Tag Archives: platonism

Aristotle’s Essence: τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι

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τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι is an odd phrase, common to Aristotelian diction, used when the philosopher wishes to speak about the essence of a particular thing. Most students translate the phrase as “essence” by rote, because they have not the faintest conception on how to penetrate the meaning of this four-word hieroglyphic.

Let us begin by discussing what this construction consists of at its most basic level. Fundamentally the phrase is an articular infinitive. Dr. Smyth tells us that, “The articular infinitive, while having the character of a substantive, retains the functions of a verb” (See Smyth, 2025 and following). The “character” of a substantive means that we are able to decline the infinitive as a neuter singular noun, if we place the appropriately declined definite article (τό, τοῦ, τῷ, τό) in front of it. Thus, τὸ ποιεῖν can be translated not merely as “to make,” but also as “making.” With this in mind, τὸ εἶναι, is “to be” or “being,” often simplified by most translators to “essence.”

This leaves us with the two inner terms, τί ἦν. First let us look at the imperfect ἦν. In Smyth 1901-1902 we are told that the imperfect can be used for the present tense. Liddell and Scott (εἰμί F. bottom of entry) inform us that ἦν is sometimes used as the present, corroborating the account given by Smyth. Liddell and Scott also make mention of Aristotle’s exact phrase, remarking that, “τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι expresses the essential nature of a thing.” Thus the ἦν is actually an ἐστί, at least for translation purposes.

The LSJ entry is further helpful in determining the meaning of τί ἦν as a two-word phrase. It points out that τί ἦν, in the phrase τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι, takes the place of a very similar articular infinitive, but with a dative phrase, such as τὸ ἀγαθῷ εἶναι, which can be seen in Prior Analytics 67b12 and De Anima 429b10. τί ἦν is therefore really (τῷ) τί ἦν. τί, of course, is the interrogative pronoun, “what.” The phrase τί ἦν means, “what is it?” or as an indirect interrogative, which it could also be, “what it is.”

Putting it all together in a different order we have, τὸ εἶναι “being,” (τῷ) τί ἦν “for what is it?” or as an indirect interrogative, “for what it is.” Very often when there is a dative with a verb like εἰμί, it is construed as a dative of possession, which can be translated as a genitive. We could translate τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι as, “The essence/being of what it is.” The mystery of the phrase is solved. We are nevertheless saddled with an uncharacteristically unwieldy phrase to describe a common Greek philosophical term.

Eliminate Psychological Pain: 2 Obols, Cheap!

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“[Antiphon] is said to have composed a tragedy together with Dionysus the tyrant. Yet while he was engaged in its composition he contrived an art to relieve pain, just as there is medical treatment for the sick. After he procured a small apartment for himself beside the marketplace of Corinth, he advertised that he was able to serve those in pain through words. When he discerned the causes [of pain], he consoled his patients. But he considered his art of painlessness inferior to when he turned to the rhetorical art[1].”  (Plutarch, Vit. X orat. 1 p. 833c)

 Without commenting on the validity of the charge, this anecdote reminds me of one of the most persistent criticisms of psychology/psychotherapy.  Such therapies involve word tennis until the troubles go away, with the implication that the mind clears itself of any particular problem after an elapse proportionate to its distress, by no dint of the therapy involved.  It is unclear, given the brevity of what is reported here, what exactly Antiphon was saying, but given the Platonic leanings of Plutarch, the story comes across as opportunistic hucksterism.  Obviously, as noted here, Antiphon preferred rhetoric (here apparently synonymous with sophistry) as a more lucrative enterprise to the “art of pain relief”, perhaps either due to its financial potential in court or because it was less vexing or both, and since Plutarch notes that this therapeutic enterprise was less valued, the impression given is that Antiphon simply varied the location, but not the content of his sophistry.  You can take the sophist cum therapist out of the agora, but you can’t take the agora out of the sophist.  Once a ware-peddler, always a ware peddler.  The practice, not to mention the recidivism rate, of word mongering, at any rate, is dangerously antithetical to philosophical considerations. 

This very brief story aptly portrarys, at least from a Platonist viewpoint, the contempt that sophists had– or were reputed to have– towards the more important matters of the soul, as Antiphon displays by turning his back on the alleviation of others’ suffering.    

