Were Plato’s Dialogues Verbatim?

There are generally a number of questions that come into mind concerning Plato’s chosen literary form, the dialogue; among them why and to what end, for whom and for what occasion.  Yet another realm of interest entirely is the process Plato used when he created his masterpieces of philosophical prose.  Few would consider Plato’s accounts as conversation chronicled for the benefit of future historical contemplation.  Even Plato himself is (paradoxically) averse to the written word in the Phaedrus, in which, among a flurry of allied criticisms, he charges that written words, static and thus muted, are insensitive to the needs of an audience.

Nevertheless, on Plato’s method of composition, there are some interesting tells in the beginning of the Theaetetus.  The dialogue begins with Terpsion and Euclid recounting a conversation Socrates has had with Theaetetus and Theodorus.   A second-hand account is not unusual, of course, as it is employed famously in the Republic, Symposium and Timaeus.  This frequently used technique perhaps is meant by Plato to predispose the reader against any inclination to accept the dialogues as first-hand reports from some embedded reporter.  Whatever their purpose, however, there are a few intriguing aspects of the process of writing that Plato lets us in on.


Plato’s dialogues were meant to be read aloud.

As Euclid is about to relate the story about Socrates, he tells Terpsion that his slave will read out the dialogue.[1]  Reading out loud was common in antiquity, and Plato was certainly well-to-do, if tradition is to be believed, so he would have had slaves, as here in specific, to read out loud from his personal library.


A dialogue was copied down after the fact, and then corrected over time.

Euclid tells Terpsion of this method of composition:

But I wrote down immediately some notes when I came home, and later, as I had leisure, I began to write down as I remembered, and every time I came to Athens, I questioned Socrates on whatever I was unable to recall, and then returning here I corrected it.  So that nearly the whole account has been written down by me (Theaetetus 143a1-5). [2]


A dialogue was meant to come across as dramatic and vital.

Terpsion also says, even though he heard the story from Socrates, that he is going to avoid repeating the dialogue as “Socrates said this was said” and “Socrates then said this happened.”

I wrote it down in this way, not as Socrates relating it to me, as he related it, but talking  with those with whom he told me he was talking….Now in order that the guiding words between the speeches not be vexing in what I wrote, such as “and I said” or “and I remarked,” whenever Socrates spoke, or “he consented” or “he disagreed,” for the interlocutor.  On account of these considerations, I portrayed Socrates himself as talking with them, ignoring such annoyances (Theaetetus 143b4-6, c1-5). [3]

Obviously, it is no surprise that Plato had an eye for dramatic flair, as he is still read today for pleasure, despite intro to philosophy classes’ best efforts to undermine this enduring interest.  But here we have a concession that, at least on some minor level, Plato felt free to omit certain aspects of the dialogue which were tedious, and which tended to draw away from the vivacity with which his dialogues are so closely associated.

Thus, we might be surprised to find, while it is impossible to expect Plato’s dialogues to be word for word, his profession as seen in the Theatetus claims a high degree of trustworthiness and adherence to what we hope were Socrates’ actual words.

 

 

 


 

REFERENCES:

[1] ὁ παῖς ἀναγνώσεται..  (Theaetetus 143b3)

[2] ἀλλ’ ἐγραψάμην μὲν τότ’ εὐθὺς οἴκαδ’ ἐλθὼν ὑπομνήματα,
ὕστερον δὲ κατὰ σχολὴν ἀναμιμνῃσκόμενος ἔγραφον, καὶ
ὁσάκις Ἀθήναζε ἀφικοίμην, ἐπανηρώτων τὸν Σωκράτη ὃ μὴ
ἐμεμνήμην, καὶ δεῦρο ἐλθὼν ἐπηνορθούμην· ὥστε μοι σχεδόν
τι πᾶς ὁ λόγος γέγραπται.

