Heidegger and Aletheia" that "it seems that Heidegger has sought to affirm a conception of aletheia that is independent of the human." Here, I want to echo again the objection against this claim that Heidegger is espousing a silent, agentless, humanless philosophy in this late work.

I want to argue that "Time and Being" actually seems to make it quite clear that Dasein is still central. Of course, Heidegger is attempting here (like his attempts in essays such as "The Origin of the Work of Art") to think the questions of Being, Time, and Ap-propriation without departing from the existential analysis of Dasein (developed in "Being and Time"), but this does not entail a necessary elision of Dasein. Rather, on page 2 of "Time and Being" Heidegger argues that one aim of the essay is to listen (rather than to command) in order to more "adequately determine[...] the relation of man to what has been called 'Being' up to now." And on page 12, Heidegger reveals that his question concerns the very question, "who are we?" He follows this up by reminding us that "If man were not the constant receiver of the gift given by the 'It gives presence,' if that which is extended in the gift did not reach man, then not only would Being remain concealed in the absence of this gift, not only closed off, but man would remain excluded from the scope of: It gives Being. Man would not be man." Hence, it seems to me that in many ways this essay continues Heidegger's attempt in "The Letter on Humanism" to think more deeply the essence of man than humanism. Indeed, in connection to that other essay we have been discussing in this class, "The Question Concerning Technology," this late thinking attempts to think Dasein as capable of a more patient and attentive disclosure of Being than the dominating calculating quick-thinking way of metaphysics and technology. Such patient listening (and its silence) is not only a form of language itself then, but perhaps a necessary requisite to the more thoughtful response of a more thoughtful Dasein to come (that is, the beginning of "thinking").

The upshot of this analysis also means I do not believe that Heidegger's revision of his previous analysis of aletheia for the Greeks entails a newly expressed oppositional thinking that puts the Greek interpretation of aletheia as a socially involved saying of truth over against a conception of aletheia as the humanless en-opening.  Rather, I believe Heidegger is showing only that the en-opening of aletheia is the possibiliy of the emergenece of truth and hence he was wrong to conflate this en-opening with truth (even with a concept of truth as unconcealing).  Nevertheless, as indicated above we must recognize that even a more primordial (or the new task of) meditation on the aletheia of the en-opening still only comes about in its giving to Dasein.