The Poetics of Philosophical Language: Plato, Poets and Presocratics in the ''Republic'' (Studies in the Recovery of Ancient Texts)

Zacharoula Petraki The Poetics of Philosophical Language

Sozomena Studies in the Recovery of Ancient Texts Edited on behalf of the Herculaneum Society by Alessandro Barchiesi, Robert Fowler, Dirk Obbink and Nigel Wilson Vol. 9

De Gruyter

Zacharoula Petraki

The Poetics of Philosophical Language Plato, Poets and Presocratics in the Republic

De Gruyter

ISBN 978-3-11-026097-7 e-ISBN 978-3-11-026216-2 ISSN 1869-6368 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Petraki, Zacharoula A. The poetics of philosophical language : Plato, poets and presocratics in the “republic” / Zacharoula A. Petraki. p. cm. ⫺ (Sozomena. Studies in the recovery of ancient texts ; v. 9) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-3-11-026097-7 (hardcover : acid-free paper) 1. Plato. Republic ⫺ Criticism, Textual. I. Title. PA4279.R7P48 2011 3211.07⫺dc23 2011020280

Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available in the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de. © 2011 Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co. KG, Berlin/Boston Printing: Hubert & Co. GmbH & Co. KG, Göttingen ⬁ Printed on acid-free paper Printed in Germany www.degruyter.com

Acknowledgments This book stems from work I conducted for my PhD Thesis under the supervision of Professor Andrew Barker at the Institute of Antiquity and Archaeology at Birmingham. I owe more than I can say to Professor Barker for his kindness, generosity of mind and spirit and his expert criticism throughout my postgraduate studies. Professor Barker measures up to the best standards of academic mentorship; his supervision over the years has always been a source of inspiration, insight and illumination. His help and support has been invaluable in more ways than he will ever know. I owe another debt to my teachers at the University of Crete at Rethymno. I cannot thank enough Professors Lucia Athanassaki and Yannis Tzifopoulos for the inspiration they stirred in me and for their generous support throughout my undergraduate studies. I owe a special gratitude to Professor Anastasia-Erasmia Peponi who first sparked off my interest in Plato at Rethymno and has always been kind and generous with her guidance and advice. In addition, many friends and scholars have offered me valuable help in bringing this book to the world; for the book’s shortcomings I alone am responsible. I wish to thank Professors Penelope Murray and Ken Dowden, the examiners of my PhD Thesis, for their valuable comments and constructive criticism. I am deeply grateful to Professor Stelios Virvidakis for labouring over versions of this manuscript as well as for our several stimulating conversations on Plato. I am especially indebted to the following scholars for their incisive criticisms: Elton Barker, Kyriaki Konstantinidou, Costas Makris, Penelope Skarsouli, Cedric Hugonnet, Xanthippe Bourloyanni and Eirene Visvardi. I would also like to say a special thank you to my students at the Universities of the Peloponnese and Crete for the very interesting and stimulating discussions we had on Greek philosophy. Thanks are also owed to the anonymous reader at De Gruyter for his valuable comments. I am especially grateful to the Series Editor, Professor Dirk Obbink, for the help and encouragement he generously gave me while I was preparing this book. Many thanks are due to the staff of De Gruyter who have dealt with my typescript with both efficiency and skill, as well as to Dr Andrew Farrington and John Ra-

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nells Stephens, both of whom laboured over the manuscript and saved me from numerous errors as regards the English language. The Hardt Foundation at Geneva provided the ideal intellectual atmosphere for writing this book; I am deeply grateful to the Foundation for their generous research grant and to its director, Mr Pierre Ducrey, and Scientific Secretary, Monica Brunner, for their generosity, kindness and support. During my stay at the Foundation I had the privileged opportunity to exchange views and ideas with the fellows there. I wish to thank, in particular, Vyara Kalfina, Valentina Garulli and Peggy Lecaudé. During the preparation of the book for publication I have been privileged to have the generous support of good friends. I wish to thank, in particular, Dr Katerina Ladianou for standing by me with patience and unending generosity when things were difficult. Special thanks are also due to my very good friends Christos and Nikos. Finally, this book is dedicated to my parents, Anastasios and Euaggelia Petrakis and to my brother, George. This is but a small tribute; my debt to them cannot be repaid in words or deeds. Piraeus 2011

Contents 1. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.1 Plato and the Presocratics: Old and new problems . . . . . 1.2 The language problem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.3 The literary and the philosophical in Plato: Philosophy against poetry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.4 The poetics of philosophical language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.5 The Republic’s main motifs: Mixture, diversity and purity 1.6 Philosophy, poetry, painting and the poikilia-motif . . . . . 1.7 The Republic’s interlocutors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.8 Plato and Post-Platonic problems about language . . . . . .

1 1 6 8 12 15 18 26 30

Section One: The Theory 1. 2. 3. 4.

Aims and perspectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Poetics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mythos and eikõn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Imagistic discourse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1 Poikilia and images . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2 Eikones in Gorgias’ Helen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.3 Definition of Platonic imagery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

37 42 58 64 64 65 69

5. Imagistic language, the dramatization of language and metaphoric language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.1. Platonic Eikones: A homoiõsis? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2 Dramatization of language: the theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3 Metaphoric language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

78 78 90 94

Section Two: The Republic 1. Human nature and philosophical style in the Republic Book 5 . 109 1.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 1.2 The “two waves” of the argument . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111

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1.2.1 The first wave of argument: women in the guardians’ agele˜ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 1.2.2 The second wave of argument: the guardians’ mixis and class purity . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124 1.2.3 The third wave of argument . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136 2. Philosophical style in the third wave of argument in Book 5 . 2.1 Glaucon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2 The third wave again . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2.1 Part one: the mixed style . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2.2 Part two: the cleansed style . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2.3 Part three: the imagistic style . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

142 142 155 163 167 173

3. Verbal Images in the Republic Books 2 and 6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.1 The poets’ eikones in the Republic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2 Plato’s eikones in the Republic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2.1 Images of human nature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2.2 The way to the Form of the Good . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2.3 Plato’s eikones: The Image of the Sun . . . . . . . . . .

177 177 188 188 194 200

4. Philosophers, non-philosophers and the unjust in the Republic . 4.1 Adeimantus’ philosophers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2 Human nature, “true” philosophers and “false” philosophers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.3 The poetics of the unjust in Books 8 and 9 . . . . . . . . . . 4.4 The Language of Democracy and Tyranny . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4.1 Democracy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4.2 Tyranny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

215 215 220 229 239 239 243

5. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 ‘Viewing’ the skiagraphia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291

1. Introduction 1.1 Plato and the Presocratics: Old and new problems In his Republic, Plato ventures a wholesale examination of a broad range of issues that preoccupy his philosophical thought. The dialogue’s main theme is the definition of the ethical concept of justice and its prevalence over injustice, but in the course of the discussion Plato examines a series of further issues, the most prominent being his demonstrating that the just life is the happiest form of life for humans (344e; 578c5 – 7). Plato bases his investigation into the nature of justice and injustice on the analogy of city and soul and defines justice in both (402b – c; 434b). He argues for the division of the human soul in three parts – the appetitive, the spirited and the rational – and he also creates in speech an ideal city consisting of three classes: the economic class, the guardian class and the philosopher-kings. He then argues that justice in both city and soul is to be found in “each part performing its own task” and discusses the way in which this can be achieved in the city and the soul (443d – e). For Plato, Socrates’ main thesis in the dialogue is that correct education is the only way towards the harmonisation of the tripartite soul and the preservation of the ideal polis once this is created by the city founders. He then devotes a great part of his discussion to laying out the guidelines and the specific characteristics of this type of education which is directed to the guardians (Books 2 and 3) and the philosopher-kings of the ideal polis (Book 7). Plato’s educational programme in the Republic is essentially a reformation (or “cleansing”) of current education in contemporary Athens (399e; 411d – e). In Books 2 and 3 of the Republic, Socrates condemns the poets for “not lying well” to their audience for the things that matter most in life, namely the gods and the heroes (376e-377c). In this view, the poets also fail to present correctly the “simple character” of humans (392a – b; Cp. Critias 107a-108b). In Book 10 (604e-605a), Plato’s Socrates informs us that the poets fail to depict or convey a correct (re)presentation of ethical values as regards gods, heroes and simple people because they lack true knowledge of these values (Cp. Rep. 392b – c). Contrawise, in the Republic’s terms, the knowledge of our earthly ethical

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1. Introduction

values, which are manifested in the actions of humans as much as they are represented in the actions of gods, heroes and simple people in myth and poetry, is inextricably linked with a new type of philosophical knowledge (Episte˜me˜), namely, one’s acquaintance with the Platonic Forms (517d – e). According to Socrates in the Republic Book 5, this is a type of knowledge that the majority of people lack, since only very few “believe” in the existence of the Forms, and even less have the intellectual ability and strength of character to undergo the hard and strenuous education that finally leads to grasping these Forms. Yet, ethical values such as courage, moderation or justice cannot be fully identified in their earthly manifestation unless one knows the Forms which make the very many particular things or actions bear the qualities that people ascribe to them. For Plato in the Republic, the Forms differ from their visible or sense-perceptible earthly manifestation in that, contrary to the doings in our own mundane sphere of human action, the Forms are transcendent, unaltering and unchanging, eternal, pure and thus truly Real (see Jowett II [1894: 316]). Socrates’ assigns knowledge of this type of Reality only to the Republic’s philosopher-kings. From this point of view, the poets’ knowledge and ability to educate the people is then placed very low in this cognitive hierarchy, and on that very basis the poets are finally expelled in Book 10 from the ideal state. Plato’s main accusation against them is that their compositions endanger the formulation of a correct ethical character. As a result, they must be banished. The above summary of the Republic hardly does justice to the richness of this dialogue and to the many and complex problems posed therein. Nevertheless, this sketchy account of the main themes that Plato treats in this dialogue has led us to the core issue of his philosophy and, possibly, to the most important philosophical problem that preoccupied Plato in his writings at large. Standing at the end of Presocratic thought, Plato’s newly-founded philosophy has been deeply influenced by the innovative ideas of these early thinkers.1 It has long been ac1

The influence that Presocratic thought exercised on Platonic philosophy is well-documented. Lloyd (1966) and (1987); Cherniss (1951: 333 and 337 – 339); Cohen (1969/70: 111 – 141); Kahn (1979); Fontaine (1988) and Graham (2006). For Heraclitean influences on Plato, see Irwin (1977). Palmer’s analysis (1999) of Plato’s reception of Parmenides addresses in detail Parmenides’ influence on Plato. See also Rist (1970: 221 – 229).

1.1 Plato and the Presocratics: Old and new problems

3

knowledged that in his dialogues Plato tried to reconcile the characteristics that Heraclitus assigned to our earthly world of sense-perception, which is a world of continuous flux and conflict of opposite elements, with the changelessness and unity that Parmenides’ On Nature identified in the so-called way of Being. According to Parmenides’ Fr. 8, Being eschews change, multiplicity, opposition and conflict, and can be grasped only intelligibly. Plato adapted to his own ends both Parmenides’ metaphysics of unity and changelessness and Heraclitus’ portrayal of the conflicting information that sense-perception communicates to human intellect.2 In the course of his writings, Plato developed various ways of solving or reconciling the tension between the two. In the Republic, in particular, this is most tellingly manifested in the way he treats the various conflicting pairs of opposites that surround us. Plato thus poses the Forms and distinguishes between Being and Becoming. The immutable Forms belong to the transcendent and changeless Reality, whereas the contingent and unstable particulars find their place in the cognitive sphere of Opinion (Doxa). This immediately creates a contrast between eidetic unity and stability on the one hand, and conflict, polymorphy and multiplicity on the other. Thus in trying to reconcile alternation with permanence and changelessness, Plato follows Parmenides in creating two “different orders of reality” (Lloyd 1966: 23). The pure realm of Forms is thus freed from polar oppositions and colourful versatility. These characteristics become prominent features in the realm of Becoming, which never stops changing and for which no true knowledge can be reached on firm grounds. But, while Parmenides refrained from bridging the gap between his two realms by demonstrating the transition from the way of Opinion to the way of Being, Plato views this challenge as remarkably significant. Viewing anew the philosophical problems that the Presocratic thought bestowed upon him, he undertakes to show to his audience how a correct distinction between the world of multiplicity and opposition (Becoming) and the world of true reality (the Forms) can be, and has been, mishandled by poets and other thinkers so that appearance

2

I use here and throughout in this study the terms metaphysics and ontology to talk about Plato’s transcendent Forms both anachronistically and as a matter of convenience. I am aware of the fact that both terms are post-Presocratic and post-Platonic in origin.

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1. Introduction

(Doxa in Rep. Book 2) is presented deceptively under the guise of true Being. The influence of Parmenides on Plato is also evident in his assessment of sense-perception. In distinguishing between Being and Becoming (or between Forms and the many particulars), Plato also distinguishes between the intelligible grasp of the invisible Forms and the sensible perception of the various earthly visible particulars. In specific terms, according to Plato, when turning to the eidetic level, the pure and immutable Forms can be known only intelligibly. In addition, following the Presocratic tradition on the unreliability of our senses, Plato also reminds us that no true, stable or fixed knowledge can ever come from relying exclusively on them to understand the conflicting and ever-changing level of Becoming. Yet, it is at this point exactly that Plato departs from Parmenides’ thought as regards the importance of sense-perception in attaining true Knowledge. In my view, in Plato, and in the Republic in particular, sense-perception (and most importantly sight) must be trained so as to assist the intellect in grasping true Reality. Human senses then must be put into the service of the intellect and function as a stepping-stone to one’s ascent to higher cognitive levels of grasping true Reality. I believe that this is for Plato a major epistemological problem which he treats and seeks to solve in his Republic. This process is enacted by having Socrates educating his interlocutors in this dialogue on how to view anew the conflicting information they receive from their senses and how they should redirect their senses so that they may make a good start in ascending the different levels of human cognition described in the images of the Line and the Cave in Books 6 and 7 of the Republic. This allows Plato to educate the Socratic interlocutors in ethical matters and address the way opposite ethical concepts, such as justice and injustice, are constantly confused by the majority of people. In this study, I argue that in order to meet this difficult epistemological challenge, Plato appropriates in his Republic the poets’ language and invents insightful methods so that poetry and its distinctive features are put into the service of his newly founded philosophy. In this way, Plato achieves the following in the Republic: firstly, he has Socrates demonstrate to his audience the way in which poetry and its performance has failed in presenting correctly the various ethical values; secondly, by appropriating several of the characteristics of poetic discourse to educate the Socratic interlocutors in matters of ethics and politics, Plato shows how a knowledgeable “lover of poetry” (philopoie˜te˜s Book 10)

1.1 Plato and the Presocratics: Old and new problems

5

can competently use traditional linguistic stock and turn it into an innovative philosophical dialect so as to reach out to the philosophically unsophisticated people who have not been trained in Platonic philosophy nor believe in the existence of the immaterial and transcendent Forms; and, thirdly, by adapting heavily imagistic poetic speech to speak about elusive concepts such as the human soul, modes of thinking about true Reality (Forms) and ethical values, Plato addresses anew the confusing character of sense-perception and redirects human senses so that these support the intellect in its effort to understand the invisible, transcendent and immaterial. These cardinal philosophical issues in Plato are inextricably intertwined with the problem of the dynamics of language as a means to examine and communicate the intricate relation of human cognition with the Real. A number of Presocratics, as well as certain sophists – Gorgias of Leontini (c. 483 – 375 B.C.) being the most prominent among them – were the first to address this problem explicitly in developing their explanations of the world (Lesher, in Long A.A. [ed.] [1999: 225 – 248]).3 From this perspective, language as such became a new field of philosophical analysis and speculation as thinkers often had to stretch stock linguistic resources to their limits, or invent new diction and discursive modes to express their innovative doctrines and ideas.4 How human thought can be correlated with the world at large, and how the dynamics of words can create a satisfying and perhaps faithful representation of reality, became major puzzles in philosophical Presocratic and Platonic

3

4

As regards Gorgias’ On Not-Being, we lack the original work and what has come down to us are the two paraphrases, of Sextus Empiricus in Against the Professors and that of the anonymous author of MXG (Melissus, Xenophanes and Gorgias) included in the Aristotelian corpus. The bibliography on Gorgias is vast. See Gagarin (1997: 38 – 40). On Gorgias’ On Not-Being (B3) see also Consigny (2001); Gains (1997: 1 – 12) Hays (1990: 327 – 337); Kerferd (1955: 3 – 25); (1981a) and Kerferd (ed.) (1981b); Mansfeld (1985: 243 – 271); Mourelatos (1985: 637 – 638); Schiappa (1997: 13 – 30); Segal (1962: 99 – 155); Woodruff, in Long A. A. (ed.) (1999: 290 – 310). Note, however, that both the Iliad and the Odyssey are remarkably sophisticated on the communicative effects of language. On the Iliad, in particular, see Martin (1989). As regards the Tragedians, see Long (1968) on the use of abstract language in Sophocles. On language in Thucydides, see Allison (1997). As regards the concept of ale˜theia, see esp. 206 – 237. See also Goldhill, in Rutter, N. K. and Sparkes, B. A. (eds.) (2000: 161 – 179).

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1. Introduction

thought.5 In raising these issues, Plato is admittedly engaged in a philosophical dialogue with both his predecessors and his rivals whose influence can be marked throughout his writings, and in the course of developing his own insights Plato both settled old problems and raised new ones.

1.2 The language problem In this work I examine Plato’s stance towards language as a thoughtstructuring and communicative medium in his Republic. For Plato, language poses remarkable philosophical and epistemological intricacies that require painstaking analysis and reflection.6 Time and again in his dialogues Plato draws attention to the medium of language as a twoedged sword. Being our main (if not only) instrument for putting across our conflicting sense-perceptions, language, if employed correctly, can help us fight against the confusion that our world generates. However, if treated erroneously, language can intensify the diversity that our senses communicate and create even more confusion for humans. From this perspective, and unless treated with caution, language does not differ much from the deceptive character that Plato attributes to our senses as a means to approaching Reality. My choice of the Republic as my field of investigation is far from incidental. There has long been an established consensus among ancient and modern scholars that Plato’s dialogues are exceptional in their combination of literary vividness and philosophical vigour.7 Nonetheless, 5 6

7

Havelock (1963), (1966), (1978), and (1982) has addressed in detail the issue of formation of philosophical language. See also Vegetti, in Long, A.A. (ed.) (1999: 271 – 289) and Morgan (2000: 39 – 45). This is not to argue, along with Gorgias, that even if an ‘external’ reality truly exists, it cannot be communicated (see discussion in Caston, in Caston, V. and Garham, D. W. [eds.] [2002: 205 – 232]). Nor do I argue for an esoteric interpretation of the Platonic dialogues, such as is proposed by Gaiser and Kraemer, who placed the true doctrines on ontology and on metaphysics outside the dialogues and argued that what is said about the Form of the Good in Republic Book 6 can become fully meaningful only in the light of Plato’s unwritten doctrines. In my view, Plato treats problem of this sort variously in his writings. For a detailed analysis, see Gaiser (1963) and (1980: 5 – 37); Krämer (1959); Szlezak (1999). But cf. Sayre (1983). In addition, see Cornford (1950) and Gadamer (1980: 124 – 156). See also the discussion in the Introduction further below. On the ancient recognition of Plato’s literary art, and especially on Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ evaluation of Plato’s style, see Walsdorff (1927: 9 – 24). Gordon

1.2 The language problem

7

the bifurcation of the two – the literary and the philosophical – and their correlation in the dialogues, has raised significant interpretative problems for scholars in the field.8 Plato as a highly literary or poetical author cannot be easily reconciled with the pioneer philosopher. Not so much because of the uneasiness that this would bring upon the traditional neat genre divisions,9 but due to Plato’s own thesis repeatedly presented throughout the corpus that, despite its authoritative status in Greek society, poetry is utterly incapable of bringing out the Real when framing the world. Plato’s attitude then towards poetry in the Republic cannot be seen separately from the broader problems that language raises as philosophy’s medium for investigating reality and communicating its findings.10 Settling the problem becomes even more urgent in the

(1999: 64 – 71) offers an illuminating discussion of the tradition which saw Plato as a poet and dramatist. See also Percy Bysshe Shelley (A Defence of Poetry) cited in Brett-Smith, H. F. B. (ed.) (1972: 29): “Plato was essentially a poet – the truth and splendour of his imagery, and the melody of his language, are the most intense that it is possibly to conceive. He rejected the measure of the epic, dramatic and lyrical forms, because he sought to kindle a harmony in thoughts divested of shape and action, and he forbore to invent any regular plan of rhythm which would include under determinate forms, the varied pauses of his style” (emphasis added). See also Sidney (1973: 107). 8 In the early 19th century, Friedrich Schleiermacher was the first to note that the contextual specificities (characters and dramatic setting) of each dialogue were of cardinal import to the understanding of the arguments. In Schleiermacher’s most quoted words, “spectators of the analysis [will] fail altogether to attain to a knowledge of the philosophy of Plato, for in that, if in anything, form and subject are inseparable, and no proposition is to be rightly understood, except in its own place, and with the combinations and limitations which Plato has assigned to it”. See Schleiermacher (1973 trans. William Dobson). See detailed discussion in Tigerstedt (1977); and Press, in Hart, R. and Tejera, V. (eds.) (1997: 13 – 14). 9 Plato’s demarcation of philosophy from rhetoric and poetry has been discussed by Andrea Nightingale in her influential (1995) study of Plato’s dialogues. In this study I concur with Nightingale that Plato appropriates several of the characteristic features of poetry and rhetoric in order to construct the identity of his own philosophical discourse. Nonetheless, in doing so, he also demonstrates the way in which his own work and approach to the world differs from that of the poets and the rhetoricians. See also the discussion in Goldhill (2002: 80 – 110) and Nehamas (1990: 3 – 16). See also a further detailed discussion in the methodological part of this study in Section Two below. 10 Henri Joly (1974: 299 – 300) links Plato’s treatment of language to investigate the Real, or ethical concepts such as justice, with the discoveries that took place at the time in the field of mathematics and geometry. See also his obser-

8

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Republic, as in this dialogue Plato puts into this work a number of linguistic and stylistic features that can be immediately recognised by his contemporaries as lying in the field of ancient Greek poetry, which he severely criticised in Book 3 and ultimately rejected in Book 10. Consequently, upon promoting his own philosophic ideas in the Republic, Plato appears to be engaging in a dialogue not only with the various thinkers of the pre-Platonic era, but also with another highly influential strand of ancient Greek thought and culture: the poets and their muchperformed productions.11 But, if language in general, and philosophical language in particular, becomes itself a field of scrupulous analysis and experiment so that it may communicate reality to the audience of the Platonic works, why is Plato being so ‘poetic’ in his Republic? In other words, why incorporate in his philosophic discourse vehemently rejected methods such as poetic techniques and diction when these are recognised as detrimental to the way people think about all the important matters in life?

1.3 The literary and the philosophical in Plato: Philosophy against poetry Several works in Plato studies have thrown light on the philosopher’s rejection of poetry in the Republic and elsewhere, offering articulate and perceptive explanations of the vehement attacks that he mounts against poetry in Books 2, 3 and 10.12 At the same time, several Plato

vations about the impact of geometry on Plato’s philosophical thought in 191 – 207. 11 Note that the same interpretative approach has also been followed for the last few decades as regards the Presocratic philosophy. See, for example, Most, in Long, A. A. (ed.) (1999a: 335): “If it is a truism, proven most incontrovertibly by these four figures [Xenophanes, Parmenides, Empedocles, Heraclitus] that there is no ancient (or even modern) philosopher whose discursive form can safely be neglected if his thought is entirely to be understood, all the same it is particularly true in the case of the early Greek thinkers as a group that no account of their philosophy that considers only the structure of their arguments, and not also the form in which they chose to communicate those arguments to their public, can be considered fully satisfactory”. 12 The relevant literature is vast. See Collingwood (1925: 154 – 172); Edmundson (1995) Ferrari (1990); Moravcsik, J. M. E. and Temko, P. (eds.) (1982); Naddaff (2002); Nehamas (1999: 279 – 299); Nussbaum (1986); Halliwell (1988)

1.3 The literary and the philosophical in Plato: Philosophy against poetry

9

scholars have built their interpretations on the thesis that there is nothing philosophically superfluous or redundant in the literariness of the Platonic dialogues, and that their dramatic or stylistic versatility cannot be seen separately from the formulation of the philosophical thought and the argumentation that the dialogues promote. On the contrary, this is absolutely essential to the construction of Plato’s philosophical discourse.13 Thus, several scholars have shown how Plato’s choice of the dialogue form, with all its dramatic colourings and variegated stylistic modalities, has remarkable philosophical relevance.14 In the same line and (2002); Levin (2001); Rosen (1988: 271 – 289); Rutherford (1995: 228 – 238) and Vernant (1975: 133 – 160). 13 Scholars’ contribution to this strand of Plato interpretation has significantly increased in the last two decades. (See, however, Webster’s insightful article published in [1939: 166 – 79] which brings together issues of philosophy and literature.) Relevant publications can be classified in two main categories: on the one hand, there are articles compiled in volumes which aim to demonstrate the diverse character that Plato interpretation has taken in the last few years: Charles L. Griswold’s compilation (1988) is a characteristic example of a scholarly attempt to present in one single volume Plato readings which confront each other. Andrew Barker’s and Martin Warner’s volume (eds.) (1992) questions traditionally fixed boundaries in Platonic studies and find a common ground between literature and philosophy. See also Press (ed.) (1993) and (2000) as well as Francisco Gonzalez’s volume (ed.) (1995) which attempts to find an interpretative “third way” to the traditionally doctrinal or sceptic readings of the dialogues. See also Fendt, G. and Rozema, D. (eds.) (1998); Scott, G. A. (ed.) (2007). Recent literature that seeks to bring together the literary and the philosophical in Plato also includes detailed readings of dialogues by a single scholar: see Miller (1980); Tejera (1984); Gilead (1994); Sayre (1995); Cook (1996) and Schmid (1998). In addition, see Annas (1999: 9 – 30); Rosen (1986: 271 – 289); Rowe (1993: 159 – 182); and Rowe (2006: 7 – 24). On the relation of philosophy and literature, see also Iris Murdoch, in Magee, B. (ed.) (1978: 265). 14 For an illuminating discussion of the different modes of philosophical writing see Klagge, in Klagge, J. C., and Smith, N. D. (eds.) (1992: 1 – 12). See also Cherniss, in Taran, L. (ed.) (1977: 14 – 35) and Merlan (1946/7: 406 – 430). But cf. Robb, in Hart, R., and Tejera, V. (eds.) (1997: 29 – 63). Ludwig Edelstein’s ‘Platonic Anonymity’ (1962: 1 – 22) is an indispensable reading on Plato’s use of the dialogue form and has significantly influenced ensuing discussions. In addition, see Hyland (1968: 38 – 50); Benson, in Benson, H. H. (ed.) (2006: 85 – 99); McCabe, in Benson, H. H. (ed.) (2006: 39 – 54) and Ford, in Goldhill, S. (ed.) (2008: 29 – 44). On the relation of form and content in pre-Platonic philosophical compositions and on the birth of the dialogue form, see Tejera (1997b: 63 – 80) and Kahn (1996: Ch. 1). Particularly helpful in this direction is Christopher Gill’s (in Annas, J. and Rowe, C. [eds.] [2002: 162 – 163]) assessment of the ancient Greek testimonia to cast light on the reception of Plato’s

10

1. Introduction

of investigation, scholars have also interpreted the diversity of discursive modes as the fruit of Plato’s strategy to demarcate his newly-founded philosophy from other contemporary literary genres such as oratory and Greek Drama (Nightingale 1995). In constructing his philosophic logos then, Plato makes full use of traditional linguistic material which he then reshapes to meet his own philosophic ends (Morgan 2000). I believe, however, that there is still more to be said about the philosophically pertinent reasons that may have motivated Plato to weave into the fabric of his philosophical prose several features that have been traditionally associated with the genre of poetry. The highly versatile and colourful text of the Republic examined in this study is the ideal environment to raise questions about Plato’s idiosyncratic authorial relation to poetry and poetic discourse and the dynamics that regulate it, as almost every other Stephanus page seems to reverberate with poetic echoes of one sort or another (Halliwell 2000a: 94 – 112). Plato both rejects and uses poetry’s stylistic features to argue his philosophic ideas almost in the same breath. I will leave aside for the moment the impressive images of the Sun, the Line and the Cave, which scholars in the past have associated with poetry.15 In his investigation of justice at Cephalus’ house in Piraeus, Plato’s Socrates employs several themes and motifs that can be easily recognised as belonging to the poets’ thematic and discursive stock. He uses the motifs of illumination, light and darkness, sleep and dreaming to describe the characteristic features of the cognitive level of Opinion in Book 5. He compares the use of dialogue by his ancient readers, particularly the Stoics. A crucial point must be made here concerning the relationship between the so-termed ‘dialogical’ and the ‘literary’ approaches as regards Plato. Although the dialogical movement remains in its basics a non-doctrinal one, for, as Press tellingly argues (in Hart, R., and Tejera, V. [eds.] [1997: 4 with n. 5]), “it does not presuppose that in the dialogues Plato solely or primarily communicates or teaches us doctrines”, the same cannot be claimed about the interpretative and philosophical aims of the proponents of the literary approach. The adoption of a literary perspective in the reading of the dialogues does not entail adherence to a non-doctrinal stance; in other words, the attitude of a Platonic interpreter can be literary with a view to discovering doctrines and dogmas within the dialogues. The most characteristic example of such a stance can be found in the Platonic interpretations of the Straussian interpreters and the Tubingen school. See also Blondell (2002: 19). Note, however, that not all Plato scholars are convinced by the dialogical character of Plato’s dialogue: see Griswold (ed.) (1988); Kraut, in Kraut, R. (ed.) (1992: 25) and Long, in Goldhill, S. (ed.) (2008: 45 – 60). 15 For a more detailed discussion see Section Two, Chapter Three below.

1.3 The literary and the philosophical in Plato: Philosophy against poetry

11

construction of arguments (logos) to treading on a “path”; he likens the interlocutors’ progress in argumentation to an (intellectual) “ascent” that leads to a “clear view of justice”. At the same time, as the discussion on just and unjust souls and states unfolds, numerous lines and poetic quotations are tossed back and forth by Glaucon, Adeimantus and Socrates, especially in Books 2, 8, 9. In Books 8 and 9 in particular, Plato’s Socrates employs, either in thick clusters or sporadically in his discourse, poetic lines and themes, which consist, for example, of rich animal imagery, to present the characteristics of the unjust souls and polities (Adam 1963 [1902] vol. 2). The subhuman, beast-like image of the tyrant, in particular, has well-rooted origins in poetry. By means of this imagery, Plato identifies baseness, injustice and civic and psychic imbalance with a multi-headed beast, thus appropriating the well established Hesiodic image of Typhon to his own ends (Too 1998: 19 – 22).16 The inconsistency that arises from Plato’s attacks on poets in Books 1, 2, 3 and 10 of the Republic, and his own simultaneous inclusion of poetic stylistic effects of one sort or another to talk, among other things, about the Ideas or the just and unjust souls and polities, can be settled, I argue, if we shift the boundaries of our perspective on Plato’s philosophic aim in this work and consider its place within the writings of the fourth century B.C.17 Perhaps a few preliminary remarks on the topics that will receive fuller treatment later on are in order here. In re-addressing Plato’s aim in the dialogue, I am not arguing against the long-received and well-established interpretation of the dialogue as demonstrating the thesis that justice is better than injustice and that it pays more; I am rather claiming that to understand how Plato’s argumentation works several other philosophically significant questions must also be considered. In this study, I will venture a close analysis of the Republic’s language in order to throw new light on the author’s decision to construct philosophic discourse and argumentation by remoulding and adapting poetic diction and techniques. According to the interpretation proposed 16 Note that Pindar too appropriates this motif in Pythian I. 13 – 30 in order to refer to Zeus’ complete omnipotence and sovereignty. 17 Socrates’ conversation in the Republic takes place at Piraeus in 422 B.C., that is, during the Peace of Nicias. The Republic is written around 375 B.C. There is, then, a lapse of fifty years between the so-called dramatic date of the dialogue and its actual writing. This is a common technique in Plato which aims to highlight the fictional character of the dialogues. On this technique as regards the Republic, see Pappas (1995: 15 – 16) and Ferrari (2000).

12

1. Introduction

here, Plato’s treatment of poetry in the Republic (that is both its rejection and its deployment in the text) is fully integrated within the broader philosophical conception of how language should work in order to communicate the Truth and the Real. The rich stylistic diversity of the dialogue reflects the innovative steps Plato is taking towards training his contemporary audience about how philosophic language should be properly used to fight the confusing and highly ambiguous stimuli that our deceiving senses generate. This important philosophical issue is woven into the same fabric as Socrates’ definition of justice, and is also intertwined with his criticism of poetry as using its dynamics (music, motifs and diction) inaccurately when presenting the gods, heroes or the simple man. In other words, Plato repeatedly draws attention to the fact that our investigation of important ethical and ontological matters is not separate either from the language we use to inspect them or from the method we apply in our investigation.18 In my view, Plato then is far from being inconsistent when he first rejects the various poetic modalities and then incorporates them in his text, for by doing so, he first fashions his theory as to the reasons why it is seriously wrong to put your trust in the various poetic accounts of the world (Books 2 and 3), and then re-addresses and re-organises the poetic themes and motifs that are familiar to his audience to drive his own arguments home (Books 3 to 10). This results in the construction of a poeticized philosophic prose that serves as the most appropriate dialect for conveying highly complicated and elusive ethical, ontological and epistemological concepts to people who have not been properly educated in Platonic philosophical thought, such as Socrates’ interlocutors at Cephalus’ house (328b1 – c4).

1.4 The poetics of philosophical language It should be evident from the above that to bring out the intricacies of the Republic’s poeticized prose a microcosmic analysis of the work’s linguistic texture is in order. In Section One of this study I clarify my methodological distinction between ‘macrocosmic’ and ‘microcosmic’ 18 On the text ‘performing’ its meaning, see Austin (1962). See also discussion the in Goldhill and von Reden, in Goldhill, S. and Osborne, R. (eds.) (1999: 257 – 289); and Goldhill, in Sullivan, J. P. and de Jong, I. (1994: 51 – 73).

1.4 The poetics of philosophical language

13

level analyses of Plato’s literary/dramatic stylistic techniques.19 Although a clear-cut distinction between the two cannot be easily maintained (for the two levels are in constant interplay) Plato’s treatment of diction and image-building would fall under what I call ‘microcosmic’ interpretation.20 Section One also seeks to define the poeticized character of the Republic’s philosophic discourse. As a result, in Section One I raise questions regarding definitions. In what ways is Platonic language poetic? How does poetry transform into poetics in the Republic, and how does this transformation pay any philosophic dividends to the Republic’s audience? 21 To understand the philosophical ramifications of this influence we must place Plato’s work in its cultural and literary context.22 In my view, the Republic’s discourse turns manifestly poetic on two accounts. Firstly, and for specific reasons that I will come to in this study, Plato either embeds in his text direct quotations from the compositions of leading poetic figures (mostly Homer and the Dramatists) or he adopts recognisable themes and motifs (for example, the motifs of katabasis and anabasis, or the “route” [hodos] motif) to construct his discourse. This authorial strategy takes place on what I call a microcosmic level of discourse. But Plato’s philosophic endeavour in the Republic is poetic from another point of view as well, and this time is a macrocosmic one. In Republic 376d, Plato has Socrates call their entire enterprise of constructing a theoretical city, and tracing justice in it and in the soul, a “myth” (mythos). Yet, myths were traditionally recognized as being closely linked with, or falling under, poetry. Several studies on Platonic myth-making have shown how Plato in his dialogues also ap19 Literary and dramatic interpretations of the dialogues interpenetrate but are not identified. The literary mode of interpretation takes full consideration of “objective literary characteristics of the dialogues” such as word-choice, syntax and grammar, style, imagery and metaphors, humour and irony, as well as quotations and references. The ‘dramatic approach’, on the other hand, focuses primarily on character building, dramatic settings or narratological frameworks. So Press, in Hart, R., and Tejera, V. (eds.) (1997: 4). Nonetheless, as I shall show in Section Two below, the two approaches become intertwined as the dialogue’s drama often requires specific literary features. 20 His appropriation and treatment of myth, for example, would follow under the ‘macrocosmic’ level. On the distinction, see my detailed discussion in Section One below. 21 In this study, I use the term poetics in a non-Aristotelian sense. I discuss in detail this term in the methodological part of this study, in Section One below. See also above n. 11. 22 See detailed discussion in Section One below.

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1. Introduction

propriates this well-established mode of poetic discourse towards his own philosophic ends.23 But, as is always the case with Plato, his incorporation of poetic features in his dialogues is neither straightforward nor can it be easily explained away. The Republic’s language is a hotchpotch of different styles; an arena of some kind where diverse diction and images/motifs from various literary strands meet and clash to construct philosophical argumentation.24 Thus, we should draw a distinction between Socrates’ usage of familiar (or traditional) poetic language and imagery on the one hand, and his simultaneous introduction of novel modes of linguistic arrangement, which aim to shape the philosophic language of the Socratic interlocutors, on the other. Plato draws on various discursive and stylistic modes and invents new ones to construct his arguments. Thus a tension between different linguistic styles pervades the Republic throughout. There is a clash between ‘more concrete’ and ‘less concrete’ (even ‘abstract’) language. That is to say between highly colourful images of complex poetic metaphors, and another type of language which strives to eschew imagery that echoes its poetic origins.25 There are also contexts (as, for example, in Books 8 and 9) where Plato’s entire argumentation seems to be constructed out of thickets of poetic quotations. Lastly, there are other contexts in the dialogue where poetic language is absent altogether and complex mathematics emerge to explain how the ideal city is doomed 23 See Phaedo, 61b – e. See Morgan (2000); Brisson, trans. Naddaf (1998) and Brisson (2004). 24 See Thesleff (1967). Thesleff lists ten classes of style in the Platonic works: colloquial, semi-literary, conversational, rhetorical, pathetic, intellectual, mythic narrative, historical, ceremonious, legal and Onkos; cf. review of Thesleff by Hathaway (1969/1970: 202 – 6) who finds that Platonic style could be divided into two broader classes, intellectual and Onkos, both “resting on the surface of everyday conversational style” (204). Thesleff’s rigid distinction of styles will not be followed in the present study; on the contrary, I agree with Hathaway’s remark that Plato’s own criteria for good prose involved no strict separation of style modes (204). On the Onkos class (denoting the variegated, interlaced “word-music” found in the dialogues) see also Denniston (1952: 54). On Plato’s prose, Denniston observes: “Plato writes not in one style, but in several, but with such subtle play on the changes that the break is nowhere apparent” (17, emphasis added). 25 A characteristic example of this is Socrates’ exposition of Knowledge and Opinion at the end of Book 5. See my discussion in Section Two, Chapter Two below.

1.5 The Republic’s main motifs: Mixture, diversity and purity

15

to failure due to people’s inability to calculate, or how much less happy (eudaimn) is the unjust man when compared to the just.

1.5 The Republic’s main motifs: Mixture, diversity and purity In my view, this tension between Plato’s various linguistic styles in the Republic is not by chance. As I intend to show in this study, the pivot around which Plato’s linguistic concerns hinge is itself a prominent pair of opposites of documented Presocratic and poetic origins. In this study I argue that throughout this work Plato’s treatment of philosophical language is organised around the polar opposition of “mixture” (he˜ mixis – he˜ krasis) and “purity” (to katharon).26 At the same time, the antithetical pair of mixture and purity is also interconnected with another related binary opposition: “variety” (poikilia) in contrast to what is “simple” (to haploun), unified and “unmixed” (to akraton).27 These concepts play a prominent role in Presocratic thought and in poetry, yet the pre-Platonic literature that has come down to us does not treat the notion of diversity (poikilia) or mixture (mixis) in the same way. As a leading characteristic of poetic craftsmanship, the poet’s skill in mixing his thematic and linguistic stock is integral to composing beautiful poetry.28 In the Presocratics on the other hand, the no26 This antithetical pair also regulates Socrates’ proposals about the organisation of the ideal city: see, for example, Rep. 460c6 – 7: jahaq¹m t¹ c]mor t_m vuk\jym (“the class of the guardians should be pure.”) 27 The semantics of simplicity are rendered in the Republic in the combination of the two pronouns auto kath’ auto (this in itself). This phrase also constitutes Plato’s watchword in this dialogue for the Forms. 28 The idea is most prominent in Pindar; see, for example, Fr. 194. 1 – 3: jejqºtgtai wqus´a jqgp·r Reqa?sim !oida?r7 / eWa teiw¸fylem Edg poij¸kom / jºslom aqd²emta kºcym ; cf. Nem. 5. 42. Note that the word poikilia has strong pictorial connotations. It is used to denote colour diversity in weaving (and painting) and diversity at large (see LSJ sv I, II and II). The shifting evaluation given to poikilia in the arts can be vividly exemplified by the positive references to it in Pindar and the negative uses of the term in criticisms of the so-called ‘new music’ of the later fifth century. Criticisms of the New Music’s complexity and diversity are recurrent in the texts, especially in comedy, but often without using the word poikilia or its cognates themselves. See, especially, Pherecrates fr. 155 (= ps-Plutarch De musica 1141D-1142 A), Aristophanes Thesm. 50 – 69, Birds 1373 – 90; see also Plato Rep. 399d. Relevant uses of poikil- itself turn up several times in Plato (Rep. 399e, 404e, Laws 812e, and for similarly critical but nonmusical uses, see Rep. 557c, 561e, Laws 704e: e˜the˜ kai poikila kai phaula). Neg-

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1. Introduction

tion of mixture becomes the main motif in their discussions of the polymorphy of our surrounding environment both in terms of cosmology and physiology.29 This easily prompts the emergence of the counterpart motif of “decipherment” (he˜ krisis): the exercise, that is, of correct krisis on the part of humans to comprehend the world which entails grasping its mixture and diversity and being able to dissolve it into its constituents.30 Plato adapts the motifs of poikilia, mixis and krisis to his own ative uses of diverse (poikilos) appear with reference to the New Music also in a passage paraphrased (or quoted) from Aristoxenus at ps-Plutarch De musica 1142C. Plato despised this musical progress and its innovative complex variations. For an extensive discussion see Barker (1984: 93 – 98) and West (1992: 356 – 372). On poikilia in Pindar, in particular, see Steiner (1986). 29 Poikilia is also used for painting and the painters’ mixing of colours to denote diversity in colours; see Emp. Fr. 23 (in Simpl. Phys. 159, 27): ¢r d’ bp|tam cqav]er !mah^lata poij_kkysim / %meqer !lv· t]wmgr rp¹ l^tior ew deda_te,/ oVt’ 1pe· owm l\qxysi pok}wqoa v\qlaja weqs_m, / "qlom_, le_namte t± l³m pk]y, %kka d’ 1k\ssy,/ 1j t_m eUdea p÷sim !k_cjia poqs}mousi /[…] ovty lµ s’ !p\tg vq]ma jaim}ty %kkohem eWmai/ hmgt_m, fssa ce d/ka cec\jasim %speta, pgc^m,/ !kk± toq_r taOt’ Ushi, heoO p\qa lOhom !jo}sar. (“As when painters are decorating offerings , men through cunning well skilled in their craft – when they actually seize pigments of many colours in their hands, mixing in harmony more of some and less of others, they produce from them forms resembling all things […]: so let not deception overcome your mind and make you think there is any other source of all the countless mortal things that are plain to see, but know this clearly, for the tale you hear comes from a god” (trans. Kirk, Raven and Schofield). On Empedocles’ reference to painting in these lines, see Ierodiakonou, in Cleland, L., Stears, K. and Davies, G. (eds.) (2004: 91 – 95) and (2005: 1 – 37). See also Ierodiakonou (2009: 119 – 130) and Skarsouli (2009: 165 – 177 and esp. 168 – 71). Skarsouli focuses on Empedocles’ use of pharmakon (colour) and apate˜ (deceit) in these lines and investigates the association of colours and deceitful words in Empedocles, Gorgias (Helen) and Plato (the Cratylus). On Empedocles’ use of poikillsin, see Bollack (1969: 121): “Une seule fois chez Homère (S 590), où il signifie varier par les forms, modeler. Ici, appliqué au travail des peintres, il a le sens de varier les couleurs, colorier. Mais la diversité est la notion principale, non la couleur. Aussi le mot pourrait-il reprendre !kkoiyp\ de la fin 63 (B21, Simpl. Phys. 159, 13) et announcer l’idée principale de 64 (B23) (vers 5 – 9)”. On poikilia as “varietas colorum, diversité de coulerus” and poikilos as “versicolor, coloré de couleurs vives” (synonym to polychrous), see Mugler (1964: 309 – 310), with examples. Poikilia carries its meaning as “diversity in colours” in Pseudo-Aristotle’s De Coloribus: see Ferrini (1999). Note that in Aristotle the word haplous is an established opposite of poikilos. See also Bonitz sv. poikilia/ poikilos. 30 The motif of mixture (mixis and krasis) permeates the Presocratic explanations of the world and of human nature: see Parm. fr. 16: ¢r c±q 2j\stot’ 5wei jq÷sir

1.5 The Republic’s main motifs: Mixture, diversity and purity

17

ends in the Republic and contrasts them to purity which, in the Republic, becomes his watchword for ethical and metaphysical orderliness and homogeneity.31 However, in Plato’s usage, these binary oppositions become flexible enough to take on a variety of manifestations. Thus, whereas the motif of mixture (meignumi), which in poetry is also used to refer to sexual relations, in Plato is often assigned negative connotations,32 the same image of sexual mingling is employed elsewhere to describe the true philosopher’s rapport with the ultimate Platonic Idea, the Form of the Good, which Socrates presents to his interlocutors in Book 6. Plato also makes full use of this motif and links it with diversity (poikilia) in Books 8 and 9, where the “diverse” and “polymorphic” status (poikilon e˜thos) of the unjust souls receives a very vivid and highly poeticised description. In these two Books, the “variegated character” (poikilon e˜thos) of the most unjust soul – that of the tyrant – is intended to contrast to the “simple and unmixed character” (akratos and haplous) of the just and “well-attuned” (sphrn) person, as described in Books 4 and 5. lek]ym pokupk\cjtym, t½r m|or !mhq~poisi paq]stgjem (“as is at any moment the mixture of the wandering limbs, so mind is present to men”), Emp. fr. 17. . 16 – 26: d_pk’ 1q]y 4m gqn^hg l|mom eWmai/ 1j pke|mym, t|te d’aw di]vu pk]om’ 1n 2m¹r eWmai (“A twofold tale I shall say: at one time they [the roots] grew to be one alone out of many, at another again they grew apart”); fr. 22. 3 – 8: ¢r d’autyr fsa jq/sim 1paqj]a l÷kkom 5asim (“but in the same way all that are fitted rather for mixture”); see also fr. 61. The motif is particularly prominent in Anaxagoras: see fr. 1, fr. 4, fr. 17, fr. 12 where the Mind is “mixed with nothing (l]leijtai oqdem_) but is all alone by itself (aqt¹r 1v’ 2autoO)” (trans. Kirk, Raven and Schofield). See Arist. Phys. A4, 187a23. See Kirk, Raven and Schofield 1983 (2nd ed.). On Anaxargoras, see the excellent discussion in Schofield (1980). 31 The words katharos (pure) and katharmos (purification) have strong religious connotations, and their origins are traced back to the Orphics and their rituals, and to the Pythagoreans with which in the Phaedo and in other dialogues Plato seems to be well familiar. See Guthrie (1975 IV: 338 – 340); and (1965 II: 244 – 245); Burkert (1972: 211 – 213) with further bibliography; Burkert ([1977] 1985: 296 – 300); Vöhler, M. and Seidensticker, B. (eds.) (2007); Thom (1995). On the religious aspects of rites of purification, see Hoessly (2001). The notion of contamination stands in stark contrast to purity and purification. On purification and the philosopher’s vision of the colourless Being, see also Rohde ([1925] 2000: 467 – 472). See also Parker (1983). Plato adopts this religious terminology and adapts it to argue new ideas in the Republic. 32 See, for example, Socrates’ proposals in relation to the city guardians’ sexual relations in Book 5. I discuss in detail Plato’s treatment of this motif and its philosophical significance in Section One, Chapter One below.

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1. Introduction

Thus this binary opposition is used throughout the Republic to refer to human nature as well since for Socrates human nature seems to be the very embodiment of mixture and contamination. As Reeve (1988: 220 – 230) has rightly argued, Plato’s severe criticism against the poetry and music of his time stems from his belief that this type of cultural education is responsible for people’s corruption ethically. Poetry achieves this primarily by portraying gods, heroes and humans as embodying diverse and conflicting ethical characteristics. In the Republic’s terms, the purification of human nature can be achieved only by means of philosophic education. Socrates undertakes to reform his contemporaries’ education in music and poetry in Books 2 and 3. At the same time in Book 7 he offers a list of five subjects (number theory, geometry, stereometry, harmonics and dialectic) for the philosopher-kings of his ideal city which are intended to free them gradually from the confusing reliance on the senses so that they can then grasp the Platonic Forms. Thus, Plato’s appropriation of the contrasting concepts of mixture and purity in the Republic is versatile enough to articulate ideas about the complex nature of humans, the deceptive and confusing character of poetry, the diversity of musical forms (rhythms and harmoniai) and about the various levels of human cognition as described in the images of the Line and the Cave.