 [1]  [Antiphon] λέγεται δὲ τραγωιδίας συνθεῖναι ἰδίαι καὶ σὺν Διονυσίωι τῶι τυράννωι· ἔτι δ’ ὢν πρὸς τῆι ποιήσει τέχνην ἀλυπίας συνεστήσατο, ὥσπερ τοῖς νοσοῦσιν ἡ παρὰ τῶν ἰατρῶν θεραπεία ὑπάρχει· ἐν Κορίνθωι τε κατεσκευασμένος οἴκημά τι παρὰ τὴν ἀγορὰν προέγραψεν, ὅτι δύναται τοὺς λυπουμένους διὰ λόγων θεραπεύειν, καὶ πυνθανόμενος τὰς αἰτίας παρεμυθεῖτο τοὺς κάμνοντας. νομίζων δὲ τὴν τέχνην ἐλάττω ἢ καθ’ αὑτὸν εἶναι ἐπὶ ῥητορικὴν ἀπετράπη.

Socrates’ Swan Song

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In the maddening swirl of language, we seldom reflect on the meaning of individual words or phrases.  It is not so surprising then, when we pass by even more obscure idioms and metaphors, although this paradoxically does not prevent us from using them again in turn!

One of these phrases is “swan song”, often meaning the last effort or final production coming from someone in his respective field before retirement, or sometimes, death.  This idea has a long pedigree in Western thought.  It first appears in literature in Aeschylus (Agamemnon, 1444), and has not performed its own swan song in our communal imagination since.  The idea behind the myth was that the swan is silent its entire life save the prescience it is granted of its oncoming death, then the swan pours out the first and final charming melodies from its soul.

Socrates himself alludes to this myth, albeit not without commenting on what he sees as its probable origin:

But I seem to you more common than the swans regarding prophecy, which when they sense that it necessary that they die, they sing in the interval before death, indeed, at that time, especially and most beautifully do they sing, rejoicing that they are about to go to the divine, the very thing they serve.  And men, because of their own fear of death, they both slander the swans and they say that the swans lament their death singing because of pain, and they do not consider that no bird sings when in hunger or cold or during any other pain it undergoes, nor does the nightingale, the swallow, nor the hoopoe, which they say laments singing because of its pain.  But these do not appear to me to sing because they are pained, nor do the swans, but I think, since they are prophetic, being from Apollo, and foreknowing the good things in Hades they sing and rejoice during that day more than in the time before.  I myself think I am a co-laborer of the swans and a priest of the same god, and I have the gift of prophecy from my master not worse than theirs, nor do I think I am freed from a life more melancholy than theirs.

ὡς ἔοικε, τῶν κύκνων δοκῶ φαυλότερος ὑμῖν εἶναι τὴν μαντικήν, οἳ ἐπειδὰν αἴσθωνται ὅτι δεῖ αὐτοὺς ἀποθανεῖν, ᾁδοντες καὶ ἐν τῷ πρόσθεν χρόνῳ, τότε δὴ πλεῖστα καὶ κάλλιστα ᾁδουσι, γεγηθότες ὅτι μέλλουσι παρὰ τὸν θεὸν ἀπιέναι οὗπέρ εἰσι θεράποντες. οἱ δ᾽ ἄνθρωποι διὰ τὸ αὑτῶν δέος τοῦ θανάτου καὶ τῶν κύκνων καταψεύδονται, καί φασιν αὐτοὺς θρηνοῦντας τὸν θάνατον ὑπὸ λύπης ἐξᾴδειν, καὶ οὐ λογίζονται ὅτι οὐδὲν ὄρνεον ᾁδει ὅταν πεινῇ ἢ ῥιγῷ ἤ τινα ἄλλην λύπην λυπῆται, οὐδὲ αὐτὴ ἥ τε ἀηδὼν καὶ χελιδὼν καὶ ὁ ἔποψ, ἃ δή φασι διὰ λύπην θρηνοῦντα ᾁδειν. ἀλλ᾽ οὔτε ταῦτά μοι φαίνεται λυπούμενα ᾁδειν οὔτε οἱ κύκνοι, ἀλλ᾽ ἅτε οἶμαι τοῦ Ἀπόλλωνος ὄντες, μαντικοί τέ εἰσι καὶ προειδότες τὰ ἐν Ἅιδου ἀγαθὰ ᾁδουσι καὶ τέρπονται ἐκείνην τὴν ἡμέραν διαφερόντως ἢ ἐν τῷ ἔμπροσθεν χρόνῳ. ἐγὼ δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἡγοῦμαι ὁμόδουλός τε εἶναι τῶν κύκνων καὶ ἱερὸς τοῦ αὐτοῦ θεοῦ, καὶ οὐ χεῖρον ἐκείνων τὴν μαντικὴν ἔχειν παρὰ τοῦ δεσπότου, οὐδὲ δυσθυμότερον αὐτῶν τοῦ βίου ἀπαλλάττεσθαι. ἀλλὰ τούτου γ᾽ ἕνεκα λέγειν τε χρὴ καὶ ἐρωτᾶν ὅτι ἂν βούλησθε, ἕως ἂν Ἀθηναίων ἐῶσιν ἄνδρες ἕνδεκα. Phaedo 84e-85b