[3] ἐγραψάμην δὲ δὴ οὑτωσὶ τὸν λόγον, οὐκ ἐμοὶ Σωκράτη διηγούμενον ὡς διηγεῖτο, ἀλλὰ διαλεγόμενον οἷς ἔφη διαλεχθῆναι… ἵνα οὖν ἐν τῇ
γραφῇ μὴ παρέχοιεν πράγματα αἱ μεταξὺ τῶν λόγων διηγήσεις
περὶ αὑτοῦ τε ὁπότε λέγοι ὁ Σωκράτης, οἷον “καὶ ἐγὼ ἔφην” ἢ
“καὶ ἐγὼ εἶπον,” ἢ αὖ περὶ τοῦ ἀποκρινομένου ὅτι “συνέφη”
ἢ “οὐχ ὡμολόγει,” τούτων ἕνεκα ὡς αὐτὸν αὐτοῖς διαλεγό-
μενον ἔγραψα, ἐξελὼν τὰ τοιαῦτα.

Aristotle’s Categories: Four-fold Division of Being

In the previous chapter of the Categories we have already discussed homonymy, synonomy, and paronymy.  This section, Chapter 2 of Aristotle’s Categories, sets forth a four-fold system of classification for “things that are,” [1] in addition to introducing a distinction between things that are said “in combination” and things said “without combination.”  Although not without straying interpretations, the distinction between “combined and uncombined” is rather clear, on my view, from the context.  So I will instead be focusing on the four-fold division that takes up the majority of the chapter and the lion’s share of the philosophical difficulty.  Needless to say, however, for the purpose of an explanatory post such as this, I will be sticking to orthodox and traditional interpretations, although of course there are always divergences and minority reports.

Things That Are Said:

 

Of the things that are said, some are said in combination (symploke), while some are said without combination.  Those that are said in combination are such as “human runs,” “human wins.”  Those without combination are such as “man,” “ox,” “runs,” “wins.”

 

Things That Are:

 

A) Of things that are, some are said of an individual subject (tis hypokeimenon), but are not in any subject, such as “human” is said of an individual human, but is not in any subject.

 

B) But some are in a subject, yet are said of no subject.  And by “in a subject,” I mean that which exists in something not as a part and is impossible to be apart from that in which it is.  For example, an individual grammatical knowledge (tis grammatike) is in a subject, but is said of no subject, and individual white is in a subject, i.e. a physical body (for every color is in a body) but it is said of no subject.

 

C) Some are said both of a subject and are in a subject, for example knowledge (episteme) is in a subject, i.e. a soul, but is said of a subject, i.e. grammatical knowledge

 

D) Some are neither in a subject nor said of a subject, for example, an individual person or an individual horse–– for none of these is in a subject nor is it said of a subject.  And generally, things that are irreducible and one in number are said of no subject, but nothing hinders some things from being in the subject.  For, of the things in a subject, the individual grammatical knowledge is one of them (Aristotle, Categories, 1a16-1b9). [2]

First let us discuss what Aristotle means by “in a subject” and “said of a subject.” Since the four-fold division consists entirely in affirming or denying these classifications, resulting in four distinctions, if we understand these two phrases, we are well on our way to understanding all of this chapter.

The In-a-subject Relation

It is best to understand both the in-a-subject and said-of-a-subject distinctions, at a general level, as belonging to relations between things.  So in-a-subject means that if X is in Y, where Y is the subject, we are to understand Y as either a substance proper or, more abstactly, as that thing, whatever it is, which undergoes the process which results in some relation.  X here cannot exist independently from some kind of subject or substance, and that is why it is said to be “in” a subject, for it will not exist “out” of a subject.  Thus the category of things not a subject or substance, here represented by X, are dependent on the subject for their existence.  So in Aristotle’s example, an individual’s grammar-knowledge (his understanding of how language works) is “in” an individual (his mind) because it is dependent on the individual and cannot exist apart from this individual, viz., Grammatical knowledge is in the mind.