1.6 Philosophy, poetry, painting and the poikilia-motif Plato’s severe censorship of poetry is then ethical in character. This has been treated extensively in the literature, yet what has passed unobserved is the manner in which this approach to ethics regulates Plato’s treatment of philosophical discourse in the Republic. Plato’s stance towards excessive variety (whether in emotions or in music) is wellknown. He is a strong advocate against it. However, nowhere in the Republic does Plato propose any straightforward guidelines as to the way language should be organised to regulate how humans handle the polymorphic world (poikilia) and the various ideas about it, or indeed about their place in it.33 33 On language in Plato’s dialogues in general, see Burnyeat (1976: 29 – 51). The limitations and instability of human language is also examined in Morgan (2000: 181 – 184). Morgan draws on Timaeus (29b3-c1) and Cratylus (408c2 – 3) and finds that “words are embedded in the sensible realm and

1.6 Philosophy, poetry, painting and the poikilia-motif

19

It would appear that the closest Socrates gets to formulating a thesis concerning the use of language is in his censorship of certain poetic fragments in Books 2 and 3. Yet, these are criticisms of the poetic content (logos, 392c6) rather than of language structuring per se (that is, the selection of diction and motifs) to put across the content. At the same time, in his famous passage on mime˜sis in Book 3, Plato also levels attacks against the poets’ lexis (392c6 – 8) on the basis that imitative poetry is bad for humans who in general enjoy submerging themselves in various characters and who like to experience conflicting emotions.34 Plato then does not theorise in his Republic on how language may be structured so as not to be detrimental to our e˜thos or to our perception of reality. On the contrary, it is at this point that one could trace an inconsistency on Plato’s part in the Republic as regards his use of various linguistic styles and imageries. When we turn to the language he employs in the Republic to put across his own ideas, Plato becomes quite versatile and colourful in his motifs himself. In other words, he appropriates the diction and motifs of poetic discourse. Yet, what is not literally overt, as is so often the case in Plato’s writings, is stylistically implicit.35 In my they cannot shake that taint” (183 – 184). Morgan’s reading supports my interpretation in this study which views language as a two-edged sword. On this characteristic of language, see Ferrari (1987) on the Phaedrus. Socrates himself in the Cratylus asserts the double nature of language and proposes that speech, which signifies “everything” (to pan) can be compared to the goatish divinity Pan (408c2 – 3). According to the Platonic image, the true part is the upper part (which is smooth and sacred), whereas the lower part (corresponding to the lower limbs of the god) is the false part. Myths and falsehoods are found to belong to this lower part. In 432b – d Socrates suggests that words are images that can represent the realities only through resemblance and fall always short of their prototype. Cf. also Sayre, in Griswold. C. L. (ed.) (1988: 93 – 109), who suggests that a careful reading of the Seventh Letter exemplifies how all language is too much entangled with sensible imagery to express true philosophical nuances. Sayre argues that this assertion is further confirmed in the Republic, the Phaedrus, the Sophist and Theaetetus. But cf. Gill (1992: 159 – 160) and Stewart (1989: 274 – 275). On Platonic language see also Jowett II (1894: 316 – 317) and Sedley, in Benson, H. H. (ed.) (2006: 214 – 227). Also, see my discussion in the Introduction further below. 34 See Partee (1981: 20), who also argues that Plato’s attack on poetry is primarily on an ethical basis. For an extensive discussion see Nussbaum (1986: 1 – 21 and 122 – 135); Halliwell (1993: 1 – 17); Annas, in Moravcsik, J. and Temko, P. (eds.) (1982: 1 – 27); Moravcsik (1986: 35 – 47) and Cook (1996: Ch. 4). 35 Cook (1996: 158 – 162) remarks that Plato “never discusses the dialogue form as writing”, [but] “he does, however, in various contexts, discuss language, and he

20

1. Introduction

view, the Republic’s diverse discursive styles – the Socratic elenchus, argumentative passages, myths, images and thick clusters of poetic quotations – are woven artistically together into a unified, though sometimes incongruent, whole. This attitude towards thematic and stylistic incongruence does not equate Plato with the poet whom he repeatedly condemns in the Republic. As I will show in this study, there is a pattern in this alternation of styles which accounts for the sometimes conflictual relations between the different discursive modes and styles. By adapting traditional material and inventing new techniques, Plato undertakes to examine complex ideas and simultaneously educate his audience on how to reorganise poetic language so as to avoid its misrepresentation of reality. Thus, the Republic’s discourse disrupts well-established patterns of thinking and speaking about the gods, the world, human nature and knowledge, while, at the same time, it serves to bring home Plato’s innovative philosophical thinking. No discussion of Plato’s language in the Republic should be approached without relation to Socrates’ intra-dramatic audience and interlocutors. As a narrator, Socrates offers us ample information about the cultural and dianoetic profiles of the people gathered in Cephalus’s house at Piraeus.36 With one exception – in Book 1 Cephalus abandons the dialogue early – all are intrigued by the fruits that Socrates’ investigation of justice and injustice might bear and they happily spend the entire night enraptured by the intricacies of the conversation. These are people of various backgrounds including metics, democrats, Athenian aristocrats and foreigners, who, more or less, seem to share cultural bonds. They are at Piraeus to attend a religious festival of a newly introduced deity; they have been raised and educated by the poets, whose compositions they seem to know by heart;37 they are acquainted with

also varies his use of it, especially when he moves away from elenctic presentation into myths” (158, emphasis added). Cook focuses on the Cratylus, but his suggestions about Plato’s discussion of language through variations in style, accord with my reading of the Republic’s ‘dramatization of language’ which I discuss in Section One below. 36 On the importance of contexts in Plato’s dialogues, see esp. Henderson (2000: 287 – 324). In relation to the Republic, see Annas (1981: Ch. 2); Ferrari (2000); and (2003); Dorter (2006: 14 – 22 and Ch. 1). 37 On Nice˜ratus’ education in the Homeric epics, see Xenophon’s Sym. 4.3.3. Nice˜ratus takes pride in having memorised the whole epics. On the interlocu-

1.6 Philosophy, poetry, painting and the poikilia-motif

21

current sophistic ideas (– Thrasymachus’ presence in the company seems to work in this direction);38 they frequent the wrestling schools (palaestra), and they also seem to be familiar with male homoerotic love. In other words, there is nothing particularly extraordinary in the people that Plato has brought together as Socrates’ audience and interlocutors in the Republic. Although the dialogue takes place in Piraeus and not in Athens, we are still transferred to the heart of fifth century Athenian culture or, as commentators of the Republic often remind us, to the depths of Plato’s Cave.39 With this said, there seems to be nothing unsettling in Socrates’ philosophic language that builds so much on the diction or the motifs of poetry. But things are not as simple as that. For in employing various discursive modes and styles Plato undertakes to do much more than just reach out to the non-philosophically sophisticated by means of familiar poetic themes and motifs. The change of styles and diction in the Republic is intended to draw the audience’s attention to the fundamental problems that arise from formulating incorrect and ethically wrong antithetical thought-patterns which originate from the erroneous and confusing constant mixture of different pairs of opposites. Thus, the Republic re-enacts or dramatizes the interlocutors’ training in matters of Platonic philosophy and epistemology by mounting a constant attack on the way that poetry has been built upon antithesis and multiplicity to educate and entertain its receivers.40 From Plato’s philosophic perspective, poetry has failed. Not only because it is imitative and far removed from the truth, but also because it reproduces all important things in the wrong way: the good is mixed with the bad; the just with the unjust; the beautiful with the ugly; the courageous with the cowardly; the true with the false. The list is as endless as the various combinations (poikilia) of pairs of opposites in our polymorphic world. Poetry then reproduces a distorted version of the real by bringing together opposite ethical concepts in what only appears to be tors’ citation of poetic lines in Book 1, see the discussion in Halliwell (2000a: 94 – 112). 38 So Annas (1981: Ch. 2); Blondell (2002: 165 – 190) and Reeve (1988: 35 – 42). 39 Sinaiko (1965: 177); Clay (2000: 231 – 240). 40 In this study, I call Plato’s alternation of style and discursive modes ‘dramatization of language’. For a detailed discussion on how the text dramatizes or reflects its meaning to problematize issues of language see Section One Below. See also above n. 18.

22

1. Introduction

a unified whole. In other words, in Platonic terms, poetry produces an unfaithful verisimilitude of the Real. Plato’s response is to adopt poetry’s own characteristic features and techniques and re-apply the “colours” (words and motifs, 601a4 – b4) in line with the way that he sees the world and reality. Plato preserves the poets’ thematic poikilia that his audience is used to taking so much pleasure in, but he reserves this only for depicting the bad, the ignorant and the unjust. Even if Books 8 and 9 of the Republic are full of poetic quotations and motifs, they are, nonetheless, appropriately adopted because they depict as faithfully as possible Plato’s notion of injustice, which in Book 4 has been equated with strife and division. On the same interpretative lines, the most unjust soul, that of the tyrant, is also the most diverse (poikile˜) as he is in Plato’s poetics a many-headed beast that nothing can nurture or restrain. Against this framework, Plato also finds the means to develop his ideas about justice, the Forms and the Form of the Good by creating his own philosophical imagery in the dialogue. Sometimes poetic language is amalgamated with new ways of using common words in order to do so. And, sometimes, Plato can even be said to become a “lover of poetry” (philopoie˜te˜s) in the full sense in the way he invents new diction, motifs and discursive modes to present his theses.41 This approach to philosophical language is further clarified if we follow the parallels that Plato draws between Socrates’ philosophic task in the Republic and the painters, who, although criticised in Book 10 for deception, are treated far more favourably earlier in the text.42 Plato’s treatment of painting in his explanations of the philosopher’s task provides a strategy well adapted to the task of tackling matters of methodology in his Republic. I am here primarily referring to the methodological parallels that can be drawn between the confusing visual effects of the technique of skiagraphia (literally shadow painting or shading), to which Plato refers for the first time in his corpus in the Republic, and to the way language – and, more specifically imagistic philosophical lan41 Plato’s diction in the image of the Sun is a characteristic example of this: he˜lioeidestaton (508b3), agathoeide˜, helioeide˜ (509a1 and a3). On philopoie˜te˜s see Rep. Book 10. See my detailed discussion in Section Two, Chapter Three below. 42 See, for example, Rep. 484c – d, 500e and 501a – c. The parallel is also observed by Stephen Halliwell, in Rutter, N. K. and Sparkes, B. A. (eds.) (2000b: 99 – 116) who, however, examines different issues from the ones I raise here in relation to philosophical language.

1.6 Philosophy, poetry, painting and the poikilia-motif

23

guage – should be organised so that it expresses clearly and faithfully what matters most to people. In my view, Plato in his Republic associates the visual illusions of the technique of skiagraphia with the deceptive character of poetry. As a verbal painter himself, he then draws a number of stylistic distinctions in his Republic. On the one hand, there is the language carelessly employed (mixed) by poets and sophists in order to portray the world, the gods and the humans, and on the other the type of language that Plato’s Socrates constructs (or mixes together) to communicate with this audience, whose members have been raised listening to the poets and quoting their lines, or through spending time in the company of sophists.43 In employing this authorial technique, Plato attacks the illusionary effects of poetic skiagraphia, which in pictorial terms is the par excellence result of mixture. Yet, Plato’s treatment of the mixture motif in the Republic is idiosyncratic. He can reject the poets’ incorrect and incongruent thematic and linguistic diversity (poikilia), but he cannot easily trade it for purity in his own speech, for this is not fully attainable in our earthly world of Becoming. Instead, poetic diversity is traded for an alternative philosophically correct type of mixture (mixis), which seeks to educate us in the complex nature of the world of Becoming to which humans belong. Thus in Book 5 of the Republic, the motif of mixture is used innovatively to speak about human nature and how this can be moulded in accordance with the characteristics of the transcendent Forms. This alternative Platonic mixis is also the most appropriate way to speak to the Republic’s sight-lovers about their own reduced level of cognition, since 43 Plato puts to practice this method most expressly in Rep. 488a – b. In these lines Socrates constructs the image (eikn) of state as an ill-governed ship to explain to Adeimantus why philosophers in their society appear “useless”. In constructing this image, Socrates makes the most of the language of pictorial representation, thus drawing comparisons between painters, poets’ fashioning of images and his own image creation. See, for example, Rep. 488a1 – 2: %joue d’owm t/r eQj|mor, Vm’ 5ti l÷kkom Ud,r ¢r ck_swqyr eQj\fy (“In any case, listen to my image, and you’ll appreciate all the more how strained my images are”) and 488a4 – 7: !kk± de? 1j pokk_m aqt¹ sumacace?m eQj\fomta ja· !pokoco}lemom rp³q aqt_m, oXom oR cqav/r tqacek\vour ja· t± toiaOta le_cmumter cq\vousim. (“I

must construct it from many sources, just as painters paint goat-stags by combining the features of different things”). In this study I use Burnet OCT edition of Plato’s Republic ([1902] 1978). I have also consulted Slings’ (2003) OCT edition. The translation used is Grube and Reeve’s (1992) unless otherwise stated.

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in the dialogue’s three well-known images of the Sun, the Line and the Cave, Plato rests his discussion about the clarity of true Knowledge and its distinction from the level of Opinion (Doxa) on the well established polar opposition of light and darkness. In effect, the generation of shadows, which is the direct result of the mixture of light and darkness, is fully exploited in all three Platonic images to describe the distinctive characteristics of Doxa. The Socratic interlocutors have been raised to take “shadows” (that is doxastic thought patterns) for “true knowledge”. By both mixing and analysing the mixture of light and darkness in his epistemological images, Plato deciphers between different levels of knowledge in terms of different grades of mixture of light and darkness. In doing so, Plato demonstrates in the Republic how the way towards the Knowledge of the Forms presupposes one’s finding his way through and out of antithesis and conflict before one achieves a clear view of the light of the Sun. As I have shown elsewhere (Petraki 2009: 27 – 67), Plato’s treatment of the polar opposites of light and darkness, and of the reflections of prototypes in mirrors and puddles in the images of the Line and the Cave, becomes a well adapted technique in the dialogue to talk about the different levels of distortion of the various ethical values. The good is mixed with the bad and the just with the unjust in an assortment of ways in our earthly world of human actions. In his philosophical imagery of the Sun, the Line and the Cave, Socrates offers to the sight-lovers a clear view of this mixture and simultaneously paves the way out of it by speaking about the ultimate Form as the Good par excellence which can only be linked with the light of the Sun as such. Yet, in my view in this study, Plato’s imagistic techniques in the middle books of the Republic cannot be fully grasped unless they are seen in relation to his portrayal of the character (e˜the˜) of the bad and the unjust in Books 8 and 9. Plato’s language there makes the most of the language of dramatic and iambic poetry to present the diverse, multifarious and conflictual e˜the˜ of the base. The rejected language of poetry is being appropriated here in line with Socrates’ thesis that poikilia is physical disease and psychic baseness (404e). Yet, against this background of linguistic and thematic diversity, stands also a third type of language, one used exclusively by Socrates in the text, which seems to be completely devoid of poetic themes and motifs of any origin or of imagery in general. This linguistic style is brought up only very infrequently in the dialogue, probably because

1.6 Philosophy, poetry, painting and the poikilia-motif

25

Socrates’ interlocutors completely fail to understand it.44 This seems to be an alternative type of philosophic discourse (one is even tempted to associate it with the purity of the Forms and call it also ‘pure’) whose dynamics are not fully exploited in the text. Socrates’ interlocutors are offered only fleeting glimpses of this type of language. From my interpretative point of view, I take this to be a different philosophical dialect that is not promoted in the Republic for the specific reason that it would require different co-speakers who, unlike Socrates’ interlocutors in the Republic, have been trained in strict philosophical thinking. (One cannot help thinking here, for example, of the Sophist or the Parmenides). This idiosyncratic type of language differs then not only from the poets’ colourful discourse, but even from the approved linguistic styles and discursive modes that Socrates employs throughout the Republic to communicate with his co-speakers. Is this an alternative, ideal philosophical dialect which Plato refrains from fully exploiting in this dialogue because of the interlocutors’ inability to follow it? 45 This question leads us directly to Plato’s comments in the Seventh Epistle about whether philosophical language can support us all the way in our intellectual venture to grasp the Platonic Forms.46 In his Republic Plato raises this vexed linguistic and philosophical problem by offering us glimpses of this type of colourless or abstract language but does not solve it. On the contrary, it is almost evident that this imageless type of language, which consists of pronouns and various cognates of the verb to be (auto to, toiouto, einai, to on, hekaston or he˜ ousia), cannot support the interlocutors’ communication and becomes fully meaningful only when seen in juxtaposition to the Platonic imagery and imagistic language. In this way Plato, having treated in various insightful ways the imagistic effects of both poetic and philosophical language, raises new questions, 44 See, for example, Rep. 585c1 – 5. Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 354) finds these sentences “among the most perplexing in the whole of the Republic, or indeed in the whole of Plato’s writings” (emphasis added). Further complications arise from the fact that the reading of the MSS is corrupt. I will discuss the possible reasons that may have dictated Plato’s adoption of this difficult style in Section Two unless otherwise stated. 45 I treat this complicated issue in Section One and in Chapter Four of Section Two of this study. 46 Plato treats this problem in relation to the use of writing to do philosophy in his Phaedrus (274c3 – 276e5). See Ferrari (1987) and Derrida (1981: 61 – 172). On dialectic in the Seventh Epistle, see Gonzalez (1998: 245 – 274) with further bibliography.

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1. Introduction

not about the dynamics of the poets’ discourse to depict the truth, but about the ability of language in general to investigate and express truth and reality as faithfully and objectively as possible. I have already suggested that one may turn to the Platonic Parmenides and investigate here the way the three philosophers, Parmenides, Zeno and Socrates treat the dynamics of philosophical language to present the Forms. The treatment of this issue extends beyond the scope of this book yet, even in the Parmenides, or in the Sophist for that matter, Plato ‘dramatizes’ the problems inherent in language at large, namely the medium’s inability to avoid the implication of sense-perception which, in linguistic terms, is coupled with different types of imagery. (See also Gadamer [1980: 99 – 122]; Smith [2007: 3 – 14] and Gordon [2007: 212 – 237].)

1.7 The Republic’s interlocutors And this brings us back to the Republic’s interlocutors. Recent studies have shown how the various personae of the Platonic dialogues do not only enhance the drama of the works, but are absolutely essential to the way Plato constructs his philosophy.47 Indeed, the interlocutors’ intervention at specific points of the Republic often paves new ways for its development. Thus, Socrates trades one discursive mode and linguistic style for another as a response to his interlocutors’ inability to follow the development of his thought. Far from viewing the personae of Glaucon and Adeimantus in the Republic as permissive “Yes-Men” (Arieti [1991: 232 – 234]) who offer little to the construction or the progress of Socrates’ argumentation, my analysis will seek to show, firstly, how their intervention is significant for the development of Socratic thought in the dialogue, and secondly, how the differences between the two brothers are philosophically essential to Socrates’ choice of specific discursive modes and linguistic styles in doing philosophy. According to this interpretative line, my ap47 See Arieti (1991); and Arieti, in Gonzalez, F. (ed.) (1995: 119 – 132); Gill (1985: 1 – 26); Stokes (1986); Coventry, in Pelling, C. (ed.) (1990: 174 – 196); Beversluis (2000: 1 – 37); Hart, R. and Tejera, V. (eds.) (1997); Rowe (2006: 7 – 12 with n. 8). As regards the Republic specifically, see Bloom (1968: 337 – 344, esp. 342 – 343); Blondell, in Press, G. A. (ed.) (2000: 127 – 146); and Blondell (2002: 1 – 80); see also Shields, in Santas, G. (ed.) (2006: 63 – 83); and Weiss, in Ferrari G. (ed.) (2007: 90 – 115). See also my detailed discussion in Section Two Chapter Two below.

1.7 The Republic’s interlocutors

27

proach to the Republic’s main Socratic interlocutors will deviate from the treatment they have received in most studies of the dialogue. Although I agree with those interpreters that argue that Glaucon and Adeimantus share common cultural and dianoetic characteristics that make them the most appropriate Socratic interlocutors, I do not concur with interpretations that seek to equate their philosophical import in the dialogue or treat them interchangeably.48 A close reading of the text will show that Plato uses these two characters – as well as the participants in Book’s 1 dialogue – to differentiate between the members of Socrates’ audience in the Republic and demonstrate how different interlocutors require different styles and discursive modes to address them in a philosophical dialogue (cf. Ferrari [2003: 16] and Strauss [1964: 90 – 95]). Thus through different speakers Plato investigates different routes of enquiry, some erroneous, others very promising. This also has important bearings on the way that the external audience is engaged with the ideas that Plato’s Socrates propounds in the work, as it opens out to include all different kinds of responses to his philosophy.49 What is most signifi48 For a similar line of enquiry, see also Blondell (2002: 199 – 228), and in Press (ed.) (2000: 127 – 146) who also discusses in detail the significance of Glaucon’s persona in the Republic. Blondell too emphasizes the importance of Glaucon’s tripartite division of agatha in Book 2 and draws attention to his usage of the auto pronoun (Blondell [2000]). However, although our starting points meet, in our ensuing interpretations we draw different conclusions. Blondell’s analysis of Glaucon’s character (2002) supports my line of argumentation here. My analysis of Glaucon’s use of (philosophic) language, however, leads me to different interpretative directions and suggestions (but cf. Blondell [2002: 210]: “at no point do Glaucon and Adeimantus show any talent for constructive thinking. Despite their putative role as “co-founders”, it is Sokrates, almost exclusively, who conceives the vision of a new society…” [emphasis added]). Blondell’s analysis is designed to highlight the potentialities of Glaucon’s persona (which she too explicitly differentiates from Adeimantus’) but does not show how these dynamic is realized, if at all, within the linguistic environment of the Republic. 49 See also Gordon (1996a 259 – 277); Blondell (2002); and Rowe (2006: 10). From this point of view, one cannot avoid mentioning Bakhtin’s theory in connection to the literary form adopted by Plato. Bakhtin’s distinction into monological and dialogical discourse appears to accord with literary interpretations of the significance of the dialogical environment created within the Platonic corpus. Press (2000: 5) emphasises the affinities and highlights the influences that Bakhtin’s theory has on modern Plato interpreters: “as literary texts the dialogues are ‘dialogical’ in Bakhtin’s sense; texts in which different characters see the world and speak from their own well grounded point of view rather than being controlled by the ‘monological’ point of view of the author”. On Bakhtin’s distinction between dialogical and monological viewpoints, see Bakh-

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cant from that point of view is that Glaucon and Adeimantus seem to work as models in the text of how one should engage with Platonic philosophy constructively. The Republic then portrays certain speakers as being philosophically more competent when compared to others in the sense that they elicit less help from Socrates. But again, in this hierarchy of Socratic interlocutors, Glaucon, for reasons we are going to see in Section Two, Chapter Two, takes first place. Plato’s diverse discursive modes in the Republic are therefore closely linked with his speaking personae, but they are also related with the various topics discussed. Thus, at a crucial point in the text, Socrates admits to Glaucon that he cannot give him a direct account of the Form of the Good.50 He certainly shows no confidence in his own ability to do so, and he is sure that Glaucon and the others would not be able to follow him even if he tried. He opts instead for the famous image of the Sun. One way of viewing these complex cognitive and linguistic tensions in the text is in close relation to the four-level epistemological classification that Socrates presents in Books 6 and 7 in the images of the Line and the Cave.51 According to Socrates, there are four distinct levels of cognition that mortals inhabit. These are the planes of eikasia (Image-thinking), tin (1981) and (1986). According to Bakhtin, discourse is considered monological when a single style is employed to express a single worldview. The dialogical type of discourse, nevertheless, involves the simultaneous co-usage by the author of many styles in order to express diverse worldviews. In this direction, the author/crafter of a dialogical textual environment refrains from promoting a unified textual interpretation. See also discussion by Press, in Press, G. A. (ed.) (1993: 17). On modern Bakhtin readings, see the discussion by Branham, in Branham, R. B. (ed.) (2002). For a comparative reading of Plato and Bakhtin which illuminates elusive Platonic issues pertaining to human nature and different ‘worlds’, see Nightingale, in Branham, R. B. (ed.) (2002a: 220 – 249). In addition see also Zappen (1996: 66 – 83), and Harris (1988: 168 – 176). For an illuminating discussion of the dialogical character of Plato’s writings play in philosophical discourse, see also Cossuta (2003: 48 – 76). 50 See Miller, in Ferrari, G. (ed.) (2007: 310 – 344). 51 As regards the Sun-Line-Cave correspondence, in this book I follow the ‘traditional’ interpretation, according to which all three consequent similes should be interpreted as complementing each other and constituting a unifying whole. See Irwin (1977: 220 – 224). But cf. Robinson (1953: 180 – 201).The literature on these three Platonic images is vast. See Nettleship (1901: 238 – 263); Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 88 – 95); Annas (1981: 254 – 257); Ferguson (1963: 188 – 193); Raven (1953: 22 – 30); Smith (1996: 25 – 45). I discuss these images in Petraki (2009: 27 – 67), focusing, in particular, on the level of eikasia. A detailed discussion and bibliography is provided in the appendix on pages 60 – 62.

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29

pistis (Belief), dianoia (Thought) and noe˜sis (Knowledge or Intelligence). Are these cognitive levels linked with different ways of using language as well? A number of problems emerge from this complicated matter as, for example, the grade Platonic interlocutors inhabit and to which level the Republic at large is to be classified.52 Alternatively, does Socrates’ philosophical project in the work leave behind the realm of the sense-perceptive and the visible to enter the sphere of the intelligible (noe˜ton), or does the conversation remain fully entangled in the earthly world of intellectual confusion and wandering (plane˜)? How would this change of level be borne out in the text? In this work I shall refrain from classifying different speakers according to different levels of cognition, although I do believe that Plato dramatizes for us in Book 1 how human cognition works at the level of eikasia and that the rest of the Republic, from Glaucon’s intervention in Book 2 onwards, signifies a great philosophical effort to argue in favour of the Belief (pistis) displayed by Glaucon, Adeimantus and Socrates that Justice pays more. As a result of all this, in Book 1 and in the first part of Book 2 Plato initially introduces his readership to what appears to be their ‘natural’ ethical and dianoetic environment: one full of confusion and inconsistency as regards the definition of justice. He then paves the way out of this confusion towards the adoption of a mode of thinking and speaking that will indirectly acquaint them with the Platonic Real (Sinaiko [1965: 12 and 122 – 123]). Their acquaintance remains only indirect and limited for nowhere in the Republic do we actually witness a direct encounter with the Idea of the Good. However, in my view, this does pay philosophical dividends because through his stylistic and discursive alternations Plato has Socrates demonstrating in the dialogue his own definition of education (paideia) – namely, how it is to “turn someone’s 52 I do not endorse Raven’s (1965: 151) suggestion that the whole lower part of the Divided Line is purely illustrative and is “included only for the sake of the upper”. See also Annas (1981: 242 – 271) who accepts that the Line presents us with a progressive “move from image to original” (254), but finds problematic the claim that mortals can actually live in such a state, “simply looking at shadows” (255); cf. Notopoulos (1933: 193 – 203). Literature on the Line’s levels of eikasia and pistis is rich. I have given a detailed treatment of both levels in Petraki (2009: 27 – 67), and shown how our following closely the philosophical ramifications of Plato’s language of reflections created in water, mirrors and other shiny material in the Republic, the Timaeus and the Sophist casts new light on our understanding of Socrates’ dialogue with Thrasymachus and Glaucon in the Rep. Books 1 and 2. For further literature on the subject, see the appendix and bibliography in Petraki (2009).

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eyes to the Sun”, as well as how it is to be blind to it (508c-509c). From this perspective, Plato’s Republic is also a work about philosophic education. This type of education is performed or re-enacted in the text as Socrates’ narrative develops and must be differentiated from the educational programme that Socrates prescribes for the guardians and the philosophers of the ideal city in Books 3, 4 and 7. It is obviously apparent that those present at Cephalus’ house have not been raised according to Socrates’ educative prescriptions, and this inevitably bars them from being identified with the intellectually vibrant class of guardians. Nonetheless, as I argue in this study, Plato has ready an educational plan for those representative of contemporary Athenian society. These two types of education co-present in the text implement each other, as it is only by looking at Socrates’ prescriptions about the guardians and the philosopher-kings that we can really follow him in educating his own interlocutors at Cephalus’ house.

1.8 Plato and Post-Platonic problems about language In conclusion, a few remarks are in order here about the contextualisation of my proposed analysis of the poetics of Plato’s philosophical discourse and how this applies to broader discussions about the relation of philosophical language to truth. Plato’s vehement attacks against poetry and its representation of the world (and indeed his simultaneous adaptation of its techniques, motifs and diction to investigate the ethical and metaphysical order that he assigns to that world) raise an assortment of questions about philosophy’s task to discover truth by means of rational, or strictly logical, thought. Questions too are raised about the deployment of a type of philosophical language that must do away with multifarious literary ornaments as these may be considered secondary or external to a philosophical understanding and linguistic formulation of the world’s strict order.53 Questions of this order become particularly pressing once we adopt a panoramic viewpoint that seeks to embrace the development of western philosophical thought and its linguistic 53 See Nussbaum, in Moravcsik, J. M. and Temko, P. (eds.) (1982: 79 – 124) (reprinted in Nussbaum [1986: 200 – 233]). See also Halperin in Klagge, J. C. and Smith, N. D. (eds.) (1992: 128 – 129); Kosman, in Klagge, J. C. and Smith, N. D. (eds.) (1992: 73 – 92).

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styles.54 In specific terms, these concerns become particularly prominent in post-Platonic theorisations about linguistic style(s) appropriate to philosophy, surfacing as early as in Aristotle’s categorisation of the Platonic dialogues in his Poetics, and including modern discussions about the ability of words to relate to the world and to form meaningful and true statements about it. Thus, from the anachronistic perspective of the philosophy of language, Plato’s works constitute a particularly interesting case study for two, largely interrelated, reasons. Firstly, the Platonic corpus exemplifies a wide range of linguistic styles, all of which fall within, or comprise, Plato’s wide spectrum of doing philosophy. This stylistic versatility in fact permeates, in various ways, the entire corpus. Secondly, it has also given rise to an assortment of interpretative problems for scholars in the field, the most prominent being the chronological ordering of Plato’s dialogues, which for a long time was treated as an indispensible tool that could solve inconsistencies found both at the level of style and at the level of the ideas argued in the texts.55 Nonetheless, as several scholars have recently acknowledged, the developmental approach to Plato’s thought has not been successful in solving the multiple and diverse exegetical problems raised in the corpus.56 However, Plato’s discourse raises questions concerning the elaboration of a type of philosophical language apposite to the discovery of truth due to the philosopher’s comments, found in various dialogues, about the reduced epistemological value of certain linguistic modes for the promotion of rational thought and strictly logical argumentation. The corpus seems then to constitute a patchwork of different styles and methods supposedly serving philosophical truth and reflecting the order of Plato’s ontology and metaphysics. Thus, it is natural for the reader to ask whether Plato gives precedence to one linguistic style over others or if he shows an explicit preference to this end. Such methodological and 54 See de Man (1979: 103). See also Lang (1982: 19 – 46 and 84 – 99). 55 For an inspection of the diverse interpretational approaches to the Platonic dialogues, see the compilation of articles in Press (ed.) (1993); Gonzalez, in Gonzalez, F. (ed.) (1995: 155 – 187); Tigerstedt (1974) and (1977); Griswold (1980: 530 – 546); Wolsdorf (1999: 13 – 25) and Corlett (2005). 56 For discussions of the traditional distinction between early, middle, and late Platonic writing periods, see Annas, in Annas, J. and Rowe, C. (eds.) (2002: 1 – 25); and Kahn in the same volume (2002: 93 – 129). See also Krämer (1964: 69 – 101), reprinted in Gaiser, K. (ed.) (1969: 198 – 230). For objections against the developmental approach to Plato’s dialogues, see also Reale (1990: 28 – 29).

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philosophical concerns can generate further problems too. Namely, should we even apply these anachronistic questions to the corpus? I have refrained from endorsing or ascribing to particular methodological approaches that draw clear-cut and anachronistic divisions between the philosophical and the literary in Plato. My interpretation of the Republic, although primarily philological, inevitably takes into consideration the various philosophical problems Plato is confronted with in dramatizing Socrates’ discussion about justice and injustice in Piraeus. The conclusions I reach in relation to the Republic’s poetical features and the function of diverse linguistic modes aim to make clear, I hope, Plato’s concerns in this dialogue with the capacity of language to bring out the truth about reality. Plato accommodates and puts poetic speech to the service of this end too. Yet, against this colourful and diverse linguistic background that echoes with poetic resonances of all kinds, Plato also sporadically experiments with an alternative type of philosophical mode – a colourless type of language that can compete with, and even surpass, mathematics in seeking to investigate or render as faithfully as possible the strict order and the purity of the Real. As suggested above, this type of philosophical style is not fully developed in this dialogue. We should not fail to note, nevertheless, that it becomes Plato’s main, albeit not only, philosophical dialect in some of his so-called late dialogues, such as the Parmenides or the Sophist. 57 However, problems with philosophical styles and methodology are not solved there either as Plato continues to investigate the potentialities and dynamics of philosophical language in the service of the truth, only he now changes his cast of co-speakers as well as the topics under discussion and the discursive modalities. With that said, I believe he remains aware of the limits of any such attempts to forge an appropriate philosophical tool for expressing what is bound to remain ineffable.58 ***

57 See the collection of articles in Klagge, J. and Smith, N. D. (eds.) (1992), especially Frede’s insightful discussion of the Sophist in this volume (201 – 219). 58 The much-debated Seventh Letter and the Phaedrus have been discussed from this perspective. On the so-called Plato’s unwritten doctrines, see above notes 6, 14 and 46 and Krämer (1990).

1.8 Plato and Post-Platonic problems about language

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In this introduction I have tried to bring together into a unified whole the ideas and insights that regulate my analysis of the Republic. To do this I have deliberately avoided strict definitions of the several terms that I have employed to talk about the Republic’s versatile philosophical prose. A detailed analysis of my methodology and terminology in this work and of broader issues of Platonic interpretation has been kept for Section One. In Section Two, I turn to the interpretation of the text itself and try to see how a close reading of the Republic bears out my suggestions. In Chapter One, I discuss Plato’s appropriation and innovative treatment of the motif of mixture in his socio-political proposals about the guardians’ lifestyle in Book 5. Plato’s new approach to this traditional poetic and Presocratic motif allows him to fashion in the Republic one of the least adorned Platonic images in the dialogue – that of the polis as a single body. This employment of the mixture motif also allows Plato to introduce diction and create visual effects that pave the way for the Republic’s Forms. Thus an analysis of the imagistic language in Book 5 shows that it is Plato’s intention that the social, political and metaphysical proposals are to be understood in the light of the Forms’ homogeneity and as such constitute a unified whole. Chapter Two expands on the analysis of Book 5 in Chapter One and addresses the importance of Glaucon as Socrates’ main interlocutor in the Republic’s most critical and philosophically tantalizing moments. My analysis of Glaucon’s input in the conversation with Socrates at the end of Book 5 addresses the issue of Plato’s formulation of a distinct philosophical dialect in the dialogue, one which allows Socrates to communicate his epistemological ideas to the so-called sight-lovers. In Chapter Two I also investigate the poetics of this type of philosophical language and account for Plato’s incorporation and adaptation of poetic diction and motifs. In Chapter Three I turn to Plato’s assessment of the poets’ images (eikones) in the Republic and discuss the reasons that lie behind their censorship by Plato. I then investigate the reasons that make Plato construct images himself in order to investigate the concept of justice and injustice in the Republic. My discussion focuses particularly on the Platonic imagery that is intended to depict human nature (the animal imagery of the dogs) in the dialogue as well as on Plato’s imagery of the Sun in Book 6. In both cases, Plato’s creation of philosophical imagery questions the way poetry has so far portrayed, on a linguistic, thematic, and performative level, what matters most to humans. The creation of

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the image of the Sun, in particular, casts new light on the perils of poetic diversity (poikilia) and at the same time shows how philosophy can employ knowledgeably vividly imagistic language so as to offer a correct and truthful representation of the truly Real (the Form of the Good). In Chapter Four, I examine the persona of Adeimantus in the dialogue and investigate the reasons why he should be differentiated from Glaucon. I thus investigate the type of imagery that Socrates creates as a response to Adeimantus’ remarks and expand on Plato’s discussion and depiction of human philosophical nature. In my view, Socrates’ discussion of the unjust souls and cities in Books 8 and 9 in the Republic forms part of his investigation of human nature at large. Thus in Chapter Four, I also examine Plato’s creation of imagery in these two Books and seek to account for the poetics of Plato’s language in this context. I argue that in accumulating easily recognisable poetic imagery, diction and motifs in order to describe the unjust, Plato makes Socrates, firstly, demonstrate the perils of poetry as regards people’s ethical education and, secondly, show that poetic poikilia is allowed only to depict the unjust and the base which is also multifarious and diverse. In the conclusion to this study, I turn to Plato’s references to the technique of skiagraphia and propose that these help us grasp his philosophical and educational aim in the Republic – namely, his attempt to address directly and attack poetry’s deceitful confusion of opposite and conflicting ethical values in the depiction of gods and humans. By separating the good from the bad, and the just from the unjust, in his own philosophical imagery in the Republic, Plato undertakes to unveil this deception. I then turn to Plato’s so-called pure or colourless language (kathare˜) and examine its philosophical value as an alternative type of philosophical discourse.

Section One: The Theory

1. Aims and perspectives The aim of this book is to investigate the poetical character of Platonic language by means of a detailed analysis of the motifs, poetic diction and imagery used in the Republic. I was led to choose the Republic as a case study in view of the widely-held opinion that this work’s thematic and linguistic texture is so versatile and varied that it may be the ideal linguistic environment for the analysis of Plato’s poeticized philosophical prose.1 In this section I examine issues of methodology and define my use of a) poetics, b) the relation between myths and images, c) imagistic discourse, d) dramatization of language and e) metaphorical language in the Republic. Studies on the poetic aspects of the Platonic dialogues have offered analyses on a variety of features, and attention has been drawn to a variety of aspects of the dialogues. They have been seen as dramas, with 1

Gordon (1999: 157): “The Republic is perhaps the dialogue singly most responsible for the condemnatory view of images and image-making imputed to Plato. Ironically, it is also the source of the most vivid and memorable images Plato created” (emphasis added). See Robinson’s criticism of Plato’s use of vivid imagery in the dialogues (1953: 220 – 221): “On the face of it, then, there is an inconsistency between Plato’s principles and his practice about images. According to what he says about them, he ought never to use them; yet his works are full of them”. Of the Republic in particular Robinson says: “A dialogue which emphatically condemns imitation (595c – 597e), and demands a form of cognition that uses no images at all (510 – 511, cf. eikones 510e), is itself copiously splashed with elaborate images explicitly called ‘images’ by the speakers” (ibid.). Cf. criticism by Gallop (1965: 113 – 117). Halliwell (2000a: 94) has also argued that Plato’s “engagement with the culturally powerful texts and voices of poetry is so evident, so persistent, and so intense as to constitute a major thread running through the entire fabric of his writing and thinking”; Halliwell comments on the dialogues’ containing “hundreds of places in which extracts from poetry are quoted or paraphrased” (94) and argues for a subjection of mythos to logos which should be seen from philosophy’s vantage point which allows such incorporation as long as these poetic utterances can be subject to judgement, rather than be a priori accepted as authoritative (107 – 108). On the same topic, see in addition Tarrant (1946: 107 – 117) and (1958: 158 – 160). For a detailed collection of poetic citations in the Platonic dialogues, see Brandwood (1976: 991 – 1003). For an ancient treatment of the same issue, see Longinus, On the Sublime (187r).

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such a view relying a great deal on the vividness of the rhetoric or irony employed by the various participating personae. Attention has been drawn too to the settings of the dialogues, which are varied enough to include vividly coloured natural landscapes, gymnasia, Socrates’ prison, or the houses of the Athenian aristocracy. Emphasis has been laid on the dialogues’ complex narratological frameworks, which are intended to raise questions about the tension between oral and literary means of transmitting philosophic conversations.2 Likewise, thought has been given to Plato’s appropriation of myth and his insightful use of it alongside lengthy arguments, and to the transformation of myth into a broader narratological framework that structurally incorporates the philosophic logos, thereby blurring the boundaries between the two.3 Lastly, the unique authorial interplay with other contemporary literary genres, such as poetry and rhetoric, has formed the focus of other investigations. These aspects of the Platonic dialogues have formed an idiosyncratic form of discourse that opposes any facile division between the literary and the philosophical.4 Nonetheless, from my own methodological perspective such interpretations have thrown light on the literary or poetic character of the dialogues at a macrocosmic level. In this work I have taken the view 2 3

4

See, for example, Halperin’s insightful treatment of the multiple narratological frameworks of Plato’s Symposium (in Klagge, J. C., and Smith, N. D. [eds.] 1992: 93 – 129). On the distinction between mythos and logos that treats them as two separate modes of thought and discourse, see Cornford (1912) and Nestle (1940); see also Most’s criticism of Nestle, in Buxton, R. (ed.) (1999b: 27 – 47). Bruno Snell’s The Discovery of the Mind (1953) is an indispensable reading for these issues (see esp. 45 and 191 – 226). See also Kirk, in Lee, E. N., Mourelatos, A. P. D., Rorty, R. M. (eds.) (1973: 61 – 70); Lincoln (1997: 363). In Plato mythos and logos are regarded as labels that speakers apply to their modes of speech and often the criteria on which one mode of discourse is selected over the other are not easy to distinguish. On this, see detailed discussion in Zaslavsky (1981). According to Morgan (2000: 32 – 37), the transformation of myth into philosophical myth and its incorporation in the Platonic works is intended to problematize the dynamics of language as a means to grasp and communicate reality; see also Detienne (1981); Brisson (1982); Klagge, in Klagge, J. C., and Smith, N. D. (eds.) (1992: 1 – 3). For a different approach to the mythos-logos polarity, see discussion in Halliwell n. 1 to this Chapter; McCabe, in Barker, A. and Warner, M. (eds.) (1992: 47 – 68). On Plato’s treatment of poetry in Book 3, see Dyson (1988: 42 – 53); Nightingale (1995: 19 with n. 15 and 60 – 67); Hwang (1981: 29 – 37); Belfiore (1983: 39 – 62); Ferrari (1989: 92 – 148); Naddaff (2002); Crotty (2009: 3 – 29).

1. Aims and perspectives

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that Plato’s idiosyncratic relationship with poetry is not to be fully analysed by examination of these features or techniques alone. More remains to be said on the dialogues’ poeticity5 at a microcosmic plane and, in particular, more remains to be said on Plato’s treatment of different types of poetic motifs and imagery in his works. I should make it clear at this point that the division I propose here between microcosmic and macrocosmic analysis is for methodological reasons only, as the two levels, far from being separate, clearly constantly interact. It will help us, however, to focus on one fundamental aspect of Platonic poeticity which is so subtle that if almost passes undetected in any interpretation of the dialogues, namely Plato’s incorporation of vivid poetic imagery in contexts where the intra-dramatic speakers (mostly Socrates) develop highly strenuous philosophical argumentation. Such cases in the Republic would include, for example, two of Plato’s probably most tantalising lines of philosophical reasoning, namely his exposition of the Forms at the end of Book 5 and his discussion of he˜done˜ in Book 9. Usually, the poeticity of these Platonic contexts remains unobserved and thus unexplained.6 A number of tentative answers can be offered to explain this choice on the part of Plato. Thus it is possible to argue that Plato is being poetic in these contexts for rhetorical or aesthetic reasons only. One might also dismiss the various images as mere metaphors adding colour to the language of the difficult argumentation and then seek to substitute this with a more neutral type of diction (a choice for which, it should be noted in passing, Plato himself did not opt) in order to unravel the argument.7 5 6

7

I use the term ‘poeticity’ in this study to refer to the poetical features of Plato’s prose. To give some examples: One may draw a distinction between the linguistic styles of Book 5 and the myth of Er in the the latter part of Book 10 or the myth of Gyges in Book 2. Their difference lies in the method that Socrates employs to drive certain ideas home. Book 5 is of an argumentative character, as it were, that is, the story of Er and that of Gyges’ ancestor, on the other hand, is mythological, despite its philosophical significance in the specific context. Tackling questions about images and imagistic language, however, can bridge the gap created by such a rigid distinction. The fifth Book of the Republic, which offers important information as regards metaphysics and ontology, also makes use of a distinctive kind of imagistic language. It is thus instructive to investigate the poetic ramifications of this imagistic linguistic style and its philosophical significance. For metaphors in Plato, see Pender (2000). I discuss metaphor in relation to Plato in detail in this Section further below.

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Section One: The Theory

Although there is value in such approaches, the reasons, I think, behind the fluctuation of the poeticity in Platonic language throughout the dialogue – that is, the reasons why Platonic language becomes markedly poetic or imagistic in some contexts and less so in others – are remarkably significant for several reasons. They are of importance, firstly, for the understanding of certain aspects of Platonic argumentation; secondly, for revealing the reasons that cause Plato to adopt the poetic language that he elsewhere rejects; thirdly, for the appreciation of his use of the dialogue form and the various dramatic personae as a means for expressing his philosophy in concrete form. As a result, any investigation of Platonic imagery, which in most studies is examined merely as part of the construction of myth in the dialogues rather than as a separate and distinctive mode of philosophic discourse, potentially presents us with interesting findings regarding both the blending of poetry and philosophy in the Platonic corpus and the philosophical reasons that may have dictated such an amalgamation.8 The examination of Platonic images is also necessitated by the fact that, rather than being located in any specific section of a dialogue (as is the case with myths), they evidently permeate the language of the dialogue throughout. They turn up in contexts where arguments are being shaped and they are often used to advance the argumentation itself.9 In 8

9

On Plato’s use of eikones as metaphors for gods and the human soul, see Pender (2000). Pender shows how the Platonic term eikn constitutes a distinctive mode of philosophic discourse, but does not embark on a full-scale analysis of their use in the Republic. In order to test her view of images as metaphors, she analyses the Politicus and Plato’s use of “models” (paradeigmata), which she associates with analogy and likeness (43 – 60). Pender’s findings will be further discussed below. On the philosophical value of imagery usage, see also Patterson (1997: 136 – 145); Tecusan, in Barker, A., and Warner, M. (eds.) (1992: 69 – 88); and Murray, in Theodorakopoulos, E. (ed.) (2003: 1 – 19). Vasiliu, in Dahan, G. and Goulet R. (eds.) (2005: 149 – 93, esp.177 – 178, with n.1). See also detailed discussion on images (eikones) below. See Havelock (1963: 5 and 11 – 12): After considering the explicit inconsistency between Plato’s condemnation of poetry and his employment of strong poetic techniques and features in the Republic, Havelock recommends that the dialogue be examined as a whole. His question gets to the heart of the problem: “What is the overall role which poetry plays in this treatise? Is it confined to the passages so far reviewed, which give analytic attention to what the poet says? No it is not. The formal thesis which is to be demonstrated and defended in the body of the Republic is proposed for discussion at the opening of Book Two…” (11 – 12). A similar stance is also adopted by Penelope Murray in her insightful analysis of issues of myth and myth-making in Plato’s works (in Buxton, R. [ed.]

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other words, they would seem to draw on the language of the fifth century B.C. Platonic speakers themselves, but they also look back to the literary tradition, given that most of such images were also part of the discourse of poets. Thus Plato’s adoption of imagistic discourse, rather than being either subsidiary or merely ornamental in character, raises important questions about how Plato adapts it to his needs. In my discussion so far I have used tentatively for this type of diction the term imagery. More will be said by way of definition shortly. Before setting out on a detailed analysis on Plato’s treatment of images in the Republic, however, some discussion of my use of the term poetics and its relation to the Platonic dialogue is needed.

[1999: 251 – 262]). Murray, in questioning the rigidity that has traditionally characterized the identification of myth-sections in the Platonic dialogues, encapsulates with great accuracy a thesis which forms the backdrop to the present study: “I would argue therefore that the mythical element in Plato’s writing is evident not only in the so-called Platonic myths, but also in his general mode of narration. Imagery of one sort or another pervades the Republic: the ship of state, the sun, the line, the cave, the tyranny of desire, the soul as many-headed beast and so on… So how much of the dialogue should we regard as muthos and how much as logos? The closer we look the more difficult it becomes to maintain a clear-cut distinction between the two, for the philosophy of the Republic cannot be separated from the mode in which it is expressed” (259). See also Rowe, in Buxton, R. (ed.) (1999: 263 – 278).

2. Poetics Several studies have suggested that the Platonic corpus, thanks to its various idiosyncratic characteristics, may be used to investigate the transition from orality to literacy which seems to have culminated in the late fifth century B.C.10 Plato’s dialogues, it is suggested, would then be particularly fruitful for any such investigation, firstly because although composed in the fourth century B.C., they were designed to reproduce the culture of the fifth century, and, secondly, because of their vehement comments regarding the reduced philosophical value of the medium of writing. Nonetheless, from my methodological angle this so-called tension between the two mediums may in fact prove fruitful in any interpretation of Plato’s imagery. In my view, traditional (oral or performative) thought-patterns, themes and motifs, whose origins are to be traced as far back as Homer and Hesiod, are re-organized by Plato and re-employed in the dialogues in line with new authorial strategies. This, however, results not so much in a clash, as an interaction: what has been hitherto regarded by a fifth B.C. audience as traditional or poetic can be now objectified, criticized and reviewed by Plato in order to put it to new purposes.11 10 A strong advocate of this thesis is Eric Havelock. Havelock has linked the Greeks’ philosophical thought with the passage from an “oral state of mind” to a “literate” one and has investigated the ramifications of this idea in the Presocratics and Plato. See Havelock (1963); and (1982); see also notes 11 and 12 below. 11 See Morgan (2000: 29): “It is not only a matter of objectification of the text leading to perceptions of system in language and hence in nature, nor of a dissatisfaction with the poverty of technical language. Objectification of a text does not lead straight to a system; rather objectification leads to critique, examination of and dissatisfaction with others’ texts, to an analysis of this dissatisfaction and a desire to do better, to a redeployment of language and a concurrent redeployment of myth” (emphasis added). Morgan’s comments highlight one further feature of the philosophic attempts with language; Morgan speaks of “critique”, “dissatisfaction” and “re-examination” of language resources and deployment of mythological material as the critical stage before any consolidated statements can be made. Philosophic attempts which present this attitude also exemplify an exploratory character which is self-referential and self-reflexive. By questioning

2. Poetics

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Even a cursory glance at fifth and fourth century B.C. prose discussions on poetry and poetic discourse reveals the writer’s preoccupation both with clarifying how the genre of poetry is distinct from prose and with investigating the manner in which these two types of discourse interact. Since poetry enjoyed a well-established authority in Archaic and Classical Greek society, prose writers of the period who discuss their own authorial strategies cannot but reproduce in their prose compositions the tension that clearly characterizes the relationship of these two modes of discourse.12 My use of the word poetry here is a straightforward translation of the Greek poie˜sis as it was used in the fifth and fourth centuries B.C. to denote the composition of song (to be translated as poie˜ma as well as aoide˜).13 Matters, however, are more complicated in the case of the term poetics, which I here employ in two main ways. It denotes both the poet’s art and the exploration of characteristic features inherent in the architectonics of poetic productions (ho poie˜tikos and he˜ poie˜tike˜). This immediately brings to mind Aristotle’s treatment of poetics, the first methodical and logically organized assessment of poetry in our history of literary criticism. In this work, however, I shall refrain from adopting any Aristotelian viewpoint in my treatment of poetics in Plato, as such an approach as this would probably result in an anachronistic interpretation of the Republic’s poetics. It is far safer, I think, to reprevious endeavours, both philosophical and literary, any new efforts investigate both new and old linguistic and thematic paths, not necessarily by discarding the past, but by building on it. See also Snell (1953: 223): “Since Plato was the first to try to erect an integral system of philosophy, to combine into one system the scattered beginnings of earlier writers, he betrays the inherent difficulties more clearly than his followers. Through his writings we learn how those elements which in nave speech are painlessly merged in images and similes, in metaphors and grammatical transformations, become separated by the catalyst of conscious reflexion. We also recognise the strenuous labour which went into the separation of the various strands which make up the complex and ill-defined forms of our speech and thought; for it was necessary to separate them one by one before they could be reunited to form a clear whole”. See in addition Naddaf’s introductory remarks to Brisson’s Plato, the Myth-Maker (1998: xi – xxvi). 12 See Havelock (1983: 15 and 21); Morgan (2000: 27 – 28 and Ch.3), who rightly finds that “common to both [Heraclitus and Xenophanes] is the realisation that language is not guaranteed by nature and cannot be considered an unexamined given”. See also discussion in Ferrari (1984: 201 – 202); and Ford (2002: 229 – 249). 13 For the transition from song to poem (aoide˜ to poie˜ma), see detailed discussion in Ford (2002: 131 – 157).

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flect on Plato’s own terminology and ideas concerning these issues, since in his discussion of poie˜sis and the poie˜tikoi in Republic Book 10 he does provide us with some clues in this direction. From this perspective, what Socrates says in the Phaedrus will also be particularly instructive. In Republic Book 10 Plato, in mounting his final attack, excludes from his ideal polis all poetry except praise of gods and good men.14 The poie˜tiktatos Homer is obviously the first to go (607a2 – 3): “If you go further and admit the honeyed muse (tµm Bdusl]mgm LoOsam paqad]n,) in epic or in lyric verse (1m l]kesim C 5pesim), the pleasure and pain will usurp the sovereignty of law and of principles always recognized by common consent as the best” (607a5 – 8). Only a few moments later, however, Plato allows for the possibility of taking back the rejected muse. In these passages he employs some interesting terminology: flyr d³ eQq^shy fti Ble?r ce, eU tima 5woi k|com eQpe?m B pq¹r Bdomµm poigtijµ ja· B l_lgsir, ¢r wqµ aqtµm eWmai 1m p|kei eqmoloul]m,, ûslemoi #m jatadewo_leha, ¢r s}misl]m ce Bl?m aqto?r jgkoul]moir rpû aqt/r7 !kk± c±q t¹ dojoOm !kgh³r oqw fsiom pqodid|mai. (607c3 – 8)

None the less, be it declared that, if the dramatic poetry whose end is to give pleasure can show good reason why it should exist in a well-governed society, we for our part should welcome it back, being ourselves conscious of its charm; only it would be a sin to betray what we believe to be truth. (trans. Cornford)

In these famous lines, Plato faces up to the possibility that poets may be able to compose poems that might meet the criteria that Plato has set out in the Republic. However, it is what he says immediately afterwards that is particularly interesting from my perspective: oqjoOm dija_a 1st·m ovty jati]mai, !pokocgsal]mg 1m l]kei E timi %kk\ l]tq\; p\mu l³m owm. Do?lem d] c] pou #m ja· to?r pqost\tair aqt/r, fsoi lµ poigtijo_, vikopoigta· d] , %meu l]tqou k|com rp³q aqt/r eQpe?m, ¢r oq l|mom Bde?a !kk± ja· ¡vek_lg pq¹r t±r pokite_ar ja· t¹m b_om t¹m

14 There is a comprehensive and full literature on Plato’s rejection of poetry in Rep. Book 10: see Collingwood (1925: 157 – 159); Tate (1928: 16 – 23); and (1932: 161 – 169); Webster (1939: 166 – 179); Murdoch (1977); Nehamas, in Moravcsik, J.M and Temko, P. (eds.) (1982: 47 – 78); Nehamas (1988: 214 – 234); Asmis in Kraut, R. (ed.) (1992: 338 – 364); Annas (1981: 336 – 354); Belfiore (1984: 121 – 146); Halliwell (1988) and (2002); Rosen (2005: 352 – 376); Moss, in Ferrari, G. R. F. (ed.) (2007: 415 – 444). In addition see Crotty (2009: Ch. 4).

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!mhq~pim|m 1stim7 ja· eqlem_r !jous|leha. jeqdamoOlem c\q pou 1±m lµ l|mom Bde?a vam0 !kk± ja· ¡vek_lg. (607d6 – e2)

Therefore, isn’t it just that such poetry should return from exile when it has successfully defended itself, whether in lyric or any other metre? Then we’ll allow its defenders, who aren’t poets themselves but lovers of poetry, to speak in prose on its behalf and to show that it not only gives pleasure but is beneficial both to constitutions and to human life. Indeed, we’ll listen to them graciously, for we’d certainly profit if poetry were shown to be not only pleasant but also beneficial.

After everything that Plato has said in this dialogue against poetry, it will probably seem a little far-fetched to include him among the group of the prostatai or the philopoie˜tai who might wish to stand up for poetry and defend it. Plato, however, is well-known for his irony and one should be somewhat cautious before taking his various statements here at face value (Nehamas 2000: Chapters 1 and 2). In fact, it is often the case with Plato that one has to gather together material from various different contexts before one is in a position to tease out his views. Such, so I argue, is also the case in Book 10. The passages I cite above should be seen in relation to two more important passages in Book 10. In a crucial passage in 604e – 605c, Plato attacks poetry for the way it portrays humans. His main argument in these pages is that mimetic poets opt for versatile dramatic representations (oqjoOm t¹ l³m pokkµm l_lgsim ja· poij_kgm 5wei, 604e1) of versatile characters, as this type of character is far easier to represent and more appealing to the audience (t¹ !camajtgtij|m te ja· poij_kom Ghor di± t¹ eql_lgtom eWmai, 605a5 – 6). In other words, poetry can apply a wide variety (poikilia) of motifs and images, along with its numerous musical modes, to portray the multifarious (604e1 – 6). In Book 10 attention is given mostly to the mimetic character of poetry. Poetry is thus dismissed on the grounds that it does not portray the real or reality as it truly is. In lines 604e1 – 6, however, Plato makes another point of considerable philosophical import. He explicitly links mime˜sis with variety and multiplicity and criticizes poetry for not applying its techniques to portray or imitate the simple character: t¹ d³ vq|mil|m te ja· Bs}wiom Ghor, paqapk^siom cm !e· aqt¹ art`, oute Nõdiom lil^sashai oute liloul]mou eqpet³r jatalahe?m, %kkyr te ja· pamgc}qei ja· pamtodapo?r !mhq~poir eQr h]atqa sukkecol]moir7 !kkotq_ou c\q pou p\hour B l_lgsir aqto?r c_cmetai. (604e2 – 6)

whereas the calm and wise character in its unvarying constancy is not easy to represent, nor when represented is it readily understood, especially by a

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promiscuous gathering in a theatre, since it is foreign to its own habit of mind. (trans. Cornford)

In Book 10, then, it is not merely the mimetic nature of poetry that Plato attacks (603a10 – c9). Plato’s main complaint in this passage is directed against the characters or souls that poetry takes upon itself to represent (Hobbs [2000]; Crotty [2009: 3 – 29]). On these grounds, one might argue that for Plato poetry would become phelime˜ were it to employ its artistic techniques in a manner beneficial to society. That is to say, if it were to depict the unvarying and the homogenous nature of the good (chre˜stos) and to contrast it with the incongruent and the polymorphous nature of the bad (kakos, 608b4 – 8). Plato’s Socrates states this explicitly in 498d8 – 499a2: Oq c±q p~pote eWdom cem|lemom t¹ mOm kec|lemom, !kk± pok» l÷kkom toiaOt’ %tta N^lata 1nep_tgder !kk^koir ¢loi~lema, !kk’ oqj !p¹ toO aqtol\tou ¦speq mOm sulpes|mta. %mdqa d³ !qet0 paqisyl]mom ja· ¢loiyl]mom l]wqi toO dumatoO tek]yr 5qc\ te ja· k|c\, dumaste}omta 1m p|kei 2t]qô toia}t,, oq p~pote 2yq\jasim, oute 6ma oute pke_our.

[However, it is no wonder that most people have no faith in our proposals] for they have never seen our words come true in fact. They have heard plenty of eloquence, not like our own unsteadied discourse, but full of balanced phrases and artfully matched antithesis; but a man with a character so finely balanced as to be a match for the ideal of virtue in word and deed, ruling in a society as perfect as himself – that they have never yet seen in a single instance. (trans. Cornford)

These lines also make explicit the criticism on Plato’s part that we also encounter in Book 10, although Plato’s complaint is directed here against the rhetoricians, whom he repeatedly links with poets. According to Socrates, their well-wrought style does not match the content of their works. They seek stylistic balance merely (exepite˜des) irrespective of the content of their speech, which should likewise be equally balanced, since form and content cannot be separated. At this point Plato parts company with the poets and orators, for Platonic style cannot but match its content, and this happens effortlessly (!p¹ toO aqtol\tou). As we will see in the following section of this work, this is the point on which Plato’s discussion of the just and unjust souls and cities hinges in his Republic. Throughout the work, Plato takes upon himself to distinguish the good from the bad and show how the simple and just character differs from the varying and unjust. In so doing, he employs traditional motifs (mixis and poikilia) around which he weaves complex poetic imagery. Yet he reserves for the unjust only the images and diction

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that poetry deploys indiscriminately, thereby portraying the good and the bad in similar ways. The Republic offers an artistic depiction of the poikilon e˜thos, but it also offers us an image of the true and just philosopher and of the just city (Book 5) and, in these contexts, Plato does his best to eschew multiplicity and variety, for the style cannot support this content. In these contexts, he thus does away with the multifariousness of the poetic images and in that he differs greatly from the poets. Nonetheless, to the extent that he uses poetic features where necessary to serve his philosophical aims, Plato presents himself as a philopoie˜te˜s of some sort, who accommodates some of poetry’s characteristics in the Republic and in line with his principles. Yet, Plato is not a poie˜tikos proper, for he has dispensed with metre (607d6 – 9). In the Republic’s philosophical curriculum, music is assigned a rather different role (Book 7).15 In relation to his prose, however, Plato proves himself a great ironist, when he has Socrates claim that, when a poem is stripped of its poetic colouring, its plain prose “looks like a face which has lost the fresh bloom of youth, a face that was never really handsome” (601b2 – 7). This claim is verified in Socrates’ narration of the opening of the Iliad in Book 3. His trading of the Homeric hexameter for plain prose in this context confirms the point made much later in Book 10, although the artistry of Plato’s prose as a whole in the Republic points in a completely different direction. It may lack (sonorous) metre, rhythm and harmonia (which in the text are reserved for the portrayal of the just soul or for Plato’s discussion of harmonics (harmonia-symphnia) in Book 7), but its aesthetics is far from being impaired. As we will see, Plato has taken on the poets in their own field and has done so successfully, for, as Socrates states in Book 10, the Republic has been composed as a powerful counter-charm to poetry’s ke˜le˜sis: 6yr d’ #m lµ oVa t’ × !pokoc^sashai, !jqoas|leh’ aqt/r 1põdomter Bl?m aqto?r toOtom t¹m k|com, dm k]colem, ja· ta}tgm tµm 1p\d^m, eqkabo}lemoi p\kim 1lpese?m eQr t¹m paidij|m te ja· t¹m t_m pokk_m 5qyta. Ás|leha d’ owm ¢r oq spoudast]om 1p· t0 toia}t, poi^sei ¢r !kghe_ar te "ptol]m, ja· spouda_ô, !kk’ eqkabgt]om aqtµm cm t` !jqoyl]m\, peq· t/r 1m art` pokite_ar dedi|ti, ja· molist]a ûpeq eQq^jalem peq· poi^seyr (608a2 – b2).

15 For Plato, in Rep. Book 7, music is strictly linked to mathematics: see Anderson ([1966] 1997); Lippman (1964); Burkert (1972); Barker (1984) and (1989). On the philosophical ramifications of Plato’s conception of mathematics in the Republic, see Joly (1974: 200 – 204 and 247 – 267).

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But if it isn’t able to produce such a defense, then, whenever we listen to it, we’ll repeat the argument we have just now put forward like an incantation so as to preserve ourselves from slipping back into the childish passion for poetry which the majority of people have. And we’ll go on chanting that such poetry is not to be taken seriously or treated as a serious undertaking with some kind of hold on the truth, but that anyone who is anxious about the constitution within him must be careful when he hears it and must continue to believe what we have said about it.

So far I have focussed on Plato’s remarks regarding poetry and its characteristic features in his Book 10 and have argued that, if we follow the distinction that he makes in 607d – e between poie˜tai and poie˜tikoi, on the one hand, and philopoie˜tai or prostatai, on the other, Plato may be seen to belong to the latter category, in the sense that his composition eschews versification and rhythm.16 According to this line of thought, the Republic appropriates poetic motifs, diction and direct quotations from various poetic compositions, and both reshapes and enhances them to draw a correct distinction between just and unjust souls and cities. In adopting this authorial stance, Plato demonstrates how poetic language may finally be seen to be phelime˜ when employed to depict the incongruence and polymorphy of bad souls and bad institutions. This stance, of course, makes Plato a philopoie˜te˜s of a peculiar type, for in adapting certain of its characteristics and techniques, he strikes the final blow against poetry. Let us now see how these observations above square with the cultural changes that occur in the fifth and fourth centuries B.C. As we traverse the period from the sixth to fourth century B.C., the changes in literary culture are great and rapid. Although a full-scale assessment lies beyond the scope of this study, revisiting the way the Greeks viewed or how they theorized about their own creative attempts in prose and its relation to poetry will help us clarify the way we are using the term poetics here. In his study on the origins of literary criticism, Andrew Ford examines the birth of poetics and poetic theory, which he takes to “refer to self-conscious attempts to give systematic accounts of the nature of poetry in the most scientific terms available”. In his view, the emergence 16 From this interpretative perspective, Plato meets Adeimantus’ challenge in Rep. 366e – 367a: oqde·r p~pote out’ 1m poi^sei out’ 1m Qd_oir k|coir 1pen/khem Rjam_r t` k|c\ ¢r t¹ l³m l]cistom jaj_m fsa Uswei xuwµ 1m art0, dijaios}mg d³ l]cistom !cah|m. [“No one, whether in poetry or in prose, has adequately argued that injustice is the worst thing a soul can have in it and that justice is the greatest good”]. See my detailed discussion in Chapter Four.

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of theorisation regarding the nature of poetry and its distinctive features cannot be seen separately from “the fundamental and broad shift from early responses to singing as a form of behaviour regulated by social, political, and religious values to a conception of poetry as a verbal artefact, an arrangement of language subject to grammatical analysis” (Ford 2002: 8 emphasis added). This passage from singing and song to the composing of poetry was not short and takes up a good part of two centuries, the sixth and the fifth centuries B.C., before we reach the fourth century, when concepts and systematic definitions have been consolidated. This transition was both instigated by, and instantiated in, the compositions of the fifth century composers of prose, who strove to differentiate their productions from the aims and ways of song-composition.17 It is in the texts of the fifth century B.C. that we first come across references to those who compose songs as makers (or poets). The poie˜tai are clearly distinguished from the aoidoi who perform rather than compose the poems (Ford 2002: 131). As Ford tellingly explains, the emergence of this new vocabulary also signalled a fundamentally new conception of ‘verbal art’ in Classical Greece. It signalled the treatment of poetry as an objectified artefact, which was, in essence, a ‘rhetorical’ approach.18 In the fifth century B.C., reflection on the language of poetry is set in a broader context of concerns regarding the function of language in general, its psychological sway and its structural arrangement for achieving persuasion. Sophists as well as philosophers and scientists of the period are credited with enlightened inquiries into the nature of language and its influence on the human soul. One immediately thinks here of Gorgias’ Helen, a highly representative example of fifth century theorisation into the power of language at large and poetry as one of its sub17 Ford (2002: 46): “The late archaic age was a time in which those who were ambitious to be thought ‘wise’ had to find a place within a wide range of discursive modes and a broad variety of authoritative styles”. See also discussion by Martin, in Dougherty, C. and Kurke, L. (eds.) (1998: 108 – 128, esp. 115 – 119); and Lloyd (1987: 83 – 88). 18 Ford (2002: 11): “Beginning in the fifth century, rhetorical criticism created new abstract genres that answered less to archaic practice than to the needs of formal classification”. Ford cites as an example the employment of the Greek term hymnos, at root meaning simply song. In the Archaic and early Classical period the noun and the verb do not appear to have any particular connotation of hymn in the sense “song for a god”. Plato’s later use of the word as a genre-term to encompass all songs to divinities was immensely influential on later arrangements of the texts of archaic songs into classes (Ford 2002: 12 with bibliography in n. 27).

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sets. Thus investigation on the part of the Greeks into matters of language cannot be fully appreciated unless it is set in the broader cultural and intellectual context, that is, in the context of an era that saw the rise of important breakthroughs in science and philosophy. Against this background, attention also needs to be drawn to the tension between literate and oral techniques for the dissemination of knowledge and the subsequent birth of new forms of paideia that implemented or modified traditional ones. The transition from orality to literacy, in particular, seems to have influenced the so-called objectification of poetic language. In Ford’s words, “conversion of the Greek heritage of song into fixed and tangible forms that could be studied, analysed, and revised, assisted the development of technical, structural criticism as the most adequate account of song” (Ford 2002: 157, emphasis added). The socalled objectification of poetic language, however, does not necessarily presuppose a wide-spread use of the techniques of writing.19 Ford offers here as an example the ‘literary criticism’ scene in the Platonic Protagoras, which he rightly interprets as indicative of how oral and the literate mediums may in practice interact: although coming from one of the “most literate of fourth-century authors, nothing in principle prevents an orally circulating song from being carefully quoted and studied” (Ford 2002: 154). Several of our sources (Plato’s dialogues being only one of them) attest to the fact that in the fifth century B.C. a new mode of examination of the language of poetry emerged. Poetic productions, traditionally immersed in music, could now be broken down into their distinctive ingredients, music and language, both being of equal gravity, but also both being now eligible for separate analysis and investigation.20 Music apart, poetry was now easily diagnosed in terms of diction, structure and patterns of thought, all of which were to form the central technical elements of rhetorical criticism. In Ford’s words: Language in turn was conceived in rhetorical terms as if it were inert raw material that the poet ‘put together’ (commonly syn-tithenai, Latin com-positio) and shaped by artistic skill. Because one of the most noticeable and easily demonstrable formal qualities of song was its organized rhythm, we 19 Ford (2002: 154 – 155); see Morgan (2000: 26): “It is the availability of writing, rather than its widespread diffusion among the population, that is significant”. On the issue, see extensive discussion by Thomas (1992). 20 For an extensive analysis of the ancient Greek ‘music culture’, see Herington (1985: Ch. 1); Barker (1984: 1 – 18, 47 – 55); Gentili, trans. by Cole (1988); and West (1992).

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find attached to the ‘make’ words a fifth century view that poetry is essentially speech (logos) in metrical form. This formalist perspective was extended to other quantifiable linguistic features of song, from diction to structure, and so the rise of ‘poetry’ expressed a conception of song that was especially susceptible to rhetorical analysis. Expertise in poetry did not require knowing how to sing or compose; it would focus on breaking down a poem as a verbal construct, the product of intelligible design, rather than as a speech act by, within, and for members of a community (Ford 2002: 132).

In his Criticism in Antiquity, Russell remarks that verse always remained a crucial parameter that drew the line between prose and poetry.21 When it comes to the language of poetry, however, Russell (1981: 149) also submits that “verse apart, the main characteristic of the poet was his ‘licence’ (exousia), the liberties of language and fancy granted him, it could be said, in compensation for the restriction of form”. Thus, the objectification of poetic language led to evaluations of its distinctive features, but it also meant that it could be abstracted from its original socio-cultural environments in order to be analysed and, if needed, transplanted into hitherto alien literary contexts.22 It is only when reaching this stage in the history of ancient Greek poetry and literature at large that certain notions about the poetics of language can be brought into focus.23 My use of Platonic poetics in this work should be seen against these social, intellectual and literary changes, which commence in the late 21 Russell (1981: 149 with n. 2): “It might be possible to occasionally call a prosewriter a poet – Plato for the fire of his language, the historian Ctesias as a ‘craftsman of vividness’ – but this was little but an instructive hyperbole” (emphasis added). Russell has here in mind Cicero’s characterisation of Platonic language in his Orator 67 and Demetrius’ comments on Ctesias (215, ALC 219). Still, there is much left to be said about the reasons behind a prose writer’s meticulous choice of poetic diction. 22 Note that this is what Halliwell calls Plato’s “subjection of mythos to logos” in the Republic: see above n. 1 to this Chapter. See also (Ford 2002: 4): “Setting criticism within ‘musical’ culture will help us observe that something like the eighteenth-century notion of literature was formulated in the fourth century B.C.E., when that part of musical culture that was song was examined in isolation from the rest: once the further step was taken of separating the words of songs from the music and actions they had accompanied, the particular effects of poetic language could be studied in a form of criticism one may call ‘literary’ insofar as it was specific to the poetic art”. 23 Ford (2002: 22): “Song became poetry, and poetry was a special art of using language, the paradigmatic example of what we have called since the eighteenth century ‘literature’”.

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sixth century B.C. and are consolidated by the fourth. In his definition of the term, Ford observes that “any poetics depends, logically and etymologically, on a unitary term for poetry simply to circumscribe the field of study. But such a central term will also define what is specific to such works that demands poetics’ special analyses” (Ford 2002: 4 – 5). This is obviously a significant caveat. One cannot talk about poetics unless the field of poetry is well-defined,24 and to attempt a definition of poetics is a perilous affair for fifth and early fourth century Greek literature when boundaries between genres are crossed and recrossed and literary frontiers are shifted by prose-writers, who in composing their works also construct literary genres.25 Andrea Nightingale has investigated in detail this aspect of Plato’s idiosyncratic authorial attitude and has shown that to draw neat boundaries between the genres of poetry, rhetoric and Platonic philosophy is not always effective for our understanding of Plato’s works. In her analysis, Nightingale (1995: 5) identifies Platonic intertextuality in “the sustained use of discourse, topoi, themes, or structural characteristics of a given genre” and shows how Plato’s works define the boundaries of philosophy by entering into a dialogue with both poetry and rhetoric. Thus, in shaping the frontiers of his philosophical discourse, Plato, time and again, appropriates and adapts characteristics and techniques that prima facie may seem alien to this literary environment. In contrast to the Republic, where Plato becomes polemical against poetry and rhetoric but refrains from theorising about how certain features that traditionally belonged to these types of discourse may be useful for his own philosophical agenda, the Platonic Phaedrus is more in24 Note that poie˜tike˜ is an elusive term in the Platonic Ion 532c5 – 10 (poigtijµ c\q po} 1stim t¹ fkom. C ou ;) Socrates employs it in his discussion with Ion to trap him into accepting that if he can “speak of” (perform and interpret) competently Homer, he should be able to do the same with other poets too, to the extent that they are all poets and treat the same subjects in their compositions. Through his use of poie˜tike˜ in this dialogue Plato blurs the boundaries between poetry and rhapsody and investigates their relation to techne˜. The concept of techne˜ aside, however, the term’s usage should be seen also in relation to what Socrates says in 531c – e, namely that poetic compositions share common features that someone with knowledge of the field should be able to judge (#m 1ngc^saio, 531a7, oX|r t’ Gsha 1ngc^sashai, 531b8, cm~setai d^pou tir t¹m ew k]comta, 531d13). On poie˜tike˜ in the Ion, see Murray (1996: 108 – 109) Janaway (1992: 1 – 23). 25 See Russell (1981: 144); Cole (1991); and extensive discussion in Nightingale (1995).

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formative, as Socrates makes some interesting comments about the nature of poetic and rhetorical language and its treatment by the philosopher. In particular, Socrates’ grouping together of the language of poetry and rhetoric in this dialogue casts light on the deployment of the language of poetry in prose compositions. In the Phaedrus, Socrates proposes the ‘purification’ of rhetoric and prescribes certain principles for the rhetoricians. A thorough reading of the Phaedrus lies outside the aims of the present study, but the work is significant for my discussion of Platonic poetics. The Phaedrus is usually seen as Plato’s palinode on the blessings of the various forms of mania, but it also gives important information on how rhetoric and its techniques, once purged according to (Platonic) truth, may be used by the dialectician.26 When poets learn how to serve reality, says Socrates, they will rightfully deserve the title, not of sophoi, but of philosophoi – a most honourable title in Platonic philosophy. Thus the perspective adopted in the Phaedrus blurs the boundaries between poetry and rhetoric and philosophy as distinct discursive genres and I shall follow its example in my treatment of poetics in this work. I will not then promote a strict division of genres here (poetry and rhetoric). Instead, I will talk of alternative modes of discourse, which, despite their many differences (in performance for one thing), do share essential stylistic characteristics and common ways of structuring and organising language. 27 This is explicitly dealt with in the Phaedrus. Lysias, a well-known orator, is identified by Socrates as a poet (¢r t± d]omta eQqgj|tor toO poigtoO).28 Nonetheless, the main passage that links rhetoricians and poets is found in the concluding scene of the Phaedrus (278b7 – d1). Phaedrus has to deliver a message to Lysias and to all those who have composed speeches (k]ceim Kus_ô te ja· eU tir %kkor sumt_hgsi k|cour, ja· jl^qy ja· eU tir %kkor aw po_gsim 26 Dodds (1951) and Ferrari (1987). On the interpretative complications that arise from trying to draw a clear distinction between literature and philosophy or philosophical logos in the Phaedrus, see Nussbaum (1986: Ch. 7). 27 See also (Ford 2002: 1 – 23). On Plato’s blurring the boundaries between ‘genres’ in the Phaedrus and his drawing of a new distinction between divine and mortal song, see Ford’s comments at 260 – 261: “but the Muse is now philosophy, and the rules for ‘what befits us’ to sing are not derived from social practices or even from literary conventions, but from Plato’s philosophical vision of reality and his determination to refer all distinction to the divine” (at 261). See also Walker (2000: 17 – 41); Svenbro (1984: 231 – 232); and Denniston ([1952] 1979: 17 – 18). 28 Phdr. 234e6; cf. 236d4 – 5: )kk’ § laj\qie Va?dqe, ceko?or 5solai paq’ !cah¹m poigtµm Qdi~tgr aqtoswedi\fym peq· t_m aqt_m.

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xikµm C 1m ¡d0 sumt]hgje, tq_tom d³ S|kymi ja· fstir 1m pokitijo?r k|coir m|lour amol\fym succq\llata 5cqaxem). The message is clear: they can claim the eponymia of the philosophoi, if, and only if, they can prove by way of a thorough elenchus that their compositions rest on a basis of knowledge and bear the seal of the truth. From a Platonic perspective, the standards here are high for poets and rhetoricians if we consider Socrates’ definition of truth in the central books of the Republic and elsewhere, but the penalty is equally high if they do not meet these criteria, as Socrates reminds us in Republic Book 10: L]car c\q, 5vgm, b !c~m, § v_ke Cka}jym, l]car, oqw fsor doje?, t¹ wqgst¹m C jaj¹m cem]shai, ¦ste oute til0 1paqh]mta oute wq^lasim oute !qw0 oqdeliø oqd] ce poigtij0 %niom !lek/sai dijaios}mgr te ja· t/r %kkgr !qet/r (608b4 – 8).

Yes, for the struggle to be good rather than bad is important, Glaucon, much more important than people think. Therefore, we mustn’t be tempted by honour, money, rule, or even poetry into neglecting justice and the rest of virtue.

If I am correct in my general interpretation, Plato’s message to poets and rhetoricians in the Phaedrus can also throw light on the reasons for which Plato incorporates poetic thought-patterns, motifs and diction in his Republic. Leaving verse itself aside, Plato argues in the Phaedrus that prose can be wrought and syntactically arranged so that it accommodates features that are predominately found in the field of poetry. Words can be organized in rhythmically patterned units with rhyming effects.29 Elements of poetic diction can also be selected to build up vivid imagery.30 In Phaedrus 267b10 – c3, Socrates also refers to the art of eikonologia (imagistic discourse) and links it with rhetoric. The Phaedrus and the Republic are thus united by the common assumption that poets do not speak the truth about important matters (Rep. 377d), but the Phaedrus takes the argument further when it links poetry with artistic prose and claims that poets and rhetoricians may too be called philosophers if they place their highly adorned prose at the service of (Platonic) truth.31 Yet this would also suggest that Plato’s philosopher or dialecti29 Gorgias’ rhyming effects in his Helen are an illustrative (and much-cited) example of this stylist effect. See also Rep. 498d8 – e: on Gorgias’ style, see de Romilly (1975: 8 – 11). On Plato’s reference to the homoiomena in this contextual environment see discussion in this Chapter further below. 30 Cf. Havelock, in Kelly (ed.) (1984: 76 – 79). 31 The distinction between philosopher and sophist is not fixed at the time. See Ford (1993: 31 – 47).

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cian too may deploy artistic poetic prose as, according to Socrates in the Phaedrus, evidently only philosophers are capable of actually bringing together psychaggia, ale˜theia and techne˜ in their discourse (Phdr. 271a – 273a). This is informative for the way we are to interpret the poetics of Plato’s discourse in the Republic, which is a highly artistic prose, woven into the texture of which are vibrant images, poetic motifs and diction that all sway the souls of these particular interlocutors at Cephalus’ house in line with Plato’s notion of philosophical truth. 32 In the Phaedrus (267b10 – c3), Plato links imagistic discourse (eikonologia) with rhetoric. In his Republic, he constructs some of the most memorable images (eikones) in his corpus. I have suggested above that it is this authorial stance, along with his adoption of quotations from poetry and his adaptation of poetic diction and motifs, which renders his discourse poetic. However, since Aristotle, Plato’s imagistic discourse has been inextricably connected with metaphor due to the inherent tendency of Platonic eikones to produce comparisons between two different thematic environments and discuss one subject by way of the other.33 In fact, the rhetorician Isocrates, in the fourth century B.C., is the first to use the term metaphora and to suggest that it constitutes a prominent poetic stylistic device (kosmos). In his introduction to the Evagoras (190D), Isocrates links metaphora only with poetry and, in a passage that evokes Socrates’ remarks on poetry in the Republic (601b), Isocrates explains

32 Harvey too (in Ferrari, G. R. F. [ed.] [2007: 1 – 26]) takes the view that the Republic has a “protreptic” character but follows a different line of interpretation from mine. 33 Aristotle, Metaphysics 13.5, 1079b25. The severe criticism is directed at the Forms. On Aristotle’s discussion of Plato’s poetic prose, see also Gordon (1999: 64 – 66). On imagistic language traditionally considered as part of style, see Thesleff with further discussion (1967: 26). Plato does not use the term metaphora in his dialogues; he opts instead for the rather elusive term eikn to which he assigns manifold epistemological connotations, but see his use of metnomasmen in Theaetetus 180a6: !kk’ %m tim\ ti 5q,, ¦speq 1j vaq]tqar Nglat_sjia aQmiclat~dg !masp_mter !potone}ousi, j#m to}tou fgt0r k|com kabe?m t_ eUqgjem, 2t]q\ pepk^n, jaim_r letymolasl]m\. (“But if you ask any of them anything, they send off shots as if they were drawing up enigmatic shaftlets from a quiver, and if you seek to get an account (logos) of this, as to what he has said, you’ll be struck by another freshly altered name”, trans. Benardete (1986). I discuss metaphor in relation to Plato’s Republic below.

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that metaphora can be employed to embroider poems (p÷si to?r eUdesi diapoij?kai tµm po_gsim) but not logoi (compositions in prose):34 to?r l³m c±q poigta?r pokko· d]domtai j|sloi … ja· peq· to}tym dgk_sai lµ l|mom to?r tetacl]moir am|lasim, !kk± t± l³m n]moir, t± d³ jaimo?r, t± d³ letavoqa?r, ja· lgd³m paqakipe?m, !kk± p÷si to?r eUdesi diapoij?kai tµm po_gsim. (190D)

For to the poets is granted the use of many embellishments of language […] and they can treat of these subjects not only in conventional expressions, but in words now exotic, now newly coined, and now in figures of speech, neglecting none, but using every kind with which to embroider their poesy. (trans. Van Hook)

Plato brings about the dramatization of language in the Republic to which I referred in the introduction by making full use of almost all of the kinds of discourse (pasi tois eidesi) that Isocrates attributes here to the genre of poetry. Yet one should obviously be very cautious here; we need not impose Isocrates’ ideas on the text of Plato I am examining here in order to gauge the poeticity of the latter’s prose. Rather, we should keep in mind that in the early part of the fourth century B.C. philosophers and rhetoricians are both debating and experimenting with the dynamics of their prose-writing and, in so doing, are laying down and defining boundaries between genres and shifting literary frontiers. As Ford has shown, in attributing certain embellishments to the genre of poetry, Isocrates in the Evagoras offers at the same time a “defense of prose literature, as artistic speech that makes no claims to the charm of poetry but is yet worth writing down and preserving so it may be read, studied, and discussed among readers now and in the future” (Ford 2002: 235 and 248). In the Republic, however, Plato takes a different stance. He criticizes poetry for “not lying well” but he nonetheless adapts its embellishments to fashion a philosophical incantation that is also faithful to Platonic reality. This is to fight poetry from within and to use its characteristics, albeit now with a new purpose. In my discussion of Platonic poetics so far I have stressed the traditional character of the images, motifs and diction that Plato employs in his dialogue. But they are traditional only to a certain extent. Plato does indeed organize his discussion on justice and injustice around traditional motifs, such as those of mixture and versatility (mixis and poikilia). Yet when it comes to imagery, he is both traditional and innovative. Thus Plato is consistent in his philosophical use of images, but he 34 See Ford (2002: 235 – 240).

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does not use all images in the Republic in the same manner. As I have already suggested, traditional images and poetic quotations play an integral role in his discussion of injustice in Books 8 and 9. However, he becomes more creative and innovative in his use of images to explain, for example, his metaphysics and ontology in the central books of the Republic. There are also times when he builds images in order to sum up previous argumentation – here Platonic images clearly function as a form of reprimand to the forgetful interlocutor (who is Adeimantus) and afterwards the discussion moves quickly in new and different directions. Platonic images will take up the rest of my discussion in this section. As we shall see, imagery in the Republic becomes a distinctive feature of how philosophical language per se (pedestris oratio, rather than poetic language alone) may be moulded to investigate new thought-patterns. In this sense, his construction of imagery acquires philosophical significance.

3. Mythos and eikõn Scholars have dealt with Plato’s myths in detail.35 In this section I will focus on the relation of myth to the Republic’s eikones and imagistic language, since Platonic imagery would appear to have certain affinities to philosophic myth-making, although it also differs in certain respects. In her analysis of Plato’s myths, Katherine Morgan has defined philosophical myth as “the methodologically self-conscious use of mythological material to problematize issues of language and communication”. Morgan departs from Burkert’s definition of myth as “a traditional tale with secondary, partial reference to some matter of collective importance” and shows that the myths constructed by either Plato, or Parmenides, “are not traditional even though they may contain traditional elements”.36 These traditional elements involve well-established mytholog35 On Plato’s mythmaking in the Republic, see discussion in Segal (1978: 315 – 336); Murray in Buxton, R. (ed.) (1999: 251 – 262); and Rowe, in Buxton, R. (ed.) (1999: 263 – 278). The literature on Plato’s use of myth in the dialogues concentrates on its problematic distinction from logos: see above n. 3. See also Stewart ([1905] 1960); Tate (1933: 159 – 161), and (1936: 142 – 145); Taylor (1933: 158 – 159); Moors (1982: 9 – 13, 59 and 96); Tarrant (1990: 19 – 31); in addition cf. Nightingale’s (1996: 65 – 91) suggestion that one of the aims of myth is to juxtapose hypothetical states of the universe in order to explore the character of human free will. Cp. Smith (1986: 20 – 34), who suggests five functions for myths: a) they are playful in a way crucial to philosophy, b) they present us with hypotheses for investigation, c) they reinforce the undogmatic character of the dialogues, d) they draw our attention to the Forms, and e) they organize the different themes of the dialogue. 36 See Morgan (2000: 15 – 45, here at 37); cf. Burkert (1979: 23); see also Brisson (trans. Naddaf, G. 1998), who links Platonic mythos with oral literature transmitted from one generation to another. In the view of Brisson, it is in this sense that Plato treats poets as myth-makers par excellence. The reasons given by Morgan for the non-traditional character of the “philosophical” myth are twofold (16). On the one hand, the myths constructed by the philosophers are designed to fit a specific philosophical context, and, from this point of view, there can be no possibility of allowing a multiplicity of versions of the same myth-story. On Morgan’s reading, the very incorporation of myth in a philosophical environment is designed to function as an “implicit criticism of the tales told by the poets” and of the way the mythological corpus was handled by poetic tradition. On the other hand, Morgan finds that the role of philo-

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ical material: “story patterns (such as quest, anabasis, and katabasis), motifs, or narrative characters, which transgress the format of standard philosophical argument and explanation” (Morgan 2000: 37, emphasis added). From this perspective, philosophic myth and imagery in Plato share a common point of departure: their traditional origins. In building his myths and rich imagery, Plato draws his material from a long literary tradition that goes back to poets, sophists and Presocratic philosophers – a tradition which treated myth and its features in an assortment of ways and towards different ends. In Plato, the sharing of a common literary background by using myth and imagery creates yet further connections between them. Platonic myths often contain, or introduce, many of the motifs and thought patterns that the author re-deploys elsewhere, either in his eikones – the Cave eikn, for example, develops in new directions the motif of the katabasis, which was first introduced in Glaucon’s myth of Gyges’ ancestor in Book 2 – or in his arguments. As a result, traditional motifs, such as these of the katabasis or wandering (plane˜), may form the backbone of a Platonic myth, but they can also constitute the main idea around which Plato weaves a multiplicity of other images of poetic origin. Such is the case, as I will show later, with Plato’s treatment of the motifs of poikilia and mixis. 37 The philosopher adopts these traditional motifs in the Republic and enhances them with a rich variety of imagery to portray, among other things, the unjust soul and to demonstrate its unhappiness.

sophic myth cannot be treated as “secondary or partial”. In fact, the myth’s inclusion is intended to have a serious philosophical intent, a fact that renders the myth’s character “collective” as well (“collective” to the extent that it is crucial for the intellectual health of the community that the philosophical work addresses). 37 Note, for example, that the versatile dynamics of the motif of mixis are treated differently by poets and have given birth to an assortment of myths. The motif is usually exploited to describe mortals’ sexual mingling with the divine. See, for example, Pindar’s Pythian 2 (25 – 48), where Ixion’s departure from the metron assumes the form of mingling or mixing sexually with the divine (Nqa ft’1q\ssato, t±m Di¹r eqma· k\wom/pokucah]er, 27 – 8). Ixion’s punishment is his subsequent mixing with a nephela (1pe· mev]kô paqek]nato xeOdor ckuj» leh]pym %idqir !m^q, 36 – 7). The child of this affair will embody and represent his father’s defective judgment and misperception of order (43 – 4). Such, too, is the case of Coronis in Pindar’s Pythian 3. See also Crotty (1980). On Plato’s adaptation of this motif in the Republic, see discussion below, Section Two, Chapter One.

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It is at this point that a clear distinction can be drawn between Platonic myth-making and imagistic language. Platonic myths use traditional material to tell a new story of particular narratological length. Plato’s speaker usually signals his change of discursive mode before starting to narrate the story. He also indicates to his audience the point when the myth is complete. From a narratological perspective then, Platonic myth is a thread that stands out in the dialogues’ thickly woven fabric. As we will see, this is not always the case with the Republic’s imagery, which is scattered throughout the text and found in various contexts.38 Some Platonic images (eikones) are indeed identified by the speakers as specific discursive modes of various narratological stretches with explicit visual and imagistic bearings. (The famous eikones of the Sun, the Line and the Cave are the lengthiest in the Republic.) There are also others which are narratologically shorter as, for example, the “torturing and beating of the strings” in Republic Book 7, where Socrates’ discussion of music with Glaucon borrows vocabulary from the torturing and beating of the slaves. It is also the case with the eikn of philosophy as a poorly wedded bride to an undeserving man in Book 6 (495b – 496a) and Socrates’ eikn of the ship as a state steered by a highly ambitious, but completely incompetent, crew that has usurped the power from the skilled, but deaf captain (487e – 489c). There is also the famous image of the tyrant as a many-headed beast in Book 9, among numerous others. Plato seems to have a particular liking for images in the Republic. 38 I am aware that in Plato’s dialogues this narratological distinction between eikones and mythoi is not always maintained, since, more often than not, Plato himself ensures that the distinction between mythos and logos is dropped, blurred or questioned (see the Protagoras 320c – 328c: see discussion in Brisson, trans. Naddaf [1998]; and Brisson [1975: 7 – 37]; see also Taylor [1976]). Thus, in the Republic, for example, Plato has Socrates characterize as a mythos his entire philosophical endeavour of building the theoretical just city. From this perspective, mythos becomes a broad framework which includes all various types of philosophical discourse, argumentation, images and other mythical stories, for example, the myth of Er, or Gyges’ ancestor. (Particularly relevant in this direction is Plato’s use of eiks mythos in the Timaeus: see Smith [1985: 24 – 42]; see also Rowe [2003, 21 – 31]). Nonetheless, I have overstated this difference between mythos and eikones because, in contrast to his treatment of mythoi, irrespective of how these are structurally defined, when it comes to imagistic language, Plato is not always consistent in notifying his intra-dramatic audience that the speaker’s language will turn imagistic or, according to some scholars, ‘metaphoric’. This, from my interpretative viewpoint, is methodologically significant for inspecting the reasons and manner in which Plato’s Socrates alternates his style in the dialogue. See discussion in this Section further below.

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However, the Republic is also laden with imagery that is not labelled as eikones in the dialogue. These images are introduced by means of certain linguistic markers (such as ¢r or ¦speq), demonstrating the author’s intention of bringing together into a single conceptual environment two different themes or ideas. Finally, there is also one last category of imagery which the term ‘imagistic diction’ describes most accurately. From a structural perspective, these can be identified as shorter linguistic units, often restricted to short sentences or even mere words, also of traditional poetic origin, whose adoption and adaptation in the Republic requires that the audience be fully engaged in a constant act of visualisation and comparison. This is exactly what the two last categories of imagery mentioned above would seem to share with the Platonic eikones, that is, their requirement that the audience be engaged in their homoiosis and proceed to untangle it. In line then with my approach in this work, I will treat the Republic’s images as building units of different linguistic length, starting from mere words and short phrases (whose various combinations may also produce further, more complex, imagery) and stretching as far as to incorporate longer narratives (in Plato’s vernacular eikones). Traditional motifs and imagery of this sort permeate the dialogue’s philosophical language and often regulate the construction of the ideas proposed in the work in question. As we will see, Platonic imagery in the Republic is not intended to tell a story whose origins are lost in mists of time, or to narrate experiences in spatio-temporal spheres that are inaccessible to humans, in the way myth-narratives are intended to do.39 On the contrary, Platonic imagery is employed in such a way that it re-addresses and possibly re-organizes our everyday experience of a world of incongruent senseperceptive and intellectual stimuli and phenomena. It helps us, that is, re-view our world and our place in it from a Platonic perspective. More than that, it generates what the Republic’s interlocutors are intended to ‘see’ (or visualize) in their dialogue with Socrates. Being scattered through the language that Socrates uses to address his audience in matters of ethics, metaphysics, and ontology, Platonic imagery thus forms to a remarkable extent the interlocutors’ philosophic vernacular in the dialogue. Before turning to a detailed examination of Plato’s imagery, a few more words are in order about my use of the terms themes and motifs. Both Classical scholars and other literary critics resort to these terms in 39 See Nightingale, in Branham, R. B. (ed.) (2002a: 224 – 249).

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order to identify and classify recurrent thought patterns that permeate literary compositions and, as is often the case with early Greek poetry and philosophy, which frame or regulate their structure. Thus, to name only a few, Greek poetic and philosophic compositions are laden with a variety of themes or motifs, such as those of weaving (stories or lies), of routes, journeying, wandering and nostos, of mixture and contamination, or of physical and/or intellectual imprisonment. The early Greek literature that has come down to us makes full use of these patterns in various ways for different intellectual purposes. In this work, rather than using the terms themes and motifs interchangeably, I will follow Mourelatos (1970: 11) in the distinction that he draws in defining them. In the introductory pages of his Route of Parmenides, Mourelatos notes that it is the art historians “who employ the terms ‘motifs’ and ‘themes’ with the greatest precision”, and, in his discussion of the Parmenidean imagery, he adopts Erwin Panofsky’s (1955: 26 – 54) three-level system for the study of art. At level (a) (pre-iconographical description), the interpreter focuses on the different forms and configurations, thereby recording and identifying a number of styles. At level (b), that of iconographical analysis, the different themes or concepts are identified for which the forms and shapes at level (a) function as a vehicle. At level (c), the interest is in “total meaning” or “symbolical values”. In Parmenides’ proem, then, the Chariot of Helios, which, being a theme, belongs to level (b), functions as a symbol of enlightenment. Panofsky calls the discipline associated with this third level iconology. Mourelatos associates level (a) of pre-iconographical description with the concept of motif; the concept of theme is linked with level (b), the level of iconography. In this interpretation, the concept of motif precedes that of the theme. At the same time, a single motif may function in two different themes (Mourelatos 1970: 11 – 12). Such an interpretative scheme is particularly helpful when employed in our examination of the traditional imagery that has been appropriated and re-shaped in the Republic. It also prevents us from failing to appreciate the impact that the appropriation and transformation of traditional motifs and diction may have had on the audience. In specific terms, one must not lose sight of the fact that, while the audience may be very familiar with the various motifs it encounters, the reception of different themes can be a quite interesting and challenging experience for them. An example is illuminating here. The chariot motif was received in various ways. In the literature that has come down to us, it appears for

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the first time in the Iliad 23 (301 – 348), when Nestor explains to his son Antilochus how vigilant charioteering can defeat long experience. The chariot then becomes prominent in the proem of Parmenides’ poem as a vehicle of enlightenment. It then becomes a recurrent image to denote poetry and poetic composition in Pindar’s victory odes and is also employed by Plato in his famous portrayal in the Phaedrus of the human soul. In its reception from the eighth to the fourth century B.C., the chariot motif preserved its significance, but becomes conceptualized in new ways (Slavena-Griffin 2003: 227 – 253). This obviously has an impact on the manner in which the various audience(s) now had to follow its transformation in different contexts, as it had developed previously and was currently evolving at the time. The audience becomes involved in an act of re-interpretation, since familiarity with the traditional aspects of a particular motif or image also means that the audience now has to interpret the innovation. Yet if a motif or thought-pattern passes from one literary or philosophical composition to another to serve different purposes in new thematic environments, then this may also be informative in regard to the reasons that necessitate its adaptation to the new context. This passage of an image from one context to another will prove of remarkable philosophical value later when we move to Plato’s treatment of traditional poetic motifs and images.

4. Imagistic discourse 4.1 Poikilia and images For Plato in the Republic, sight becomes a method that can pay rich dividends in philosophical thinking. However, this entails some hard philosophical training in the way mortals exercise their capacity for perceiving and assessing things visible and invisible. From this interpretative angle, humans’ vision in the dialogue turns into visualisation, as the participants in the conversation are invited to picture several images that Socrates constructs in speech. Integral to this process in the Republic is the philosopher’s appropriation of the poetic poikilia and the notion of mixis, which Presocratic philosophic literature discussed in various ways, thereby bringing out the multifariousness of our surrounding visible and invisible environment.40 Around these two motifs Plato weaves 40 Pindaric athletes, heroes and demi-gods are also distinguished by their ability to fight poikilia in all its diverse manifestations. It should be noted that in Pindar’s odes mortal confusion is the direct result of two types of behaviour. The first involves mortals who have been completely identified with the poikilon of their own nature. These creatures (Typhon is one example) are presented in the odes as having become themselves the very embodiment of poikilia. The second type of mortal feebleness involves their unsuccessful or incompetent management of intellectual, discerning capacities. From this point of view, the language of vision becomes prominent in denoting confusion and deception. However, these two types of erroneous behaviour are not always distinctly divided. It is often the case that incapability to use one’s intellect correctly is dramatized in one’s entanglement in the ‘fetters’ of confusion that poikilia has weaved. However, the word poikilos in Pindar does not always have negative connotations: see, for example, Nem. 4. 14. In fact, poetic art is judged by the poet’s ability to handle his multiplicity of themes and poetic language correctly. From such a point of view, Parmenides’ poem is closer to the Platonic perspective. The poem’s linguistic architecture is designed to exemplify the arguments it conveys. The choice of diction and arrangement of language in fragment 8 rejects multiplicity through the adoption of a linguistic style that seeks to guide the intellect out of perplexity and along the correct path of reasoning. Futile “wandering” (plane˜) and “colorfulness” are projected in the rejected realm of Doxa. On Parmenides, see Mourelatos (1970: 94 – 135). On the motifs of mixis and poikilia in the Presocratic fragments, see the Introduction n. 29 and n. 30; See also discussion below, Chapter One, Section Two.

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a multiplicity of images that build a great deal on poetic language and imagery. Plato constructs images to discuss the just city, the Forms, the innermost depths of the human soul, its disposition, and its lack of virtues. His treatment of these images has a twofold aim. Firstly, as Socrates makes clear in the opening lines of the Cave eikn, his interlocutors have not been brought up to deal successfully with sense-perceptive and ethical multiplicity in its multifarious forms. Plato then has Socrates capitalize on the discerning powers of human cognition by constructing verbal images that depict both a faithful image of ontological reality (the Sun as the Good) and the epistemological point that the process of coming to understand true reality cannot be broken into separate parts, one for each mode (the Line and the Cave). For Plato in the Republic, this entails re-ordering the interlocutors’ familiar poetic language by re-arranging its imagery and diction for new purposes, thereby amending the way in which poetry has so far (re)presented, primarily by means of performance, the most significant matters, which mean not only the gods and the afterlife, but also human conduct and its ethical qualities. Plato’s methodology here is based on the idea that humans can learn to control polymorphy and can battle against confusion if they change their perspective on the world, both sense-perceptible and invisible. Plato’s linguistic images in the Republic attempt exactly this.41

4.2 Eikones in Gorgias’ Helen Most of the issues examined in relation to Platonic imagery converge in Gorgias’ short rhetorical work Helen of the fifth century B.C. Gorgias sets out to acquit the greatest adulteress in Greek history of the charges customarily brought against her, and in doing so he constructs a series of arguments that bring together language (logos) and poetry (poie˜sis) as its subcategory (§9), various technai (magic and sorcery), images and sight (eikones and opsis), and the susceptibility of human psyche˜ and love 41 So Gordon (1999: 8 – 10). See also Lear, in Santas, G. (ed.) (2006: 25 – 43). In this study I do not examine in detail Book 10 of the Republic because Plato does not create eikones in it (the story of Er is a mythos, rather than an eikn). Although Plato discusses in detail the mimetic character of poetry, an analysis of this aspect of Plato’s attack on poetry extends beyond the scope of this study. On Book 10, see discussion in Annas (1980: 335 – 343). In addition see Halliwell (1988) and (2002). See also Crotty (2009: Ch. 4).

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(eros).42 Gorgias treats poetry as a subcategory of logos and argues that poetry derives its great power (dynamis) from language in general: EQ d³ k|cor b pe_sar ja· tµm xuwµm !pat^sar, oqd³ pq¹r toOto wakep¹m !pokoc^sashai ja· tµm aQt_am !pok}sashai ¨de. K|cor dum\stgr l]car 1st_m, dr slijqot\tyi s~lati ja· !vamest\tyi hei|tata 5qca !poteke? d}matai c±q ja· v|bom paOsai ja· k}pgm !veke?m ja· waq±m 1meqc\sashai ja· 5keom 1paun/sai. (§8)

If speech persuaded and deluded her mind, even against this it is not hard to defend her or free her from blame, as follows: speech is a powerful master and achieves the most divine feats with the smallest and least evident body. It can stop fear, relieve pain, create joy, and increase pity. (trans. Gagarin and Woodruff 1995) Tµm po_gsim ûpasam ja· mol_fy ja· amol\fy k|com 5womta l]tqom7 Hr to»r !jo}omtar eQs/khe ja· vq_jg peq_vobor ja· 5keor pok}dajqur ja· p|hor vikopemh^r, 1p’ !kkotq_ym te pqacl\tym ja· syl\tym eqtuw_air ja· duspqac_air Udi|m ti p\hgla di± t_m k|cym 5pahem B xuw^. (§9)

Poetry as a whole I deem and name speech with meter. To its listeners poetry brings a fearful shuddering, a tearful pity, and a grieving desire, while through its words the soul feels its own feelings for good and bad fortune in the affairs and lives of others. (trans. Gagarin and Woodruff 1995)

In his Origins of Criticism, Andrew Ford (2002: 161 – 87) has shown how Gorgias’ treatment of logos and poie˜sis should be seen in the light of fifth century philosophical discussions that promote a “scientific reduction of speech to language as substance with inherent properties and powers” (here at 161). Gorgias’ materialist poetics in Helen is not only illustrated in the way he views logos as “a great potentate with a miniscule, invisible body” that is able to cause many great things on human souls. It is also reflected in the way he pairs speech with images, thus stressing the pervasive psychological influence of the physical environment on the human mind.43 It is in this context that we come across the single occurrence of the word eikn in Helen. Having explained the effect of logos on psyche˜, Gorgias moves on to show that Helen should be also acquitted if indeed she surrendered to the doings of Eros (eQ c±q 5qyr Gm b taOta p\mta pq\nar §15). The rule of Eros is closely associated with the power of sight and Gorgias argues that “by seeing the mind is moulded even 42 A detailed analysis of Gorgias’ Helen lies outside the scope of this work. See Rosenmayer (1955: 225 – 260); Segal (1962: 99 – 155); Wardy (1996: Ch. 2); Ford (2002: 161 – 187). 43 Ford has discussed these aspects of Gorgias’ Helen very informatively (2002: 176 – 182).