The Said-of-a-subject Relation

While the in-a-subject distinction concerns a subject or substance and its independent status (in contrast to the dependent relation of a non-subject or non-substance), the said-of-a-subject relation pertains to an individual and a universal, or in slightly different wording, to an individual and a species or genus.  Returning to one of Aristotle’s examples, the term human (as a species) is “said of” an individual human, viz., Socrates is a human.

The Four-fold Division Simplified

Now that we have discussed the in-a-subject relation and the said-of-a-subject relation, we can apply these distinctions to the text above to get four categories into which (presumably) all things fit.

A) Essential Universals: Universals (or species and genera) in their relation to substances. E.g. “Human” in “Socrates is human.”
B) Accidental Particulars: Particulars, but not substances. E.g. An individual grammatical knowledge in a person.
C) Accidental Universals: Universals (or species and genera) in their relation to things other than substances. E.g. Knowledge is said both of grammatical knowledge (i.e. grammatical knowledge is knowledge) and is in a subject, i.e. a mind.
D) Primary Substances: Particulars that are substances. E.g. An individual such as Socrates or a particular horse, e.g. Secretariat

 


 

REFERENCES:

[1] Although the division is four-fold, there are actually 6 possibilities; however two of these possibilities are contradictions: “in a subject and not in a subject” and “of a subject and not in a subject.”

[2] Τῶν λεγομένων τὰ μὲν κατὰ συμπλοκὴν λέγεται, τὰ
δὲ ἄνευ συμπλοκῆς. τὰ μὲν οὖν κατὰ συμπλοκήν, οἷον
ἄνθρωπος τρέχει, ἄνθρωπος νικᾷ· τὰ δὲ ἄνευ συμπλοκῆς,
οἷον ἄνθρωπος, βοῦς, τρέχει, νικᾷ.
Τῶν ὄντων τὰ μὲν καθ’ ὑποκειμένου τινὸς λέγεται, ἐν  (20)
ὑποκειμένῳ δὲ οὐδενί ἐστιν, οἷον ἄνθρωπος καθ’ ὑποκειμένου
μὲν λέγεται τοῦ τινὸς ἀνθρώπου, ἐν ὑποκειμένῳ δὲ οὐδενί ἐστιν·
τὰ δὲ ἐν ὑποκειμένῳ μέν ἐστι, καθ’ ὑποκειμένου δὲ οὐδενὸς
λέγεται, —ἐν ὑποκειμένῳ δὲ λέγω ὃ ἔν τινι μὴ ὡς μέρος
ὑπάρχον ἀδύνατον χωρὶς εἶναι τοῦ ἐν ᾧ ἐστίν,— οἷον ἡ τὶς (25)
γραμματικὴ ἐν ὑποκειμένῳ μέν ἐστι τῇ ψυχῇ, καθ’ ὑπο-
κειμένου δὲ οὐδενὸς λέγεται, καὶ τὸ τὶ λευκὸν ἐν ὑποκειμένῳ
μέν ἐστι τῷ σώματι, —ἅπαν γὰρ χρῶμα ἐν σώματι,— καθ’
ὑποκειμένου δὲ οὐδενὸς λέγεται· τὰ δὲ καθ’ ὑποκειμένου τε
(1b.) λέγεται καὶ ἐν ὑποκειμένῳ ἐστίν, οἷον ἡ ἐπιστήμη ἐν ὑπο-
κειμένῳ μέν ἐστι τῇ ψυχῇ, καθ’ ὑποκειμένου δὲ λέγεται
τῆς γραμματικῆς· τὰ δὲ οὔτε ἐν ὑποκειμένῳ ἐστὶν οὔτε καθ’
ὑποκειμένου λέγεται, οἷον ὁ τὶς ἄνθρωπος ἢ ὁ τὶς ἵπ-
πος, —οὐδὲν γὰρ τῶν τοιούτων οὔτε ἐν ὑποκειμένῳ ἐστὶν (5)
οὔτε καθ’ ὑποκειμένου λέγεται·— ἁπλῶς δὲ τὰ ἄτομα καὶ ἓν
ἀριθμῷ κατ’ οὐδενὸς ὑποκειμένου λέγεται, ἐν ὑποκειμένῳ δὲ
ἔνια οὐδὲν κωλύει εἶναι· ἡ γὰρ τὶς γραμματικὴ τῶν ἐν ὑπο-
κειμένῳ ἐστίν.