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in its character” (Di± d³ t/r exeyr B xuwµ j!m to?r tq|poir tupoOtai (§15); transl. Gagarin and Woodruff 1995). This argument that seeks to exonerate Helen on the basis of the power of opsis offers a number of examples, all of which are designed to stress the vulnerability of the soul to images produced by sight. The lengthy narration of how sight may instigate fear, which “shakes the mind” and “extinguishes and expels thought” (1taq\whg ja· 1t\qane tµm xuw^m §16, and ovtyr !p]sbese ja· 1n^kasem b v|bor t¹ m|gla §17), concludes with a statement that contains the single occurrence in the work of the word eikn: ovtyr eQj|mar t_m bqyl]mym pqacl\tym B exir 1m]cqaxem 1m t_i vqom^lati (“so thoroughly does sight engrave on the mind images of things that are seen” §17). In these paragraphs, Gorgias’ approach to the impact (typoutai) of vision on the soul is similar to his earlier treatment of the effects of logos. 44 In discussing the psychological influence of sight and language, Gorgias builds heavily on contemporary scientific discussions about the mind’s relation to its physical environment. Against this background Gorgias’ arguments about logos and sight rest on the psyche˜’s submissiveness and passivity: the “irresistible, almost mechanical impact” of logos and sight is something the human soul cannot escape from (Ford 2002: 177 – 9, at 179). Thus Helen cannot but be acquitted. Gorgias’ deployment of the word eikn in this context is an artistically expressed synopsis of the manner in which images of any sort constantly bombard the soul that receives them. And against this barrage of images and sights the human soul, according to Gorgias, can do very little, if anything at all. What is interesting here is that, in his deployment of the term eikn, Gorgias seems to have divested it completely of its inherent semantics of resemblance (homoiosis). Being etymologically connected with the verb eoika (to be like), the noun obliquely emphasizes the similarity between two objects or concepts. Plato will exploit this nuanced term in the Republic, building both philosophical argumentation and epistemological gradation on its manifold dynamics. Nonetheless, Gorgias’ materialist way of viewing the soul’s perception of reality by means of sight or language does not mean that it is necessary for him to explore notions of resemblance between eikones and their prototypes, which inevitably generates issues of comparison as a means to investigating some further reality. For Gorgias, eikones are what the mind (psyche˜) 44 The parallel drawn is also pursued by Ford (2002: 179 – 187 esp. 180 – 181); see also (181 with n. 76).

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absorbs in life and our vivid pictorial surroundings. In the concluding section of Helen, Gorgias exploits this thought further still when he parallels the impact that paintings and statues have on the human psyche˜ with the influence of Alexander’s body (t¹ toO )ken\mdqou s~lati §19) on Helen’s soul (§18 – 19). From this environment of artistic representation, a context that could easily accommodate notions of resemblance and the reproduction of prototypes, the eikn word is absent. Gorgias’ use of common vocabulary in this context violates the boundaries between reality and artistic reproductions of it. In his discussion of psychological susceptibility to the physical environment, Gorgias joins together into one whole beautiful physical bodies, eikones, agalmata and paintings, fusing images and reality together and, in his assessment of the impact they make upon the eye of the beholder, he attributes equal power to both.45 At the same time, the power of sight on the human soul is similar to that of logos, since language, too, stamps and sways the soul with images of which we may have no experience or knowledge (§13): fti d’ B peih½ pqosioOsa t` k|c\ ja· tµm xuwµm 1tup~sato fpyr 1bo}keto, wqµ lahe?m pq_tom l³m to»r t_m leteyqok|cym k|cour, oVtimer d|nam !mt· d|ngr tµm l³m !vek|lemoi tµm d’ 1meqcas\lemoi t± %pista ja· %dgka va_meshai to?r t/r d|ngr ellasim 1po_gsam…

To see that persuasion, when added to speech, indeed molds the mind as it wishes, one must first study the arguments of astronomers, who replace opinion with opinion: displacing one but implanting another, they make incredible, invisible matters apparent to the eyes of opinion. (trans. Gagarin and Woodruff 1995)

Ford has argued that in his discussion of the effects of the environment on the human soul, Plato has adopted the materialist poetics of Gorgias and Democritus. Indeed, in his Republic, Plato rests his arguments on the power of vision and the use of eikones as a means for examining the nature of justice and its difference from injustice. Yet in doing so, as we shall see, Plato also departs from Gorgias’ view that sight is an uncontrollable, all-absorbing, indiscriminating faculty that implants images of any sort on the human soul. In fact, in his own treatment of images and vision throughout the Republic, Plato blends logos and images in a 45 Cf. the image of the enemy army that he constructs as an illustrative example of his argumentation (§16). Corporeality in this section is again prominent: the polemia smata are juxtaposed with the vibrant gleam of bronze and iron. See Ford (2002: 180 – 182).

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unique way (eikones) and, whilst acknowledging their authoritative power on the human soul, he also proposes new ways as to how we should control their domination by questioning the truthfulness of the incongruent and deceptive stimuli provided by sight and logos’ erroneous organising of them. From this perspective, the Republic’s images, that is, eikones and imagistic language, acquire an epistemological significance and become tightly woven into Plato’s handling of the education of Socrates’ interlocutors. As we will see, language continues to be strongly pictorial, even outside the limits of the so-called Platonic eikones, as if Plato were trying to capture the eye of the mind and to ‘stamp’ (cf. the Gorgianic tupoutai) it with images of his reality.46

4.3 Definition of Platonic imagery The terms image and imagery are generally employed in two ways (Pender 2000: 7). On the one hand, image has become a generic term to epitomize figures of speech in general, whilst, on the other, imagery refers to the whole class of verbal comparisons. Silk’s definition here is enlightening: “By imagery I mean primarily metaphor, simile, and the various forms of comparatio” (Silk 1974: 5). His definition will prove useful here in this work, firstly because it brings out (and thus is faithful to) Plato’s marked intention in the text of investigating similarities and differences between concepts by means of his use of eikones, and, secondly, because such a definition pays rich methodological dividends in untangling Plato’s different forms of comparison, since not all imagery is of the same form or plays the same philosophical role in the Republic. As I stated above, the Republic’s images can be divided into two broader categories. In the course of his dialogue, Socrates constructs several eikones, short stories, whose main characteristic is that they implant strong visual impressions on his audience’s minds.47 These eikones are identified by the intra-dramatic interlocutors as a distinctive mode of discourse, and, in terms of my methodology, they constitute one cate46 See discussion below, Section Two, Chapter Three. 47 Notice that it is almost a linguistic topos that the speaker who uses an eikn in his speech invites his interlocutor to visualize the story to be narrated. It is interesting to note that this is not the case when the launch of a myth-narrative is announced to the interlocutor(s). The typical introductory formula in this case, as Murray notes, is “listen rather than imagine, picture or visualize” this: Murray, in Buxton, R. (ed.) (1999: 255 – 256).

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gory of what has been identified here as Platonic images. A second category of images, however, involves a different type of imagistic configuration also woven into the Republic’s texture. These pictorial linguistic environments, however, differ from the eikones in that they are not identified by the interlocutors, either as eikones proper, or as bearing any notable methodological or semantic import. Their importance, nonetheless, increases, once we pay close attention to the selected diction of these imagistic structures and to the way the diction and the structures fluctuate in intensity and increase in complexity over the dialogue’s long stretches of argumentation, which they do because of particular philosophicalmethodological needs. It should be stated that Plato has Socrates be aware of this latter category of image-building, for which I will use the term imagistic language here, and this is how Plato’s dramatization of language is in effect achieved in the Republic, for it is Socrates who both synthesizes and orchestrates the employment of this type of discourse. The interlocutors’ inability, on the other hand, to discern the significance of this second type of imagery should not necessarily suggest that this is common language. It certainly is common to them and the stylistic manifold nature of Socrates’ discourse is intended to point in this direction. However, in order to grasp the philosophical value of this second category of Platonic images, we will need to shift our perspective on the Republic’s images. In the view of Silk, images, in the form of similes and metaphors, are an important means for drawing comparisons in speech. This is crucial for monitoring their function in the dialogue, since Socrates constantly compares various concepts and ideas. It is primarily in this direction that the emergence or insertion of imagery, often restricted to single words only, will be of most significance for the reading I propose here. In highly critical moments in the Republic, pictorial phraseology deriving from traditional poetic origins blends with wording that eschews sense-perception, thus resulting in the creation of an idiosyncratic type of discourse. Thus, to take only a few characteristic examples from the Republic: (the many beautiful things) “roll around” (kulindeitai) between “what is not” (toO te lµ emtor) and “what purely is” (ja· toO emtor eQkijqim_r, 479d 4 – 5); “true philosophical natures will always love this lesson that reveals to them the ousia that always is and does not wander (ja· lµ pkamyl]mgr) because of coming to be and decaying” (485b2 – 3); the nature of a “true (ale˜ths) philosopher is to be contrasted to that of a peplasmenos one” (478d 12 – 3); Doxa is explained as “ darker (skotdesteron) than

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knowledge but clearer (phanoteron) than ignorance” (487c 13 – 14); the polis under construction must be “cleansed” or “purified” (diakathairontes), in the same way that harmoniai and rhythms should be “purified” for the city’s guardians (kathairmen) (399e 5; 399e 8; 527d); progress in the argument is portrayed as an anabasis that may lead us closer to a correct “view” of justice and injustice (445c1 – 7). The e˜the˜ of the democratic city are as “diverse” and “colourful” (pepoikilmena) as “a manycoloured garment diversified with every shade of colour” ( ¦speq Rl\tiom poij_kom p÷sim %mhesi pepoijikl]mom, 557c – d).48 The citizens of this city are also “diverse” (pantodapoi, 557c1), but so is the beastlike soul of the tyrant (hgq_ou poij_kou ja· pokujev\kou, 588c7 – 8, pamtodap¹m hgq_om, 588e5).49 We have pointed out above that these linguistic combinations occur in the conversation without attention being drawn to them by either Socrates or his interlocutors. This is remarkable, especially in the light of Socrates’ clear concern with matters of methodology and language usage elsewhere in the Republic. Why then should our attention be drawn to this type of discourse? In what way is this discourse distinctive? A meticulous examination of this diction requires firmly fixed criteria on the basis of which it can be designated as stylistically atypical or distinctive in the Republic’s discourse, as it may easily lead us to highly complex questions about its metaphoric character. Disentangling this problem is critical for understanding how Socrates handles his philosophic language. This is perilous ground that we are traversing here and so I shall now attempt to construe Plato’s methodology in more precise terms. Shifting the boundaries of our reception of imagery in the Republic necessarily leads us to reconsider how far it is indeed traditional. Certain diction in the Republic is traditional to the extent that it immediately evokes its well-established literary background. Yet Plato is doing much more than merely embedding this type of imagery in the text: 48 Anthos denotes “especially bright colours” (des couleurs particulièrement vives), see Mugler (1964) sv %mhor (35); see also LSJ sv II. 49 See also Plato’s mixing of the language of mathematics with the young guardians’ education, in Rep. 534d1 – 6 (to}r ce sautoO pa?dar, otr t` k|c\ tq]veir te ja· paide}eir, eU pote 5qc\ tq]voir, oqj #m 1\sair, ¢r 1cçlai, !k|cour emtar ¦speq cqall\r… [“Well then, if you should ever be charged in actual fact with the upbringing and education of these imaginary children of yours, you will not allow, I suppose, to bear rule in your polis so long as their minds are, as a mathematician might say, irrational quantities, not commensurate with the highest responsibilities”]. See Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 143 and 193 – 194).

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the philosopher breaks the link with any traditional literary past, as he refrains from transforming customary motifs into new themes. In fact, traditional story-patterns are now encapsulated in mere words (cf. for example, planatai and kulindeitai), which, while evoking traditional thought-patterns and ideas, are intended to play a new (philosophical) role in an innovative environment. On the principle that one cannot make any sound advance in philosophical reasoning unless one uses language appropriately, the Republic employs strict Platonic philosophic criteria in order to enact and dramatize this language-cleansing and restructuring. Plato’s use of the second category of images in particular serves this philosophical purpose. As I will show in detail in the following pages, this process is particularly noticeable in specific textual environments where Socrates submits highly complex philosophical ideas about ontology and epistemology, the virtues (aretai) of souls, various unjust souls, or human pleasure (he˜done˜). It is at these crucial philosophic moments that Plato’s employment of imagistic language becomes striking, since diction that is readily recognized as belonging to the genre of poetry is transplanted in certain argumentative environments, thereby creating marked and innovative poeticphilosophical imageries that function as a philosophic dialect which opens up to the Republic’s wide-ranging intra-dramatic interlocutors. In these highly colourful contexts, the dialogue’s imagistic language is not intended as an ornament and is not dictated only by reasons of aesthetics, although, of course, Plato’s language in these instances is indeed unsurpassed from an aesthetic perspective. One can thus go further and argue against Aristotle that this mixture of well-recognized imagistic and philosophical diction is not metaphorical. Of course metaphor is present in these contexts, in the sense that Plato has transferred to a new environment traditional poetic diction or quotations from the genre of poetry and mingled them with another type of diction far more easily recognized as ‘philosophical’. Yet this innovative Platonic amalgamation serves fundamental needs in the work. Plato adapts and re-organizes poetic language because, once ‘cleansed’ in this way, its connotations are integral both to the expression of specific ideas and to the Republic’s philosophically unsophisticated audience at whom these are directed. In these places, to identify this type of language as metaphorical or ornamental, and to seek to trade it for an alternative (possibly more neutral), would involve changing the Republic’s epistemology altogether, its intra-dramatic audience, and Plato’s educational aims.

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I will discuss in detail Plato’s treatment of this type of language in Section Two, in Chapters Two, Three and Four. However, an example of how this imagistic or pictorial linguistic style functions may be helpful here. In Book 7, Socrates discusses with Glaucon the characteristics and educational aims of the five subjects (mathe˜mata) that the philosopherkings will have to undertake in order to grasp the Forms. The ideas that he tries to bring home about number theory, plane and solid geometry, astronomy and harmonics at this stage of the dialogue are highly complex and intellectually demanding, even for Glaucon, who as we shall see in Chapter Two is the only interlocutor in the dialogue whose thought and language exhibits signs of quasi-abstraction. In this context, Socrates ventures to demonstrate how the study of these subjects is intended to direct the mind towards the investigation of realities that are not perceptible through the senses and are intelligible alone. The aim of each mathe˜ma is the removal from reliance on sense perception, so that the mind, now unobstructed, will come to understand the immaterial Forms and achieve the final theria of the Good. Glaucon cannot easily follow Socrates’ argumentation here regarding the manner in which thought may be dissociated from sense-perception, and he therefore often interrupts the presentation of the subject to raise questions and ask for further elucidation. However, in his interruptions of Socrates, he repeatedly associates the five lessons (mathe˜mata) with sense-perception. Plato’s language in this context is designed to dramatize the tension that results from one’s inability to “ascend to problems” and consider numerical relations in abstraction. In these Stephanus lines, imagistic language intensifies in certain places and recedes in others, depending on Glaucon’s inability to grasp Socrates’ argumentation regarding the philosophical aims of each branch. Thus Plato has Socrates express his main complaint against the musical theorists’ inability to dissociate the mathematics of concordant numbers from their sense-perceptive, sonorous manifestation by means of the vividly pictorial language of an eikn that exploits vocabulary drawn from the torturing and beating of slaves (531a – c). In terms of the interpretation I offer in this study, Plato’s imagistic style in contexts such as that of Book 7, rather than being metaphorical, works towards contrasting the intelligible with the corporeal and sense-perceptible, thus seeking to link erroneous modes of approaching the latter with rhetoric and poetry. Thus, in addition to the image of the tortured strings, Plato also utilizes further imagistic diction that is transplanted to this new context

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from his eikones of the Sun and the Cave (fsa !macj\fei xuwµm eQr 1je?mom t¹m t|pom letastq]veshai 1m è 1sti t¹ eqdailom]statom toO emtor

[“anything has that tendency if it compels the soul to turn itself around towards the region in which lies the happiest of the things that are”, 526e2 – 4], 1jjaha_qeta_ te ja· !mafypuqe?tai !pokk}lemom ja· tuvko}lemom rp¹ t_m %kkym 1pitgdeul\tym [“in every soul there is an instrument that is purified and rekindled by such subjects”, 527e1 – 2]). In the same context of the discussion of astronomy, the versatile word poikilia is also deployed to address the problem of how sense-perceptual variety can deceive the mind or obstruct its intellectual ascent.50 Nonetheless, as is often the case with Plato, things are not always as straightforward as they may appear prima facie. The Republic’s intra-dramatic audience is not homogeneous and thus neither is Socrates’ language. The dialogue’s educational character is built on the different intellectual and ethical qualities that its dramatic personae represent, and Plato links their distinctive characteristics to the manifoldness of discursive modes. Glaucon’s persona is significant from this perspective because it is through him, that is, in Socrates’ dialogue with this interlocutor, rather than with his brother Adeimantus, that Plato offers alternative ways of approaching philosophic language and argumentation. This is manifested in two critical points in the Republic: at the end of Book 5, where the Forms are for the first time (explicitly) broached in the conversation, and in Book 9, where Socrates discusses the tyrant’s relation to pleasure (he˜done˜). In both instances, Plato exploits the distinctive dynamics of Glaucon’s persona to experiment with different styles of constructing philosophic argumentation regarding the same ideas. And in both instances, with Glaucon as his main interlocutor, Socrates moves from a less coloured and poeticized type of language, which probably would not appeal to the Republic’s sight-lovers (475d – e), to a vividly imagistic type of discourse with which both sight-lovers and hedonists are most at ease. There is of course both philosophic and educational value in this authorial strategy as Plato’s architectonics dram50 Rep. 529c7 – 8: taOta l³m t± 1m t` oqqam` poij_klata, 1pe_peq 1m bqat` pepo_jiktai (“we should consider the ornaments that brighten the sky”…); 529b – 530a: t0 peq· t¹m oqqam¹m poijik_ô paqade_clasi wqgst]om t/r pq¹r 1je?ma lah^seyr 6meja (“we should use the embroidery in the sky as a model in the study of these other things”). On Plato’s eikn here see Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 134 – 135 and 183 – 190). On his criticism of the Pythagoreans and the so-called musical empiricists, see Burkert (1972: 335 and 370 – 374); see also Barker (1978: 337 – 341); and (1989: 46); Petraki (2008: 147 – 170).

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atize most vividly the way in which correct philosophical reasoning is entirely reliant upon both the cautious use not only of poetic language, but of language in general, and on the capacity of the participants in the Republic to handle philosophic dialogue. In this respect, Plato’s philosophic discourse differs profoundly from that of the poets and the orators, as do also their respective viewpoints as regards ethics. Plato’s alternation of stylistic modalities in the Republic is therefore related to Socrates’ co-speaker and to the ideas discussed. If we follow Socrates’ management of poetic imagery throughout the Republic closely, we see that Plato’s main speaker refrains from using poetic parlance fortuitously.51 There is a pattern behind Plato’s uses of eikones and imagistic discourse in the dialogue, which, when traced, casts new light on his construction of philosophical discourse. Such a line of reasoning implies Plato’s incorporation of thick clusters of poetic diction and imagery in specific environments, rather than being merely ornamental or even foreign to the content, and is absolutely essential to bringing out the intrinsic qualities of the idea discussed. To give only a few examples in line with such an interpretation, Socrates’ use of the poetic kulindeitai at the end of Book 5 is a most realistic dramatization of things “rolling around between Being and non-Being” because the word, now transplanted into the new philosophic environment, carries with it a long history of poetic imagery of negative connotations.52 Socrates does not need to add much to his argumentation at this point in order to describe the negative character that he attributes to Doxa. His interlocutors, welleducated in poetry as they are, cannot have missed the implications. The depiction of the tyrant’s soul in Book 9 functions similarly (588c – 589c). Plato is building here on a long tradition of poetic imagery that identifies disorder with mythical many-headed beasts or heterogeneous creatures whose power is often subdued in grand battles with gods.53 Traditional imagery is thus well-suited to illustrating the true nature of the tyrant’s soul which, more often than not, passes undetected, 51 In this way the logos mirrors not only the thoughts of the person speaking but also the nature of the subject-matter. 52 The word kulindoumai bears only negative connotations in poetry. In the Republic and the Phaedrus Plato makes the most of them adapting the word to his own ends. See discussion in Section Two, Chapter Two below. See also Pender (1999: 75 – 107). 53 On the mythical many-headed beasts and their suppression by Zeus, see Too ([1998] 2004: 19 – 22).

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for human cognition has not been trained correctly to discern what seems to be invisible to common vision. The Republic’s text is thus woven in order to exemplify the incongruence and multiplicity (poikilia and mixis) that pervades humans and the world, visible and invisible, and demonstrate how cognition must battle against multiplicity and diversity by way of sound philosophical thinking. Plato speaks to us mostly through images as Socrates weaves together a number of shorter or longer eikones in order to communicate with his interlocutors.54 Yet this is not the only linguistic style that Plato explores. There are short moments in the dialogue when his language becomes as ‘cleansed’ and devoid of colouring as can be – his use of the reflexive auto to expression and other similar types of wording highlights in the Republic the instances when language is freed from the colourful vividness of linguistic poikilia. Such moments when a new type of diction is tested in the dialogue are few and, most importantly, are not followed easily by Socrates’ speakers. Although speaking in eikones is not philosophically satisfactory to them, they cannot keep up with language when it is completely purified of poetic colourings and images either.55 I therefore suggest that the language of the Republic constitutes a highly composite mosaic in which images predominate and in which different modes of linguistic configuration meet. This results not so much in the creation of a prototype kind of language best fitting the distinctive needs of philosophical enunciation in general, as in the highlighting of the difficulties inherent in thought and in the language used to talk about issues that matter most to humans. Plato’s treatment of the various ideas investigated in the text both underscores the capabilities and inadequacies of these particular Socratic interlocutors and dramatizes the multiplicity of cognitive paths that humans may follow over the long journey of philosophy. Unlike Parmenides’ youth, Platonic interlocutors in the Republic never reach their destination, the Forms. In Platonic parlance, they never leave the Cave completely despite Socrates’ use of an assortment of techniques to help them catch a representative glimpse of the Platonic Real. Against this ontological 54 For ancient criticism, see Aristotle, Metaphysics 13.5, 1079b2; for modern criticism, see Robinson (1953: 220); and for intra-dramatic criticism, see Adeimantus in Rep. 487e6 – 488a6: all types of audience appear too ambitious intellectually to settle on this mode of communication. 55 On poikillein as diversity in colour see Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 235) and the Introduction above n. 29.

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background, Plato’s Socrates has done his best to demonstrate how justice differs in all respects from injustice and how absolutely essential it is to preserve the correct distinction between the two in leading a happy (eudaimn) life.

5. Imagistic language, the dramatization of language and metaphoric language The second category of images in the Republic (which I have called imagistic language) raises a number of methodological questions. Firstly, is there a relation between the two categories of images I distinguished above, namely between the well-documented eikones and the so-called imagistic language? And, secondly, how justified are we in arguing against Aristotle’s criticism of Platonic language that it is merely metaphoric? The analysis of both questions will take up the rest of my discussion here.

5.1. Platonic Eikones: A homoiõsis? Pender, in her analysis of the term eikn in the Platonic corpus, interprets it to mean illustration, image, comparison, simile and metaphor.56 In particular, the term and its various cognates (eikaz, apeikaz) can be used both rhetorically to mean “metaphors, similes and other types of verbal comparisons and illustrations” and, in non-rhetorical contexts, to denote “a statue or portrait or figures in paintings” and the likenesses achieved by artistic representations or reflections. Within the broader context of art, the term is also used to refer to representation in music (Rep. 402c6 and Laws 668c) or the likeness created by actors on stage (Laws 935e, and Philebus 49c). In the Republic, the word is em56 See Pender (2000: 1 – 27); cf. Stanford (1972: 3 – 20), who in his examination of ancient Greek metaphor, observes (4): “It is much to be regretted that Plato does not advance any discussion of metaphorical language in the Cratylus. Therein he confines himself mainly to etymological problems, and depicts Socrates as preferring to theorize on the origins and meanings of single words rather than on phrases in colloquial or literary use, that is, he discusses vocabulary and not speech, so that the dialogue interests the lexicographer and philologist more than the student of rhetoric and literature. Otherwise, if so inspired a master of imagery and imagination had focused his brilliant faculties on the perplexities of our subject, what an illumination might there have been to guide explorers of the d\sjioi p|qoi of metaphor” (emphasis added).

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ployed in representations of bad and good characters as depicted in poetry (Rep. 401b5; cf. 401b8). Outside the context of art, the term can also denote reflection or shadow.57 In Plato’s ontology and metaphysics, eikn is “an established term for the relationship between the phenomenal world and the ultimate reality”.58 In this last category Pender places one of the most celebrated dramatic instances in the Republic (533a1), where Socrates refrains from speaking to Glaucon about the nature of dialectic because this would immediately require Socrates to abandon eikones as a discursive mode and to adopt an alternative method that, however, cannot be followed in the context. Pender rightly observes that despite the similarities between prototype and image as reflection, copy or representation, Plato is always consistent in drawing our attention to the point that the copy is deficient.59 She cites several examples from the Platonic corpus that highlight the epistemological distance that separates the original from its copy. In the form of a rhetorical question at Cratylus 432d, it is stated that the eikones are very far from (endeousin) possessing qualities which are the exact counterparts of the things of which they are eikones. 60 In Cratylus 439a7 – b3, Socrates states again that the images and the names of things are distinct from the things themselves and asks: “Which is likely to be the nobler (kallion) or clearer (saphestera) way – to learn of the image (1j t/r eQj|mor) whether the image and the truth of which it is an image have been portrayed accurately (eikastai), or to learn of the truth whether the truth and the image of it have been well-constructed (pq]pomtor eUqcastai)?”61 The reply is not surprising. The ambitious interlocutor opts for learning based on the truth. Plato thus condemns image-building in language on the grounds that it is inferior and holds second place to the original it seeks to portray by means of illustration or comparison. This process, however which Plato rejects here is 57 Phaedo 99e and Rep. 402b, 509d and 510e. 58 Pender makes reference here to the Timaeus 29b – c and 37d5 – 7. 59 Several scholars have discussed the reasons behind this authorial deliberation and I will return on this complex issue later. See Gallop’s insightful comments in (1964/65: 113 – 131); and Gallop, in Anton, J.P and Kustas, G. L. (eds.) (1972: 187 – 201); Vernant (1991: 182). In relation to the Sophist, see also Notomi (1999: 122 – 134 and 156 – 162); Blondell (2002: 365 – 377). 60 Pender cites Jowett’s translation: “… having qualities which are the exact counterparts of the realities which they represent”. A translation closer to the text is proposed here. 61 Cf. Laws 668a – b.

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adopted elsewhere so that it becomes all-pervasive in the Republic with the result that dense thickets of imagery build many more comparisons than are usually noticed by scholars of Plato (Lloyd 1966: 229). Eidla and eikones are coupled together and criticized for their reduced epistemological value in the Republic’s three most well-known images of the Sun, the Line, and the Cave in Books 6 and 7. Until this point in the text, it has been the Socratic interlocutors, rather than Socrates himself, who have expressed dissatisfaction with Socrates’ selection of this particular mode of speech.62 However, the image of the Line, in which Socrates focuses on the classification of different levels of the distortion of reality and states of cognition, is now laden with the eikn noun and its various linguistic cognates. The divided Line comes after the image of the Sun, which has drawn a distinction between the visible (horata/hormena) and the intelligible (noe˜ta/nooumena). In the image of the Line, Socrates elaborates on this distinction further (Adam 1963 [1902] vol. 2: 156). The visible level is subdivided into two sections. The lower one is comprised of eikones, which are said to be phantasmata and skies, shadows and dim reflections on various surfaces. Water is offered as an example, as well as other shiny (phana, 510 a 2) materials which easily generate reflection. The upper part of the visible contains the various originals of these reflections (eikones), animals, natural and manufactured objects. Having dealt with the lower segment of the Line, Socrates turns to the corresponding divisions of the intelligible: Pi t¹ l³m aqtoO to?r t|te lilghe?sim ¢r eQj|sim wqyl]mg xuwµ fgte?m !macj\fetai 1n rpoh]seym, oqj 1p’ !qwµm poqeuol]mg !kk’ 1p· tekeut^m, t¹ d’ aw 6teqom – t¹ 1p’ !qwµm !mup|hetom – 1n rpoh]seyr QoOsa ja· %meu t_m peq· 1je?mo eQj|mym, aqto?r eUdesi di’ aqt_m tµm l]hodom poioul]mg (510 b4 – 9).

In one subsection, the soul, using as images the things that were imitated before, is forced to investigate from hypotheses, proceeding not to a first principle but to a conclusion. In the other subsection, however, it makes its way to a first principle that is not a hypothesis, proceeding from a hypothesis but without the images used in the previous subsection, using forms themselves and making its investigation through them.

These lines are dense with complex epistemological ideas. Glaucon is now at a loss (510b10) and Socrates has to resort to examples to explain his distinction between dianoia (Thought) and noe˜sis (Knowledge). The lines are important for our understanding of the philosophical value of 62 See Rep. 375d5; 396d4; 401b2; 401e1; 402b5; 402c6; 464b2; 536a6.

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the term eikn as a method for approaching Plato’s eidetic level. At the stage of dianoia, however, progress to the !mup|hetom !qw^m requires the dismissal of eikones. Thus in broaching the four levels of cognition in the Line, Plato has Socrates emphasize the procedural continuity of the first three levels by underscoring the mimetic ramifications of the word eikn (to?r t|te lilghe?sim ¢r eQj|sim wqyl]mg xuwµ fgte?m, 510b4).63 The notion of resemblance is thus stressed in the present context. However, Socrates’ coinage of the word eikasia to identify his lowest level of cognition assigns negative characteristics to the rhetorical use of images (eikones) with which it is etymologically connected.64 The Republic Book 6 then signals an important change as, almost in the same breath, Socrates emphasizes the methodological value of using eikones to aid one’s ascent to the Forms and stresses their deceptive epistemological character at the Line’s bottom level. On the basis of what Socrates says by means of the image of the Line, the majority of humans must settle for ‘copies’ or ‘representations’ and some of them may even hover between the two, when what is truly important for the mind to grasp is the prototype.65 The image of the Line makes the epistemological point that the sense-perceptible cannot be separated from the intelligible and that images are a necessary investigational method for approaching Forms, for images can be dropped only at the eidetic level of noe˜sis. When viewed in relation to the image of the Line, however, the image of the Cave makes a further significant epistemological point. Not everyone grasps the methodological value of images, for most people spend their entire life deceived as to 63 On mime˜sis see Belfiore (1984: 129 – 132). McKeon (1952: 147 – 175); see also Halliwell (1988) and (2002). 64 Note that in the literature the word eikn has been linked with the term eikos, see Synodinou (1981); Kalligas (2003: 141 – 169) has linked the Line and Cave’s level of eikasia with the term eikos (rather than with eikn) and argued that Plato’s Dialectic is intended to oppose sophistic modes of argumentation, as these are exercised at the two lower epistemological levels (eikasia and pistis). 65 See Morgan (1990: 151); Freydberg (1997: Ch. 3), makes a similar point but follows an interpretative line different from mine: “Why is the doctrine of intellectualism, which proclaims the intelligibility of all being, presented by Plato in images? Why is the doctrine presented in terms of the lowest rung on the ladder?” Freydberg calls this a “Platonic play” and finds that “the dialogue does not permit any answer which claims a merely pedagogical use of the images, according to which the sapient soul somehow leaps from the visible to the intelligible realm, from images and things to their eidetic originals” (40). See also Petraki (2009: 55 – 62).

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their epistemological status and the ontological value of the things they ‘see’.66 Thus the use of eikones, too, is for Plato a two-edged sword.67 One cannot but see affinities between Plato’s self-conscious employment of diverse verbal imagery and his discussion of eikones in the divided Line. While it is difficult to think of people who “spend their lives looking only at phantasmata and reflections of objects in water”,68 things change when we turn to the rest of the Republic to examine the ways in which Socrates converses with his friends. He repeatedly resorts to verbal eikones in accord with specific methodological principles, and, despite his interlocutors’ openly expressed dissatisfaction, refuses to abandon this mode of speech for an alternative one. Socrates’ comments about the use of eikones that take place in the context of the Line and the Cave, I argue, cannot be seen separately from the modes of discourse that the speakers use in their dialogue. In fact, when viewed in the terms of my line of argument, these remarks are designed to draw the interlocutors’ attention to their own methodology in discussing not only ontology and metaphysics, but justice and injustice in the city and the soul. After this short detour on the semantics of the word eikn, we are now in a better position to offer an answer to the question posed above regarding the relation between the two types of imagery in the Republic. Plato’s eikones differ from what I have identified above as imagistic language in that the former are intended to clarify the various methodological and linguistic difficulties of the philosophical dialogue that Socrates holds with Glaucon and Adeimantus in Piraeus. From this perspective, different eikones tackle different methodological complications, but what is important for my purposes here is that on the whole they work self-referentially by thematizing the methodology 66 See, for example, Rep. 588b10. Plato makes full use of this idea in his treatment of the democratic man and the tyrant in Books 8 and 9. See Chapter Four below. 67 On this see excellent discussion by Gallop (1964/65: 113 – 131). 68 On a literal reading of the Cave and the Line, the levels of eikasia and pistis take on a “dream-like character and their inhabitants seem like figures in a fable”. Annas (1981: 250) has therefore argued that eikasia is cognitively non-existent and invented by Plato to maintain his analogy between the visible and intelligible levels. See also Smith (1996: 25 – 46). In Petraki (2009) I have argued that Socrates’ remarks about the prisoners’ epistemologically reduced understanding at the distorted level of eikasia is intended to problematize our grasp of ethical qualities and their treatment in speech. See also discussion in Chapters One and Four below.

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on which Socrates’ philosophical discussion about justice and injustice will hinge. Thus the Sun and the Line also establish the boundaries that delimit Socrates’ exposition of the most important Form, the Form of the Agathon, and the most important method, Dialectic. Beyond this, for reasons that he explains within the context of these eikones, Socrates refuses to go. The narrative form of the eikn of the Cave, on the other hand, makes a strong psychological impact through its motifs of lifelong imprisonment in bondage and the constant infliction upon man of unaltering shadows and dusk. It gives tangible form to the reduced epistemological status of human nature and accords with the cultural characteristics of Socrates’ audience in the dialogue, who have been trained in listening to myths and poetry. All three images taken together are intended to highlight the methodological problems that human thought must handle at different epistemological levels. Socrates’ use of the word eikn in both rhetorical and non-rhetorical contexts also draws attention to the problems inherent in the medium of language as a means to investigate and communicate reality. From this perspective, Socrates’ approach to verbal images is an integral part of his broader educational project in the dialogue. The image of the Cave obliquely communicates the point that to shake customary beliefs in the way we use language may also change the view of our own nature and force us to re-focus on our cognitive shortcomings and capabilities. Socrates thus moves from the Form of the Agathon to the various complex epistemological problems that people must tackle in their long course of philosophical training. As a result, the Republic’s three images are crucial self-referential moments that reveal as much about Plato’s epistemology in general as about his strategy in the Republic. If, however, in his eikones Plato clarifies issues of methodology for the Socratic interlocutors, in the rest of his Republic he develops and dramatizes these prescriptions by means of imagistic and pictorial language. I have already discussed the poeticized character of this type of language above and explained its relation to the genre of poetry. More, however, remains to be said on my use of the term imagistic in order to bring out its relation to the Platonic eikones. As I have said above, the Republic’s eikones are identified with specific narratological instances in which a speaker constructs a short and vividly pictorial story. From a narratological perspective then, the eikones have a specific beginning and end. Yet Plato’s construction of imagery in the dialogue transgresses his eikones. On this interpretation, the term imagery can be

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stretched to include certain linguistic and stylistic effects that Socrates fashions in places outside the demarcated eikones. Thus, in the image of the Sun, for example, Socrates articulates the similarity between the sun and the agathon by way of other sub-images (b Fkior jatak\lpei – jatak\lpei !k^hei² te ja· t¹ em, or (B xuw^ !peqe_setai) t¹ t` sj|t\ jejqal]mom).69 As a result, certain words that are employed within the narratological framework of the eikn and linguistically accord with this thematic environment are also selected and re-employed outside the eikn to articulate a new idea in another environment. Lloyd (1966) has shown that this technique is used to construct arguments by way of analogy. More often than not, however, in the Republic the language of various Platonic eikones becomes an essential part of the construction of Platonic arguments, thereby introducing in the new environment semantics and marked pictorial features also used elsewhere in the text. According to this line of reasoning, words of these types turn into full imagistic units in themselves. They promote the building and proliferation of imagery in that they are dispersed here and there throughout Socrates’ stretches of argumentation, and so add vivid pictorial ‘colours’ to this type of language. Nonetheless, we have not yet offered a satisfactory answer to my initial question. In what sense are these types of linguistic units pictorial or imagistic? Are we methodologically entitled to use this terminology, which also seems to function in some way as a substitute for our Aristotelian metaphors and similes? I suggest that the answer to this methodological problem can again be found in Plato’s Republic. The dialogue broaches ground-breaking ideas in all spheres of Platonic philosophy, ethics, metaphysics, epistemology, and ontology. In particular, Socrates’ discussion of the just soul and his creation of a polis in speech raise highly complex ethical and epistemological questions regarding humans’ relations to Forms and their ability to grasp what is invisible or incorporeal. As Socrates often says, this necessarily affects their investigational methodology in the dialogue. Socrates speaks of “drawing a polis on a clean canvas”. This, however, is obviously not possible and thus com69 See also Rep. 431e7 – 8, where wording customarily used for music is also deployed to define sphrosyne. In addition, see Socrates’ diction at Rep. 531b; the eikn is discussed by Pender (2000: 38 – 40), who sees a Platonic metaphor there and McCall (1969: 16), who refrains from identifying any such trope in the Platonic works. On my interpretation, Plato’s use of common diction to discuss different topics is intended to create philosophically significant semantic networks in the text. See also discussion on metaphor below.

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parisons are repeatedly drawn between current polities and the Socratic one, or different types of souls and the just soul. This necessarily brings about a comparison between Socrates’ own philosophic and educational agenda and the poets’ representation of gods and heroes, humans, and the world in general, as described in Books 2 and 3. At the same time, in the light of Socrates’ epistemology in Books 5, 6, and 7, attention is also drawn to the tension that underlies his discussion of highly complex new philosophical ideas with these specific interlocutors. This crucial methodological problem also raises several other questions in the Republic regarding the ability of the dynamics of language in general to investigate the Forms and their relation to our world of incongruent sense-perceptive stimuli. I have already suggested that this line of reasoning regulates Socrates’ severe accusation of poetry as “not lying well” in Books 2 and 3. Yet it is important to bear in mind here that Socrates’ criticism of poetry and rhetoric in the Republic is not limited to content only. Poetic content cannot be severed from style or diction, and so Socrates’ criticism in Books 2 and 3 also questions the language, that is, motifs and imagery that poets employ in speaking of the most significant ethical matters to their audiences.70 I argue, then, that Socrates’ criticism of poetry is also directed at its linguistic and stylistic techniques, but that this attack cannot be severed from his drawing the polis and the soul on a cleansed canvas, and that therefore in his dialogue with Glaucon and Adeimantus, Socrates investigates how familiar (and poetic) language can be cleansed and adapted to function as a philosophic dialect.71 This ‘cleansing’ and restructuring of language is a continuous process put to work immediately after Plato’s main speaker announces his methodology in their investigation of justice. In Rep. 368c7 – d7, Socrates says: T¹ f^tgla è 1piweiqoOlem oq vaOkom !kk’ an» bk]pomtor, ¢r 1lo· va_metai. 1peidµ owm Ble?r oq deimo_, doj_ loi, Gm d’ 1c~, toia}tgm poi^sashai f^tgsim aqtoO, oVampeq #m eQ pqos]tan] tir cq\llata slijq± p|qqyhem !macm_mai lµ p\mu an» bk]pousim, 5peit\ tir 1mem|gsem, fti t± aqt± cq\llata 5sti pou ja· %kkohi le_fy te ja· 1m le_fomi, 6qlaiom #m 1v\mg oWlai 1je?ma pq_tom !macm|mtar ovtyr 1pisjope?m t± 1k\tty, eQ t± aqt± emta tucw\mei.

70 Rep. 392c6 – 396e10: see the illuminating and detailed discussion in Murray (1996). See also discussion below, Section Two, Chapters Three and Four. 71 See Rep. 454a1 ff.

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The investigation we are undertaking is not an easy one but requires keen eye-sight. Therefore, since we aren’t clever people, we should adopt the method of investigation that we’d use if, lacking keen eyesight, we were told to read small letters from a distance and then noticed that the same letters existed elsewhere in a larger size and on a larger surface. We’d consider it a godsend, I think, to be allowed to read the larger ones first and then to examine the smaller ones, to see whether they really are the same.

This passage, which also launches the Republic’s famous analogy between city and soul, also hints at the method that Socrates will assume in his investigation of justice and at the reasons that necessitate the use of this approach. As I mentioned above, sight and vision become for Plato the principal point on which his entire methodology in the dialogue hinges. From this point onwards in the dialogue, Socrates repeatedly refers to the importance of vision in comprehending the most significant matters in this world.72 After discussing in the first part of the dialogue well-established views of education, Socrates dismisses them and in Book 7 argues that “true paideia” is the “turning of the eye of the soul towards the Sun”. His language at this point in the text is not merely metaphorical, for in his Republic he does indeed turn the eye of the soul towards the Sun in that he draws the interlocutors’ attention to images that he has wrought in speech and which bring out best the essential qualities of things invisible to regular sight: the Forms, the Form of the Agathon, the just and unjust souls, and even the nature of the good guardian (the deployment of pedigree dogs to investigate the guardians’ nature is called an eikn in 375d5). Nevertheless, this passage, in also drawing attention to the impaired status of the company’s visual capabilities (1peidµ owm Ble?r oq deimo_), introduces in addition the notion of keen cognitive eye-sight (!kk’ an» bk]pomtor), which cannot be always taken for granted when important matters are being investigated. Acute vision is then coupled with the notion of distance (cq\llata slijq± p|qqyhem !macm_mai lµ p\mu an» bk]pousim… t± aqt± cq\llata 5sti pou ja· %kkohi le_fy, 368d), which also depicts in the Republic the relationship of humans to the Forms; a distance, as it were, that only Dialectic can bridge. This idea of distance is first broached in the dialogue by Thrasymachus in Book 1, when in one of his most aggressive moments, which is also in one of the most ironic instances in our text, he accuses Socrates of being “so far (ja· ovty p|qqy eW) from understanding justice and 72 On vision in the Republic, see also discussion in Baracchi (2002: 62 – 69).

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what is just and injustice and what is unjust that [he] does not realize (agnoeis) that justice is really (t` emti) the good of another (!kk|tqiom !cah¹m)” (343c1 – 4). In Book 1, Plato has already started to dramatize humans’ compromised ethical and cognitive status by highlighting their inability to understand and externalize in their behavior ethical qualities which, far from being distant from the individual, in reality, when present, are internal, since they dwell in the soul. The dialogue in Book 1 has demonstrated how far Thrasymachus and the others are from recognizing the true essence of justice. In Platonic terms, the interlocutors’ diminished ethical status necessitates the construction of vivid imagery that will best suit their cognitive need to grasp the true distinction between justice and injustice. From this point of view, Socrates’ methodology initially allows for the idea that justice is something external to us, a quality that other simple-minded (eue˜theis) people would wish to possess. He employs vivid linguistic colours on his tabula to show his interlocutors what true justice and injustice look like when represented in speech and in action correctly and incorrectly. In adopting this methodology in his philosophical investigation, Socrates becomes a verbal painter par excellence, and so competes with the other verbal painters, the poets. The only difference is that his is a correct representation of reality.73 The influence of vision and images on human souls is also presented in greater detail by means of vivid imagery in Book 3 (401b1d2) after Socrates has concluded his cleansing of poetry, music and rhythms (diajaha_qomter p\kim Dm %qti tquv÷m 5valem p|kim, 399e5; and Uhi d^, 5vgm, ja· t± koip± jaha_qylem, 399e8). As Ford has tellingly shown, this passage clearly shows the influence of Democritus and Gorgias’ materialist poetics on Plato: üq’ owm to?r poigta?r Bl?m l|mom 1pistatgt]om ja· pqosamacjast]om tµm toO !cahoO eQj|ma Ehour 1lpoie?m to?r poi^lasim C lµ paq’ Bl?m poie?m, C ja· to?r %kkoir dgliouqco?r 1pistatgt]om ja· diajykut]om t¹ jaj|gher toOto ja· !j|kastom ja· !meke}heqom ja· %swglom l^te 1m eQj|si f]ym l^te 1m oQjodol^lasi l^te 1m %kk\ lgdem· dgliouqcoul]m\ 1lpoie?m, C b lµ oX|r te £m oqj 1at]or paq’ Bl?m dgliouqce?m, Vma lµ 1m jaj_ar eQj|si

73 See also Reeve (1998: 220 – 231). For a different, but illuminating, discussion of the poets’ distance from the truth that also takes account of Socrates’ distinction between mime˜sis and haple˜ die˜gesis, see Baracchi (2002: 91 – 106). Although she follows a different line of argumentation (100 – 106), Baracchi too makes the connection between philosophical-imagistic speech and painting, rightly arguing that Socrates’ imagistic speech is imitative.

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tqev|lemoi Bl?m oR v}kajer ¦speq 1m jaj0 bot\m,, pokk± 2j\stgr Bl]qar jat± slijq¹m !p¹ pokk_m dqep|lemo_ te ja· mel|lemoi, 6m ti sumist\mter kamh\mysim jaj¹m l]ca 1m t0 art_m xuw0, !kkû 1je_mour fgtgt]om to»r dgliouqco»r to»r eqvu_r dumal]mour Qwme}eim tµm toO jakoO te ja· eqsw^lomor v}sim, Vma ¦speq 1m rcieim` t|p\ oQjoOmter oR m]oi !p¹ pamt¹r ¡vek_mtai, bp|hem #m aqto?r !p¹ t_m jak_m 5qcym C pq¹r exim C pq¹r !jo^m ti pqosb\k,, ¦speq auqa v]qousa !p¹ wqgst_m t|pym rc_eiam, ja· eqh»r 1j pa_dym kamh\m, eQr bloi|tgt\ te ja· vik_am ja· sulvym_am t` jak` k|c\ %cousa ; (401b1 – d3)

It is, then, only poets we have to supervise, compelling them to make an image of a good character in their poems or else not to compose them among us? Or are we also to give orders to other craftsmen, forbidding them to represent – whether in pictures, buildings, or any other works – a character that is vicious, unrestrained, slavish, and graceless? Are we to allow someone who cannot follow these instructions to work among us, so that our guardians will be brought up on images of evil, as if in a meadow of bad grass, where they crop and graze in many different places every day until, little by little, they unwittingly accumulate a large evil in their souls? Or must we rather seek our craftsmen who are by nature able to pursue what is fine and graceful in their work, so that our young people will live in a healthy place and be benefited on all sides, and so that something of those fine works will strike their eyes and ears like a breeze that brings health from a good place, leading them unwittingly, from childhood on, to resemblance, friendship, and harmony with the beauty of reason?

These lines blend together, to produce a powerful image drawn from botany, most of the themes that Plato will discuss later in his work, and can be fully understood only if seen in comparison with Plato’s broader thesis regarding the impact of mime˜sis on the human soul. Ford rightly observes that “the ‘mimicking’ aspect of Platonic mime˜sis is an archaism resurrected with the support of the most advanced scientific outlook of his day,” and goes on to stress Plato’s debt here to Democritus and Gorgias and to medical ideas that “the natural environment determines the health and function of living things” (Ford 2002: 217). The passage is particularly dense, for Plato here has already started to weave various kinds of thematic strands and wording in order to argue for the idea that the bad eikones of the ignorant demiourgoi are equally disastrous to the soul’s health as the consumption of unhealthy food and drink. The physical and the cognitive are here inextricably intertwined with neither of the two taking precedence over the other. Of course, Plato is also adamant elsewhere in his writings that an agathe˜ soul and healthy body should form a unified harmonic whole.74 74 See the Charmides 156d – 157c.

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Furthermore, if we follow Ferrari’s view (1989: 92 – 149) that Plato is also attacking the performative aspects of Greek poetry in his criticism in Books 2 and 3, it is not difficult to understand the distractive repercussions of mimetic poetry on the viewer. Music and dance can also transfigure the body of the auditor, who subconsciously internalizes the e˜the˜ that they represent. On this view, Plato assigns equal significance to the dangers that stem from copying unsuitable behavior represented in poetry (eikones) and from mimicking bad models drawn from real life, so proposing on these grounds that poets should be compelled to observe the city founders’ prescriptions, with the result that they depict only images of noble characters. As Lear (1992: 186 – 190) has rightly observed, the botanical aspect of Plato’s imagery here is particularly suitable for underscoring people’s automatic response to poetic representation (eikones). One cannot restrain humans’ immediate and subconscious reaction to various images, but one can, nonetheless, control the ‘images’ themselves. Socrates’ prescriptions in Books 2 and 3 clarify the criteria by which these images are regulated, so that during the years of their education the young phylakes will view only approved representations of reality. The prescriptions of Book 2 and 3 dictate that the young guardians will not be given the chance to indulge in viewing images of badness (Vma lµ 1m jaj_ar eQj|si tqev|lemoi Bl?m oR v}kajer ¦speq 1m jaj0 bot\m,), for these will have been eliminated from the environment that nurtures them. This is not the case, however, with Socrates’ interlocutors in the Republic. These have been brought up in the educational manner that Socrates criticizes and rejects so sharply, surrounded by poetic images that repeatedly mix goodness and badness. And this is the crucial point at which Plato’s double educational scheme in the Republic starts to become clear. The Socratic interlocutors cannot be ‘fed’ the same type of eikones as the young guardians, as they have been exposed far too much to representations of injustice, evil, and licentiousness in their lifetime, and they now seek them out. Plato then has Socrates stress in the dialogue the importance of sight as a philosophical means for investigating justice and, in adopting this methodological approach, he has him construct a multiplicity of images of various forms in order to externalize (apeikaz), this time correctly, the inner qualities of concepts ill-conceived and mistreated in their representation in poetry. In the process, Plato in the Republic creates a remarkable imagistic type of discourse in which, in contrast to poetry, the form, often poetic and openly pictorial, always externalizes the content in the most natural manner pos-

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sible. This authorial technique, however, is only one part of Socrates’ philosophic education of his interlocutors, for on the canvas of the Republic not all topics can be accommodated by means of the same language, nor can they be discussed with all people. These changes of stylistic modalities, whose repercussions are both philosophical and educational, bring about what I have called above Plato’s dramatization of language.

5.2 Dramatization of language: the theory In this section, I expand on Plato’s dramatization of language and discuss how the proposed interpretative approach is instructive for grasping the philosophical issues that arise from the dialogue’s imagery. In the final part of the discussion in this section I turn to the complex issue of metaphor and metaphoric language in post-platonic discussions and investigate how this actually accords with Plato’s imagistic language. My interpretation of the dialogue hinges on the thesis that Plato’s language is so constructed that it brings out in a most natural way the tension that exists between our evaluation of the world and the various ethical qualities and their representation in speech. Thus Plato’s use of language – the selection of diction, the arrangement and combination of wording, the fashioning of images – is designed to reproduce what is invisible by means of dramatization and re-enactment. In the Republic, the association of the world and the word is transformed into what in contemporary terms would be an identification of form and content. From this interpretative angle, the correspondence requires certain language functions that render the word reflexive rather than descriptive. Thus, in Plato, form and content are so firmly tied that the selection of the form – literary/poetic devices or types of philosophical argumentation – is designed not to adorn the content but create and shape it. Dramatic immediacy is thus achieved through a meticulous selection of diction and organisation of styles that is intended to remove any potential mismatches between what is said and how it is said. From this perspective, language is not used to describe reality (abstract qualities or transcendental onta), but to (re)-produce it in the most naturalistic way possible. H. S. Thayer, whose interpretation of Platonic style has significantly influenced my analysis here, observes: A dramatic interpretation does not have as its sole objective to awaken or increase our appreciation of the dramatic and esthetic qualities of the dia-

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logues… if there is anything that can be reasonably described as the meaning in or of the dialogue, it cannot be attained by extraction or abstraction from the dramatic context. Such, I take it, is one main tenet of dramatic interpretation” (Thayer, in Press, G. A. [ed.] 1993: 48).

To demonstrate his theory of dramatic immediacy in Plato’s language, Thayer takes as a typical example Plato’s usage of the auto to, a word which I will also examine in my discussion of the Republic. The word has been variously regarded by Plato scholars and has often been interpreted as operating as “an abstract formula or catchword of a theory [of Forms]” (48 – 51). Thayer rightly notes (51) that in the linguistic context of the Symposium the reference auto to kalon (the beautiful in itself) is not abstract: “There is something very concrete, compressed, and immediate being expressed. We are directed to it itself, to something not existing anywhere in another thing such as an animal, or in earth, or in the sky, or anything else, but is itself with itself forever one form (Symposium, 211B). Complex questions about concreteness and abstraction in language obviously arise here. On the one hand, as Thayer argues, the term establishes something specific, a linguistic designator of a unique referent, but one, nonetheless, which is beyond sense perception. From this angle, the term functions concretely. Plato employs it to identify a specific referent. Nonetheless, in the Republic’s terms, the pronoun avoids the implication that sense perception is used. This makes the term auto to within its specific linguistic context, and in relation to its immediate environment, idiosyncratic and, from this viewpoint, abstract. Thus Thayer argues that Diotima’s exposition appeals to the audience’s faculty of vision: “We are brought as close as language can come to the beautiful. We can almost ‘see’ it. The function of auto to in this context is to produce the effect of direct sight and immediate presence” (1993: 51). Allowing for certain modifications, Thayer’s approach here could be extremely helpful in untangling the imagistic language of the Republic. The unit auto to is also prominent in the Republic, and its treatment there offers us an example of how dramatization of language is achieved. Plato exploits this word. As I shall show in the next section, the term appears in different linguistic combinations and serves various philosophical needs depending on its place in the dialogue. Thus it is indeed given a heavy metaphysical load to bear, but only when set in specific linguistic environments. This is indeed the case with its use in Book

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5 but not with its initial appearance in Book 2.75 Thus Plato’s strategy confirms scholars’ observation that Platonic philosophic terminology undergoes constant moulding, shaping, and re-formulation, depending on the contexts whence it emerges before becoming fixed in established formulas.76 As a result, the mere occurrence of a phrase consisting of such words as auto to in a specific environment does not always signal a transition from the visible and sense-perceptive sphere to that of the non-physical or meta-physical, let alone from the realm of Becoming to the realm of Being, although a kernel of such authorial deliberation may indeed be present.77 More often than not, in the versatile texture of the Republic, the adaptation of this term is designed to highlight the contrast between the two spheres, the physical and the metaphysical. It does this by drawing on its connotations of identity and singularity and by contrasting those with multiplicity and variety (ta polla poikila vs. auto to hen). The deployment of the term in such contexts also draws attention to the philosophic and linguistic tension that is created from juxtaposing it or blending it with heavily pictorial or poetic language, since it negates stylistic variety of any kind. In other words, the auto to cannot proliferate into a variety of images, and cannot accommodate the poets’ diverse manifestations of poikilia. From this perspective, it can 75 See detailed discussion below, Section Two, Chapter Two. 76 See discussion by Benardette (1965: 285 – 298); cf. Kahn (1981: 105 – 134) and (1988: 237 – 261). 77 Commenting on Symposium 211d – 212a, Hartland-Swann claims (1951: 1 – 19, at 18): “here we have no mere science of Becoming, as in the Timaean cosmology; we are in the very realm of Being itself, the object of certain knowledge (Episte˜me˜ as opposed to Doxa)”. The method Hartland-Swann has adopted in his analysis is described thus: “I shall attempt to make the issue more precise by considering certain passages in the dialogues where poetic elements are, so to speak, more tangibly manifested” (12, emphasis added). The specific section from Diotima’s speech is judged by Hartland-Swann to fulfill his proposed criteria (figures of speech, allegories, the myths, 12) for selection. The observation that he makes is indeed verifiable to a certain extent. The inclusion of the auto to phrase, along with the entire description of the Real fashioned by Diotima at this point, is designed to distance the intra-dramatic characters from the realm of the physical. Thayer is right to stress the dramatic power of the selected language and language arrangement of the passage. Yet, in my view, the interlocutors of the Symposium have not ‘left’ the realm of the visible (or, in HartlandSwann’s words, that of Becoming) to enter a different sphere identified with that of the Real or Being. On Plato’s marked repetition of pronouns see also Pender (2000: 180) on the Phaedo.

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help us monitor the philosophic ramifications of Plato’s imagistic language to which it is almost always in the Republic markedly contrasted. To return to Thayer’s reading of the Symposium’s language, his description of how dramatic immediacy is achieved in a text is illuminating and I cite it verbatim (1993: 51 – 2): I have a suggestion and a hypothesis about the language. One of the features of the language in the dialogues is what I have called elsewhere reflexive reference. Put simply, reflexive reference occurs when a referring expression exemplifies properties of its referent. The word ‘red’ referring to red things and printed in red ink is an example. There are non-linguistic forms of reflexive reference. A pen and ink drawing of a pen and ink drawing is one such case. The performance of a mime is another.[…] I offer the hypothesis that the auto to expressions in the above passages in Diotima’s speech are reflexive references. It might be more accurate to say that within the dramatic performance of Diotima’s speech the uttering of the phrase “auto to kalon” simulates a reflexive reference.

As for the auto to, Thayer explains that “in its dramatic occurrence the phrase is not so much a way of referring to the beautiful as it is the crystallizing of the beautiful in the spoken action of the dialogue”. What we thus have here is a specifically dramatic operation of speech: the invocation and exemplification of properties or qualities of a subject matter. The metaphors of sight and seeing add a dramatic force to the sense of “the presence of beauty vivified in the reflexive reference” (1993: 52). Thayer admits that “there is something strange” in arguing for the idea that “auto to (kalon) is present in the saying of auto to kalon – in the full context, that is, and unfolding of Diotima’s speech”. He explains away the phenomenon as an indication of Plato’s unique authorial powers, which have been repeatedly recognized and commented upon since antiquity. “We are on the trail of what is often acknowledged to be an ineffable and mysterious power of dramatic language and language of poetry. We are also getting at the main principle of onomatopoeic language” (1993: 52). Thayer’s reading of the linguistic and syntactic dynamics of the auto to expression in the Symposium reveal the dramatic vividness of his language deployed in such a way as not only to describe or narrate the object, but to create it, portray it, and reproduce it in speech (1993: 52). His analysis is particularly helpful for both monitoring and explaining Plato’s mixing of different types of wording in the same linguistic environment and can be extremely helpful in dealing with matters of metaphorical discourse, since what we would call metaphors appear to pervade the works of Plato, sometimes in thick clusters,

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sometimes scattered through the discourse, and sometimes completely disappearing altogether.

5.3 Metaphoric language Plato’s imagery is often the starting point for discussion regarding the use of metaphors, similes, or other figures of speech and their philosophical implications.78 In his writings, Plato does not employ the term metaphora to identify metaphor usage.79 In ancient times, the term was first examined by Aristotle. In modern times, consideration of the term has yielded interesting findings in the fields of philosophy, linguistics, theology, psychology, and cognitive science, raising an assortment of questions regarding its role in shaping thought-patterns. I should make clear in advance that in this work I will not deploy retrospectively modern readings on metaphor to elucidate the Republic’s imagistic language. This is obviously not to argue that metaphor did not exist in speech and in Platonic discourse before Aristotle ‘discovered’ and analysed it. I mean merely to point out that by employing Aristotelian and other post-platonic analyses of metaphor in order to explain Plato’s highly versatile and polished language, we may lose sight of its subtlety and philosophical nuances. Nonetheless, the distinction between metaphor, simile, and analogy will prove useful to approaching Platonic imagery in the Republic. I have already discussed above Isocrates’ contribution to discussions regarding metaphor in the first part of the fourth century B.C. and drawn attention to that fact that significantly he classifies metaphora among the linguistic paraphernalia that embroider poems, but not prose compositions. However, it is in Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics that the use of metaphora is systematically analysed. According to Poetics 1457b, letavoq± d] 1stim am|lator !kkotq_ou 1pivoq± C !p¹ toO c]mour 78 There is a very comprehensive literature on the concept of metaphor and on its relation to the philosophy of language: see the compilation of articles in Gibbs (2008); Lakoff and Johnson (1999); and Lang (1999). See also van Noppen’s painstaking compilation of secondary literature (1985). In addition, see Berg (1904); Stanford ([1936] 1972); Burke (1955: 503 – 517); MacCormac (1976); Sacks (1979); Johnson (ed.) (1981); Zemach (1983: 259 – 273); Lloyd (1987: 172 – 187); Houser (1990: 75 – 85); Ben-Porat (1992: 737 – 769); Ortony (1993); Boys-Stones (ed.) (2003); Brittan (2003). 79 See above n. 33.

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1p· eWdor C !p¹ toO eUdour 1p· t¹ c]mor C !p¹ toO eUdour 1p· eWdor C jat± t¹ !m\kocom (“Metaphor is the application of a strange term either

transferred from the genus and applied to the species or from the species and applied to the genus” (trans. Fyfe). The definition of metaphora forms part of Aristotle’s discussion of onoma (1457b): ûpam d³ emola 5stim C j}qiom C ck_tta C letavoq± C j|slor C pepoigl]mom C 1pejtetal]mom C rvgqgl]mom C 1ngkkacl]mom (“every noun is either ordinary or rare or metaphorical or ornamental or invented or lengthened or curtailed or altered”, trans. Fyfe). Within this framework of the Aristotelian lexis,80 the philosopher finds that language can be dignified (semne˜) and outside the common usage (exallattousa) if the composer employs the unfamiliar (xenikon). Under the heading xenikon Aristotle classes the glotta (rare word), the metaphora (metaphor), and the epektasis (lengthening).81 Aristotle is fond of this mode of diction (note his use of semnon), but at the same time he also draws attention to the idiosyncratic character of this type of language: “If someone implements those features and composes exclusively in this form, his productions will be either ainigmata (riddles) or barbarismoi (barbarisms)”.82 He thus proposes a combination (krasis) of the two components, the xenikon and the kyrion (ordinary word).83 The first imparts an extraordinary character, whilst the latter establishes clarity.84 Aristotle’s conceptualisation and systematisation of diction on these lines had a great impact on the formation of future theories regarding metaphor.85 In particular, it influenced discussions that questioned the 80 Poetics 1450b 12 – 15: lexis is the expression (hermeneia) of a thought through words (dia te˜s onomasias). Parts of the lexis are: stoicheion, syllabe˜, sundesmos, onoma, rhe˜ma, arthron, ptsis, logos (1456b 20 – 21). 81 Poetics 1458a. 82 Ibid. 83 Ibid. 84 Saphe˜nia: from an Aristotelian perspective, a highly-valued characteristic of diction. The term is equally important, albeit from a different conceptual viewpoint, in the Republic as well. 85 Paul Ricoeur has explored issues of metaphor as a distinctive characteristic of living language assessing at the same time ancient treatments of the term as launched by Aristotle (1975: 24ff). Drawing on Richards (1936: 96 ff.), Ricoeur adopts the distinction between ‘tenor’ and ‘vehicle’ with the tenor being the principal subject and the vehicle the subsidiary (106). This leads to his most influential contribution to the analysis of metaphor. He transfers the metaphor-concept from the level of word to that of discourse and therefore speaks of metaphor as a ‘figure’ and not as a ‘trope’ (63 – 72 and 175 – 176).

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distinction between content (to legomenon) and verbal form (lexis). As a result, the case was often made that metaphor falls entirely within the sphere of lexis and that the transferred meaning per se is not affected by the xenikon. In other words, the message remains unaffected and it is only the linguistic cover in which the message is neatly contained that undergoes transformation. The linguistic difficulties, both meta-philosophical and meta-linguistic,86 which result from this approach to metaphor are obvious: can the meaning conveyed in metaphor be separated from its wording? Is it possible that the content (legomenon or dianoia) remains entirely unaffected by the linguistic means that its composer opts for? And, most importantly, if metaphora is 1pivoq± !kkotq_ou am|lator,87 as Aristotle stated, with whom most subsequent ancient theoreticians appear to concur, then a new, foreign word is introduced to ‘clothe’ a meaning which can, nonetheless, be phrased otherwise, but which for various reasons is not. But what caused the linguistic transfer in the first place? Furthermore, how can one deny the new shades and nuances that the allotrion wording will impart upon meaning? To cite Max Black’s well-known example, to call a man a wolf is to transfer onto the human wolflike characteristics and, of course, vice versa. It is to assume a different viewpoint in considering human nature and its characteristics, and it is to anthropomorphize a species of animal.88 The questions raised above have preoccupied modern linguists as much as they have tantalized theoreticians of metaphor as a trope (or figure). Over the past few decades, discussion on metaphor has taken various significant turns. I cannot offer here an exhaustive analysis of these approaches to metaphor. Nonetheless, a number of issues relating to the concept of metaphor as discussed and outlined in the theoretical

On the concept of ‘deviation’, see Ricoeur (at 26 and 232). Cf. Henle’s notion of ‘clash’ (ed. 1958: 173 – 195) and Cohen’s suggestions concerning ‘impertinence’ as a violation of fixed linguistic/semantic codes (in Ortony, A. [ed.] 1993: 58 – 70). 86 On my use of metaphilosophy here, see Griswold, in Griswold, C. L. (ed.) (1988: 143 – 167) and Gonzalez, in Gonzalez, F. (ed.) (1995: 155 – 187, esp. 158 with n. 6). Griswold’s metaphilosophy involves the attempt to ‘justify philosophy’. Gonzalez uses the same term to name his investigation into “the nature of philosophy”. 87 See also Stanford (1972 [1936]: 9). 88 See Black (1962: 39 ff.), with further suggestions about the metaphorical word being the ‘focus’ and the entire phrase constituting the broader ‘framework’.

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tradition after Plato can be of great value in my discussion of imagery in the Republic. To recapitulate: the most important cognitive and linguistic characteristic of metaphor is its inherent freedom to bring together in language themes that appear foreign to each other. In the view of Lakoff and Johnson (1984: 5), the very essence of metaphor lies in our “understanding and experiencing one kind of thing in terms of another”. To take the idea further, if one took literally the conveyed meaning, the phrase would sound illogical in accordance with our social codes of communicating and understanding.89 How can a man be a wolf ? How can Being shine (katalampei)? Nonetheless, from my perspective, these two examples cited here are not entirely the same. Semiotic theories of language aside which maintain that it is in its entirety metaphoric (such an approach would argue that both man and wolf are the signifiers for an arbitrary and ill-defined signified),90 the difference between the two examples is to be found in the point that the second example (t¹ em jatak\lpei), in contrast to the first, brings together two terms (t¹ em and jatak\lpei) whose denotations are not specified in the same way. In other words, the two linguistic components of the metaphor ‘man is a wolf’ can be grasped more readily, since the recipient can identify both by means of sense-perception. Yet this is not the case with the second example. The light imagery is indeed a recurrent motif in traditional poetic and Presocratic compositions (Tarrant 1960: 181 – 187). Plato’s mingling it with concepts such as Being or Truth, whose nature in the dialogue is elusive and highly debatable, is intended to generate several questions. In the eikn of the Sun, Socrates draws parallels between two concepts, the Sun and the on, or aletheia, and transfers characteristics of the former to the latter. By adopting this technique, the speaker assigns to the on and to aletheia a property which only visible and material beings can possess, thereby bringing both of them closer to the cognitive and sense-perceptive capabilities of human nature. The linguistic mixture in this analogy endows Socrates’ wording with vigorous pictorial characteristics that are obviously difficult to accom89 From this perspective, the boundaries between the metaphorical and the literal are ‘disturbed’ in the Republic from the start. “True” philosophers are “guardians” and their nature must be “dog-like” if this type of guardianship is to be crowned with success. See discussion below, Section Two, Chapter One and Three. 90 See Steiner on Saussure and modern criticism (1986: 4 with n. 7); cf. also discussion by Hesse, in van Noppen, J. P. (ed.) (1983: 29).

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modate in a philosophic environment that condemns, as we saw earlier, the eikones and that seeks to approach as much as possible the real, without, it should be stressed again, resorting to dialectic. Nonetheless, Plato creates strong imagery here for his metaphysics in accordance with the methodology that he has announced in Books 2 and 3 of the Republic. In doing so, he makes full use of the motif of light (Sun) and illumination whose origins are lost in the long tradition of Greek literature, pre-Platonic philosophic thought and religion. It thus becomes evident that several tensions arise from this authorial strategy. In employing motifs and images from poetry and Presocratic thought, Socrates’ diction becomes vividly visual, heavily poetic and, on some views, constantly metaphoric (Tarrant 1946: 27 – 34). Three alternatives emerge: a) language as it is, is inadequate to express and communicate the Platonic agathon, and has to be stretched to its limits; it cannot but be metaphoric;91 b) there is another form of language which, nevertheless, both Plato and Socrates withhold in favour of a more poeticized one which will enrapture the audience (intra- and extra-dramatic) and lure it into the realm of philosophical thinking. The alternative form of language may be too pedantic and too tedious; or c) the form of language that Socrates employs, syntactically structured on visual associations, has a distinctive philosophical value, constitutes and regulates the Platonic/Socratic methodology that permeates the Republic and interacts strictly with the intra-dramatic characters (the Socratic interlocutors). In other words, the manner in which Plato chooses to construct his philosophy – and by philosophy I mean here the ‘journey’ in Parmenidean terms rather than the elaboration of sets of doctrines and dogmas – is entirely dependent upon the characteristics of those philosophising and their cognitive status, and it requires imagery construction to stimulate and regulate cognitive processes.92 It is this third interpretative sug91 The term employed as defined and classified by Aristotle in the Poetics. I do not endorse here, in relation to the Republic, Aristotle’s placement of metaphora under the lexis only. 92 Category (b) outlined here postulates the existence or possibility of a ‘fully philosophical’ language which some people might learn to speak. This, however, is not a line of enquiry I wish to pursue in this study. It is possibly not incidental that the Platonic Parmenides, a dialogue whose language and conceptualisation have proven tantalising for modern scholarship, is reported to have taken place between Parmenides, Zeno, and Socrates. However, I do not suggest here that the language that characters of the Parmenides’ use is an ideal philo-

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gestion that I believe may account for the poetic character of the Republic’s language. This philosophic language is thus configured step-by-step from a type of language that was predominately poetic, imagistic, and metaphoric in post-Platonic terms, a type of language that the intra-dramatic characters can stay abreast of, a familiar type of language. This is the case, I argue, with the example above of the Sun, light, and illumination. In its new Platonic environment, the motif of light and of the power of the Sun acquires significant philosophical nuances if we compare this context, the eikn of the Sun, in which Socrates broaches his most significant Form, with other environments in the Republic, which also utilize the traditional motifs of light and darkness, thereby turning them into new philosophical themes. A characteristic example of this authorial strategy is, for instance, the katabasis of the ancestor of Gyges, in order to find the ring that will bestow upon him a Thrasymachean omnipotence and, from a Platonic perspective, unsurpassable injustice. This katabasis is strikingly opposed to another type of katabasis in the text, that is, to our (intellectual) descent to the Cave of deception and ignorance. In the image of the Cave, Plato combines several motifs – in the cave light is weak because of its mixture with darkness – to put across the idea that justice becomes weak because of its mixture with injustice. In contrast to Gyges’ all-powerful ancestor, the Cave’s prisoners are powerless, both physically and cognitively. This authorial strategy is put into practice elsewhere in the Republic outside the eikones, for instance, in Socrates’ comparison of the soul’s ignorance to darkness, sleep, or blindness: ftam d³ eQr t¹ t` sj|t\ jejqal]mom, t¹ cicm|lem|m te ja· !pokk}lemom, don\fei ja· !lbku~ttei %my ja· j\ty t±r d|nar letab\kkom, ja· 5oijem aw moOm oqj 5womti. (“But when [the soul] focuses on what is mixed with obscurity, on what comes to be and passes away, it opines and is dimmed, and changes its opinions that way and that, and seems bereft of understanding”, 508d4 – 9).93 In this study I have adopted a panoramic interpretative viewpoint that brings together the Republic’s various environments that employ common wording. Thus, on my interpretation, Plato’s image of the sophical one, or the ‘language of the Real’ (although it could be argued that it is closer to the Real). In fact, I see the language employed in the latter part of the Parmenides as constituting some form of ‘dialect’ which suits best their conversation. 93 The light-night motif becomes a pervasive theme throughout the Republic. See also 508b12 – c2.

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Sun as an analogon of the Form of Good on earth shifts and remixes traditional images and motifs to convey to the interlocutors the idea that an all-shining Being is a type of Being all-powerful and un-mixed, pure (katharos) in its quality or essence and free from poikilia. The image is also intended to instruct Socrates’ company in how specific terminology should be redirected towards a philosophical usage that will amend previous wrong-held beliefs. The image then strikingly contrasts with both the Cave and the myth of Gyges’ ancestor and changes the traditional motifs of katabasis, light and darkness into watchwords for intellectual confusion or ignorance. The prisoners’ is a life of a representation par excellence of mixture and ethical-dianoetic contamination (see also 535e: !kk’ eqweq_r ¦speq hgq_om veiom 1m !lah_ô lok}mgtai). On this interpretation in understanding the Sun image, we should pay equal attention to both Being and light, for it is through light, its comparison to darkness, and its broader treatment in the work’s motifs and imagery, that Socrates’ interlocutors touch upon the intrinsic qualities of Being, of Agathon and of Justice.94 In my discussion thus far, I have considered the concept of metaphor as theorized and discussed by thinkers after Plato. In my attempt to investigate Plato’s imagery I have not drawn a strict distinction between the various forms of comparison that fall under the broader class of imagery. I have thus refrained from applying in my analysis terms such as metaphor, simile, or analogy, since Plato in his treatment of eikn also appears to reject such neat differentiations or divisions.95 Nonetheless, these terms may be used retrospectively to monitor Plato’s orchestration of imagery and instruct us on the philosophical reasons that may require that its forms vary. I should make clear that I am not arguing here in favour of the Aristotelian concepts of metaphor 94 From this point of view, I find particularly useful Max Black’s (above n. 88) view of metaphor as a means of bringing together two different thematic environments and of investigating one by means of the other. Black’s understanding of metaphor may be particularly helpful in understanding Plato’s linguistic and conceptual clashes, as these in the Republic attempt to throw new light not only on how mortals may perceive the transcendental reality, but also on how they think anew about their own nature and the sense-perceptual world that envelops them. See the detailed discussion on how this is achieved by way of eikones and imagistic language below, Section Two, Chapters Three and Four. 95 On the methodological problems that arise from this distinction in Plato, see Pender (2000: 3 – 14); cf. McCall (1969: 15 – 18). See also Lloyd (1987: 179 – 183).

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that classify metaphor as a stylistic trope that works primarily at the level of lexis, rather than at that of dianoia. From my interpretative point of view, this cannot offer a satisfactory explanation of Plato’s incorporation of imagery, or of the poetical nature of his dialogues.96 I argue instead, along with Aristides Quintilianus and some modern thinkers, that imagery can be philosophically important for shaping meaning in the linguistic environments in which it is embedded.97 Along these lines, alternation between different forms of imagery, for example, involving moving from analogy to simile and metaphor in speech produces stylistic effects that are philosophically significant for the manner in which the Republic’s intra-dramatic speakers deploy their language. As has been mentioned above, one of the most notable characteristics of Platonic imagery (eikones and imagistic/pictorial language) is its variety in intensity. In Platonic eikones, imagery is at its most dynamic. There are other moments, however, where image-building becomes less intense, more latent, but nevertheless, equally striking. Distinctions between metaphor, simile and analogy can help us explain variations of this sort. The main difference between metaphor and simile (which are otherwise closely related) lies in the linguistic markers used to announce the simile.98 The comparison that simile pursues between two different ideas is readily recognisable in words such as ¦r, ¦speq, or fmpeq. Modern theorists still debate the question of whether this syntactical variation can also give rise to differences in semantics.99 Metaphor, however, 96 On the distinction between metaphor as a “trope” rather than “figure” in Aristotle’s definition, see Steiner 1986: 6. 97 A notable exception to this tradition is Aristides Quintilianus’ treatment of the term in Book 2 of the De Musica: see the illuminating discussion in Barker (1999: 1 – 16); Aristides Quintilianus’ departs from the Aristotelian position that metaphor alters only the verbal form rather than the meaning of what is said, and in 70.20 – 1 says that “different ways of referring to the same thing have different effects on their hearers because they present different conceptions of it”, see Barker (1999: 5 emphasis added). For the text, see Winnington-Ingram’s Teubner edition (Leipzig 1963) and for a translation of the text, see Barker (1989). A detailed examination of Aristides Quintilianus’ innovative stance falls outside the scope of this study. 98 So Pender (2000: 6 – 10 and 12 – 14). See also Innes, in Boys-Stones, G. R. (ed.) (2003: 7 – 29). 99 See discussions by Davidson (1978) and Cooper (1986). Sockise (1985: 58 ff.) has advanced his theory about the “illustrative simile” which provides a stepwise comparison, and significantly stretches the comparative dynamics of the

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can be easily distinguished from analogy or myth100 for it belongs to the level of the sentence or phrase in contrast to analogy, which is situated at the level of text or narrative.101 Analogy also simultaneously forms a larger unit of discourse that is intended to create a tension with the context in which it is embedded (Pender 2000: 7). From this point of view, analogy resembles metaphor, which also creates an unsettling clash of meaning at the level of sentence. How do these distinctions relate to Platonic imagery? So far I have used the term imagery to refer to both Plato’s eikones and to other forms of verbal comparison (imagistic or pictorial language). In modern nomenclature, the dialogue’s eikones can be identified as analogies or extended similes, but metaphors’ and similes operate most dynamically in other contexts of the dialogue as well that have been identified here simply as vividly imagistic and pictorial – the act of comparison being equally prominent in these environments too. The distinction drawn between metaphor, simile, and analogy can be employed in my interpretation to test Socrates’ methodology in the dialogue regarding matters of language. It can likewise be employed to bring out the philosophical implications of Plato’s intensifying of pictorial and poetic language in certain contexts and of his avoidance of this kind of vocabulary in other contexts. This fluctuation depends upon the intellectual capacities of the intra-dramatic speakers (or broader internal audience) that Socrates happens to be addressing. Thus, both simile and metaphor create comparisons by mingling a wording that is easily grasped thanks to its sense-perceptive bearings (for example, night and light) with more abstract or less easily sense-perceptively identifiable terms whose meaning is being investigated in the dialogue. However, simile resembles analogy (the eikn of the Sun, for example, in Plato’s text) in ways that metaphor does not. In the simile, markers such as hs or hsper notify the speakers that language is about to become overtly imagistic at this stage and that comparison between concepts will be pursued. The tension created by metaphor in speech, however, is of a different character. Metaphor is not marked in the text as simile. Cf. Kittay (1987: 17, 31, 152 and 187 ff.); for further bibliography, see Pender (2000: 9 with n. 25). 100 On analogy see Lloyd (1966: 175). Pender (2000: 12). 101 On the relation between myth, reason and metaphoric phrases, see Pender (2000: 82 – 86). On the difference between images and myth-sections, see also Morgan (1990: 151ff).

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simile is, and thus both its comparative function and the tension metaphor creates in its linguistic environment strike a different note. And this is a significant point in our treatment of metaphor in ancient Greek literature. From this perspective, metaphoric phrases, that is, poetic motifs and diction, are almost the norm in various environments of the Republic. They are so common that they tend to be Socrates’ standard way of philosophising with his interlocutors on the soul and polities. This cannot be explained away by arguing that Plato is a great poet or dramatist who shapes his writings in this mode. As I suggested in the beginning of my discussion in this section, to fathom the poetic character and colour of Plato’s language in the Republic requires that we shift our perspective on the metaphoric aspect of his imagery.102 As a result, Plato’s language is 102 As both Lloyd (1966) and Silk (1974: 28 ff.) have shown in their insightful studies of these complex issues, to identify what might be metaphorical for Greeks in a literature that goes back centuries before our times is not an easy task, firstly because a large amount of literature has not reached us and secondly because we cannot always be certain of how Greeks understood their metaphoric language. So one should always allow for the possibility that what is metaphor for us today was not necessarily received in the same way by the Greeks of that era. There is one question in relation to the heavy metaphoric language used in Platonic writings that cannot pass unobserved. G. R. Lloyd, in his magisterial study on antithetical modes of argumentation, broaches the problem (210 – 303): “But the question that concerns us here is whether or in what sense the Presocratics recognized the political and social notions which they used in their cosmologies as images” (211). Lloyd connects the issue with Plato as well acknowledging that “his language is ‘metaphorical’ in that he often consciously applies terms beyond their primary sphere of reference (human society)” (226, emphasis added). The scholar makes the point – repeatedly stated here – that “for Plato clearly these metaphors are not empty figures of speech” and he justifies this in the affinities shared between Platonic ideas concerning ethics and metaphysics: “For he (Plato) believes that order or justice in the human sphere is a part of the wider, cosmic order” (226 – 227) and that would allow for a shared vocabulary in both environments. Lloyd has here in mind mainly images such as those of law and justice fully explored initially by the Presocratics (224). The problem highlighted here is not an easily solved one and cannot be seen separately from modern debates about what may constitute literal/normal language usage as opposed to a metaphoric/abnormal one. In relation to Platonic and pre-Platonic (and Presocratic) employment of imagery a distinction could be drawn on the one hand between motifs which have been long established as ‘standardized’ linguistic stock, such as those of hodos, the chariot or the contrast between states of dreaming and being awake (to be found in Parmenides, Pindar, Heraclitus and Plato) and thus considered traditional and crystallized. On the other hand, however, there is an alternative type of imagery-configuration

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metaphoric because words, themes, motifs, and imageries have been transferred to a philosophic environment whose expressed epistemology seeks simultaneously to ban them, creating thus a tension in our text that cannot be easily resolved. To tackle issues of metaphor or imagery in the Republic, then, is not to question whether Plato wishes to be poetically artistic, when he could have composed philosophy otherwise, but to tease out the philosophical reasons that led him to adopt this poeticized vernacular in particular places that create stark contrasts with the way in which language is treated in other thematic environments in our text. This type of imagistic language serves philosophical needs in the Republic and, as was suggested above, is necessitated by the intellectual (and linguistic) dynamics of the Socratic interlocutors. By means of an eikn, Socrates distinguishes the different stages of cognition. The Line, which broaches the epistemological problems created between copy and original, is itself embedded within a broader linguistic environment in which images predominate, so promoting comparisons that establish differences and similarities (Lloyd 1987: 182 – 183). To recapitulate: my discussion in this section is organized around the commonly-held view that Plato’s works are heavily poeticized. Nonetheless, to accommodate this poeticity has not been easy for Plato studies, which, of course, is due to Plato himself to an extent, since his writings promote distinctions between the poetic and the philosophical. Different interpretative paths have been laid down in an attempt to explain the unsettling incorporation of poetic techniques in the dialogues, the most pervasive being that of a doctrinal/dogmatist interpretation that focuses on the argumentative parts of the dialogue and dismisses other parts as poetic or ornamental.103 Other interpretative approaches, however, have brought into focus the philosophical signifiand re-arrangement which deviates from traditional ways of incorporating motifs. In Plato, one can recognize both types. The author breaks down set motifs and restructures components in innovative ways. An indicative example in this direction is the image of the phylakes as watchdogs in the Republic whose significant philosophical impact will be discussed in the following Section. Along the same interpretative lines see also discussion by Thayer (1967/70: 247 – 262, esp. 269 ff.). For modern discussions about the literal/metaphorical division, see Ricoeur (1975: 369); Hesse, in van Noppen, J. P. (ed.) (1983: 29); see also Barker, in Tuplin, C. and Fox, N. (eds.) (2002: 22 – 35, esp. 26); see also Pender (2000: 17 – 18, 76); and extensive discussion in Silk (1974: 27 – 55). 103 See, for example, Irwin (1995: viii and 13 – 15); see also Kahn (1996: 354 – 355).

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cance of these poetic features (Press, in Press, G. A. (ed.) 2000: 1 – 15). Plato’s works have been regarded as the products of an idiosyncratic epoch that hovered between oral and literate modes of thought and communication or as vigorous dramas of philosophic enunciation. Attention has also been drawn to Plato’s adoption of certain features of poetic origin, such as myth or traditional poetic utterances, and their adaptation to the new philosophical environment. Yet most importantly, the Platonic dialogues have also been received as writings that “criticized traditional genres of discourse and introduced and defined a radically different discursive practice”. It is this new form of literary practice that the Platonic works present us as ‘philosophy’.104 My aim in this work is to define and analyse the poetical qualities of the Republic’s prose that lie at the core of philosophical argumentation in the Republic. In undertaking this, I have focused on the pictorial character of the language employed in the Republic and its connection with Plato’s literary past. Our examination, however, has led us from an analysis of poetic motifs and imagery to an assessment of the work’s philosophic language as such. In the following section I offer a close reading of the Republic that monitors the manifold nature of Plato’s discursive modes and their philosophical relevance to the promotion of argumentation. As I have already mentioned, it is through this alternation of philosophic styles that Socrates seeks to educate his interlocutors in ethics, politics, metaphysics, and ontology.

104 See Nightingale (1995: 5): Her observations bring into focus a fundamental problem that the dialogues in their entirety treat in different ways: “What is ‘philosophy?’ From our own (modern) perspective the question needs to be rephrased in order to be appreciated: What is ‘philosophy’ for the 4th century B.C. Athenian? The importance of the issue is highlighted by Plato himself in the Republic 475d – e9 where the definition of the true philosopher is not treated as a straightforward task”. On Isocrates’ deployment of philosophia to name his writings, see Nightingale (1995: 13 – 59). In addition, see Morgan (2000: 15): “Specifying the function of myth in early Greek philosophy is a perilous enterprise. What is myth? What is philosophy? […] These categories are retrospective impositions on the competitive world of the sixth to fourth centuries B.C.” In addition see Crotty (2009: 7 – 8).

Section Two: The Republic

1. Human nature and philosophical style in the Republic Book 5 1.1 Introduction Book 5 is significant for my analysis of the poetics of Plato’s philosophical language mainly in two ways. Firstly, Plato exploits in an insightful manner the motif of mixture in his presentation of the socio-political regulations that govern the guardians’ way of life. He does this by linking the motif with the imagery centred around dogs that was first introduced in Book 2 to portray the nature of the guardians, and by elaborating the imagery with yet more language relating to animals, so that it now describes the entirely communal life of a human herd.1 At the same time, in the same context, that of his discussion of the guardians’ public way of life, Plato has Socrates build the Republic’s simplest and least verbally adorned image of the polis as ‘a single human body’, in order to adumbrate the unified psychological disposition and essential characteristics of the citizen of the ideal state. Plato’s practice of imagery construction remains prominent throughout the Book, albeit in a more subtle and less colourful way, especially when set beside other well-known images elsewhere in the work, such as those of the tyrant’s soul as a many-headed beast in Book 9, or of society as an ill-governed ship in Book 7. In both these contexts, Socrates employs pictorial language to draw attention to his mixing together of different elements in a manner similar to that of painters. The content of these images, at the same time, ties the concept of mixture to lack of homogeneity, the incongruity and lack of mutual compatibility of the elements that make up 1

Socrates compares the guardians to pedigree dogs in several passages in the Republic: 375d, 416a – b, 422d, 451d, 459a – d. In 537a7, the guardians’ children are named skylakes. The prescriptions in the Book 5 refer to the class of the auxiliaries (epikouroi) and the guardians (phylakes) which Socrates has distinguished in Book 3, 414d1 – 417b9. Socrates’ refers there for the first time to the guardians’ idiosyncratic lifestyle and in Book 5 is made to expand on these ideas: see Annas (1981: 79 – 82). The guardians’ duties in the polis are twofold, to defend it against external enemies and to hold in check the unnecessary appetites which, as is maintained in Book 5, lead to internal strife and division (367a3 – 4 and 465a – b). See also Reeve (1988: 178 – 183).

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the whole, and also links it to conflict, so as to present a negative view of such a concept.2 Book 5, although it presents the ideal state as one in which conflict and division are absent (because banned), does not discard, however, the concept of mixture, an indispensable step towards the creation of diversity. In fact, it adopts it as the basis that will ensure the preservation and continuity of the ideal state. In this chapter, I examine Plato’s treatment of the mixis motif in the socio-political regulations presented in the so-called first “two waves of argumentation” of Book 5. As I hope to show, Plato’s treatment of mixture, which is explored alongside his banning of poikilia in the guardian class of the ideal state, should be understood in the light of his attempt in the whole work to portray, by way of verbal imagery, “simple” (haploun) human e˜thos. Seen thus, the eikones in Book 5 are intended to offer a striking contrast with the images of social disorder and unjust souls and polities presented in Books 7, 8, and 9. Plato, then, in Book 5 makes a further attack against poetry and its portrayal of humans and society by portraying in his own philosophical discourse how imagery should be deployed, so that it represents as faithfully as possible the homogeneity and purity of the Forms on earth. The Republic’s central Book, however, poses further questions about the poetic nature of Plato’s philosophical language. The latter part of the Book forms one of the three passages in the Republic in which the kernels of Plato’s much-discussed theory of Forms are embedded.3 The on2

3

I discuss both images in Chapter Four below: In relation to Plato’s pictorial language see, for example, 487e-488a: di’ eQj|mym k]ceim, ¢r ckiswq_r eQj\fy, !kk± de? 1j pokk_m aqt¹ sumacace?m eQj\fomta… oXom oR cqav/r tqacek\vour ja· t± toiaOta leicm}mter cq\vousim (“to speaking in images; how strained my images are; I must construct it from many sources, just as painters paint goat-stags by mixing the features of different things”). Similar is the craft terminology in the tyrant-image: eQj|ma pk\samter t/r xuw/r t` k|c\, Vma eQd0 b 1je?ma k]cym oXa 5kecem (“fashioning an image of the soul in words, so that the person who says this sort of thing will know what he is saying”), eqpkast|teqom jgqoO ja· t_m toio}tym k|cor, pepk\shy (“since words are more malleable than wax and the like, consider it done.”) In her analysis of the Republic, Julia Annas says: “Books on Plato often refer to Plato’s ‘Theory of Forms’, but this has to be handled with caution. Plato not only has no word for theory; he nowhere in the dialogues has an extended discussion of Forms in which he pulls together the different lines of thought about them… The Republic is often treated as a major source for the ‘Theory of Forms’, but even here there is no open treatment of what they contribute to the argument. Explicit discussion of them is not very prominent: there are only three passages where we find it…” Annas (1981: 217). See also Kahn

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tological, metaphysical, and epistemological ideas introduced here are particularly significant, since they also pave the way for the metaphysical digression in Books 6 and 7 and for Plato’s most well-known eikones of the Sun, the Line, and the Cave to which I shall turn in Chapters Three and Four below. Nonetheless, in the latter part of the Book, Socrates does not use the mode of verbal eikones to present his epistemology and metaphysics as his does later, for example, in relation to the Form of the Good in Book 6, or in his portrayal of the different levels of distortion of reality in the image of the Cave. Instead, the imagistic or pictorial type of language analysed above surfaces here and there in the latter part of Book 5 (479a – 480a), receding and intensifying at various points during Socrates’ speech. As a result, these Stephanus pages are the most appropriate linguistic environment in which to test my suggestions articulated in Section One regarding Plato’s use of an imagistic and poeticized style in purely argumentative contexts. It is thus also the most appropriate environment in which to examine the philosophical significance of employing against a background of strict philosophical reasoning a distinctive linguistic mode whose origins are deeply-rooted in the realm of poetry.

1.2 The “two waves” of the argument The greater part of the discussion in Book 5 centres on Socrates’ explanation of his earlier proposals that some women should also be guardians of the polis, on the grounds that they too possess the nature of a guardian (vukajijµ v}sir), and on his ensuing thesis that female and male guardians will perforce lead a communal and public life. Socrates’ political suggestions in Book 5 are certainly provocative, albeit perhaps not as radical as his final thesis that in the ideal polis philosophy and politics are to be completely identified with each other. In the context of his distinction between true philosophers (gne˜sios) and sight-lovers, Socrates, expanding for the first time on the ontology and epistemology he

(1996: 329 – 340, esp. 320 – 330). The other two places, as identified by Annas, are Books 7. 521 – 525 and 10. 596a-597e. For a detailed analysis of the relationship of the three passages, see Annas (1981: 218 – 233); for a discussion of the problem whether there is a theory of Forms, see also Annas (233 – 238); and Kahn (1996: 359 – 363).

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is using here, draws some philosophically important distinctions between Being and Becoming, Knowledge and Belief. There are several reasons that the fifth Book of the Republic has been the subject of such a wide range of analyses and generated so little consensus among scholars. As most commentators have noted, the book signals a striking change of theme in terms of the Republic. At this point Plato turns somewhat abruptly from dealing with the psychology, ethics, and definition of justice to considering politics and ontology, instead of dealing with the nature of unjust souls, polities, and citizens, which is the topic that he has previously announced.4 However, in addition to setting the tone for the Republic’s unexpected ontological and metaphysical digression, which is not be completed until the end of Book 7, it also presents a thematic discontinuity in itself which cannot be easily accounted for, or reconciled.5 In the same Book, Socrates turns somewhat abruptly from his description of politics and organisation of the guardians’ way of life to metaphysics and epistemology. This discontinuity in themes creates a tension at a linguistic and stylistic level, too. Such a change of style and theme has been tellingly described by Stephen Halliwell as “a move between the mundane and the eternal”. He also notes: “Book five begins with some typically Platonic touches of dramatic detail – a tug on the shoulder of Adeimantus’s cloak, and some whispered words between him and Polemarchus. It ends with Socrates speaking of the realms of ‘pure’, immutable and (it seems) transcendent reality”.6 In this chapter, rather than follow a line of interpretation that stresses the Book’s discontinuity, I argue instead that its architecture follows a continuous and coherent progression, despite the surface shifts in sub4

5 6

See Strauss’ influential reading of Book 5 (1964: 61 and 116), also endorsed by Bloom (1968: 380). Both argue that Plato’s views regarding women’s equality echo Aristophanes’ Assemblywomen, thus drawing the readers’ attention to the utopian character of the theoretical city. This interpretation was also endorsed by Saxonshouse (1976: 195 – 212); and (1985: 45 – 52). See also Rosen (2005: 171 – 197); but cf. Bluestone (1987: 41 – 50); see also Hall (1977: 293 – 313). In addition see Barker (1964 [1918]: 242); Burnyeat, in Hopkins, J. and Savile, A. (eds.) (1992: 175 – 187) reprinted in Fine G. (ed.) (1999: 297 – 308) and Schofield (2006). Plato’s political ideas in the fifth Book of the Republic were severely criticized in Popper (1945); On Popper’s reception of Platonic politics, see also Vlastos (1995); and Bambrough (ed.) (1967). See detailed discussion in Penner, in Cairns D., Herrmann, F-G. and Penner, T. (eds.) (2007: 15 – 41). Halliwell (1993: 3 ff.)

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ject-matter.7 Supportive of such a reading, I believe, is the interpretation I offer of the intertwined images of the three waves and of swimming. If we follow Plato’s use of this imagery in Book 5 closely, this apparent thematic discontinuity dissolves and is in fact replaced, in my view, by a subtle and nuanced drawing together of the ethical, political, and ontological aspects of Socrates’ proposals. Thus, here in this chapter, I argue that Socrates’ discussion of politics and ethics in this Book can neither be seen separately, nor be fully understood, if it is dissociated from the metaphysics that appear at the end of the Book.8 My interpretation also rests on the thesis that all three arguments which Socrates deals with here, that is, his definition of the guardians’ phusis, his description of their lifestyle, and his exposition of the Forms, are to be interpreted in the light of the fact that at this point Socrates is constantly training his interlocutors in Platonic philosophical thought and language. Monitoring Socrates’ techniques and language selection throughout the Book will therefore help us grasp the way in which linguistic style and argumentation is dependent on the subject under discussion at the time and on Socrates’ internal audience and interlocutors. Halliwell’s “Platonic touches of dramatic detail” are launched in the opening scene. At the beginning of the Book, Plato re-uses a common dramatic technique to set the dialogue off in a new direction.9 Polemarchus and Adeimantus insist that Socrates expand on his proposals concerning the children and the women of the guardians (450a – b). As Dorter (2006: 137 – 139) has shown, the scene evokes the Republic’s opening lines, where Socrates is compelled to join Polemarchus’ group of friends at Cephalus’ house. The scene also establishes the importance of Glaucon as Socrates’ most helpful interlocutor in the dia-

7 8 9

On this issue, see Schofield (2006). See also Reeve (1988: 170) See 449b1 – 9: b d³ Pok´laqwor – slijq¹m c±q !pyt´qy toO )deil²mtou jah/sto – 1jte¸mar tµm we?qa ja· kabºlemor toO Rlat¸ou %myhem aqtoO paq± t¹m §lom, 1je?mºm te pqosgc²ceto ja· pqote¸mar 2aut¹m 5kecem %tta pqosjejuv¾r, ¨m %kko l³m oqd³m jatgjo¼salem, tºde d´7 )v¶solem owm, 5vg, C t¸ dq²solem ; Njista ce, 5vg b )de¸lamtor l´ca Edg k´cym. [“But Polemarchus, who was sitting a little further away than Adeimantus, extended his hand and took hold of the latter’s cloak by the shoulder from above. He drew Adeimantus towards him, while he himself leaned forward and said something to him. We overheard nothing of what he said except the words ‘Shall we let it go, or what’? We certainly won’t let it go, Adeimantus said, now speaking aloud.”]

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logue.10 In both scenes, Socrates initially refuses to accept his friends’ invitation to remain in the Piraeus and visit Polemarchus’ house, and, in the scene at Cephalus’ house in Book 5, likewise refuses to expand on his views regarding the communal life of the guardians. On both occasions, Glaucon’s intervention is crucial for the development of the dialogue. In Book 1, Glaucon’s exchange with Polemarchus, Adeimantus and Socrates foreshadows in a smooth and inconspicuous manner several of the issues that receive fuller treatment later in the discussion on justice, namely the importance of argumentation and persuasion in effectively communicating an idea, as opposed to the employment of coercion and violence which stems from the possession of excessive power. Thus Polemarchus’ insistence on detaining Socrates and Glaucon, since Polemarchus and his companions now outnumber them (bqør owm Bl÷r fsoi 1sl]m and jqe_ttour c]meshe C l]met’ aqtoO, 327c7/9), foreshadows the idea of overpowering, which later in the dialogue will turn into unjust pleonexia. Glaucon and Socrates are differentiated from the rest of the company, as these two alone suggest persuasion as an alternative means to violence (327c10 – 14). Plato underscores Glaucon’s distinctive qualities most tellingly in Book 5. Not long after Adeimantus and Polemarchus’ initial remarks, he has Glaucon replace them as Socrates’ single interlocutor in the discussion regarding the ideal state. He also has Glaucon repeatedly mention his alliance with Socrates in regard to the radical ideas that Socrates is now encouraged to present.11 I shall return to the importance of Glaucon’s persona in greater detail later.12 It is enough at this point to stress the nature of the alliance that Glaucon promises Socrates. Adeimantus’ challenge in 449c – d has raised serious objections to Socrates’ failure to expand on women’s role in the guardian class and the guardians’ common possession of women and 10 The two scenes share common vocabulary: “the boy caught my cloak from behind: Polemarchus wants you to wait, he said” (ja¸ lou epishem b pa?r kab|lemor toO Rlat_ou, Jeke}ei, rl÷r, 5vg, Pok]laqwor peqile?mai 327b4 – 5). 11 See detailed discussion below, Chapter Two. Plato has invented several techniques in order to emphasize the importance of Glaucon’s contribution to the development of the Republic’s dialogue. Note that in Book 1, Glaucon and Socrates have gone down to Piraeus together and they are preparing to take the road back to Athens when they are stopped by Polemarchus and the others. 12 See discussion in Chapter Two below.

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children.13 The participants rightly claim that a thorough exposition of the guardians’ reproduction and organisation of life is absolutely essential to judging the correctness of the Socratic polis (l]ca c\q ti oQ|leha v]qeim ja· fkom eQr pokite_am aqh_r C lµ aqh_r cicm|lemom, 449d5 – 6). A “swarm of arguments” is now stirred up by the determination on the part of these interlocutors to investigate more deeply matters capable of shaking the foundations of the theoretical polis that have been laid up to this point.14 Socrates’ repeatedly expressed lack of confidence in his own abilities to speak knowledgeably on matters of the greatest importance is a well-documented motif in Plato’s writings.15 Socrates’ concerns expressed here, however, have the effect of highlighting the powerful alliance that Glaucon emphasizes to Socrates throughout Book 5. As we will see, this support is fundamental for the development of the argumentation. It also accords with the philosophical reasons that lie behind Plato’s choice of the dialogue form in which to set down his writings, for the dialogue form allows the cognitive and ethical qualities of Socrates’ co-speakers to contribute to the definition of the shape and progress of the philosophical thought (Rowe 2007: 7 – 12). These qualities also play a central role in the linguistic mode used in the dialogue. With regard to Glaucon, it is evident that certain Socratic characteristics have rubbed off on him: thus, according to Glaucon, people with understanding (moOm 5wousim) should devote their entire life to philosophical thought (L´tqom d´ c’, 5vg, § S¾jqater, b Cka¼jym, toio¼tym kºcym !jo¼eim fkor b b¸or moOm 5wousim [“It is within reason, Socrates, Glaucon said, for people with any understanding to listen to an argument of this kind their whole life long.”], 450b6 – 7). His reply to Socrates marks him out as a tireless and dedicated advocate of the logos: !kk± t¹ l³m Bl´teqom 5a7 s» d³ peq· ¨m 1qyt_lem lgdal_r !poj²l,r Ø soi doje? dieni¾m… (“So don’t mind about us, and don’t get tired

yourself […]”). However, his unquestioning support of Socrates culminates a few narratological moments later, when he states: “You need not 13 In 449c2 – 3, Socrates is accused of “cheating the company out of a whole important section of the discussion”. 14 See 450a10-b2: $ mOm rle?r paqajakoOmter oqj Uste fsom 2sl¹m kºcym 1pece¸qete7 dm bq_m 1c½ paq/ja tºte, lµ paq²swoi pok»m ewkom (“You don’t realize what a swarm of arguments you’ve stirred up by calling me to account now. I saw the swarm and passed the topic by in order to save us a lot of trouble”). 15 See 450b5, where Socrates comments that “arguments should be handled with moderation”; see also Rep. 450d8 – 451a4.

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hesitate… This is not an unsympathetic (agnmones) audience; we are neither incredulous (apistoi) nor hostile (dysnoi)” (450d3 – 4). Glaucon’s use of the word apistoi is heavily stressed later in the context of Socrates’ exposition of the Forms, since the sight-lovers (philotheamones), who cannot be persuaded of the existence of the Forms, are explicitly characterized by Socrates as apistoi. After Glaucon’s encouragement, Plato has Socrates face the three waves of logos. Socrates’ prescriptions regarding the organisation of the life of the guardians and the philosopherkings in Book 5 lead the dialogue to the metaphysics and epistemology of Books 6 and 7. Despite Socrates’ intentions, his friends’ request serves to draw the conversation out longer than he might have liked.