Some Impediments to Ancient Philosophy in the Classroom

The talk continues on why philosophy does not appeal to more, the need for public outreach on behalf of philosophy, and there is everywhere in the profession a hue and cry about the state of academic philosophy.  That academic philosophers should have a concern is entirely understandable, for laying aside complaints of self-interest on their part, most people, if they ever get the opportunity, will only seriously engage philosophy in the college classroom.

Yet, in order to fully understand the scope of this problem, we will need to first ascertain the desired solution to our predicament.  Do we want more enrollment in philosophy courses?  Do we want people to incorporate philosophical thinking into their daily lives?  Do we want philosophy departments to have more influence and sway within universities? Do we want more philosophers with prominent public roles?  In the end, I am not sure what the goal of attempting to broaden the reach of philosophy consists in.

However, as part of my answer, I will take it as uncontroversial that if I am to constrain this concern to ancient philosophy, most encounters with ancient philosophy for the average person are limited to university classrooms.  Thus, I am prompted to answer the practical question: what hinders more students from studying and pursuing ancient philosophy in the classroom?

Without a doubt, some of these impediments will undoubtedly apply to philosophy classrooms in general, or even the university setting at large.

Obscurity is always a problem in philosophy.  And in ancient philosophy we have a difficulty probably seen in other philosophical divisions as well: The articles and books written on the subject are not, usually, the central or main ideas of a particular ancient book or author.  Now I mention this not as a complaint; after all, we have millennia of scholarship on the “big ideas” of ancient philosophy, and tenure and philosophical fortunes must be made on new ideas, not the well-trodden.  Nevertheless, what attracts students to say, The Republic, are probably concerns and interests reflective of the scope of the whole work rather than Platonic esoterica relating the Republic to the Parmenides or Sophist, or parsing the minutiae of a Platonic argument spanning scarcely three Stephanus lines.  What this minimally requires of the professor, I think, is an acknowledgement that the intellectual concerns of the student of ancient philosophy might not align with his or her research interests, as reflected in assignments and readings.  Yet, if this is not acknowledged, and I think it often is not, then a student’s further pursuit of ancient philosophy is liable to wane.

A second area of obscurity (since obscurity, as a condition of its existence, likes to dabble) is not obscurity in the subject, but in the methods of discourse.  Some of these are within the control of the professor, some not.  I have often reflected how the self-worth of many academics is anchored to knowledge of their speciality.  It then seems that in order to retain this specialized knowledge, and its requisite self-worth, the professor hesitates to disseminate this knowledge, as this might take away that share of philosophical arcana that has, to this point, been specially entrusted to reside in himself.  Of course, there are also socially accepted forms of discourse that, acceptable and even illuminating as they are among specialists, do little to advance the clarity or joy of ancient philosophy in the classroom.  I think it is often forgotten that Socrates was accosting people in the street and speaking with the everyman in the marketplace, and that Aristotle, even though perhaps exclusively interacting with upper-class youths, was engaging men who would be influential and industrial citizens, not necessarily philosophers.

As a final observation on this last point, I would also like to mention how difficult it is to initiate dialectic and dialogue in today’s classroom.  As anyone who has spent time in groups knows, the dynamics of going from around 12-15 people to more, has a limiting impact on the participation and atmosphere of the students and the teacher.  This has been worsened, in my experience, by classes spiraling as large as 75 (at UCSD, under the popular Monte Johnson), when a few years before a similar class was capped in the 30s.  If ancient philosophy is supposed to reflect either generally or occasionally the practice of Socrates with the average Athenian, then I think we can do more to reflect this in our classrooms.