1.2.1 The first wave of argument: women in the guardians’ agele˜ The continuity of themes that underlies Socrates’ discussion in Book 5 becomes obvious if we shift the perspective from which we view his discussion of the guardians’ phusis (the first wave) and the treatment of the guardians’ sexual mixture (second wave). Thus, the thematic gap between the first two waves and the third can be bridged if we follow Socrates’ imagery and language closely in the contexts in question. In my view, the outline of the Forms is to be discerned, albeit faintly, behind the argumentation as early as the first wave of Book 5. The first argument to be examined in the conversation at this point pertains to the place of women in the city’s guardian class. Socrates’ broader thesis is that certain women should be trained as guardians, for, from a philosophical perspective, they too may share the vukajijµ v}sir of the men.16 In the first part of the discussion on women, 16 Plato’s view of women in Book 5 of the Republic has been analyzed from various viewpoints and produced a comprehensive and full literature, especially since his treatment of women is not consistent throughout his writings. On Plato’s inconsistency in regarding female guardians as equal to male guardians, see Grote (1865: 68); Bloom (1968: 383); Barker (1964 [1918]: 256). See also discussion in Calvert (1975: 231 – 243), who explains away these contradictions by arguing that “Plato operates on two levels at the same time in Book 5, and that these levels are subconsciously mingled together”. Thus Plato’s contradictory view of women reveals the tension that arises from intertwining traditional and novel views (242 – 3). In addition, see Lodge (1970: 239); Wender (1973: 75 – 90); Allen (1975: 131 – 138); Annas (1976: 307 – 321) and (1981: 181 – 189); Okin (1976/7: 345 – 369); Brown (1988: 594 – 616); Waterfield (1993: 408 – 409); Spelman, in Tuana N. (ed.) (1994: 89 – 107). Buchan

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Plato has Socrates follow the ramifications of a deeply-rooted tradition that distinguished men from women (jewyqisl]mg v}sir), only to subvert and redefine this distinction in his new approach to the term phusis. Socrates then argues, as a consequence of his line of reasoning, against the need for traditional male/female polarities in the guardians’ sociopolitical life in the hope of liberating his intra-dramatic audience from familiar and well-established thought-patterns.17 In expanding on his suggestions regarding the women and children of the guardian class, Socrates builds on previous ideas, thus reintroducing the analogy of guardians to pedigree dogs and of the guardian class to an agele˜. Given the validity of such a comparison, says Socrates, there is no reason for rejecting the idea that members of the guardians may possess women and children in common (451c4 – d).18 Socrates’ reuse of the dog eikn in this context is philosophically significant in terms of his pursuit of the ideas of gender equality and the communal life of the guardians, but this initial justification for his prescriptions regarding the organisation of the polis is somewhat hasty and poorly argued.19 From this linguistic environment, we should note the term phusis is absent: t±r hgke¸ar t_m vuk²jym jum_m pºteqa sulvuk²tteim oQºleha de?m ûpeq #m oR %qqemer vuk²ttysi ja· sumhgqe¼eim ja· tükka joim0 pq²tteim, C t±r l³m oQjouqe?m 5mdom ¢r !dum²tour di± t¹m t_m sjuk²jym tºjom te ja· tqov¶m, to»r d³ pome?m te ja· p÷sam 1pil´keiam 5weim peq· t± po¸lmia ; (451d4 – e).

Should the females guard the flock and hunt with the males and take a share in all they do, or should they be kept within doors as fit for no more than (1999); Hobbs (2000: 246 – 247); Kochin (2002: 81 – 82) and Dorter (2006: 139 – 143); Schofield (2006: 227 – 234). 17 On Socrates’ approach to male and female nature here, see also Rosen (2005: 174 – 175). Lloyd’s (1966) investigation of polarity in ancient Greek thought draws on Cornford’s (1912) interpretation of binary opposition, which identifies “the prototype of all opposition” in the bipolarity of gender. 18 See 451c4-d: )mhq¾poir c±q vOsi ja· paideuhe?sim ¢r Ble?r di¶kholem, jat’ 1lµm dºnam oqj 5st’ %kkg aqhµ pa¸dym te ja· cumaij_m jt/s¸r te ja· wqe¸a C jat’ 1je¸mgm tµm bqlµm QoOsim, Fmpeq t¹ pq_tom ¢ql¶salem7 1peweiq¶salem d´ pou ¢r !c´kgr v¼kajar to»r %mdqar jahist²mai t` kºc\. (“In my judgement, then, the question under what conditions people born and educated as we have described should possess wives and children, and how they should treat them, can be rightly settled only by keeping to the course on which we started them at the outset.” [trans. Cornford]) 19 On the dog imagery in the Republic, see Pender (2000: 142 – 144) with further bibliography.

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bearing and feeding their puppies, while all the hard work of looking after the flock is left to the males? (trans. Cornford)

In these lines, Socrates enhances his dog eikn with further animal imagery in order to expand on the life of the guardians (sumhgqe¼eim ja· tükka joim0 pq²tteim, ¢r !dum²tour di± t¹m t_m sjuk²jym tºjom te ja· tqov¶m). Glaucon, accepting this analogy, agrees with Socrates that everything should be held in common among the guardians, but still notes that women are weaker in comparison to men (pkµm ¢r !shemest]qair wq~leha, to?r d³ ¢r Qswuqot]qoir, 451e1 – 2). This dialogue, on the equality of men and women guardians, does not progress in the direction that Socrates might wish, primarily thanks to Glaucon’s inability to free himself of well-established ideas regarding women’s education and military training. As a result, Glaucon’s participation at this point in the argument lessens in narratological terms. He is both trapped in Socrates’ initial line of reasoning, in which equality rests on the dog analogy, yet still trapped in traditional socio-political ideas and patterns of thought and so is apparently satisfied with certain observations on the part of Socrates when he clearly should not be. In order, then, for the dialogue to progress, Plato has Socrates assume a different narratological persona, that of an imaginative speaker, who is willing to put to the test (elenchein) the interlocutors’ provocative beliefs (452e4 – 453b). The question posed at this point highlights the need to approach anew, from a political and philosophical point of view, the term phusis: K´cylem dµ rp³q aqt_m fti ¯ S¾jqat´r te ja· Cka¼jym, oqd³m de? rl?m %kkour !lvisbgte?m7 aqto· c±q 1m !qw0 t/r jatoij¸seyr, Dm áj¸fete pºkim, ¢lokoce?te de?m jat± v¼sim 6jastom 6ma 4m t¹ artoO pq²tteim.

(453b2 – 5) Let us state his case for him. ‘Socrates and Glaucon’, he will say, ‘there is no need for others to dispute your position; you yourselves, at the very outset of founding your city, agreed that everyone should do the one work for which nature fits him’. (trans. Cornford)

The definition offered in Book 4 of justice in the soul is built on this fundamental principle. The imaginative speaker is re-deploying it now to question Socrates’ innovative uniting of male and female physeis: =stim owm fpyr oq p²lpoku diav´qei cumµ !mdq¹r tµm v¼sim ; (453b7 – 8)… P_r owm oqw "laqt²mete mum· ja· t!mamt¸a rl?m aqto?r k´cete v²sjomter aw to»r %mdqar ja· t±r cuma?jar de?m t± aqt± pq²tteim, pke?stom jewyqisl´mgm v¼sim 5womtar ; (453c2 – 5)

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And isn’t there a very great difference in nature between man and woman? … But if so, surely you must be mistaken now and contradicting yourselves when you say that men and women, having such widely divergent natures, should do the same things. (trans. Cornford)

If female nature differs so greatly from male nature, then one cannot possibly assign the same duties to both. Socrates points out that pursuit of this line of argument will not pay any philosophical dividends. As the discussion runs the risk of ending in a quasi-aporia (453c10 – d11), Plato’s readers now brace themselves to take the new path that Socrates is about to indicate (v]qe d^, Gm d’ 1c~, 1\m p, evqylem tµm 5nodom, 453 e1). Nonetheless, before examining the problem anew, Socrates adds in an enigmatic fashion: !kk± dµ ¨d’ 5wei· %mte tir eQr jokulb¶hqam lijq±m 1lp´s, %mte eQr t¹ l´cistom p´kacor l´som, flyr ce me? oqd³m Httom ([“but whether a man tumbles into a swimming-pool or into midocean, he has to swim all the same”] 453d5 – 7). This parenthetic remark often passes undetected in the literature.20 Is the parallel that is made here between the problem in question and a small swimming pool or between the problem and the ocean? And, furthermore, in any case, why is such a parallel made in the first place? Socrates in the end concedes that knowledge of swimming is what counts in both situations. The image is obviously analogical. Yet what is Socrates really trying to convey? If he is indeed comparing one thing to something else, how can this remark contribute to our understanding and interpretation of the Socratic methodology expounded throughout Book 5? I will return to this question after we have dealt with Socrates’ treatment of the three waves of argument. In his examination of the first wave, Socrates acknowledges that the conversation has almost reached deadlock and promises an alternative path of enquiry. The ensuing discussion highlights Socrates and Glaucon’s methodological mistakes thus far. The company has failed to observe the rules for conducting a dialogue and, as a result, the progress of the dialogue has been blocked by unnecessary divisions and polarities. Socrates’ amusing suggestion that the nature of bald men should, on the same basis, also differ from that of the long-haired ones underscores this point (454c1 – 5; cf. Glaucon’s geloion in 454c6). Most men, says Socrates, fail to identify the point at which a dialogue turns from constructive conversation into a mere quarrel (454a4 – 11): 20 But see Howland (1998: 633 – 657). Roochnik (2003: 57 – 69) links this imagery with Plato’s treatment of the perils of eros in Book 5.

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nti, eWpom, dojoOs_ loi eQr aqtµm ja· %jomter pokko· 1lp_pteim ja· oUeshai oqj 1q_feim !kk± diak]ceshai, di± t¹ lµ d}mashai jat’ eUdg diaiqo}lemoi t¹ kec|lemom 1pisjope?m, !kk± jat’ aqt¹ t¹ emola di~jeim toO kewh]mtor tµm 1mamt_ysim, 5qidi, oq diak]jt\ pq¹r !kk^kour wq~lemoi.

Because they often seem to fall unconsciously into mere disputes which they mistake for reasonable argument, through being unable to draw the distinctions proper to their subject; and so, instead of philosophical exchange of ideas, they go off in chase of contradictions which are purely verbal. (trans. Cornford)

The practice of disputation (antilogike˜) is based on the formation of linguistic contradictions. Yet these are often only cursory and superficial.21 From a Platonic perspective, the advocates of antilogic are accused of promoting the proliferation of unnecessary polarities and contradictions, thereby introducing confusion into language. These people are condemned, and condemn others, too, to a life of fruitless plane˜, or, in the Republic’s epistemological language, to a life at the level of eikasia. 22 In Plato’s view, mortals cannot avoid polarities, and yet the guardian class of the ideal polis must be organized in such a way as to diminish any polarities as much as possible. The first barrier to fall in the theoretical organisation of the guardian class is the erroneous division of one’s own nature on the basis of gender as regards politics. Plato thus attacks those who exercise the art of disputation (antilogike˜) on the grounds that such persons have deliberately chosen to amplify the antithesis and confusion that abound in our world, even when this is not necessary:23 T¹ tµm aqtµm v}sim fti oq t_m aqt_m de? 1pitgdeul\tym tucw\meim p\mu !mdqe_yr te ja· 1qistij_r jat± t¹ emola di~jolem, 1pesjex\leha d³ oqd’ bp,oOm t_ eWdor t¹ t/r 2t]qar te ja· t/r aqt/r v}seyr ja· pq¹r t_ te?mom ¢qif|leha t|te, fte t± 1pitgde}lata %kk, v}sei %kka, t0 d³ aqt0 t± aqt± !ped_dolem. (454b4 – 9)

We have been strenuously insisting on the letter of our principle that different natures should not have the same occupations, as if we were scoring a point in a debate; but we have altogether neglected to consider what sort 21 On Plato’s deployment of antilogic and dialectic here, see Rosen (2005: 174 – 178). On antilogic in the Platonic corpus, see Nehamas (1990: 3 – 16); Kerferd (1981: 59 – 67). On dialectic, see also Robinson (1953: chapters 6, 7, and 10); see also Annas (1981: 276 – 293); and Roochnik (2003: 133 – 151); Pemok_dgr, in J\kvar, B. (ed.) (2004: 117 – 170, esp. 120 – 124). 22 See Petraki (2009: 27 – 67). 23 See also Bruce (1993: 233 – 246).

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of sameness or difference we meant and in what respect these natures and occupations were to be defined as different or the same. (trans. Cornford)

The process to which Socrates now turns is that of correct division and synthesis (454c1 – 455d5).24 His ensuing treatment of the term phusis breaks down one of the most traditional polarities in the history of Greek thought. As a result, in Book 5, male and female nature are united and subsumed under the phusis of the guardian. The distinction between male and female, in the form that it has been promoted and passed from one generation to the other, is now radically subverted in this context. What is important for the polis that the interlocutors are constructing is to identify and find the means of preserving what Socrates calls the phusis of the guardian. From this perspective, the traditional division of genders which is based on the concept of “females bearing children and males begetting them” offers no proof that “women are different from men” with regard to the issue now being discussed (454d7 – e4).25 Taking doctors as a typical example, Socrates claims that the ability to practice the craft of medicine lies in one’s intellectual capabilities and is independent of gender.26 Similarly, the vukajijµ v}sir depends on the bodily and intellectual qualities that distinguish one. The city’s guardians are to be distinguished from others on the basis of such criteria and not on the basis of their gender (455e – 456b). Socrates’ subversive promotion of gender equality in this environment demonstrates how certain well-established polarities may be detrimental to innovative socio-political formulations.27 The turning point in the assessment of female guardianship is Socrates’ assumption of the persona of an imaginative speaker in order to test the results of the argumentation that has preceded this moment (453b1 – c6 and 455b – e2). Socrates’ ensuing successful defeat of the 24 On diairesis, see Rosen (2005: 177 – 178). 25 But see Rosen (2005: 174). 26 See 454c7-d3: /qa jat’ %kko ti, eWpom 1c~, ceko?om, C fti t|te oq p\mtyr tµm aqtµm ja· tµm 2t]qam v}sim 1tih]leha, !kk’ 1je?mo t¹ eWdor t/r !kkoi~se~r te ja· bloi~seyr l|mom 1vuk\ttolem t¹ pq¹r aqt± te?mom t± 1pitgde}lata ; oXom Qatqij¹m l³m ja· Qatqijµm tµm xuwµm [emta] tµm aqtµm v}sim 5weim 1k]colem. (“And aren’t we in this ridiculous position because at that time we did not introduce every form of difference and sameness in nature, but focused on the one form of sameness and difference that was relevant to the particular ways of life themselves? We meant, for example, that a male and female doctor have souls of the same nature.”) 27 So Halliwell (1993: 9 and 14).

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traps lurking in antilogike˜ is also marked by an alteration in his linguistic style.28 Within only a few Stephanus pages, Socrates has employed language drawn from the world of animals to argue against well-established ideas of familial bonds and traditional patriarchic oikoi. He has also swiftly abandoned this mode of speech for a new one, divested of strong pictorial impressions in order to argue that exceptional examples of human nature are to be found in both men and women (455b8 – 9). In Rep. 451b cited above the vocabulary selected by Plato’s main speaker is strikingly animal-oriented, since there the pedigree dog imagery is enhanced so as to describe life in a group of human guardians (t±r hgke_ar t_m vuk\jym jum_m, sulvuk\tteim, sumhgqe}eim, oQjouqe?m 5mdom and di± t¹m t_m sjuk\jym t|jom, 451c7 – 8). As we noted above, the term phusis is absent from this context. It resurfaces a few moments later in the investigation when Socrates modifies his method and sets off to draw up correct divisions. In his second attempt in 453a – e to prove the common phusis of certain men and women, Socrates uses vocabulary relating to animals significantly less. The use of guardian pedigree-dogs, the little dogs, and the packs (451d4 – 9) gives way to phrases such as dumatµ v}sir p|teqom B !mhq~pimg B h^keia t0 toO %qqemor c]mour joimym/sai eQr ûpamta t± 5qca C oqd’ eQr 6m… (“Whether female human nature can share all the tasks of that of the male, or none of them…” 453a1). Towards the end of the first wave, in 456b1 – 3, the diction that Socrates amasses to summarize their findings in relation to female guardian nature is totally devoid of animal-oriented imagery:

28 Socrates’ explanation of antilogic introduces terminology devoid of vivid pictorial impressions into the dialogue. Dialectic is contrasted with eristic and attention is drawn to the pursuit of definitions (jat’ eUdg diaiqo}lemoi t¹ kec|lemom), rather than on the basis of superficial linguistic divisions (jat’ aqt¹ t¹ emola di~jeim toO kewh]mtor tµm 1mamt_ysim, 454b6 and b8). Note that the term dialectic appears here for the first time in the Republic. Rosen too notes the “sudden eruption of technical terminology” in 454a1 – 9, but follows a different line of interpretation in his reading of Socrates’ alternation of linguistic styles (2005: 175 – 178). He rightly observes, nonetheless, that Socrates’ technical language here builds on the interlocutors’ knowledge of the art of disputation as practiced in Athenian law courts, which involved one’s establishing of contradiction in the opponent’s view. This does not necessarily mean, however, that Socrates’ interlocutors are familiar with terms such as philosophical diairesis and dialectic (Rosen 175). In alternating technical terminology and imagistic language in his various styles, Socrates has already started to instruct his internal audience in the multiple use of language to pursue philosophical argumentation.

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Oqd³m %qa 1st¸m, § v¸ke, 1pit¶deula t_m pºkim dioijo¼mtym cumaij¹r diºti cum¶, oqd’ !mdq¹r diºti !m¶q, !kk’ blo¸yr diespaql´mai aR v¼seir 1m !lvo?m to?m f]oim, ja· p²mtym l³m let´wei cumµ 1pitgdeul²tym jat± v¼sim, p²mtym d³ !m¶q, 1p· p÷si d³ !shem´steqom cumµ !mdqºr. P²mu ce (455d6 – e)… Ja· cuma?jer %qa aR toiaOtai to?r toio¼toir !mdq²sim 1jkejt´ai sumoije?m te ja· sulvuk²tteim, 1pe¸peq eQs·m Rjama· ja· succeme?r aqto?r tµm v¼sim (456b1 – 3).

To conclude, then, there is no occupation concerned with the management of social affairs which belongs either to woman or to man, as such. But natures are distributed in the same way in both men and women… It follows that women of this type must be selected to share the life and duties of Guardians with men of the same type, since they are competent and of a like nature, and the same natures must be allowed the same pursuits. (trans. Cornford)

At this point the conversation has successfully reached an initial level of quasi-abstraction. The vukajijµ v}sir has now been successfully defined. Women may be weaker than men, but this is an insignificant difference from the philosophical perspective of the interlocutors. Particularly important factors in determining one’s place in Socrates’ classification of the guardians in his polis are exceptional intellectual and physical capacities for assimilating knowledge and undertaking laborious military training (455b4 – c2) (Rosen [2005: 177]). Socrates’ pedigree dog imagery, which is initially used in 451d4 – 9, to describe the animal-like features of the type of communal life to be lived by the guardian class, now gives way to a different stylistic mode which avoids animal-oriented imagery and seeks to promote a certain level of abstraction that later proves particularly useful to the group when they reach the third and most dangerous wave (455d6 – e2). As we will see below in Plato’s third wave of argument, familiar language is re-defined and reorganized to present the transcendental Forms and describe different levels of mortal cognition. However, in instructing his interlocutors on guardian nature and on the organisation of the guardians’ civic way of life, Socrates has already started to employ, albeit inconspicuously, wording that will be re-deployed later within the context of Platonic metaphysics. “Natures of the same quality”, says Socrates, “are distributed in men and women of the guardian class correlating them irrespective of gender” (blo¸yr diespaql´mai aR v¼seir 1m !lvo?m to?m f]oim and succeme?r aqto?r tµm v¼sim, 455d8).29 29 See 456a7 – 8: 5stim %qa ja· vukajijµ cum^, B d’ ou. C oq toia}tgm ja· t_m !mdq_m t_m vukajij_m v}sim 1neken\leha ; (“So one woman may have a guard-

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When viewed in retrospect, Plato’s description of the guardian nature in 455b6 – e1 has already started to prefigure not only the language of the Forms, but also to foreshadow in pictorial terms the relation of the Forms to the mundane world. In his treatment of the third wave, Socrates argues that it is by means of their “association” with the beautiful that beautiful things “partake in” beauty: aqt¹ l³m 4m 6jastom eWmai, t0 d³ t_m pq\neym ja· syl\tym ja· !kk^kym joimym_ô pamtawoO vamtaf|lema pokk± va_meshai 6jastom (“each in itself is one; but they manifest themselves in a great variety of combinations, with actions, with material things, and with one another, and so each seems to be many”, 476a5 – 7). The same idea is stated in 476d1 – 3: ja· dum\lemor jahoq÷m ja· aqt¹ ja· t± 1je_mou let]womta, ja· oute t± let]womta aqt¹ oute aqt¹ t± let]womta Bco}lemor (“[…] and can discern that essence as well as the things that partake of its character, without ever confusing the one with the other”). In arguing in the first wave for the similarity between male and female guardian nature, Plato has subtly created imagery that foreshadows the metaphysics and ontology of the third wave of argument. Thus, in a similar way, the exceptional guardian phusis is channelled to each (male or female) guardian, and it is by partaking in this nature (suggeneis, 456b3) that people may become guardians in the ideal state and share the same tasks (koinne˜sai, 453a1). Plato’s interplay of the concrete and the abstract has been already put to work, but it does not reach its climax until his exposition of the Forms at the end of Book 5.

1.2.2 The second wave of argument: the guardians’ mixis and class purity In defeating the first wave of argument (457b7 – c5), Socrates has successfully shown that women, too, can be guardians in the theoretical state, in so far as they possess the qualities of this remarkable nature. To ignore Socrates’ point in the theoretical construction of the Socratic polis is also to ignore the semantics that the argumentation to this point has assigned to the word guardian-phusis, namely the excellent physical and intellectual competence that is unrelated to gender divisions. The second wave of argument, to which Plato’s main speaker now turns, inian nature and another not, for wasn’t it qualities of this sort that we looked for in the natures of the men we selected as guardians?”)

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volves the ground-breaking suggestion that male and female guardians should have everything in common, including sexual partners and offspring (457c10 – d3).30 The argument on which this prescription hinges pertains to the Socratic thesis that divisions within society lead to disagreement, strife and competition, eventually to generate chaos and disarray (462a – b).31 Thus, behind Socrates’ insistence that fragmentations in the guardian class in the form of familial oikoi should be avoided at all costs lies Plato’s broader objective of securing homogeneity and unison, which can be attained through the cultivation of harmony and balance.32 Plato’s prescriptions regarding the guardians’ erotic mingling and breeding (mixis) build on the first wave’s definition of the guardian phusis and are intended to preserve the purity of this class (457c7 – 8). However, in the following pages I will argue that when viewed together the three waves of argument, in sharing common imagery and vocabulary, highlight Plato’s intention of organising the guardian class in the ideal city so that it displays certain characteristics that one can find only at the transcendental level of the Forms, the most prominent of these being unchangingness, purity, uniformity, and homogeneity. This is the only way, according to Socrates, to preserve the ideal polis (460a). Thus, in attaining the truth of the transcendent Forms, the philosopher-kings’ task on earth will also be to maintain the hold that the seal (tupos) of the Forms has on society by regulating erotic mixture and keeping any diversity and multiplicity (poikilia) under close control.33 30 See also detailed discussion by Halliwell (1993: 16 – 21). 31 For a detailed discussion and criticism of Socrates’ proposals here, see Rosen (2005: 185 – 191). 32 See Vlastos (1969: 516 – 520). 33 See 459b10-e4, where the rulers emerge from the guardian class of the state in Book 5. That the theoretical city will need rulers has been insinuated at 389b – c and 390a. The rulers, who will later develop into the Republic’s philosopherskings, stem from the guardian class which has been ethically educated in accord with Socrates’ prescriptions in Book 3. Note that their first task in Book 5 is to use lies and deception, so that the guardians do not deviate from the strict marriage and breeding regulations (pseudos and apate˜, 459c8 – 9; see also 382a – d; and 535e). On the rulers’ lying in the Republic, see Rosen (2005: 186 – 188); cf. Schofield (2006: Ch. 7) and Schofield, in Ferrari, G. R. F. (ed.) (2007: 138 – 164). In the “noble lie” of 414b-415a, Plato linked the Guardians’ lying with the use of myth. The citizens thus learn that they all are siblings who share the same mother, earth, and that they harbour metals in their souls, gold, silver and bronze, which they must not “mix”. Socrates returns

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Socrates announces to the company that the second wave of argument will be far more demanding and difficult to handle than the first (457b7 – c5). The problem is that he will have to prove that his suggestions are not only most beneficial for the polis, but also feasible (457d4 – 9). Already anticipating his encounter with the third wave, Socrates hopes that the beneficial character of his suggestions will not be doubted so much, but he expresses concern about his ability to convince of their feasibility (457d6 – 9). Glaucon replies that Socrates will need to prove both (457e1 – 6).34 His intervention is crucial, as the realisation of the proposed socio-political regulations lead the conversation to the biggest wave of all arguments and, as a result, to the work’s metaphysical and epistemological digression in Books 6 and 7 (457d9). For the moment, nonetheless, Socrates asks permission to deal with the regulations per se regarding the guardians’ communal life and to postpone discussion of their feasibility for later (458a – b). The prescriptions regarding the guardians’ sexual relations and communal lifestyle draw on the conclusions that arose from the first wave of argument. The polis will be best organized, says Socrates, only if certain criteria are strictly met as regards the guardians’ breeding: S» l³m to_mum, Gm d’ 1c~, b moloh]tgr aqto?r, ¦speq to»r %mdqar 1n]kenar, ovty ja· t± cuma_jar 1jk]nar paqad~seir jah’ fsom oX|m te blovue?r7 oR d] , ûte oQj_ar te ja· suss_tia joim± 5womter, Qd_ô d³ oqdem¹r oqd³m toioOtom jejtgl]mou, bloO dµ 5somtai, bloO d³ !maleleicl´mym ja· 1m culmas_oir ja· 1m t0 %kk, tqov0 rp’ !m²cjgr oWlai t/r 1lv¼tou %nomtai pq¹r tµm !kk¶kym le?nim (458c6 – d3).

Then you, as their lawgiver, will select women just as you did men, with natures as similar to theirs as possible, and hand them over to the men. And since they have common dwellings and meals, rather than private ones, and live together and mix together both in physical training and in the rest of their upbringing, they will I suppose, be driven by innate necessity to have sex with one another. Or don’t you think we’re talking about necessities here?

to the problem of “mixture” as regards the guardians in Book 5. On Plato’s association of myth with lying in the Republic, see discussion in Lear (in Santas, G. [ed.] [2006: 26 – 43]), who interprets the dialogue in its entirety as a mythicphilosophical pharmakon against the deceptive charms of poetry. 34 See 457e5 – 6: )kk’ oqj 5kaher, G d’ fr, !podidq²sjym, !kk’ !lvot´qym p´qi d¸dou kºcom. (“No, we have seen through that manoeuvre. You will have to defend both positions.”)

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Throughout his discussion of the second wave of argument, Socrates redeploys the first wave’s animal-oriented linguistic colouring, and, in specific terms, the eikn of the guardians as pedigree watch-dogs, entwining it this time with vocabulary cognate with meignumi. 35 Socrates’ deployment of the word meignymi and its derivatives is not surprising in this context, since this is well-established vocabulary for referring to sexual intercourse, and, prima facie, it is sexual intercourse that Socrates discusses here.36 Thus Socrates’ thesis here that sexual relationships must be strictly controlled, so as to take place within the guardian class only, builds and expands on the inferences drawn in the first wave, both thematically and linguistically. From this perspective, the male and female guardian phusis, even when “mixed”, must not lose its essential and distinctive qualities. To adopt the Socratic parlance of the first wave “the dissemination of the same nature” must be strictly regulated so that the various constituent parts (note Socrates’ use of physeis in plural in 455d8), even when dispersed, are in essence re-assembled and reunited to generate a new guardian of the same kind. The distinctive qualities of the guardian nature remain thus “pure” and uncontaminated in this class. The aim of Socrates’ restrictions on guardians’ breeding is to preserve both the quality of the guardian genos intact and to hold their quantity in check. It is in this way alone that this genos can be preserved katharon (EUpeq l´kkei, 5vg, jahaq¹m t¹ c´mor t_m vuk²jym 5seshai, 460c6 – 7; cf. 535e4 – 5: B xuwµ eqweq_r ¦speq hgq_om veiom 1m !lah_ô lok}mgtai).37 35 See 459a1 – 5: P_r owm dµ ¡vekil¾tatoi 5somtai ; tºde loi k´ce, § Cka¼jym7 bq_ c²q sou 1m t0 oQj¸ô ja· j¼mar hgqeutijo»r ja· t_m cemma¸ym aqm¸hym l²ka suwmo¼r7 üq’ owm, § pq¹r Diºr, pqos´swgj²r ti to?r to¼tym c²loir te ja· paidopoi¸ô; (“How, then, will they be most beneficial? Tell me this, Glaucon: I see that you have hunting dogs and quite a flock of noble fighting birds at home. Have you noticed anything about their mating and breeding?”) The argumentation regarding unrestrained sexual relations, because it employs analogy, works successfully on Glaucon, who agrees that free sexual mingling among pedigree species may hold for humans, too (see 459b – c). Wording of mixis is deployed sporadically throughout the second wave: see 458d9; 461b10-c1. 36 See LSJ s.v. 37 The word katharos has strong religious overtones, at which Plato here hints in a somewhat subtle manner, when he has Glaucon, in a playful exchange at the beginning of Book 5, promise Socrates that he “will absolve him of any guilt arising from lying to his friends, as in a homicide case”. Socrates’ hands will be “clean” (katharos, 451b3 – 4). Note, however, religious connotations apart, katharos, too, is a pictorial term, as is the motif of “mixing (of pigments)”,

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Nevertheless, in the Republic’s thickly woven linguistic texture the mixis motif, which on a surface level here refers to sexual intercourse, assumes multiple connotations that permeate the text’s manifold levels of meaning in highly nuanced ways.38 Thus Plato’s treatment of the mixture motif here is cast in a new light and becomes philosophically significant when seen in relation to the Republic’s broader exploration of this rich motif. On this interpretation, the prescriptions regarding the preservation of the guardians’ purity and homogeneity of essence becomes part of one of the most prominent polarities that run through the Republic, namely the contrast among mixture (mixis), contamination (mollunetai), or incongruent variety (poikilia) to the attainment of purity, homogeneity, and balanced harmony on earth. Socrates’ insistence that the class of guardians should not be contaminated by inappropriate sexual mingling underlines the importance of moulding the sense-perceptible and the corporeal in accordance with the metaphysical. To bring transcendental and eidetic purity down to our sense-perceptible and corporeal world is a highly demanding task, never to be fully achieved in our incongruent world of Becoming, for Becoming is defined by mixture of all kinds. Plato, nonetheless, embarks on this task in his Republic, attempting to annihilate incongruent mixture as much as possible, both in his civic regulations in the ideal state and in his discussion of the condition of the soul. In the case of the guardian class of Book 5, the conused in the context of painting and the dyeing of wool (see 399e5; 501a1 – 4; 501b – c). In his Republic, Plato makes the most of these multiple nuances in his treatment of painting as a strategy well adapted to the philosopher’s task of tackling matters of methodology and language usage. The pictorially-oriented language used throughout the dialogue, is particularly useful in conveying the philosopher’s ‘mixture’ of words on a “clear canvas” (katharos) in his depiction of human nature, soul and society and in people’s education in ethical matters. See here Socrates’ reference to the dyer’s craft in 429d – e as an analogy for the guardians’ education. Dyers “pick out from the many colours of wool the one that is naturally white… so that it will absorb the colour as well as possible and only then do they apply the dye” (ejk]comtai 1j toso}tym wqyl\tym l_am v}sim tµm t_m keuj_m, 429d5 – 6). On the religious semantics of the term katharos, see the Introduction, n. 31; see also below, Chapter Three. I discuss the term katharos in relation to Plato’s verbal painting in the Republic in Chapter Four below. 38 See discussion in the Introduction above. See also extensive discussion in Chapters Three and Four below. The multiple connotations that I read in the mixis motif of Book 5 often pass unobserved in the literature: see, for example, Annas’ criticism of Plato’s treatment of women’s (1981: 181 – 185). For criticism of Plato’s so-called metaphors here, see also Annas (1981: 184 – 185).

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trol of mixture is achieved by subduing diversity (poikilia), since the different ingredients or constituent parts mixed are all of the same quality.39 Failure to preserve the purity of the class, says Socrates, will result in the generation of “baseborn” and “counterfeit” offspring (notha) and this cross-breeding will eventually spoil the cast’s homogeneity and purity (461b4 – 7).40 I have suggested above that Socrates’ language throughout the second wave is heavily animal-oriented and his mode of argumentation analogical. How does Plato’s choice of this type of diction square with the suggestions I made above regarding how Socrates, in the first two waves, paves the way to the Forms and how he trains his co-speakers in this direction both thematically and linguistically? Have we, Plato’s readers, made no methodological or linguistic progress after moving from the first wave to the second? The question is in fact somewhat ill-conceived. Plato’s move from the mundane to the abstract in the first two waves is steady and subtle rather than dramatic, and is promoted both by his introduction of more technical terminology and by way of the building of imagery. At the same time, the Republic’s readers are narratologically privileged by being granted a panoramic viewpoint that allows one to monitor Socrates’ different stylistic modes, their incongruence and their sim39 See 459d7-e4: De? l´m, eWpom, 1j t_m ¢lokocgl´mym to»r !q¸stour ta?r !q¸stair succ¸cmeshai ¢r pkeist²jir, to»r d³ vaukot²tour ta?r vaukot²tair toqmamt¸om, ja· t_m l³m t± 5jcoma tq´veim, t_m d³ l¶, eQ l´kkei t¹ po¸lmiom fti !jqºtatom eWmai, ja· taOta p²mta cicmºlema kamh²meim pkµm aqto»r to»r %qwomtar, eQ aw B !c´kg t_m vuk²jym fti l²kista !stas¸astor 5stai. (“It follows from our previous agreements, first, that the best men must have sex with the best women as frequently as possible, while the opposite is true of the most inferior men and women, and second, that if our herd is to be of the highest possible quality, the former’s offspring must be reared but not the latter’s. And this must all be brought about without being noticed by anyone except the rulers, so that our herd of guardians remains as free from dissension as possible”.) 40 See LSJ sv nothos. The same idea of inappropriate “cross-breeding” is restated in relation to the preservation of the soul’s virtues in Rep. 536a2 – 7. There Socrates refers to the illegitimate offspring of philosophy, which is visualized in the text in anthropomorphic form. This offspring is the result of philosophy’s sexual relations with an undeserving suitor-philosopher (535c5 – 8). These lines couple the words nothoi with chloi (students of philosophy) and contrast them with gne˜sioi, artimeleis and artiphrones philosophers. See also 587c, where the nothai pleasures are those of inappropriate sexual relations, contrasted with the gne˜siai he˜donai. On the mixture of pleasures, see discussion in Chapter Four below.

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ilarities. The animal-oriented and overtly pictorial language that Plato exploits in the first two waves is part of Socrates’ broader task in the Republic of educating his interlocutors in the use of philosophical linguistic styles and the formulation of ideas. Thus the interplay of the concrete and the abstract becomes philosophically important. For reasons we will investigate in the following chapter, even after the epistemological division of different levels of cognition in the latter part of Book 5, the language again becomes notably imagistic and poetical. The same holds for Plato’s use of eikones in the exposition of his epistemology and ontology in Books 6 and 7. This authorial stance, however, does not at all imply that no philosophical progress is being made towards the interlocutors’ education in matters of philosophical linguistic style and methodology. In fact, it highlights the educational and cognitive value that stems from comparing and contrasting the manifold nature of philosophical stylistic modes in order to drive home ideas about ethics and metaphysics. As we mentioned above, it is this dramatization of philosophical discourse that educates both the intra-dramatic audience and the readers of the dialogue in Platonic philosophy.41 To grasp Plato’s scheme in Book 5 on the basis of these observations we should try to follow the complex connotations that his various motifs and images assume when they become interwoven in the Republic’s thick texture. His exploitation of the dog analogy, in particular, should be viewed within the dialogue’s broader context of discussion of souls and polities in animal-oriented language that is at work in Books 2, 5, 8, and 9. In Book 5, in particular, Plato brings together a number of images in order to discuss how the purity and stability of the guardian class is the only means of preserving the ideal state. If, then, there is any linguistic progress in the first two waves of Book 5, this is to be located in the development of Socrates’ configuration of imagery to portray civic harmony and homogeneity: Plato’s main speaker thus re-introduces the pedigree dogs as an eikn to aid in describing the guardians, and enriches it in his imagery drawn from life in a homogeneous pedigree herd (agele˜) in order to argue for a communal type of life that promotes strong bonds of friendship. The imagery he creates, however, culminates in 462c10 – e3, where the animal-oriented eikones are exchanged for the image of a well-attuned and perfectly harmonized human body, the aim of which is to portray the haploun and homogeneous e˜thos of a so41 See also Baracchi (2002: 63) who argues that Socrates’ creation of an image of justice in Book 5 is “a pedagogically indispensable one”.

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ciety which reacts unanimously, consistently, and harmoniously to both pleasure and pain:42 Ja· Ftir dµ 1cc}tata 2m¹r !mhq~pou 5wei ; OXom ftam pou Bl_m d\jtuk|r tou pkgc0, p÷sa B joimym_a B jat± t¹ s_la pq¹r tµm xuwµm tetal]mg eQr l_am s}mtanim tµm toO %qwomtor 1m aqt0 Õshet| te ja· p÷sa ûla sum¶kcgsem l]qour pom^samtor fkg, ja· ovty dµ k]colem fti b %mhqypor t¹m d\jtukom !kce?7 ja· peq· %kkou btouoOm t_m toO !mhq~pou b aqt¹r k|cor, peq_ te k}pgr pomoOmtor l]qour ja· peq· Bdom/r Na@fomtor ; j aqt¹r c\q, 5vg. Ja· toOto d 1qytør, toO toio}tou 1cc}tata B %qista pokiteuol]mg p|kir oQje?. :m¹r dµ oWlai p\swomtor t_m pokit_m btioOm C !cah¹m C jaj¹m B toia}tg p|kir l\kist\ te v^sei 2aut/r eWmai t¹ p\swom, ja· C sumgsh^setai ûpasa C sukkgp^setai. (462c10 – e2)

And what about the city that is most like a single person? For example, when one of us hurts his finger, the entire organism that binds body and soul together into a single system under the ruling part within it is aware of this, and the whole feels the pain together with the part that suffers. That’s why we say that the man has a pain in his finger. And the same can be said about any part of a man, with regard either to the pain it suffers or to the pleasure it experiences when it finds relief. Certainly. And, as for your question, the city with the best government is most like such a person. Then, whenever anything good or bad happens to a single one of its citizens, such a city above all others will say that the affected part is its own and will share in the pleasure or pain as a whole.

In 464b1 – 3, Plato makes Socrates explicitly state that his representation of the harmonious ideal state as a single human body is an eikn (…!peij\fomter ew oQjoul]mgm p|kim s~lati pq¹r l]qor artoO k}pgr te p]qi ja· Bdom/r ¢r 5wei [“…and we presented by means of an image a well-gov-

erned city in terms of the body’s reaction to pain or pleasure in anyone of its parts.”]) Socrates’ argumentation regarding the homogeneity of the guardian class was based on the principle of restricting any factors likely to create division and conflict of any sort, endangering this homogeneity. Thus private property and multiple patriarchic oikoi are excluded on the grounds that guardians and philosophers are to function as an extended and comprehensive ‘I’. Yet Plato’s philosophical task in relation to “drawing a human society on a clear canvas” presupposes the 42 Cf. however Rosen (2005: 172), who sees no development in Platonic eikones: “The theme of the male drama was to produce guardians of the herd (451c8). This metaphor reduces the status of the moneymaking class to that of brutes and of the guardians to dogs. The only fully human beings in the just city are the rulers”.

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creation of a state that reacts harmoniously in psychological terms. The image of the ideal polis as a human body, each of whose parts experiences the pain or pleasure felt by any other part, is a representation par excellence of a wholly unified society that cannot afford to lose any of its parts without feeling the effect of such a loss. Soul and body, the one and the many, are strikingly unified in this eikn in a homogeneity that is reflected even on a syntactic and linguistic level (p÷sa B joimym_a B jat± t¹ s_la pq¹r tµm xuwµm tetal]mg eQr l_am s}mtanim tµm toO %qwomtor 1m aqt0, 462c11 – d1).43 Plato’s presentation of the harmony of the polis as the harmony that reigns in a human body has generated a number of issues that scholars have debated diversely and extensively. These primarily involve the difference between justice in an individual and in a state. These issues also include the relation between the transcendent Form of Justice and its manifestation in the multiple just instances evident to our earthly world of sense-perception.44 The scope of this chapter does not allow me to deal with these intricate issues here. What primarily interests me at this point is Plato’s opting for this particular stylistic mode, which employs a verbal eikn to describe in pictorial terms the desired characteristics of the guardian class. Thus, in my view, the philosophical impact of Plato’s image of humans as a single human body enlarges the limits of Book 5, and thereby engages in a dialogue with both the Forms’ relation to our earthly world, as described in the end of Book 43 Note that the first occurrence of word phulax in the Republic points in this direction. The word is employed by Adeimantus in 367a3 to describe one’s internal psychological harmony as a result of being just: …!kk’ aqt¹r artoO Gm 6jastor %qistor v}kan, dedi½r lµ !dij_m t` lec_st\ jaj` s}moijor × (“but each would be his own best guardian, afraid that by doing injustice he’d be living with the worst thing possible.”) The same idea of the internal guardian is restated in 465a – b, where shame and fear (aids and deos) are also called “guardians” that promote one’s friendship for the others and respect to the parents. See also above n. 1. 44 This raises questions regarding Plato’s tripartite division of the soul and the Republic’s isomorphism between city and soul. This is an intricate issue, which has been discussed extensively in the literature. An examination of this lies outside the scope of this work (but see discussion on Plato’s treatment of skiagraphia in Chapter Four below). See discussions in Schofield (2006: 253 – 264); Annas (1981: Ch. 5); Cooper (1984: 12 – 17); Reeve (1988: 43 – 50); Irwin (1995: Ch. 13); Hobbs (2000: 30 – 37); see also Lear (1992: 184 – 215). Williams, in Lee, E. N., Mourelatos, A.P.D., Rorty, R.M. (eds.) (1973: 196 – 206) (reprinted in G. Fine [ed.] [1999: 255 – 264]). See also Kosman, in Ferrari, G. R. F. (ed.) (2007: 116 – 137) and Kosman (2004: 153 – 168).

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5, and with the image of the tyrant’s soul as a multi-headed beast, presented in Book 9.45 I shall examine in detail Plato’s imagery with regard to the tyrant in Chapter Four, but it is important to stress here the striking interplay between these two Platonic eikones. 46 In the Introduction, I called attention to the vehement criticism of poetry in Book 10, on the grounds that it does not correctly portray the simple e˜thos of humans. In 604e – 605a, Socrates links the psychologically excitable (aganakte˜tikon) character with “multicoloured (poikilia) imitation (mimesis)” and contrasts it with “the rational and quiet character which is not easy to imitate nor easy to understand when imitated”, especially not by a crowd which has been culturally trained in theatre festivals to experience and internalize the various staged pathe˜’’ (604e1 – 6). The mutability of psychological disposition is associated with colourful diversity (poikilia) several times throughout the dialogue and is intended to conflict with the unchanging human character, which we should note, in linguistic terms, shares the terminology of the Platonic Forms (paqapk^siom cm !e· aqt¹ art`, 604e2 – 3).47 In his attempt to investigate human nature and adumbrate the haploun e˜thos of humans in his philosophical work, Plato, I submit, working like a visual artist, in this dialogue draws a variety of verbal images, ‘mixing’ words and motifs in a manner similar to a painter’s mixing of colours or a poet’s ‘mixing’ of motifs. He thus starts from the animaloriented image of the dog in Book 2 (375d – e) in order to convey the intrinsic qualities of his guardians48. His ensuing argumentation in Book 5 leads him to configure the image of the ‘single-human body-polis’ that identifies the one (human) with the many (humans). Plato’s human in the central Book of the dialogue represents a significant change in the Republic’s pictorial rendering of human nature. Not only are we offered an image of human nature and society qua human, rather than in animal-oriented language, but this is also a truly simple (haploun) verbal depiction, since Socrates restricts any diversity in this image to the minimum and makes his point by stressing that the 45 On Socrates’ ‘Unity Principle’ here, see Schofield (2006: 214 – 227). 46 On the Forms, see discussion in Chapter Two. On the tyrant’s soul and Plato’s use of animal imagery, see discussion in Chapter Four. 47 In Book 9, in particular, the appetitive part is presented as the manifestation par excellence of diversity (poikilia) and multifariousness (polyeidia): 580e: di± pokueid_am 2m· oqj 5swolem am|lati Qd_\ aqtoO, 588e5: pamtodap¹m hgq_om, 589b1: pokujev\kou hq]llator, 590a7: pokueid³r hq]lla). 48 See detailed discussion in Chapter Three.

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harmony and the integrity of this soul is mirrored in the harmonious unification and consistency of the psychological reactions of the many human souls.49 In pictorial terms, what we ‘see’ is an andreikelon (although, strictly speaking, the term is used inappropriately here, as this is a corporeal image of both male and female citizens). Yet at the same time, this is a verbal image which has the ability to unveil the psychologically internal, invisible, and concealed and render it visible, external, and open.50 Although Socrates has now moved from discussion of the guardian class to discussion of the polis as a whole, certain inferences regarding the guardians’ way of life in respect to their civic duties and to their psychological condition involve the polis as a whole as a consequence of Plato’s use of the image of the polis as a single body. The nature of the guardians’ public life means that within this class which, like all else, is subject to the scrutiny of the rulers’ vigilant eye, everything is open, visible, and communicable (koinnein).51 Plato’s imagery of the polis as a single body has similar implications for the other members of the city in that all its members are harmoniously linked to each other. This verbal andreikelon is one of Plato’s simplest and least adorned images in the whole work. Nonetheless, it unites society, body and soul in a most economical and transparent manner. This eikn then contrasts strikingly with the souls that have disintegrated in Book 9, and in particular, with the image of the soul of the tyrant, where Plato has Socrates perform the reverse procedure in terms of imagery, this time to unveil, as if it were a sculpture, to his interlocutors the beast-like and incongruent traits of the tyrant (t¹ poij_kom Ghor). These pass for human characteristics to the untrained human 49 See again 604e. Not only does diversity of the excitable character invites mimesis, but the members of the dramatic audience at the theatres are also of various sorts (pantodapoi), a term that Socrates deploys elsewhere interchangeably with poikilia. 50 So Baracchi (2002: 62 – 87) who links vision and openness with the guardians’ public lifestyle but follows a different line of interpretation from mine. 51 Plato’s guardians communicate and mingle in all possible ways. Openness and visibility is also underscored in Socrates’ insistence that all guardians, irrespective of gender and age, should exercise naked. The word koinnia is deployed throughout Socrates’ discussion of the guardians’ civic organization to bring this idea home. See also 461e5; 462b4; 464a4, a5, a6, a9; 464b6; 466a6; 466d1 – 2, d4, d8. See also 466b – c. Those guardians who will not share the class’ common feelings will be expelled. On koinnia, see also Calvert (1975: 242 – 243). Note also that Plato’s selection and adaptation of the Hesiodic line is not fortuitous in this context: (pk]om eWma_ pyr Flisu pamt|r, WD 40).

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eye because they are concealed behind a misleading façade of flesh and blood, but such traits are in reality mere beasts. The insatiable hedonistic demands of these powerful beasts lodged in the tyrant’s soul consume him from within.52 Note that the image of the tyrant’s soul stands also in stark contrast to the Platonic Forms at the end of Book 5. Plato’s watchword for the Forms, the term ideai, is employed also in Book 9 to describe the multiple forms of the tyrant’s many heads (poij_kou ja· pokujev\kou). In contrast to the philia and koinnia that Socrates’ prescriptions promote in Book 5, a perverse type of unity is depicted in Book 9 as the “multiple ideai which grow together” in the tyrant seek to “become one out of many”, but in vain (sulpevuju?ai Qd]ai pokka· eQr 4m cem]shai, 588c2 – 5; s}mapte to_mum aqt± eQr tq_a emta, 588d7). Plato’s vivid verbal image makes the tyrant the unhappiest creature alive, and as far removed from the integrity of the Platonic Ideas as one can possibly be. Furthermore, Plato’s versatile ability to create imagery and his insightful exploration of multi-layered semantics, evident, for example, in the exploration of the mixis motif in Book 5, are clearly well-designed authorial techniques that become fully meaningful when seen as part of the philosopher’s more general intention in the Republic of investigating and adumbrating human nature and society and its relation to the transcendental Forms.53 In specific terms, the presentation of the Forms’ relation to the sense-perceptible is constructed from vocabulary and phraseology that is variously deployed throughout the first two waves of argument for discussion regarding the guardians’ communal 52 See 588b-589a. This image also picks up Adeimantus’ remark in 365c that, since society is hypocritical about being just and promotes in reality injustice, he will “create a façade of illusory virtue around me to deceive those who come near, but keep behind it the greedy and crafty fox of the wise Archilochus” (peq· 1laut¹m sjiacqav_am !qet/r peqicqapt]om, tµm d³ toO sovyt\tou )qwik|wou !k~peja 2kjt]om 1n|pishem jeqdak]am ja· poij_kgm, 365c3 – 6). The philosophical significance of the Republic’s references to the pictorial technique of skiagraphia is discussed below in Chapter Four. 53 See also 472c4-d2, where Socrates, returning to the concept of justice, calls the ideal just city and human a paradeigma. On paradeigma and its distinction from eikn and idea, see Pender (2000); see also Rosen (2005: 201 – 209). Rosen also draws attention to Plato’s reference to the painter’s work in this context (472d4 – 7). When compared to Rep. 500c – d, I take this reference to painting in Book 5 to be a self-referential remark that seeks to compare, if not equate, Socrates’ founding of the theoretical, ideal just city with the philosopher’s task of ‘painting’ people’s ethics with the transcendental eidetic qualities as a model.

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life and the bonds that should bind both members of this class to each other and, likewise, citizens of the polis at large (koinnia).54 His prescriptions regarding the guardians’ social intercourse and sexual relations on earth should be seen in the same light. Such mixture is retained in the guardians’ earthly world. Yet, rather than giving rise to diversity, incongruence and conflict, it is held in check, so that it approaches and reproduces a sort of ethical harmony, purity and homogeneity, which archetypally, as Socrates will explain in the third wave, can only be found on a metaphysical level rather than on earth. I now turn to the third wave of argument. I have not offered yet an interpretation of Plato’s imageries in the three waves of argument and of swimming in a small pool or an ocean, which I suggested above should be taken together and understood as analogies for Socrates’ methodology in Book 5. More will be said on these images after our discussion of the third wave. 1.2.3 The third wave of argument Socrates has successfully persuaded the interlocutors that his prescriptions regarding the guardians are correct and beneficial. They thus accept that men and women guardians of the kallipolis enjoy the greatest possible happiness, even greater than that enjoyed by victors of the Olympic Games.55 Having successfully dealt with the two waves of ar54 See 476a5 – 7: aqt¹ l³m 4m 6jastom eWmai, t0 d³ t_m pq\neym ja· syl\tym ja· !kk^kym joimym_ô pamtawoO vamtaf|lema pokk± va_meshai 6jastom. Cp. 461b4 – 6 and 462c10 – 5. See Ketchum (1994: 1 – 21). 55 See 465d2 – 6 and d9-e2. The passage evokes the odes of Pindar and also pursues a comparison with Pindar’s eulogistic odes. According to Plato’s Socrates, Olympic victors are considered happy on account of what is only a small part of happiness compared to that of the guardians of the kallipolis. In his odes, Pindar often highlights the briefness of the moment of victory, when Zeus’ “godsend light” illuminates (diosdotos aigla) them and the poet’s eulogy transforms their mortal life and confers upon them a godlike ‘eternity’. For Pindar, humans look up to and strive for this godsend illuminatory moment, brief though it may be. Socrates’ dia smikron eudaimonizontai attempts to surpass Pindaric eulogy here. These Pindaric resonances are also noted by Bacon (2001: 347 – 348) who draws attention to the theme of competition, prominent in the Republic, and manifested in several forms, such as the hunt, as quest, as rescue, as heroic ordeal and as artistic competition. In her conclusion, Bacon draws parallels between Plato and Pindar: “as in a Pindaric ode, what happens within the dialogue is secondary to its impact on the audience of reader of the dialogue. It is designed

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gument, Socrates now faces the possibility of being engulfed by the third and biggest wave of all. He is challenged to demonstrate to the interlocutors the feasibility of actually realising the polis (471c4 – 7 and e). Socrates’ preceding argumentation regarding the guardians’ happiness will not suffice for Glaucon, who now wants to be shown (!kk± toOto aqt¹ Edg peiq~leha Bl÷r aqto»r pe_heim, 471e3) how these prescriptions can be realized (¢r dumat¹m ja· Ø dumat|m, 471e4). Plato presents Socrates as having feared this last wave of argument all along (Usyr c±q oqj oWsha fti lºcir loi t½ d¼o j¼late 1jvucºmti mOm t¹ l´cistom ja· wakep¾tatom t/r tqijul¸ar 1p²ceir [“Perhaps you don’t realize that, just as I have barely escaped from the first two waves of objections, you are bringing the third – the biggest and most difficult one – down upon me” 472a3 – 4)]. His argumentation from this point onwards will be strenuous and demanding for Socrates, as he himself admits, and intellectually overwhelming for the interlocutors.56 Thus Plato holds back from starting upon the criterion by which the polis may be realized not merely because he wants to increase the dramatic tension. The concluding part of Book 5 (473d – 480), which is one of the few passages in Plato where the Ideas are presented in some detail, is heavily laden with dense philosophical argumentation. Socrates’ most radical socio-political proposal in the Republic constitutes the third wave, which has been “building up” (ku) throughout the discussion in Book 5. His ground-breaking political propositions, however, rest firmly on an ontological and metaphysical basis, and so also raise problems of epistemology. Not all people, according to Socrates, may accept these suggestions, which will require a radical shift in our grasp of reality. In one of the Republic’s most ironic moments, Plato has Glaucon emphasize the dangers that will result from introducing a political thesis of this sort (473e6 – 474a4). Nonetheless, the third wave cannot be avoided any more, for the Republic’s scheme of realising the just city is completely dependent on it. The logos requires its exposition. Socrates’ thesis in 473c11 – e2 that their city-state “will not see the light of day” or grow in accordance with their previous prescriptions, to inspire the audience to emulation, by illuminating the meaning of that victory; and, I feel fairly certain, it also resembles a Pindaric ode in being designed to win recognition for the poet who does this with such faithfulness to both art and truth” (352, emphasis added). 56 See some of Glaucon’s relevant comments: Rep. 508c1 – 2; 531d5 – 6; 533a1 – 5.

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unless politics and philosophy meet together in one and the same human nature consisting of certain features, signals a new phase in the course of the dialogue: 9±m l¶, Gm d’ 1c¾, C oR vikºsovoi basike¼sysim 1m ta?r pºkesim C oR basik/r te mOm kecºlemoi ja· dum²stai vikosov¶sysi cmgs¸yr te ja· Rjam_r, ja· toOto eQr taqt¹m sulp´s,, d¼mal¸r te pokitijµ ja· vikosov¸a, t_m d³ mOm poqeuol´mym wyq·r 1v’ 2j²teqom aR pokka· v¼seir 1n !m²cjgr !pojkeish_sim, oqj 5sti jaj_m paOka, § v¸ke Cka¼jym, ta?r pºkesi, doj_ d’ oqd³ t` !mhqyp¸m\ c´mei, oqd³ avtg B pokite¸a l¶ pote pqºteqom vu0 te eQr t¹ dumat¹m ja· v_r Bk¸ou Ud,, Dm mOm kºc\ diekgk¼halem.

Unless either philosophers become kings in their countries or those who are now called kings and rulers come to be sufficiently inspired with a genuine desire for wisdom; unless, that is to say, political power and philosophy meet together, while the many natures who now go their several ways in the one or the other direction are forcibly debarred from doing so, there can be no rest from troubles, my dear Glaucon, for states, nor yet, as I believe, for all mankind; nor can this city which we have imagined ever till then see the light of day and grow to its full stature. (trans. Cornford)

These lines are well-known for their statement that the fundamental requirement for the organisation of the Platonic ideal state is that politicians should be philosophers. In this context, however, Socrates redeploys and develops the complex and varied nuances of human phusis. Thus he informs us, firstly, that not all human physeis are suitable for engaging in politics (C oR basik/r te mOm kecºlemoi ja· dum²stai vikosov¶sysi cmgs¸yr te ja· Rjam_r) and, secondly, that the two powers (d¼mal¸r te pokitijµ ja· vikosov¸a) should identify and meet in the same right nature. Plato’s suggestions here open a whole new discussion in the dialogue which takes us through Books 6 and 7. The company’s investigation into the intricacies of human nature is now coupled with the new topic now at hand, namely the definition of the true philosopher, since Socrates now proclaims that what the company understands by the term philosophers is wrong. In his view now, to grasp the qualities of the true philosopher amounts to identifying the most caring and appropriate politician. Consequently, Plato’s condition in the third wave that political and philosophical natures must meet in order to create the best possible state leads to a unification of phuseis. In this, it resembles his treatment in the first wave of female and male guardians, whose natures together form the one guardian nature. It also resembles his ensuing prescriptions in the second wave regarding the organization of the guardians in civic terms, the goal of which is the maintenance of the integrity of the

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guardian class. In a similar vein, Socrates now proposes that the separate (and correct) phuseis, who at present wander around to no purpose, should be re-assembled and unified as members of the class of philosopher-kings. Socrates has already presented some of the distinctive qualities that define this ruling class as part of his analysis of the guardian nature. More is said later by Socrates by way of definition of the true philosopher in Books 6 and 7. Within the context of Book 5, however, the emergence of the term philosophy, not strictly defined at the time, gives rise to far more complex and contested issues, namely the subject-matter of philosophical investigation that distinguishes the true philosopher from the many counterfeit. The group’s attention is thus directed to the concept of Truth and, as a result, to the philosophers’ relation to the Platonic Forms. I have already cited above the lines where reference is made to the association of the Forms with the earthly world of sense-perception and ethics. Thus, in 476a4 – 7, Socrates explains that there is one form (eidos) for justice and injustice, and for goodness and vice, which, however, “because they manifest themselves everywhere in association with actions, bodies, and one other, each of them appears to be many” (t0 d³ t_m pq\neym ja· syl\tym ja· !kk^kym joimym_ô pamtawoO vamtaf|lema pokk± va_meshai 6jastom).57 As mentioned above, these lines invest with metaphysical semantics the word koinnia (one of Plato’s watchwords in the Republic for the Forms’ relation to our world), which from a sociopolitical point of view has already been dealt with in an innovative manner throughout Socrates’ fight with the first two waves. Plato’s description of metaphysics here, however, problematic though it may be, makes one thing plain. While in the course of his argumentation throughout Book 5 Socrates appears to have tackled three diverse issues in relation to his organisation of the polis, such thematic disjointedness is located at the level of the surface of the text alone. Plato’s main speaker has tried to build a theoretical, ideal polis by following a metaphysical pattern of which the Republic itself reveals little. Book 5, 57 As regards the vexed issue whether Plato implies here the existence of Forms of Badness, Injustice, or Ugliness, I concur with Rowe (2007: 200 – 213) who has rightly stressed that the Forms (eide˜) stand in the background of Socrates’ discussion with Glaucon, but that we should not interpret the word eidos in this context to refer to the transcendent Forms. Following also Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 1: 168), the relevant term may here be translated as ‘form’ or ‘kind’. See also Kahn (1993: 41); Ross (1951: 229). See also discussion in Chapter Two below.

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nonetheless, informs us that, in the mundane sphere of sense-perception, the Forms’ koinnia becomes an incongruent mixture (mixis) and variety (poikilia) as goodness and its cognates now mingle with various types of badness. On the interpretation I have argued in this chapter, Plato’s task in Book 5 is not then an easy one, since, in effect, it requires the reduction of the participation of vice and its cognates (kakon) in the creation of the ideal polis in order to constrain or contain this mixture. Plato instead promotes a different type of mixture or association, which seeks to reproduce the Forms’ essential ethical and ontological qualities, goodness, and integrity. Thus the polloi of the polis will reproduce an ethical network that approaches as much as possible the unity of the Forms. This is the philosophers’ task in relation to their own selves, according to Book 6. 500b8 – c7, and this is their political task in ruling the city as Socrates proposes it. In Book 5, Plato, in his capacity as visual artist working with words, has tried to show that it is possible, and completely desirable, that the Forms ‘seal’ (typos) humans with their goodness and bind all together in a harmonized whole (Petraki [2008: 147 – 170]). As we will see in Chapter Four, this stands in stark contrast to his portrayal of the political and psychological state of the many unjust. We are now in a better position to understand Plato’s use of the imageries in the three waves of argument and of swimming in a small pool or an ocean: Plato’s main speaker has shown to his interlocutors that, when one knows how to argue correctly, one can successfully apply one’s methodology to defend ideas that are prima facie unrelated to each other, some being more complicated and demanding than others. In each wave of argument, Socrates has tried to tackle and defeat various types of conflicting incongruence and lack of homogeneity and to show how unity can be attained even in our world of mixture. Its disastrous effects when unconstrained are presented most vividly and in deeply poetical prose in Book 8 and 9. However, the argumentation in the third wave of argument is indeed an ‘ocean’ that may easily overwhelm both Socrates and Glaucon. As we will see in the next chapter, this prerequisite necessary for the mere possibility of creating the polis cannot be put across or argued persuasively by way of language hitherto familiar to Socrates’ audience. As a result, a large part of Socrates’ explanation of this thesis involves addressing issues of language usage and of definitions. In the concluding lines of Book 5, Socrates draws a number of ontological and epistemological distinctions. However, his first distinction between true philosophers

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and sight-lovers is fundamental for the presentation of Platonic Ideas and forms the background against which some difficult argumentation is constructed. As I have had occasion to suggest in Section One of this study, Socrates’ internal audience has a defining effect on the stylistic mode that he, Plato’s main speaker, deploys in order to construct his arguments. The truth of this observation becomes more than evident in the strenuous exposition of the Forms of the concluding part of Book 5 and in the equally demanding argumentation on pleasure of Book 9. In these two contexts, Plato stretches the complex and profound dynamics of Glaucon’s persona in the Republic to its limits to demonstrate how strict philosophical reasoning, thought, and linguistic style are all dependent on the ethical and cognitive characteristics of the speakers, or, to use the Republic’s language, conditional on whether one converses with a sight-lover, a pleasure-lover, or with someone who possesses the characteristics of Glaucon. As I have discussed at length, in the first two waves, Plato has fashioned a number of images in order to depict the guardian class and to prescribe its purity. He has also depicted in a most economical manner the unity that he desires for the whole polis. In the third wave, however, Plato’s language changes. Rather than constructing images (eikones), he employs diverse linguistic styles, which consist of an imagistic type of language and of a colourless register. In the next chapter, I examine the reasons behind this alternation of linguistic styles in the concluding pages of Book 5. However, before dealing with the poetics of Socrates’ philosophical language and the stylistic variety he displays in the epistemology and ontology of the third wave, we must first examine the persona of Socrates’ interlocutor and his contribution to the philosophic dialogue thus far. This will throw light on both the Republic’s educational aspects and on its diverse styles.58

58 So Coventry, in Pelling, C. (ed.) (1990: 174 – 184), who contrasts Glaucon’s eagerness to contribute to the dialogue with Callicles’ failure to avoid dependence on common belief in the Gorgias 447a1 – 2.

2. Philosophical style in the third wave of argument in Book 5 2.1 Glaucon In this chapter, I shall investigate Plato’s construction of Glaucon’s persona in the Republic and examine his contribution to the shaping of the philosophical style of Books 2 and 5. My discussion will touch upon the usage of the dialogue form as an appropriate vehicle for Platonic philosophy, and its treatment here will be suggestive but not exhaustive. To account for the importance of Glaucon’s persona in this dialogue we need to revisit Books 1 and 2 of the Republic. At the end of Book 1 we are left at a loss, puzzled, and confused.59 The dialogue does not reach a definition of justice and Socrates also fails to convince Thrasymachus that justice brings only happiness and that the unjust are the most wretched and unhappy (354a1 – 11).60 The opening of Book 2, 59 My interpretation is not affected by the hypothesis that the Book was composed separately, or earlier than the rest of the work. On the so-called ‘unity problem’ of the Republic, see Hermann (1839: 538 – 540). In fact, Friedländer named the first Book “Thrasymachus” (vol. II, 45, vol. III, 55). More recent scholarship has cast new light on the matter. See Guthrie (1975: 437). In the transition from Book 1 to 2, Annas sees a change in Plato’s methodology (1981: 57). For a similar approach see also, White (1979: 3 and 61) and Reeve (1988: xi-xii and 22 – 23). Charles Kahn (1993) and (1996) has given the most comprehensive treatment of the matter. In Kahn (1993: 135 – 136), he rightly shows how Book 1 is deliberately composed so that it resembles the early Platonic dialogues and speaks of the method of “proleptic composition”, according to which the Book anticipates and foreshadows many of the themes and ideas that are fully developed in the ensuing Books. For a similar reading, see Blondell (2002: 165 and 187 – 189). See also Aune (1997: 291 – 308). On the way in which Rep. Books 2 – 10 cast a critical eye on the method employed throughout Book 1, see Giannantoni (1957: 138 – 141); Sesonske (1961); Reeve (1988: Ch. 1); Beversluis (2000: 379 – 383). Cf., however, Nehamas (1990: 12 – 14) and Vlastos (1991: Ch. 4). 60 The Book ends with an extended feast metaphor whereby Thrasymachus invites Socrates to “enjoy his banquet at the feast of Bendis” (354a10 – 11). These lines are heavily imagistic and introduce subtly for the first time in the dialogue the imagery of arguments as food (354a12-c1). As I will show in Chapters Three and Four below, Thrasymachus’ concluding remarks in

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however, signals a striking change in the dialogue, both methodologically and linguistically.61 The person who saves the dialogue from ending in real deadlock at the beginning of Book 2 is Glaucon. In Book 1 Glaucon speaks only once, but what he says immediately makes him Socrates’ ally in ethics. To Socrates’ question in Rep. 347e2 – 348a6, as to whether he is persuaded by Thrasymachus’ arguments about the superiority of injustice, Glaucon replies immediately that he is not, that he would choose the life of the just, and that he considers this life more profitable than the unjust life (347e1-348-a6).62 Nonetheless, his ethical views aside, at the beginning of Book 2 Glaucon displays a certain philosophical competence that again differentiates him from the rest of the company: 9c½ l³m owm taOta eQp½m ålgm k|cou !pgkk\whai· t¹ d’ Gm %qa, ¢r 5oije, pqoo_liom. j c±q Cka}jym !e_ te dµ !mdqei|tator £m tucw\mei pq¹r ûpamta, ja· dµ ja· t|te toO Hqasul\wou tµm !p|qqgsim oqj !ped]nato…

(357a1 – 4) When I said this, I thought that I had done with the discussion, but it turned out to have been only a prelude. Glaucon showed his characteristic courage on this occasion too and refused to accept Thrasymachus’ abandonment of the argument.

In these introductory lines, Plato causes Socrates to focus on the distinctive characteristics that make Glaucon a skilled interlocutor in philosophical dialogue. The first feature that the narrator highlights in this Book 1 are part of the dialogue’s broader imagistic network that treats food as an integral aspect of human nature and links its luxuriousness and variety with imbalance and disease. The food imagery as we shall see becomes particularly prominent in the discussion of their first city (the so-called ‘city of pigs’), as well as in Books 8 and 9, where Socrates’ portrayal of the unjust will rest on animal imagery to present them as subhuman. But at the same time, the Republic’s parlance allows this imagery to stand for logos and the way different people put it into practice. In the food imagery Plato combines two ideas: variety in food can harm the body’s health in the same way that inappropriate use of language can harm our intellectual health and progress in philosophy; excessive diversity in both can make us turn to something less than human. See my detailed discussion in Chapters Three and Four below. 61 So Blondell (2000: 127 – 146) and Blondell (2002: 199 – 228). 62 Rep. 347e1-348-a6: s» owm pot]qyr, Gm d’ 1c~, § Cka}jym, aRq0 ; ja· p|teqom !kghest]qyr doje? soi k]ceshai ; T¹m toO dija_ou 5cyce kusitek]steqom b_om eWmai. (“Which life would you choose, Glaucon? And which of our views do you consider truer? I certainly think that the life of a just person is more profitable.”)

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context is Glaucon’s “courageous spirit” (!e_ te dµ !mdqei|tator). This piece of information regarding this co-speaker, whom Socrates appears to know well, becomes significant when seen in connection with the interlocutors’ reaction to Thrasymachus’ interception of the argument in Book 1, 336b – e. There, to highlight Thrasymachus’ uncontrollable spirit (thymos) and its overwhelming impact on him and Polemarchus (de_samter diepto^hglem), Socrates employs animal language (¦speq hgq_om, 336b5) and resorts to a traditional proverb that relates Thrasymachus to a wolf (336d5 – 7). Thrasymachus’ usurpation of the logos stems from his disruptive and unruly behaviour, and the same features of character also lead the investigation into the nature of justice to a deadlock. Glaucon’s balanced matching of courageous temperament and dianoetic sobriety is intended to contrast with Thrasymachus’ engagement with philosophical dialogue and to dramatize an alternative, more fruitful way of handling argumentation. Both his courage and intellectual vigilance become particularly marked in the way he refuses to be intimidated by Thrasymachus’ aggressive behaviour or to be “enchanted by Socrates as if by a snake,” and accept as proven ideas that have not been satisfactorily argued through or demonstrated (358b3).63 Instead, his intervention seeks to re-open the dialogue and revive the argument about justice in new, more challenging ways.64 Firstly, in inviting Socrates to make a greater effort to define justice, Glaucon draws, for the first time in the course of the discussion, the distinction between seeming and truly being persuaded (357a5 – b1). ¯ S~jqater, p|teqom Bl÷r bo}kei doje?m pepeij]mai C ¢r !kgh_r pe?sai fti pamt· tq|p\ %leim|m 1stim d_jaiom eWmai C %dijom ; ªr !kgh_r, eWpom, 5cyc’ #m 2ko_lgm, eQ 1p’ 1lo· eUg. Oq to_mum, 5vg, poie?r d bo}kei. k]ce c\q loi· (357a4 – b4)

Socrates, he said, do you want to seem to have persuaded us that it is better in every way to be just than unjust, or do you want truly to convince us of this? 63 See 358b1 – 4: ]hi d^, 5vg, %jousom ja· 1loO, 1\m soi 5ti taqt± doj0. Hqas}lawor c\q loi va_metai pq\a_teqom toO d]omtor rp¹ soO ¦speq evir jgkgh/mai, 1lo· d³ oupy jat± moOm B !p|deinir c]comem peq· 2jat]qou [“Come then and listen to me as well, and see whether you still have that problem, for I think that Thrasymachus gave up before he had to, charmed by you as if he were a snake. But I am not yet satisfied by the argument on either side.”] On the taming of Thrasymachus, see Blondell (2002: 194ff); Patterson (1987: 341 – 342). Miller (1980: 80); cf. Bruns ([1896] 1961: 326 – 327); and Bloom (1968: 400 – 401). 64 See Blundell (2002: 199 – 203).

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I want truly to convince you, I said, if it depends on me. Well, then, you certainly aren’t doing what you want. Tell me…

This important distinction is introduced rather smoothly and inconspicuously in the first few lines of Book 2, but there is nothing innocent or fortuitous in Glaucon’s remarks, for these terms will be of fundamental use to Socrates when he later tries to explain his complex ontological and epistemological ideas.65 This same distinction between appearance and true reality will become even more pronounced in Glaucon’s ensuing description of the majority’s views regarding justice and injustice (360e1 – 361d3). In fact, the correct distinction (jq_sir, 360e1, 361d5) between “truly being” and only “appearing to be” just will form the point on which Glaucon’s challenge to Socrates will hinge: Glaucon requests Socrates to discount most people’s perception of justice and injustice and cast new light in his treatment of just and unjust men on the way such persons appear from the outside (Doxa) and the way they truly are inside. Philosophical methodological clarity demands that common opinion (Doxa) be reinterpreted in new ways. If justice and injustice are to be fruitfully revisited in their discussion, the two must be deciphered somehow and be kept well apart from each other (360e1 – 3).66 As a result, in order to reveal the essence of justice, Glaucon asks Socrates to address himself to the matter of its common appearance. The just person should be stripped of any rewards that may lure him to justice, and he should be made to be perceived by others as unjust in the extreme (!vaiqet]om dµ t¹ doje?m, 361b8). If he is truly just, he can remain so only internally (doj_m l³m eWmai %dijor di± b_ou, £m d³ d_jaior, 361d1). The opposite should be so in the case of a hypothetical unjust person. For such a one, appearing just is vital, because, firstly, this is what amounts to successful injustice (namely being unjust and appearing to be just), and, secondly, this is the only way he may find safety in a society which, according to Thrasymachus and others, is only hypocritically just

65 In Book 5, 478a1 – 7, Socrates will pick up this same terminology that Glaucon introduced in Book 2 and re-designate it semantically so that he explains how the world of true Being and true Knowledge (9pist^lg) must be differentiated from the world of Opinion (D|na). Not surprisingly, Plato has Socrates present this important epistemological and ontological thesis to Glaucon, rather than to Adeimantus. 66 On Glaucon’s krisis here, see also the discussion in Petraki (2009: 55 – 60).

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by way of some sort of unspoken contract (361a4 – 5 and 358e3 – 359a2).67 Glaucon’s use of terminology here is philosophically significant.68 By stripping justice of its rewards and outer appearance, Glaucon paves the way for Socrates’ suggestion later in the dialogue that justice and injustice dwell inside the person, in his very soul.69 As a matter of fact, Glaucon raises this fundamental requirement explicitly at Rep. 358b4 – 7, at the beginning of his challenge to Socrates: 1pihul_ c±q !joOsai t_ t’ 5stim 2j\teqom ja_ t_ma 5wei d}malim aqt¹ jah’ art¹ 1m¹m 1m t0 xuw0, to»r d³ lisho»r ja· t± cicm|lema !p’ aqt_m 1÷sai wa_qeim.

I want to know what justice and injustice are and what power each itself has when it’s by itself in the soul. I want to leave out of account their rewards and what comes from each of them.

In contrast to Thrasymachus, who in Book 1 argued that injustice is a form of good, Glaucon’s challenge to Socrates in these lines builds on his previous thesis that justice should be considered a kind of good (eWdor !cahoO, 357c5), thus foreshadowing Socrates’ presentation of the most important Form in Book 6 (506d – e; Cp. Rep. 357d4). In associating justice with the good in 357b – d, Glaucon offers a tripartite 67 Note that sight and vision is also the prominent motif in Glaucon’s myth of Gyges’ ancestor in 359c6 – 360c3. Once invisible, he can be his true self, namely unjust (!vam/ aqt¹m cem]shai, 360a1, vameq¹m cem]shai, 360a4). 68 Two short, but philosophically significant, alliterative phrases are used here: dia doxan epitedeuteuon and auto de di’ auto pheukteon (358a4 – 6). According to Glaucon, people are just because of doxa (reputation). At the end of Book 5 Socrates will show that these people dwell in the realm of Doxa. Plato’s philosophical terminology appears to be fluid and moulded as the dialogue progresses. In Book 5, Socrates will re-address and adapt the language Glaucon introduced to bring home his ontological and epistemological ideas. In line with the interpretation I follow in this work, the two words (doxa and auto) can be seen as short linguistic blocks which, when transplanted into different contexts, can lead argumentation to radically new directions. 69 See Rep. 443c9-d5: “And in truth justice is, it seems, something of this sort. However, it isn’t concerned with someone’s doing his own externally (!kk’ oq peq· tµm 5ny pq÷nim t_m artoO) but with what is inside him (!kk± peq· tµm 1mt|r), with what is truly himself and his own (¢r !kgh_r peq· 2aut¹m ja· t± 2autoO). One who is just does not allow any part of himself to do the work of another part or allow the various classes within him to meddle with each other. He regulates well what is really his own and rules himself. He puts himself in order, is his own friend, and harmonizes the three parts of himself (sumaql|samta tq_a emta)…”

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division of human goods (agatha), inviting Socrates to choose the category under which justice should be placed (357b4 – d4). The three categories are the kinds of good that humans welcome “for its own sake” (aqt¹ artoO 6meja !spaf|lemoi), without any desire for its consequences; goods “we like for its own sake and also for the sake of what comes from it (aqt| te artoO w\qim !cap_lem ja· t_m !p’ aqtoO cicmol]mym)”; and, finally, forms of good which, being onerous but beneficial, we pursue not “for their own sake” (aqt± l³m 2aut_m 6meja oqj #m dena_leha 5weim), but “for the sake of the rewards and other things that come from them”. Glaucon’s distinction prima facie seems to have no ground-breaking philosophical implications, as his division of goods is still tied to the realm of the mundane, the material, and the sense-perceptive, and so is obviously far from Socrates’ position in Book 6 that the Agathon is “beyond essence”, known only cognitively and not sense-perceptively.70 Nonetheless, it is in the context of this surprisingly analytic distinction, which Glaucon draws on the basis of well-clarified sets of criteria, that the Republic’s readership encounters for the first time in the text Plato’s watchword for the Forms, namely the philosophically significant linguistic unit of aqt¹ artoO 6meja (“the thing itself, for its own sake”).71 The only meaning that Plato has Glaucon assign to this short phrase at this stage in the dialogue is that of fully sense-perceptive joy that requires no effort to be attained and has no consequences when complete (357b6). However, this combination of self-reflexive and definite pronouns constitutes Socrates’ fundamental terminology in Republic Book 5 for discussion of the Forms, these latter being characterized by fixity and homogeneity, whilst eschewing all change and ambiguity. In specific terms, in 476c2 – d3, Socrates proposes a new and unusual way of understanding reality. What is traditionally called Plato’s ‘theory of Forms’ in this dialogue is heavily reliant on wording that Glaucon has introduced in Book 2. This speaker’s non-technical use of certain terms now becomes philosophical terminology: j owm jak± l³m pq\clata mol_fym, aqt¹ d³ j\kkor l^te mol_fym l^te, %m tir Bc/tai 1p· tµm cm_sim aqtoO, dum\lemor 6peshai […]

70 On the philosophical significance of Glaucon’s tripartite classification of goods, see White (1984: 393 – 421) and Irwin, in Fine, G. (ed.) (1999: Ch. 6); but cf. Heinaman (2002: 309 – 335); see also Reeve (1988: 24 – 25); Dorter (2006: 57 – 59); and Shields in Santas (ed.) (2006: 66 – 70). 71 So Blondell (2000: 135 – 140); but cf. Ferrari (2003: 16).

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T_ d] ; b t!mamt_a to}tym Bco}lem|r t] ti aqt¹ jak¹m ja· dum\lemor jahoq÷m ja· aqt¹ ja· t± 1je_mou let]womta, ja· oute t± let]womta aqt¹ oute aqt¹ t± let]womta Bco}lemor…

What about someone who believes in beautiful things, but doesn’t believe in the beautiful itself and isn’t able to follow anyone who could lead him to the knowledge of it?… But someone, who to take the opposite case, believes in the beautiful itself, can see both it (auto) and the things that participate in it and doesn’t believe that the participants are it or that it itself is the participants…

Glaucon, unaware of the philosophical gravity that his language and methodology bears at this stage of the discussion, has started to herald as early as Book 2 the language of metaphysics and ontology presented in the middle Books of the Republic. 72 Plato’s construction of Glaucon’s persona can thus be seen as a welldesigned authorial technique that serves a range of objectives in the Republic: it demonstrates the importance of the dialogical mode in doing philosophy and it also makes plain the criteria required for having a constructive philosophical dialogue, namely energetic participants with certain ethical and cognitive characteristics.73 Glaucon is one such a participant. He a priori believes that justice pays more and deems that a successful definition of justice must dispense with humans’ multi-faceted and diverse judgments or qualifications (358c6 – d3).74 As we saw above, a superficial praise of the superiority of justice will not be good enough for this interlocutor, who expressly states that he will not be “enchanted by Socrates”, or be scared off by Thrasymachus, and who demands a demonstration (apodeixis) that will be satisfactory

72 In Book 5. 478a1 – 7, Socrates will pick up this same terminology that Glaucon introduced in Book 2 and re-designate it semantically so that he explains how the world of true Being and true knowledge (Episte˜me˜) must be differentiated from the world of Opinion (Doxa). Not surprisingly, Plato has Socrates present this important epistemological and ontological thesis to Glaucon and not to Adeimantus, on whom, see the discussion in Chapters Three and Four below. 73 Socrates’ contribution to the philosophic dialogue is not always a guarantee of success. See Vlastos (1985: 1 – 31). 74 This is a challenge of quasi-Parmenidean type: see Fr. 8, 27 – 9: 1pe· c]mesir ja· ekehqor/ t/ke l\k’ 1pk\whgsam, !p_se d³ p_stir !kgh^r./taqt|m t’ 1m taqt` te l]mom jah’ 2aut| te je?tai /wovtyr 5lpedom axhi l´mei. Palmer (1999) has treated in detail the relation between Parmenides On Nature and the concluding pages of Rep. Book 5.

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to his intellect (noos) (358b1 – 7).75 His not easily deceived noos, his willingness to accept his own aporetic state (358c6 – d3), and his quasi-philosophical skills will make him Socrates’ most appropriate interlocutor throughout Books 5 – 7. Glaucon seems even to fit Socrates’ description of the true philosopher in Book 5 as being “the one who readily and willingly tries all kinds of learning, who turns gladly to learning and is insatiable for it” (475c6 – 7; Cp. 450b6 – c5). However, his intellectual skills and ethical views aside, Glaucon’s most important trait is his active and vigorous willingness to help Socrates argue difficult ideas.76 His commitment to reinforcing the development of the dialogue in ground-breaking directions is emphasized throughout Book 5. Although in 449b – c it is Polemarchus and Adeimantus who raise the issue of female guardianship and communal life in the ideal state, Plato sees that they soon give way to Glaucon, who now resurfaces as Socrates’ sole interlocutor in the discussion. Glaucon’s rhetoric in this context reveals an idiosyncratic amalgamation of forcefulness and unquestionable willingness to help Socrates successfully face the three waves of the logos (450b5 – c5). Socrates admits that the ideas brought up in relation to the polis are not easy to argue and most people are unable to accept these social innovations, thus refusing to be per75 Thrasymachus was as “enchanted as a snake” by Socrates and thus failed to defend his thesis. For Glaucon, though, the apodeixis given in Book 1 was inadequate. Glaucon’s comments here evoke poetry’s ke˜le˜sis. But it is Socrates now who is accused of enchanting the interlocutors. Note that this is the sort of influence that the rhapsode Ion wishes to have on his audience as Plato has him admit to Socrates in the Ion 535e1 – 6. Glaucon’s remarks here are thus self-referential: if Thrasymachus was spell-bound by Socrates to intellectual numbness, the dialogue failed to perform its philosophic function. On Glaucon see also O’Connor, in Ferrari, G. R. F. (ed.) (2007: 55 – 89). On Thrasymachus, see Irwin (1995: Chapters 11 and 12); Kerferd (1964: 12 – 16); Nicholson (1974: 210 – 232); and Cooke (1999: 40). See also Beversluis (2000: 221 – 244). Note that Glaucon does not accuse Socrates for the dialogue’s aporia. He quickly points out that he believes Socrates to be the only one capable of producing an acceptable account of justice (358d 1 – 3). See also Blondell (2002: 218 – 219, 165 – 189 and 193 – 199), who also discusses Socrates’ change of approach after Glaucon and Adeimantus have issued their challenge in Book 2 (when the dialogue becomes ‘constructive’ and, from a dramatic perspective, less-colourful); see also Schofield (1993: 184 – 186) and Annas (1981: 39). 76 See, for example, 451b2 – 5. Because of this, some scholars have viewed him as a “yes-man”: see, for example, Arieti (1991); but cf. Blondell (2002: 204 – 205) and Rowe (2007: 93 – 95).

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suaded that they are both feasible and effective (450c – d). These are the so-called non-believers whom, after Glaucon’s encouragement and reassurance of committed support, Socrates will have to find the means to persuade. In 450b6 – 7, Glaucon states that “it is within reason for people with any understanding to listen to an argument of this kind their whole life long” and, in the face of Socrates’ further reservations about his own ability to argue these ideas knowledgeably, Glaucon promises that the members of this audience are not inconsiderate (!cm~lomer), incredulous (%pistoi) or hostile (d}smoi), and will support him throughout this difficult argumentative venture (450d3 – 4).77 This short exchange of promised allegiances and alliances is rendered in language heavily laden with combative and judicial terminology: Ja· b Cka}jym cek\sar, )kk’, § S~jqater, 5vg, 1\m ti p\hylem pkgllek³r rp¹ toO k|cou, !v_el]m se ¦speq v|mou ja· jahaq¹m eWmai ja· lµ !pate_ma Bl_m. !kk± haqq^sar k]ce. (451b2 – 5)

Glaucon laughed and said: Well, Socrates, if we suffer from any false note you strike in the argument, we’ll release you and absolve you of any guilt as in a homicide case: your hands are clean, and you have not deceived us. So take courage and speak.

Glaucon’s interference with the course of the argument has drawn Socrates onto philosophically perilous ground. His language here anticipates and foreshadows the aggressive and martial language he will later utilize to express people’s reaction to Socrates’ broaching of the fundamental prerequisite for the creation of the ideal state, namely the thesis that philosophers should become kings. Glaucon’s most celebrated commitment to the argument is expressed in this context, in the concluding section of Book 5, where Socrates appears reluctant to handle the third wave of the argument (473c11 – e5). The lines in question make the most again of the vocabulary of war, highlighting thus the repercussions of Plato’s socio-political ideas: Ja· fr, ¯ S~jqater, 5vg, toioOtom 1jb]bkgjar N/l\ te ja· k|com, dm eQp½m BcoO 1p· s³ p\mu pokko}r te ja· oq va}kour mOm ovtyr, oXom N_xamter t± Rl\tia, culmo»r kab|mtar fti 2j\st\ paq]tuwem fpkom, he?m diatetal]mour ¢r haul\sia 1qcasol]mour· otr eQ lµ !lum0 t` k|c\ ja· 1jve}n,, t` emti tyhaf|lemor d~seir d_jgm. (473e6 – 474a4)

Socrates, after hurling a speech and statement like that at us, you must expect that a great many people (and not undistinguished ones either) will cast off their cloaks and, stripped for action, snatch any available weapon, and 77 See also Glaucon’s similar exchange with Socrates in 457e2 – 6.

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make a determined rush at you, ready to do terrible things. So, unless you can hold them off by argument and escape, you really will pay the penalty of general derision.

According to Glaucon, Socrates has now joined “a war of arguments” against those who will reject his association of metaphysics and political theory (to?r !pistoOsim, 474b2). The ideas from this point onwards will be particularly provocative and intellectually strenuous, and Socrates himself admits that he cannot bring his thesis home unless he has a co-speaker willing to follow him along this path of argumentation; someone who will reinforce rather than block his intellectual venture. Glaucon promptly promises to be such an interlocutor, and thus takes on the role of a cooperative respondent to assist Socrates in this philosophical battle: !kk\ to_ se oq pqod~sy, !kk’ !lum_ oXr d}malai· d}malai d³ eqmo_ô te ja· t` paqajeke}eshai, ja· Usyr #m %kkou tou 1llek]steq|m soi !pojqimo_lgm. !kk’ ¢r 5wym toioOtom bogh¹m peiq_ to?r !pistoOsim 1mde_nashai fti 5wei Ø s» k]ceir. (474a6 – b2)

I won’t betray you, but rather defend you in any way I can – by goodwill, by urging you on, and perhaps by being able to give you more appropriate answers than someone else. So, with the promise of this assistance, try to show the unbelievers that things are as you say they are.

As a result, Socrates is persuaded to present the Forms: “I must try it, then, especially since you agree to be so great an ally” (lec\kgm sullaw_am, 474b3 – 4). It appears then that this path of enquiry into the metaphysics and ontology of Books 5, 6, and 7 has been trodden as a result of Glaucon and Socrates’ joining forces. Glaucon’s most important contribution to the argument at this stage of the dialogue in Book 5 is his complete and unquestioning acceptance of the existence of the Forms. The Republic, I wish to argue, promotes the idea that certain linguistic and conceptual resources already lie at hand for certain interlocutors to use as they become trained in Platonic philosophy, although the successful employment of such resources is determined by the interlocutors’ own ability to cooperate with Socrates in redirecting familiar language and thought patterns towards new paths of cognition.78 Thus, using Glaucon as a characteristic case in this direction, the dialogue demon78 Glaucon’s ‘philosophic’language: doje?m pepeij]mai, !kgh_r pe?sai (357a5), toi|mde ti eWmai (357b5), aqt¹ artoO 6meja (357b6), di± d|nam (358a6), B jat± moOm !p|deinir (358b3 – 4), t_ t’ 5stim 2j\teqom ja· t_ma 5wei d}malim (358b4 – 5), aqt¹ jah’ art¹ (358d2), 1m¹m 1m t0 xuw0 (358b5 – 6).

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strates how one’s non-technical deployment of certain terms in current use at the time may be transformed into a particular form of philosophic dialect, thereby bridging linguistic gaps when communicating with a philosophically unsophisticated audience, in order to facilitate the introduction of such an audience to Platonic philosophy, ethics, and epistemology.79 This is a significant point regarding the way language is deployed in the Republic. Glaucon’s challenge to Socrates in the opening of Book 2 introduces a type of wording in our text which, when appropriated by Socrates in Book 5, will put across epistemological classifications that not even Glaucon will be able to follow easily. In my view, this on-going philosophical training is seen as an instance of the Platonic education (paideia) as this is defined in Book 7. It is here that Socrates contradicts the commonly-held idea about education according to which “knowledge is put into the souls that lack it”, in the same way that “sight is put into blind eyes” (vas· d´ pou oqj 1mo}sgr 1m t0 xuw0 1pist^lgr sve?r 1mtih]mai, oXom tuvko?r avhaklo?r exim 1mtih]mter, 518b8 – c2). He argues instead that “education takes for granted that sight is there but it isn’t turned the right way or looking where it ought to look, and it tries to redirect it appropriately” (diame˜chane˜sasthai, 518d3 – 7).80 To turn the “eye of the soul towards the Sun” is to lead someone from one level of the understanding of reality to another.81 For Socrates’ interlocutors in the dialogue, who, we should 79 For a similar line of enquiry, see also Blondell (2002: 199 – 228, and in Press (ed.) (2000: 127 – 46). Glaucon’s persona in the Republic has received diverse criticism. For an interpretation which directly contradicts mine, see Strauss (1964); and Arieti (1991: 231 – 47). But cf. Ausland, in Michelini, A. N. (ed.) (2003: 124 – 33). See also discussion in the Introduction above n. 48. 80 Rep. 518d3 – 7: To}tou to_mum, Gm d’ 1c~, aqtoO t]wmg #m eUg, t/r peqiacyc/r, t_ma tq|pom ¢r Nøst\ te ja· !musil~tata letastqav^setai, oq toO 1lpoi/sai aqt` t¹ bq÷m, !kk’ ¢r 5womti l³m aqt|, oqj aqh_r d³ tetqall]m\ oqd³ bk]pomti oX 5dei, toOto dialgwam^sashai. (“Then education is the craft concerned with doing this very thing, this turning around, and with how the soul can most easily and effectively be made to do it. It isn’t the craft of putting sight into the soul. Education takes for granted that sight is there but that it isn’t turned the right way or looking where it ought to look, and it tries to redirect it appropriately.”) Note that the language in 7. 518c – d exploits the imagery of light and darkness that Plato deploys for the first time in his epistemological distinction at the end of Book 5 and out of which his images of the Sun, the Line and the Cave are constructed in Books 6 and 7. This is discussed further in this chapter and in Chapter Three below. 81 A number of scholars have interpreted the Republic as depicting the conversion (peqiacyc^) that Socrates speaks of in his images of the Lines and the Cave: see

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stress again, have not been exposed to the type of education in poetry and music that Socrates recommends for his guardians in Books 2 and 3, or to the intellectually strenuous mathematical and scientific education of the philosopher-kings presented in Book 7, epistemological conversion (peqiacyc^) may be achieved on a first level by re-channelling the dynamics of familiar language in order to debate new ideas. Plato’s treatment of Glaucon’s persona, then, demonstrates how even these, as it were, ‘culturally contaminated’ citizens can be trained in Platonic philosophy, provided that they are willing to be exposed to this type of education. Glaucon, in particular, stands out in the group for he seems to bear all the ethical and intellectual features that would allow such a conversion.82 He is adamant that Socrates should present highly difficult ideas, not easily developed or followed by everyone, and he cooperates with Socrates in this direction.83 Even so, his promising intellectual dynamics cannot support him all the way, and so he still needs to be turned ‘away from darkness’ towards the ‘light’ in a manner similar, but nonetheless not identical, with others present in the dialogue.84 Glaucon then presents a challenge to Socrates who must now embark on the actual task of educating this promising interlocutor by deploying the appropriate methods (diame˜chane˜sasthai 518d7). The use of this term in the context of the definition of Platonic paideia is significant for understanding the way that Plato’s philosophical dialogue works. Participants can only be treated as individual cases, each requiring Soc-

Blondell (2002: 217 with n. 180); Gallop (1964/65: 113 – 131); Brumbaugh (1989: 49); Cooper (1966: 65 – 69) and Tanner (1970: 81 – 91). This is a highly intricate issue that is beyond the scope of this book. I have discussed certain aspects of this complex issue in Petraki (2009: 27 – 67). 82 According to Plato, exposure to the type of education in Mousike˜ that Socrates condemns in Books 2 and 3 results in ethical confusion. So Reeve (1988: 220 – 231); and Blondell (2002). 83 Note that Adeimantus’ contribution to the dialogue is also significant (see, for example, Rep. 366d-367a), but in my view in a different way, as Plato constructs his persona to serve different aims in the dialogue. For an extensive discussion of this see Chapters Three and Four below. The difference between the two brothers is also discussed by Blondell (2002: 219 – 228). See also Allen and Stokes, in Panagiotou, S. (ed.) (1987: 63 – 96 and 97 – 104). 84 Note that unlike the Parmenidean youth, Glaucon’s encounter with the Form of the Good is blocked in Book 7. 533a. He is offered instead the image of the Sun. See my discussion below in Chapter Three.

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rates’ discovery of the appropriate me˜chanai (method).85 Socrates’s education of Glaucon in this section of the Republic involves his ‘awakening’ in matters of philosophical language and argumentation (see 358c6 – d3).86 Consequently, Glaucon, and through him the others present at Cephalus’ house, are shown that the language people use and understand in a specific way to argue for injustice (words such as doxa, psyche˜, agathon, and ale˜theia) must be shifted to express different thought patterns and present unsuspected truths about reality. Plato’s dialogue form is thus the most appropriate mode to serve these purposes.87 The above has been a necessary overview of the distinctive features of Glaucon’s persona in the Republic in order to explain Plato’s choice of Glaucon as Socrates’ main interlocutor not only in Book 5, but in all the Republic’s dramatic moments where intricate issues are discussed and argumentation becomes particularly strenuous and demanding.88 At these 85 The Socratic elenchus is also a method of conversion. See the detailed discussion in Vlastos (1983a/b: 27 – 58, esp. 57 and 71 – 74); cf. Polansky’s examination of Vlastos’ analysis (1985: 247 – 259); see also Gordon (1996b: 131 – 137) and Kahn (1996: Ch. 1). 86 Note that Glaucon does not need to be persuaded on ethical matters or about the superiority of justice. He agrees with Socrates but, without his help, he cannot defend his thesis. 87 Plato’s use of the dialogue form has been discussed extensively in the literature. See Rowe (2007: 7 – 25); von Reden and Goldhill, in Goldhill, S. and Osborne, R. (eds.) (1999: 257 – 289); Sinaiko (1965); Haslam (1972: 17 – 38); Guthrie IV (1975); Moors (1978: 77 – 93); Hyland (1968: 38 – 50); Gadamer (1980); Tejera (1984); Griswold, in Griswold, C. L. (ed.) (1988: 143 – 167); Sayre, in Griswold, C. L. (ed.) (1988: 93 – 109); Kahn (1996); Mittelstrass, in Griswold, C. L. (ed.) (1988: 126 – 142); Desjardins, in Griswold, C. L. (ed.) (1988: 110 – 125); Thesleff, in Press, G. A. (ed.) (1993: 259 – 266); Frede’s examination of the dialogue form is essential reading (in Klagge, J. C. and Smith, N. D. [eds.] [1992: 201 – 219]); Clay, in Dunn, F. M. and Cole, T. (eds.) (1992: 113 – 129); Johnson (1998: 577 – 598). See also the Introduction n. 14. 88 Socrates discusses with Glaucon his ontology, metaphysics and epistemology, as well as the construction of the ideal polis, the condition of the just and the ideal soul (Books 4 and 10), as well as the difficult subjects that the philosopher-kings will need to undertake in order to grasp the Forms. With Adeimantus, he discusses poetry in Books 2 and 3, the nature of the genuine and counterfeit philosophers in Book 6 and the unjust polities and souls. In his dialogue with Adeimantus, Socrates changes his linguistic style. The technique parallels that used with Glaucon. With Adeimantus, Socrates re-addresses and re-directs the poets’ parlance to serve the needs of his own philosophic argumentation. Note also that Plato replaces Adeimantus with Glaucon in Book 9 when Soc-

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philosophically crucial moments the dialogue requires participants determined to make positive efforts and Plato has found a number of ways to underscore this trait in Glaucon.89 I shall now turn to the concluding pages of Book 5 to investigate how Glaucon’s persona affects Socrates’ difficult argumentation about Knowledge and Opinion. My examination will also cast new light on the poetics of Socrates’ philosophical style in this context.

2.2 The third wave again The latter part of Book 5 is laden with problems related to Socrates’ ontological and epistemological ideas.90 These have been discussed and analysed by scholars vigorously over the years, and yet there is more to be said about the relation of Socrates’ linguistic style to his co-speakers. This issue will take up the rest of my examination of Book 5. In the background of Socrates’ distinction between Knowledge (Episte˜me˜) and Opinion (Doxa) stand the Platonic Forms. Not all interlocutors would ascribe to their existence, or to the epistemology that these generate, but, as we saw previously, Glaucon does. This facilitates not only Socrates’ exchange with the sight-lovers in 476e – 480a, but also the presentation of Plato’s metaphysics and epistemology to his readership, whose members may find themselves being in greater sympathy with Glaucon than with the sight-lovers (philotheamones). The introduction of the Forms in the context of the creation of the just polis is intended to offer to Glaucon a more comprehensive view of human understanding of true reality, and thus explain the reason why politics should be conducted by philosophers.91 In effect, Socrates casts new rates discusses pleasure (he˜done˜) in a long stretch of difficult argumentation. See my detailed discussion in Chapters Three and Four below. 89 See 474a5 – 474a6. See also 474a8. 90 The relevant literature is vast. See Robinson (1953); Ross (1951); Allen (ed.) (1965); Gallop (1965: 113 – 131); Tanner (1970: 81 – 91); Guthrie (1975 IV: 487 – 498); Cross, R. C. and Woozley, A. D. (ed.) (1964: 170); Vlastos, in Bambrough, R (ed.) (1965: 1 – 19); Wilson (1976: 117 – 127); Davies (1977: 23 – 28); Annas (1981: Ch. 8); Karasmanis (1988: 147 – 171); Kraut (1993: 43 – 62); Lidz (1993/94: 115 – 134) and Bestor (1996: 33 – 82); Fine, in Everson, S. (ed.) (1990: 85 – 115) and Fine, G. (ed.) (1999). 91 See 476c – d and 479a. Socrates offers to Glaucon a truly panoramic vision of reality in Book 6, in the images of the Sun and the Line.

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light on human cognition, as he ascribes reduced epistemological status to a perspectival or relativistic approach to concepts such as beauty or justice, when these are viewed by people only as qualities attached to various objects, actions, or persons, and not in themselves. 92 In the course of this epistemological exposition, the participants in the dialogue witness a transformation, as it were, of the diction that Glaucon introduced in Book 2, as well as of the use of language with which they think they are well familiar with.93 Thus Glaucon is encouraged to take a taste of an alternative type of language usage which promotes the idea that cognitive confusion results from one’s inability to handle conflicting senseperceptive impressions, variety, and multiplicity. The language that Socrates employs to argue these difficult ideas in Book 5 is not only devoid of poetic quotations, but also stylistically ‘cleansed’ from any vivid imagistic bearings. In my view, Socrates tries to thus present the intellect’s struggle against the deception which results from blindly trusting our sense-perception alone. As we will see shortly, Plato dramatizes most artistically this tension in Socrates’ alternation of linguistic styles.94 These observations are made clear in Socrates’ comments about colours and shapes in 477c6 – d5. In this respect, Socrates bases his explanation of dynamis on our inability to perceive it by way of colour or shape. This is key for understanding Socrates’ distinction between Episte˜me˜ and Doxa. As Rowe has rightly observed, Glaucon makes a crucial concession to Socrates on behalf of the sight-lovers when he allows him to argue that knowledge and belief are two different dynameis. This is a concession that the sight-lovers, had they been truly conversing with Socrates, might not have made, especially because of their apparent difficulties to think beyond colour and shape. Contrary to the sight-lovers, who take great pleasure in performances consisting of beautiful colours, shapes or songs (476b4 – 8), Glaucon in this part of the argumentation is 92 On this distinction, see the discussion further below. See also Gonzalez (1996: 245 – 275) and Gosling (1960: 116 – 128). 93 I mean here words such as doxa, auto to or kathauto and dynamis (in Book 2) and koinnia (deployed in Book 5). Yet, striking in this context is also the idiosyncratic usage of the verb ‘to be’ and its cognates, on which see the detailed discussion in Vlastos (1973: Ch. 2); see also Annas (1981: 195 – 200); Brown, in Everson, S. (ed.) (1994: 212 – 228); Kahn (1966: 245 – 265) and Kahn (1973) and (2003). 94 It is not incidental that in this context Socrates takes beauty as an example. We see the many beautiful things and yet, in Socrates’ view, we may never grasp the real beauty of Beauty itself.

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ready to support a type of discourse which is rendered in a language divested of colourfulness, a type of language one might be tempted to call abstract, but which, for reasons I will explain shortly, I will label colourless.95 We should not lose sight of the fact that along with Glaucon the others present in the dialogue also listen to Socrates’ epistemological classification rendered here in this particular stylistic type of discourse. As I suggested in the introduction, this is only a glimpse of an alternative type of diction which is intended to match the philosophical impact of Socrates’ discussion about sense-perception in Book 5. In Book 7, Socrates will give a list of subjects in which the philosopher-kings will need to train, in order to rise above the obstructive influence of sense-perception so that they finally ‘view’ the ultimate Form of the Good. As mentioned above, this is a type of education that the Republic’s intra-dramatic audience has not undertaken, and probably could not follow anyway. Yet, Plato’s Socrates applies a different method to educate the members of this audience in ethics and ontology. His distinction between Episte˜me˜ and Doxa in the third wave is rendered in a type of linguistic style devoid of traditional imagery familiar to the philotheamones and poetic motifs. As we will see, language there becomes ‘uncoloured’ and is thus a challenge for the sight-lovers, who cannot now easily engage in the act of visualization.96 In the concluding lines of Book 5, however, Socrates trades this style for an alternative imagistic one, recapitulating now his epistemological thesis in pictorial terms and in the diction of poetic origins. In this way, Socrates accommodates in his language the sight-lovers’ most favourite sense, vision (since this type of discourse supports visualisation), thus turning this sense into a stepping stone that leads people closer to the Platonic Real.97 95 In my usage of the ‘tasting of language’ I follow Plato’s own wording in Rep. 537a4 – 7 and 539b1 – 7 where the philosopher makes reference to the education of the guardians’ offspring. The relevant lines interweave the food imagery with the use of philosophical language. See a more detailed discussion in Chapters Three and Four below. 96 In the Republic the sight-lovers’ love for theamata (sights) is substituted by the act of visualization. Instead of viewing performances, the sight-lovers now visualize the verbal images that Plato constructs for them. 97 I here refer to the epistemological and ethical ‘distance’ that separates the majority from ethical qualities and the Platonic Real. This image was first introduced in our text by Thrasymachus in 343c – d. In the rest of the dialogue, Plato will exploit this notion of distance in various ways. See discussion in Chapters Three and Four below.

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Turning now to the Republic’s narrative, now at the threshold of the argument that will lead the dialogue to the metaphysics and epistemology of Books 6 and 7, Glaucon offers further support to Socrates so that the so-called unbelievers may become convinced of the proposed identification of politics with philosophy (to?r !pistoOsi, 474a6 – b4).98 Glaucon’s misinterpretation of philosophers here triggers Socrates’ immediate response, and he now distinguishes between true philosophers and sight-lovers (Oqdal_r, eWpom, !kk’ blo¸our l³m vikosºvoir. To»r d³ !kghimo¼r, 5vg, t¸mar k´ceir ; To»r t/r !kghe¸ar, Gm d’ 1c¾, vikohe²lomar. [“No, but they are like philosophers. And who are the true philosophers? Those who love the sight of truth”] 474b5 – c3). Two conflicting perspectives meet in Socrates’ exchange with Glaucon here. The ground is now new and Socrates has thus to turn to definitions.99 According to him, philosophers must be lovers of wisdom (475b8 – 10). Glaucon fails to grasp this point and his misinterpretation of the term philosopher leads to the introduction of the sight and sound lovers (475e2 – 5).100 Despite his intellectual aptitude, Glaucon is a man of his era, deeply ‘dyed’ in the culture of various poetic performances, and of diverse sounds and images. He thus takes Socrates’ use of word mathe˜ma in 475c6 to bear familiar connotations: because they love to learn (manthanein), cultured people attend a vast range of dramatic and musical performances. One cannot stress enough that one of Plato’s most fundamental problems is the discovery of the linguistic means that will enable Socrates to communicate with his intra-dramatic audience and external readership. In our text, this is enacted through Socrates’ linguistic negotiations with Glaucon. Thus Glaucon’s short question – “what do you mean by this?” in 475e5, which leads to the presentation of the Forms in 476a – d, is indicative of the difficulties that Socrates will have to face. Socrates’ reply is particularly important for the interpretation I propose here: ‘“It would not be easy to explain to someone else, but I think that you will agree to this”’ (475e6 – 7). Socrates’ hesitation here is making a point for the development of the conversation. It is a 98 See above Chapter One. 99 See 475c6-d and 475e2 – 5. 100 475c6 – 8: T¹m d³ dµ eqweq_r 1h´komta pamt¹r lah¶lator ce¼eshai ja· "sl´myr 1p· t¹ lamh²meim Qºmta ja· !pk¶styr 5womta, toOtom d’ 1m d¸j, v¶solem vikºsovom7 G c±q ; (“But the one who readily and willingly tries all kinds of learning, who turns gladly to learning and is insatiable for it, is rightly called a philosopher”).

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thin line that Socrates will now have to tread, and balance can be preserved only if the conversation is supported by an able interlocutor. Indeed, Socrates immediately gains Glaucon’s concession that there are such concepts as Beauty or Justice which are one thing (476a – d) but appear in many (pokk± va_meshai 6jastom, 476a7; aqt¹ ja· t± 1je_mou let]womta, 476d1 – 3). He then turns to demonstrate how the sight-lovers’ inability to know aqt¹ t¹ jak|m prevents them from attaining true knowledge and so, in 475d1 – 480a13, a further distinction is drawn this time between Knowledge and Opinion (Episte˜me˜ and Doxa). In order to understand the significance of Socrates’ division of these two types of philosophers, we need to investigate the nature of the sight/sound-lover. I should make clear that I do not intend to search here for the nature of the sight lover in the abstract. I will argue instead that those present in the theoretical construction of the kallipolis, albeit to a different extent, share the characteristics that Glaucon indicates in his description of the sight-lovers. If a sight-lover was asked what beauty is, he would offer a list of the many beautiful things that surround him. He would show, for example, “his lover, a Cathedral, a castle, or a symphony concert”.101 If we also take into account how many things surround us which one can find beautiful, then the list is endless indeed.102 101 See Stokes, in Barker, A. D., and Warner, M. (eds.) (1992: 103 – 132 here, at 106). On the importance of vision (theria, theama and theate˜s) in the 5th Century Athens, see also Goldhill’s illuminating discussion in N. K. Rutter and B. A. Sparkes (eds.) (2000: 165 – 175); on the Republic’s philotheamones see his comments in 169. 102 If we substitute Beauty with Justice, then the sight-lovers’ approach to it is dramatized in the unsuccessful attempts in Book 1 to define this concept. There different speakers tried different ways and definitions. According to Socrates, in each attempt justice was always defined in relation to something else and, as result, it was never really ‘fixed’. In Rep. Book 2, it was Glaucon who first commented on the dissatisfying method of approaching the concept of justice in this way. See, in particular, his remarks in 358c6 – 23. Note also that in his story of the Gyges’ ancestor, Glaucon employs the term adamantinos (360b5) to characterize the committed relation that people should have with justice. See also Plato’s usage of the word pac_yr (crystallized) in relation to the definition of justice in Rep. 434d2 and 479c4. The significance of the word is also noted by Cooper (1986: 238 – 239). Cooper observes that the pac_yr mo/sai (479c4) is an unusual phrase. Apart from the Republic, the word appears only two more times in the entire Platonic corpus, in Theaetetus 157a4 and Timaeus 49d2 (359 with n. 23). In the Theaetetus passage Plato restates the idea that it is impossible to have a firm notion (pac_yr mo/sai) of Becoming. In my view, Plato’s strict linguistic correlation of pac_yr with mo/sai

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Beyond this the sight-lover would refuse to go and accept that there is such a concept as beauty itself which is not a property attached to senseperceptible things or people (479a – b).103 As a result, a number of things may be shown by the sight-lovers to be beautiful, but these would be as various and diverse as the many different perspectives that people usually hold on beauty. As mentioned above, Glaucon had already stressed this group’s eagerness to acquire knowledge through vision (475d – e). Now Socrates stresses anew that they love the beauty they see and identifies these people as a distinctive group which must be differentiated from the Platonic philosopher.104 But where does Glaucon stand in relation to the sight-lovers? This is an issue infrequently treated by critics.105 However, Glaucon’s classification has a significant influence on Socrates’ language in the third wave. I adopt here a different approach. Plato constructs a dialogue between Socrates and Glaucon, but he reserves in it a fundamental place for the sight-lovers. Thus, when Plato deems it necessary, he makes Glaucon take on the persona of the philotheamones as Socrates’ representative and respondent in the dialogue (476e7 – 8). My interpretation will keep Plato’s narratological distinctions between the two responding parties, since, in my view, this is crucial for understanding Socrates’ discourse and the alternation of stylistic modes in the Republic. in these contexts turns the term into a formula whose aim is to strengthen the distinctive semantics that Plato applies to the true knowledge of the immutable Real. 103 See also Rowe (2007: 200 – 213) for an illuminating discussion of the complicated aspects of this section of the dialogue. The interpretation of line 479a3 (ta polla kala) is highly controversial. Scholars disagree on whether the phrase refers to the many particular (beautiful) objects or to the many different kinds of properties of the particular objects. Neither of the two proposed readings affects my interpretation here: see Rowe (2007: 207); Sedley (2004: 179); Gosling (1960: 116 – 128). In addition, see Allen (1961: 325 – 335) and Brentlinger (1972: 116 – 152); cf. Nehamas (1973: 461 – 491); (1975: 105 – 117) and (1979: 93 – 104). 104 In Book 5 Plato makes Glaucon and Socrates refer repeatedly to “those who will not believe” the radical regulations about the organization of the ideal polis. In the context of the third wave we learn that these people, who are the majority, are also sight-lovers. On this, see Rowe (2007: 204 with n. 14). 105 In most analyses Glaucon’s role is treated as merely decorative – an almost uncomprehending interlocutor who is persuaded all too easily by Socrates’ argumentative manoeuvres. See Arieti (1991: 237 and 240 – 1); but cf. (Cooke 1999: 40) and Rowe (2007: 205).

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One cannot easily decide on which camp Glaucon should be placed and, in a way, it is this that makes him the ideal persona to bridge the communicative gap that separates Socrates from the unbelievers and the philotheamones. Glaucon has been educated in the traditional ways that Socrates rejected in Books 2 and 3. But then so has Socrates. According to Socrates, he is “an erotically inclined man” who knows about homoerotic love (475d1 – e1). But then, according to the Symposium, so is Socrates. I have already argued above that Plato provides us with ample information why it is Glaucon who is Socrates’ interlocutor in the dialogue’s most demanding philosophically moments. It is for the same reasons that Glaucon should not be identified with the group of the philotheamones and the unbelievers of Book 5 and should be placed instead in Socrates’ camp. Glaucon’s way of thinking and speaking is compatible with Socrates’ after all. He believes that justice is better than injustice and he also accepts the existence of a single Form in which things and concepts partake (476c – d). Nonetheless, he is not altogether free from erroneous thought-patterns. Contrary to Socrates, he cannot argue for the true value of justice in people’s lives. He is, however, willing to be ‘turned away’ from ethical confusion. He is even willing to follow Socrates all the way to the Form of the Good. He is then an ally to the Socratic perspective and Plato exploits his dynamic and potential on several occasions and in a number of ways in our text to reach out to the non-believers, the sight-lovers, and the hedonists.106 This group of people would probably recognize Glaucon as one of theirs too, since he enjoys several aspects of the culture that Socrates has so severely criticized in Books 2 and 3. But as it is not they who are now directly confronted by Socrates, they may happily stay in this dialogue of Socrates with one of their representative. Yet for Plato’s Socrates too, Glaucon is an ideal co-speaker, for he hovers on the borderline between the two sides: his “divine phusis” has somehow saved him 106 See Glaucon’s answer to Socrates in 476b9. But cf. Annas (1981: 245): “Plato produces no arguments against this position, one which is often simply taken for granted in modern discussions. For him to have done so would have been tantamount to arguing for the existence of the Form of the Good, which is something he chooses not to do. So right at the start of the discussion Plato parts company with someone who believes that for something to be good is always for it to be good for X, from Y’s point of view, or a good Z”. This could explain why here Glaucon immediately accepts the existence of the Forms, but his acceptance still differentiates him from the sight-lovers. See also Kahn (1996: 330 – 331).

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from being fully immersed in the sight-lovers’ perspective (366c6 – 7 and 367e6 – 368a7). He can then both present this perspective and allow Socrates to take the dialogue on justice further, up to a new level.107 In other words, Glaucon’s persona is the bridge that links two viewpoints which otherwise would not have been able to share a common dialogical ground. This observation is significant for our examination of the section’s stylistic modes. Glaucon may be the bridge that brings together, both linguistically and narratologically, Socrates and the sight-lovers, but in a way he also deepens the gap that divides the two irreconcilable perspectives, for it appears that is only through him that Plato’s Socrates can hold a dialogue with the sight-lovers, and by extension with the people present at Cephalus’ house.108 However, this is true only to a certain extent: in the concluding lines of the Book, Plato’s Socrates uses imagistic wording in the dialogue with which the philotheamones, because of their cultural education, are most at ease, and it is out of this wording that the Republic’s rich imagery is constructed in Book 6 and 7. As we will see in the next chapter, Socrates’ audience in the Republic has been brought up viewing products of all forms of art: poetic and sophistic performances, paintings, and sculptures. Socrates adapts his style to his audience’s needs, but at the same time, makes full use of the vocabulary that Glaucon has provided him with to speak about Knowledge and Opinion as distinct states of cognition, offering thus to his audience the possibility to see an alternative type of philosophical style, which they themselves would probably have had problems supporting dialogically had Glaucon been absent. In the concluding part of Book 5 the clash between different methods and linguistic styles is at its most dynamic. On the basis of the above, I would like to argue that the third wave of argument can be divided linguistically and narratologically into three parts: in part one (475d1 – 476e3) Socrates’ discussion with Glaucon is founded on their shared ac107 On Glaucon’s allegiance, see also Rep. 480a7 – 10. Have the philotheamones been convinced by the entire venture? No answer can be deduced from the text, but Glaucon makes a significant remark at the end: “Will they be angry with us if we call them that (philodoxous)?” Socrates asks; “not if they take my advice, for it isn’t right to be angry with those who speak the truth.” 108 Socrates never assumes the persona of the philotheamones in the text. When he addresses them directly in the concluding lines of Book 5, they are a mute persona and the short replies he elicits now come from Glaucon qua Glaucon and not as a representative of the sight-lovers.

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ceptance of the Forms. In part two (476e4 – 479a5) their dialogue opens up to include the philotheamones. Glaucon is now asked to adopt their persona and perspective and engage in a short exchange with Socrates on their behalf. In this part Socrates undertakes to persuade the sightlovers not of the existence of the Forms, but of the level of cognition that the sight-lovers inhabit (476a6). Socrates achieves this without resorting to the Forms directly – the non-believers and sight-lovers would a priori deny their existence anyway. Nonetheless, as it turns out, Socrates’ argumentation is benefited in many ways from Glaucon’s responses here, the most important being their agreement on the distinction between Knowledge and Opinion. This part concludes with the sight-lovers’ placement in the Doxa which covers “what is and is not”. In part three (479a5 – 480a13) Socrates dismisses Glaucon and appears to address the philotheamones directly as though they were present in their discussion.109 In this section of the exchange he mostly recapitulates the findings of the previous part. Yet, it is in this short section that we witness a striking change in Socrates’ linguistic style, since, contrary to part two, pictorial language and poetic resonances suddenly surface in the text.

2.2.1 Part one: the mixed style Language treatment in these lines is dependent on Socrates’ respondent, that is, Glaucon qua Glaucon.110 In part one, where Socrates speaks with Glaucon about the distinction between true philosophers and resembling ones, the style employed is mixed or combined. The linguistic negotiations that take place in this part pave the way for the distinction between Knowledge and Opinion in part two, as well as to the Republic’s central eikones of the Sun and Line. An imagistic or pictorial type of language of poetic and Presocratic origins amalgamates with terminology whose bearings evade verbal colourfulness which can stimulate the involvement of sense-perception and thus lead to visualisation. In this part, the mixed style surfaces in three places. In the first case, Socrates, following Glaucon’s lead, says that the ill-defined term ale˜theia can be ‘viewed’ by the true philosophers in a way similar to the sight109 In my view they are. They are the group at Cephalus’ house whom now Plato keeps narratologically silent. See the discussion further below. 110 See also Warner (1989).

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lovers’ viewing of poetic performances.111 When seen retrospectively, Socrates’ broaching here of the notion of viewing the truth paves the way for the eikn of the Sun in Book 6.112 A second instance of mixed/combined style is found in 476c2 – d3: b owm jak± l³m pq\clata mol¸fym, aqt¹ d³ j\kkor l^te mol_fym l^te, %m tir Bc/tai 1p· tµm cm_sim aqtoO, dum\lemor 6peshai, emaq C vpaq doje? soi f/m ; sj|pei d] . t¹ ameiq~tteim üqa oq t|de 1st¸m, 1\mte 1m vpm\ tir 1\mt’ 1cqgcoq½r t¹ floi|m t\ lµ floiom !kk’ aqt¹ Bc/tai eWmai è 5oijeim ;

(476c 2 – 7). What about someone who believes in beautiful things, but doesn’t believe in the beautiful itself and isn’t able to follow anyone who could lead him to the knowledge of it? Don’t you think he is living in a dream rather than a wakened state? Isn’t this dreaming: whether asleep or awake, to think that a likeness is not a likeness but rather the thing itself that it is like?

Socrates introduces here a sketchy first division of levels of cognition by blending imagery with seeds of abstract terminology drawn from recognized Presocratic and poetic origins (aqt¹ d³ j\kkor l^te mol_fym l^te… dum\lemor 6peshai). Thus, the two states of dreaming and being awake are presented as examples to highlight one’s intellectual ability to distinguish the concepts of similarity and identity.113 The point being made here is that to identify instances of similarity and to distinguish those from instances of identity is of great philosophical importance for one’s perception of reality (see Socrates’ diair and chris, 476a2 and b1). According to Socrates, most people fail in that. Thus they spend their entire lives in a state of intellectual passivity that can be easily com-

111 See Rep. 475e2 – 4 cited with discussion above. 112 See discussion in Chapter Three below. Note also that the nature of the true philosopher will be Socrates’ main point of discussion with Adeimantus in Books 6 and 7. 113 The concepts of similarity, identity and difference permeate the Republic throughout in various ways. Socrates’ presentation of the Forms stems from the tension between “(true) philosophers” and those “who resemble philosophers” (475e 2 – 5). See my discussion in Chapter Three below. For an insightful discussion of Plato’s imagery here, see Gallop (1971: 187 – 201). Gallop connects the states of dreaming and waking in Book 5 with the image-original contrast that permeates the Divided Line. He argues that the two images can be also linked to the realm of eikasia and connote mortal failure to distinguish image from original (at 194 – 3). See also Morgan (1990: 130 – 131).

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pared to sleeping.114 These lines can also be read in relation to the subsequent description of the Line’s different epistemological levels. Our inability to distinguish between similarity and identity prevents us from drawing correct distinctions and classifications when we are bombarded with incongruent sense-perceptive impressions. If we consider what Socrates says later in his discussion of the Line about the epistemological and methodological value of eikones as stepping stones that can lead us upwards to the Forms (509d – 511a), then the inability to distinguish between similarity, difference, and identity prevents us from changing our levels of cognition and comprehending reality in a less distorted manner. Throughout part one, Socrates’ use of imagery makes his style analogical, but language can be used thus to investigate new concepts and bridge gaps in communication. The use of this imagery pays dividends and wins over Glaucon who chooses anew his dianoetic position and places himself among those who spend their lives ‘awake’ and not ‘dreaming’. Socrates’ internal audience is thus gradually introduced to innovative ideas through the use of imagery and diction with which they are already familiar because of their cultural, literary, philosophical, and poetic education.115 In addition, in part one (475d – e) Plato has Glaucon provide ample information about the cultural profile of the sight and sound lovers in language that echoes Parmenidean imagery. According to Glaucon, these people put too much effort into collecting knowledge by attending various dramatic and musical performances (katamanthanein, 475d 2). Their type of cultural education is thus directly contrasted to Socrates’ 114 Socrates’ distinction in this part between those who accept the existence of the auto to kallos and those who believe only in the many kala shares a common language with Heraclitus’ reference to mortals’ inability to grasp the underlying, connecting force of Logos. See Heraclitus’ Fr. 1. Sextus adv. math. VII, 132 (to»r d³ %kkour !mhq~pour kamh\mei bj|sa 1ceqh]mter poioOsim fjyspeq bj|sa eudomter 1pikamh\momtai.) Both philosophers rely on two distinct states of consciousness, sleeping and being awake, to draw their audience’s attention to their compromising of their cognitive dynamics. Thus all states, being fully awake, asleep, blind, or dead, are treated as steps on an epistemological ladder, as it were, paving the way to the distinction between Episte˜me˜ and Doxa to which Socrates will soon turn. See Kirk, G. S., Raven, J. E., and Schofield, M. (eds.) (1983: 205). See also Brown (1986: 243 – 5) and Gallop, in Anton J. P. and Kustas G. L. (eds.) (1971: 187 – 201). 115 Along the same interpretative lines see also the discussion above of the nature of the agathon where vocabulary relevant to the function of the Sun is transplanted and transformed to serve the Good’s linguistic/thematic environment.

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notion of Episte˜me˜ as this will be defined in Book 5, and to the manner in which one must be philosophically educated in order to acquire knowledge of the Forms as described later in Book 7. The description of the sight-lovers at 475d1 – e1, rendered now in vivid imagistic terms, makes full use of Parmenides’ account of humans’ deep cognitive confusion: aqt±q 5peit’ !p¹ t/r, Dm dµ bqoto· eQd|ter oqd³m pk\ttomtai, d_jqamoi7 !lgwam_g c²q 1m aqt_m st^hesim Qh}mei pkajt¹m m|om7 oR d³ voqoOmtai jyvo· bl_r tuvko_ te, tehgp|ter, %jqita vOka, oXr t¹ p]keim te ja· oqj eWmai taqt¹m mem|listai joq taqt|m, p\mtym d³ pak_mtqopºr 1sti j]keuhor.

(Fr. 6. 4 – 9) [B]ut then from that [way] on which mortals wander, knowing nothing, two-headed; for helplessness guides their wandering thought in their breasts, and they are carried along, deaf and blind at once, dazed, undiscriminating hordes, who believe that to be and not to be are the same and not the same; and the path taken by them all is backward-turning. (Trans. Kirk, Raven and Schofield)

In Parmenidean terms, the Republic’s philotheamones are located in the world of Doxa. 116 Parmenides does not bridge the gap that separates the enlightened youth from the other mortals who perpetually struggle in vain in the Doxa realm. Plato makes full use of the Parmenidean imagery (and classification) but appropriates it towards his own ends. In a heavily imagistic type of language, Glaucon transforms the futile intellectual journey described by the Parmenidean Goddess into a literal one. The sight and sound lovers spend their lives following choruses from one place to another, indulging their senses in performances of different variety and quality, deluding thus themselves that they achieve knowledge. Their never-ending enchantment, caused by the stimulation of their senses, leads to an unremitting desire for pleasure, and becomes a process without end. It becomes a backward-turning path (pak_mtqopor j]keuhor) on which sight and sound lovers continuously travel: ¦speq d³ !polelishyjºter t± §ta 1pajoOsai p²mtym woq_m peqih´ousi to?r Diomus¸oir oute t_m jat± pºkeir oute t_m jat± j¾lar !pokeipºlemoi (“they run round at all the Dionysiac festivals in town or

116 See also Crystal (1997: 351 – 363).

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country as if they were under contract to listen to every company of performers without fail”, 475d5 – 8).117 Yet in Plato’s view, things are not as clear-cut as that in the Doxa realm. Plato has saved for Glaucon a special place in the Republic by portraying him as someone who, although not having successfully escaped the confusion of Doxa, is about to be offered a glimpse of the Knowledge that relates to the Forms and a taste of a different type of language that supports this exposition.

2.2.2 Part two: the cleansed style This linguistic ‘glimpse’ takes place in the section I distinguished above in part two (476e4 – 479a5) where the discursive mode changes. The section where divisions and definitions are delineated by Socrates is laden with numerous problems that scholars have considered in various ways. I shall not turn here to an analysis of these problematic aspects.118 What interests me, however, in this section is the way in which its linguistic style contrasts with parts one (475d1 – 476e3) and three (479a5 – 480a13). It should be borne in mind that throughout part two Socrates engages in an exchange with Glaucon qua a sight-lover; as someone, that is, who does not believe that there is one single Form due to which all the many things bear their individual attributes or qualities. In this stretch of the argument, the imagistic/pictorial type of language

117 Glaucon’s reference to poleis and kmai here picks up the first lines of Parmenindes’ proem, where the youth’s futile wanderings around several aste˜ are put to an end due to his encounter with the daughters of the Sun who know the successful route to Truth and Knowledge. See the proem to Parmenides on Nature, lines 1 – 3. 118 On the distinction between Knowledge and Belief, see Bolton (1975: 66 – 95); Baltzly (1997: 239 – 272); White (1984: 339 – 354); Cooper (1986: 229 – 242); Ketchum (1987: 291 – 305); Fine (1978: 121 – 139) and in Everson (ed.) (1990: 85 – 114); cf. Vlastos, in Bambrough (ed.) (1979: 1 – 19), who also comments on the language employed by Plato to drive the argument home: “In getting results such as these, while working with the crudest of tools against formidable obstacles of ingrained linguistic habits, Plato must be rated one of the great explorers in the world of thought” (18, emphasis added). On Plato’s conception of Truth in Book 5, see also Hestir (2000: 311 – 332).

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is markedly reduced.119 The mixed linguistic style, which was prominent in part one, is here traded for an alternative form of discourse, which addresses key terms such as Episte˜me˜, Doxa, gnsis, agnoia, to on, to me˜ on, dynamis and anagke˜, but makes a point in doing so by annihilating linguistic colourfulness, vivid imagery, or any reference to easily identified poetic diction.120 Several of these words were employed by Glaucon in Book 2 in his challenge to Socrates, but Socrates now adapts to his own philosophical ends this type of diction at work in contemporary intellectual conversations in order to put across his epistemology to the sight-lovers. The aim of this exchange is to persuade the sight-lovers that what in their view is knowledge is, in Socratic terms, Doxa. Little consensus has been reached among scholars over the years on these intricate lines which say a lot, but in a very elusive manner, about Plato’s epistemology, his concepts of Being (t¹ em, t¹ eQkijqim_r em) and Not-Being (t¹ lµ em), as well as the sight-lovers’ understanding of the many ethical qualities, properties, or the many things (t± pokk± jak\). This is a type of understanding which according to the argument is limited, and must thus be placed in the sphere of Doxa (t¹ !lvot]qym let]wom, toO eWma_ te ja· lµ eWmai). Most of the problems that scholars treat in their analysis of these lines stem from Plato’s unwillingness to say more by way of definition of these key terms. Scholars have therefore raised questions about Plato’s usage of the verb ‘to be’ in this context, and about the importance of the Forms in the construction of this argument. Because it is directed to the sight-lovers, he cannot rely on the use of the Forms, or on the interpretation of the phrase “the many beautiful things” (ta polla kala) as referring to particular things or to the qualities and properties that the things bear. In his treatment of these lines, Christopher Rowe has offered an illuminating synopsis of the Socratic argumentation here and of the difficult problems that arise from it. I will not relate his extensive description of the Socratic argument to the sight-lovers, but I will refer to some of his points, since these are pertinent to my analysis of Socrates’ lan119 But not completely annihilated as elsewhere in the Republic. Germs of pictorial effect that rest on the mundane and the sense-perceptual are kept: 1pist^lg p]vujem 1p· t` emti (477b10). 120 On Plato’s use of dynamis in this context see the discussion by Gosling (1968: 119 – 130). On Plato’s use of eidos and ideai see Ross (1951: 13 – 16). He rightly observes that “what was original was not the use of the words, but the status he assigned to the things for which the words stood” (at 14).

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guage in this part. Rowe (2007: 205 – 206) rightly stresses that even though we learn a lot about Plato’s epistemology and ontology in general here, this stretch of argument is primarily addressed to the sight-lovers. This means that the Forms stand in the background of this epistemological classification for Socrates, Glaucon, and all those who believe in their existence, but not for the sight-lovers, who believe only in the existence of the many (properties), but not in the posing of one single Form over them (like Beauty for example). Thus the relevant lines undertake to demonstrate in an elenctic mode to the sight-lovers that there is another cognitive capacity (dynamis) of assessing reality which is distinct from knowledge (Episte˜me˜). Yet, in my view, Socrates’ argumentation here would have posed significant problems for the sight-lovers had it been they who were really conversing with Socrates and not Glaucon qua a sight-lover. Rowe rightly argues that Glaucon’s key concession to the argument is his acceptance of the division between Knowledge and Belief. However, we should not lose sight of the fact that Socrates introduces the term dynamis (capacity) on which his distinction will hinge by emphasizing one’s inability to perceive it through the senses and, in specific terms, through vision. I take Socrates’ opening remark to Glaucon in part two to be typical of the style that he will deploy in his presentation of Episte˜me˜ and Doxa. Similarly to dynamis, the terms that Socrates will exploit from this point onwards are also divested of colour and shape and thus evade any act of visualization. Socrates’ language then about Knowledge, Ignorance, and the in-between state of Opinion is a challenge to the sight-lovers who are now asked to think of three distinct states of cognition and their objects without resorting to the senses they trust so much in any possible way. In my view, the rhetorical impact of this argument on the sight-lovers is achieved by associating words in such a way as to form unbreakable thematic and linguistic units. Thus “the one, who opines, opines something” (b don\fym don²fei 6m ti (478b10), but “not-Being is not something but nothing” (t¹ lµ em oqw 6m ti !kk± lgd³m, 478b12 – c1). As a result, Not-Being cannot share the same linguistic and thematic environment with the opinable (t¹ don\fom). But the same holds true for the Knowledge of Being. On several points, Socrates interweaves episte˜me˜ with to on and with gnsis, and thus creates an enclosed linguistic and thematic environment from which both Doxa and agnoia are left out (478a5: 1pist^lg l]m c] pou 1p· t` emti, t¹ cm cm_mai ¢r 5wei ;

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and in 477b10 – 11: OqjoOm 1pist^lg l³m 1p· t` emti p´vuje, cm_mai ¢r 5sti t¹ em).121 Socrates’ line of argument about knowledge of Being is grounded on the thesis that only “what is completely is completely knowable” (t¹ pamtek_r cm pamtek_r cmystºm, 477a3). This type of knowledge is not affected by the “several perspectives” we adopt to inspect Being (j#m eQ pkeomaw0 sjopo?lem). Opinion, however, cannot be the same as Knowledge, for the argument has shown that these are two distinct capacities. In addition, the hen ti of Opinion (478b10) is different from the ti of knowledge (476a9 – 10), for this ti of Knowledge refers to Being (to on), which is knowable only completely and not in any perspectival way. My description of Socrates’ argument here is intended to highlight not only the great economy of the language in this context, but also the way in which language is stretched to its limits in its description of the characteristics of Being in particular (t¹ pamtek_r cm pamtek_r cmystºm, 477a3), since more information will be provided by way of definition of Doxa in part three. This of course is not incidental, since in his exposition of his epistemology to the sight-lovers, Socrates cannot rely much on the on as he understands it or as Glaucon may have understood it, for that would have led him to the Forms and this is a path that he cannot take with the philotheamones. More will be said about the Forms, and, in particular, about the Form of the Good, by way of an eikn in Book 6, since, this is the type of linguistic style that the sight-lovers can keep well abreast of. In this part, however, Socrates’ amassment of words and his arrangement and juxtaposition of them may be compared to a linguistic puzzle whose pieces cannot produce a coherent picture unless put in the right place. Thus true Knowledge has been juxtaposed to Being (t¹ cm cm_mai) and has been strictly correlated both thematically and linguistically with it, whereas Opinion has been identified as holding a place always “in between” (1mt¹r d’ !lvo?m je?tai, 478d1; Letan» %qa #m eUg to}toim d|na, 478d3; t¹ toioOtom letan» je?shai toO eQkijqim_r emtor te ja· toO p\mtyr lµ emtor, 478d6 – 7). 121 See 478a10 – 11: ja· 5stai cmyst|m te ja· donast¹m t¹ aqt|; C !d}matom ; (“Does it opine the very thing that knowledge knows, so that the knowable and the opinable are the same, or is this impossible”). See also 477a1: p_r c±q #m lµ em c] ti cmyshe_g ; (“for how could something that is not be known?”)

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I suggested above that one may be tempted to call Socrates’ style in this part abstract. This is not, however, a line of thought I would like to pursue. To the extent that language in this part avoids involving senseperception, there is indeed some form of abstraction in Socrates’ reference to Being, or, even, to the many beautiful things of Doxa. As we will see below, this linguistic style assumes marked significance when seen in comparison to the third part of Socrates’ discussion about Opinion and Knowledge (lines 479a – 480a). Yet, in line with the interpretation I follow in this study, there is something concrete in Socrates’ treatment of these elusive terms. Socrates’ idiosyncratic deployment of gnsis, Being, and Episte˜me˜ along these lines, and his arrangement of these terms in distinct linguistic and thematic environments, has turned them into concrete units with specific and unique signification which cannot be confused with anything else. That is, there is something very concrete called Being, which is the only “thing complete” and “completely knowable”, and which exists and holds a specific place irrespective of whether the sight-lovers can ‘see’ it or not. According to the line of argument which Glaucon has supported, it is only of this (Being) that one can have true Knowledge. The philotheamones thus must only have Doxa. I now turn to my characterisation of this type of style as colourless rather than abstract. In the epistemological exposition of this part, Socrates sees that his diction is divested of any verbal coloured touches. In 477c – d, Socrates already drew our attention to our inability to see (or visualize) dynamis. If we follow closely his language, we see that it is not only dynamis that is not assigned any colours in his speech, but also Being and non-Being. In fact, it is in his discussion of Opinion (Doxa), still examined in the second part here, that Socrates re-introduces colours into the discussion in the form of the binary opposition of light and darkness, an antithesis that from that point onwards will permeate the dialogue throughout (478c13 – 14). On this light-darkness contrast will hinge some of Plato’s most famous eikones in the Republic, namely those of the Sun and the Cave in Books 6 and 7. Yet, we should not lose sight of the fact that colours enter most forcefully in Socrates’ speech in the third part of his discussion about Doxa in Book 5. In presenting therefore the distinctive characteristics of Doxa, the third part not only expands on the characteristics of the cognitive level of the majority, but also assigns to this cognitive state the type of language that describes it most faithfully. Even better, it reflects the language of coloured pictorial antithesis, of mixed colours and

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instability (in this mixture). Most naturally it is in this stylistic mode in relation to the level of cognition of Doxa that not only light and darkness, but also poetry too that re-enters the dialogue in Book 5 in the form of short words of poetic origins and animalistic language. From a stylistic point of view, we are back at the level of the philotheamones. The language now being used in Book 6 to fashion colourful images will culminate in the description of the ultimate Form of the Good as the Sun and of the cognitive level of Doxa (subdivided in pistis and eikasia). It is, in fact, akin to looking at things in the most distorted manner because of the mixture of light and darkness (as in the Line and the Cave). Nonetheless, before I turn to part three, a few more words are in order here in relation to Socrates’ linguistic style in part two. These few Stephanus lines, which present us with some information about Plato’s epistemology, are addressed through Glaucon to the sight-lovers. Plato makes Glaucon competent enough to support this line of argument and conduct a philosophical exchange in an uncoloured type of language. This mode of exchange, however, is offered only as a glimpse in the Republic and will not last long. Its aim is to persuade the sight-lovers that they too possess a kind of knowledge, albeit not the one that the true philosopher has. Yet, as shown above, the ideas presented in this stretch of argumentation work as a challenge to the sight-lovers, whose familiar way of thinking is interwoven with sense-perception and, in particular, with their reliance on vision. By divesting his language of colour then, Socrates intends this stylistic mode to enact linguistically the ideas conveyed therein, namely the need to question the senses’ credibility as the only means to access reality. The intricacy of this argument about Knowledge and Opinion thus plays an integral role in persuading the majority that they too have knowledge of a certain type. If they truly engage with this argument and try to follow it, as Socrates has asked them to do, and if they are also persuaded that their knowledge is Opinion, they have made a good start in identifying their reduced state of cognition, and they have also caught a glimpse of an alternative thought process rendered in another linguistic mode. They have, in other words, shaken the fetters of Doxa even if they do not believe in the Forms as such.

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2.2.3 Part three: the imagistic style In part three Plato removes Glaucon qua a sight-lover from the scene (479a) and Socrates now addresses the philotheamones directly.122 Glaucon’s contribution to the concluding part of the discussion of the three waves of argument is reduced to a few affirmative replies.123 This change, I argue, considerably affects the language of this section, which now becomes fully pictorial. In this part, Plato’s watchword for the Forms, the auto to, is used only twice to highlight the difference between the philodoxoi and philosophoi: T_ d³ aw to»r aqt± 6jasta heyl]mour ja· !e· jat± taOt± ¢sa}tyr emta ; üq’ oq cicm~sjeim !kk’ oq don\feim ; (479e7 – 8 and 480a3 – 4). The concluding lines of Book 5 are intended to drive home the point that there is something unstable when trying to reach a firm assessment about things or people. The philotheamones cannot deny the premise on which Socrates’ argument hinges, namely that some things are, and are not, beautiful depending on a variety of criteria (479a5 – 8). And indeed, an endless list of examples confirms that (479b1 – 10). Being thus entangled in a series of unstable assessments of that sort, the sight-lovers are inevitably unable to establish a firm ground for definitions: to?r 1m ta?r 2sti\sesim, 5vg, 1palvoteq_fousim 5oijem, ja· t` t_m pa_dym aQm_clati t` peq· toO eqmo}wou, t/r bok/r p]qi t/r mujteq_dor, è ja· 1vû ox aqt¹m aqtµm aQm_ttomtai bake?m7 ja· c±q taOta 1palvoteq_feim, ja· outû eWmai oute lµ eWmai oqd³m aqt_m dumat¹m pac_yr mo/sai, oute !lv|teqa oute oqd]teqom. (479b11 – c5)

No they are like the ambiguities one is entertained with at dinner parties or like the children’s riddle about the eunuch who threw something at a bat – the one about what he threw at it and what it was in, for they are ambiguous, and one cannot understand them as fixedly being or fixedly not being or as both or as neither.

In my view, Socrates’ stylistic mode changes strikingly in this part so that it reflects the colourfulness on which the sight-lovers’ thought-patterns 122 Naratollogically this is made explicit in 479c6 – 7 where Socrates asks Glaucon qua Glaucon: “Then do you know how to deal with them? Or can you find a more appropriate place to put them than intermediate between Being and not Being?” 123 Glaucon’s contribution to this section is considerably reduced. Note that his answers are notably short (oqd]m, !kgh]stata, grq^jalem, ¢lokoc^jalem, !m\cjg, !m\cjg ja· taOta, lelm^leha). The interlocutor now offers very little to the exchange indeed.

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rest and the lifestyle which supports this imagistic thinking mode. Thus, in the above passage, explicit reference is made to the games the sightlovers play at the symposia and, by extension, to the type of exchanges held therein (aQm_clati, aQm_ttomtai). In this concluding part, beautiful voices and colours also re-surface in Socrates’ speech, only this lifestyle is now recognized as cognition along the pattern of what has been defined above as Doxa that hovers between Being and not Being.124 In order to convey the true characteristics of Doxa, Plato has Socrates now expand on the significance of colours. The instability of Opinion is now rendered in fully pictorial terms through the exploitation of the motif of the mixture of light and darkness.125 For Plato’s Socrates then, doxastic thought-patterns always “roll around” between these two pictorial extremes, and the result of this “wandering” is the combination of both elements, of light and darkness. In this mixture it is very difficult for the sight-lover to decide the proportion of each element or to tell them apart, as it is equally difficult to identify true Beauty which can never be mixed with ugliness, or which can never appear ugly even when changing the viewing circumstances or the perspective that one holds (phantazomena, phainesthai, 476a7): 5weir owm aqto?r, Gm dû 1c~, fti wq^s,, C fpoi h^seir jakk_y h]sim t/r letan» oqs_ar te ja· toO lµ eWmai ; oute c\q pou sjotyd]steqa lµ emtor pq¹r t¹ l÷kkom lµ eWmai vam^setai, oute vam|teqa emtor pq¹r t¹ l÷kkom eWmai. )kgh]stata, 5vg. Grq^jalem %qa, ¢r 5oijem, fti t± t_m pokk_m pokk± m|lila jakoO te p]qi ja· t_m %kkym letan} pou jukimde?tai toO te lµ emtor ja· toO emtor eQkijqim_r. (479c6 – d5)

Then do you know how to deal with them? Or can you find a more appropriate place to put them than intermediate between being and not being? Surely, they can’t be more than what is or not be more than what is not, for apparently nothing is darker than what is not or clearer than what is. Very true. We’ve now discovered, it seems that according to the many conventions of the majority of people about beauty and the others, they are rolling around as intermediates between what is not and what purely is.

124 See 480a2 – 4: “Remember we said that the latter saw and loved beautiful sounds and colors (vym\r te ja· wq|ar jak±r) and the like but wouldn’t allow the beautiful itself to be anything (aqt¹ d³ t¹ jak¹m oqd’ !m]weshai ¦r ti em)?” 125 See Rep. 479d7 – 10: donast¹m aqt¹ !kk’ oq cmyst¹m de?m k]ceshai, t0 letan» dum\lei t¹ letan» pkamgt¹m "kisj|lemom. The “opinable” is the “wandering intermediate grasped by the intermediate power”.

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Socrates does not add here any new points to the argumentation of part two. In fact, he restates previous ideas in an alternative type of language which now relies heavily on traditional poetic and Presocratic motifs. This is the style that philotheamones are most at ease with, as it exploits both the familiar pictorial motifs of light, darkness and night, and also those of continuous travelling and wandering. This helps them to readily grasp the unstable status of Doxa, only in this context the deployment of these motifs become themes that build a reduced and compromised level of cognition.126 The concluding lines of Book 5 are the most characteristic example of Thayer’s ‘dramatic immediacy’.127 The sight-lovers, their mode of thinking, and the opinions they reach, all share the same characteristics and the same language. The Doxa, humans and their opinions are entangled in a chain of continuous change: the sight-lovers “run around” to all Dionysiac festivals to attain knowledge in a manner similar to “the majority’s many opinions about the beautiful things” which also “roll around between what is not and what truly is”. Plato’s treatment here of the light-darkness antithesis – a well established, traditional motif for intellectual vigilance and illumination – and his adaptation of the word kulindeitai in this context, which has a long history of strictly negative connotations in various poetic environments, drive home a thesis that the sight-lovers can now most easily grasp.128 For Socrates, it is intellectually torturous to think in a doxastic way, for nothing truly true, fixed or certain can come out of it. In his conclusion to the long stretch of argumentation in the third wave, Socrates has coined for his audience colourful imagery and diction necessary for establishing channels of communication with the sight-lovers. The style he employed to address them is thus distinguished from the linguistic style of part two in that it weaves into the Republic’s 126 Darkness is a well-established motif for death and stupidity in ancient Greek poetry and in the Presocratics. See, for example, Emp. B84 where forethought “illuminates” the way. See further discussion in Chapter Three below. On the motif of wandering (plane˜), see also Pender (2000: 153 – 4 with notes 250 and 251). 127 See above, Section One, pp. 86 – 90. 128 On the literary history of kulindoumai in Greek poetry, see the detailed discussion in Pender (1999: 75 – 107); Pender (2000: 178 – 179) with further bibliography; see also Silk (1974: 220). Plato draws on the negative connotations of this term in poetry to speak about the various characteristics of the ever-changing world of Becoming. See, for example, the Phaedo 82d9-e5. Cp. Pindar Ol. 12. 1 ff.

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linguistic texture Presocratic and poetic motifs and diction (wandering, light and darkness), which rest on the notion of colourfulness that captures the eye. Yet this type of colourless style will not last long. Socrates’ style and the techniques employed in Books 6 and 7 of the Republic are again permeated by strong pictorial contrasts, comparisons, and images with which these interlocutors are most at ease. The imagery brought into play in the images of the Cave and the Sun draws upon the same distinction into pairs of opposites that Socrates outlined in 475e9: 1peid¶ 1stim 1mamt_om jak¹m aQswq`, d¼o aqt½ eWmai. Darkness is contrasted to light, images to their originals, humans to inanimate statuettes, and secluded places to open space. By exploiting this familiar, imagistic type of discourse, Socrates ventures to draw attention to true Reality, which, as he explains in his exposition of the philosopher-kings’ subjects in Book 7, can only be grasped by liberating our intellectual powers from the “leaden weights that draw the soul downwards”. This is a long and hard process. Nonetheless, Socrates’ epistemological exposition in Book 5 has offered us a glimpse of this Reality by drawing a sharp distinction between auto to, which is always in itself and eschews opposition and variety, and our own epistemologically compromised way of interpreting the world when relying on various sensual perceptions, qualifications or caveats. In the concluding part of Book 5, Socrates suggests that cognitive instability is directly associated with our inability to handle conflicting appearance (cf. polla phantazomena) or untangle mixtures and combinations.129 To drive this argument home, he adopted the language of the philotheamones who love striking impressions of diverse colourful images. In the next chapter we will expand on the reasons that make Socrates leave behind the colourless style of lines 476e4 – 479a5 to speak mostly in eikones and in the imagistic type of discourse that the concluding part of Book 5 introduced in the discussion of ontology and epistemology. 129 In my use of appearance as a translation of phantazomena in Rep. 476a, I adopt Kahn’s interpretation according to which the term denotes “all forms of perspectivism and relativism”; see discussion in Kahn (1996: 346 – 347). This perspectival judgment applies to the many beautiful or just things and values and is different from their corresponding Forms which eschew a perspectival vision. In Kahn’s wording, “the corresponding Form is wholly and purely F” (at 347). Note that the Sun as an image of the Good by definition eschews perspectival vision. See my discussion in Chapter Three below.

3. Verbal Images in the Republic Books 2 and 6 3.1 The poets’ eikones in the Republic In this chapter, I turn to Platonic imagery in Books 2 and 6. My aim in this chapter is twofold: I examine the reasons why the various eikones function as an appropriate investigatory method that best suits the philosophical needs of the dialogue that Socrates holds on justice and on the Forms with these particular interlocutors at Piraeus, and I also seek to show the way in which Socrates’ eikones in these Books relate to his alternation of linguistic styles in the context of the distinction between Knowledge and Doxa that I examined in the previous chapter. As mentioned in Section One above, Socrates introduces the notion of a verbal eikn for investigating elusive ideas in Book 2 (368c – d) shortly after Glaucon and Adeimantus have concluded their challenge to him in 368a.130 However, the term under examination emerges only after Socrates has announced his analogy of city and soul as an appropriate method of investigating justice and injustice.131 The relevant lines, which I cited and discussed above,132 exploit both human sight as the medium par excellence to grasp reality and the idea of epistemological distance from the subject-matter under investigation, namely the interlocutors’ own dissociation from the ethical quality of justice.133 In this passage, Socrates distinguishes two domains where justice and injustice may be ‘seen’ to dwell—the human soul and the human city. He then proposes to investigate one (the soul) by means of the other (the city) and compare his findings (368e7 – 369a10). He immediately turns to the construction of a theoretical city and tries to identify justice in it. So far Socrates has refrained from employing the word eikn

130 See my discussion in Section One, pp. 85 – 90. 131 On the analogy of city and soul in the dialogue and Plato’s avoidance to offer proof for this isomorphism, see Rosen (2005: 70). See also above Chapter One, n. 44. 132 See Section One above, pp. 85 – 87. 133 On this idea of ‘distance’ from one’s inner ethical qualities that dwell in the soul, see also Dorter (2006: 61 – 63).

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which, we should note, will become most prominent a little later in the discussion and reappear throughout the rest of the Republic. 134 Socrates’ construction of the first city in Book 2 is soon brought to a halt by Glaucon, who cannot grasp the reasons why life in this community should be made as simple and basic as that. In 372b1 – c, Socrates says: Ja· oQjodolgs\lemoi oQj_ar, h]qour l³m t± pokk\ culmo_ te ja· !mup|dgtoi 1qc\somtai, toO d³ weil_mor Alviesl]moi te ja· rpodedel]moi Rjam_r7 Hq]xomtai d³ 1j l³m t_m jqih_m %kvita sjeuaf|lemoi, 1j d³ t_m puq_m %keuqa, t± l³m p]xamter, t± d³ l\namter, l\far cemma_ar ja· %qtour 1p· j\kal|m tima paqabakk|lemoi C vukk± jahaq\, jatajkim]mter 1p· stib\dym 1stqyl]mym l_kaj_ te ja· luqq_mair, eqyw^somtai aqto_ te ja· t± paid_a, 1pip_momter toO oUmou, 1stevamyl]moi ja· rlmoOmter to»r heo}r, Bd]yr sum|mter !kk^koir, oqw rp³q tµm oqs_am poio}lemoi to»r pa?dar, eqkabo}lemoi pem_am C p|kelom.

They’ll build houses, work naked and barefoot in the summer, and wear adequate clothing and shoes in the winter. For food, they’ll knead and cook the flour and meal they’ve made from wheat and barley. They’ll put their honest cakes and loaves on reeds or clean leaves, and, reclining on beds strewn with yew and myrtle, they’ll feast with their children, drink their wine, and, crowned with wreaths, hymn the gods. They’ll enjoy sex with one another but bear no more children than their resources allow, lest they fall into either poverty or war.

Socrates’ prescriptions about people’s lives, in what will turn out to be the first theoretical city in the dialogue, focus on the practicalities of everyday conduct, on people’s clothing and shoe-making, their consumption of food, and their praising of the gods in a relaxed, tranquil and blissful environment. There are few things in this simple description of lifestyle that will be reiterated as such in Socrates’ second and more complex city which will be an expansion of the first (ecjou 1lpkgst]a ja· pk^hour, 373b3).135 Because of his cultural background and educational upbringing, Glaucon has already started to become uneasy with this simple lifestyle which is as close to nature as can be: Ja· b Cka}jym rpokab~m, -meu exou, 5vg, ¢r 5oijar, poie?r to»r %mdqar 2stiyl]mour (“Here Glaucon interrupted me: You seem to expect your citizens to feast on dry bread”, 372c2 – 3). Glaucon’s intervention at this point 134 See, however, Rep. 402b5 – 7, where the same methodological idea is reiterated and amplified to include this time the word eikn. 135 However, Socrates’ ‘cleansing’ of the luxurious city will re-establish in Book 5 certain aspects of this type of life in his class of guardians. See also Bloom (1968: 348); and Annas (1981: 77).

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will initially lead to Socrates’ enhancement of the people’s variety of food. Thus Socrates adds to their diet salt, olives and cheese, various vegetables, fruits and wine (372c4 – d1), and emphasizes once more the healthiness of simple life in this environment: “And so they’ll live in peace and good health (ja· ovty di\comter t¹m b_om 1m eQq^m,, let± rcie_ar), and when they die at a ripe old age, they’ll bequeath a similar life to their children (%kkom toioOtom b_om to?r 1jc|moir paqad~sousim, 372d1 – 3)”. Yet, Glaucon is not happy again with Socrates’ depiction of this idyllic and healthy civic environment. A man of his era, Glaucon is a true adherent of a more luxurious lifestyle, and intervenes once more, this time to call this community “a city of pigs” (372d4). As a result, Socrates’ line of reasoning is interrupted by this interlocutor who deems it necessary that their (political) field of investigating justice and injustice should culturally resemble their own polis. 136 His intervention will give rise to the so-called tryphsa polis and, in my view, signals a marked change in the course of their investigation into justice (372e2 – 3). This authorial strategy that resurfaces at crucial dialogical points is in full accord with Plato’s understanding of philosophy as live speech, which is regulated by the various speaking parties. Socrates accommodates the changes that Glaucon is now introducing to the discussion, but his comments are instructive for grasping the philosophical repercussions of this change in the direction of the dialogue. They are also significant for appreciating how Glaucon’s intervention causes Socrates’ change of methodological approach, namely his deployment of images (eikones), as the dialogue on civic justice will now have to focus on a “luxurious” rather than a “simple” city; a “fevered” city which is full of professionals who represent an external (naturalistic) reality and who seek to depict the ethical qualities of human character in pictorial and visual terms: B l³m owm !kghimµ p|kir doje? loi eWmai Dm diekgk¼halem, ¦speq rci^r tir7 eQ d’ aw bo}keshe, ja· vkecla_mousam p|kim heyq^sylem7 oqd³m !pojyk}ei. TaOta c±q d^ tisim, ¢r doje? , oqj 1naqj]sei, oqd³ avtg B d_aita, !kk± jk?ma_ te pqos]somtai ja· tq\pefai ja· tükka sje}g, ja· exa dµ ja· l}qa ja· huli\lata ja· 2ta?qai ja· p]llata, ja· 6jasta to}tym pamtodap\. Ja· dµ ja· $ t¹ pq_tom 1k]colem oqj]ti t!macja?a het]om, oQj_ar te ja· Rl\tia ja· 136 That the introduction of mime˜sis in the second city causes a cultural ‘fever’ which brings easily to mind Athens has also been noted by Halliwell (2000b: 99 – 100). See also Glaucon’s comments in 372d6-e1.

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rpod^lata, !kk± t^m te fycqav_am jimgt]om ja· tµm poijik_am, ja· wqus¹m ja· 1k]vamta ja· p\mta t± toiaOta jtgt]om. G c\q ; Ma_, 5vg. (372e6 – a8)

Yet the true city, in my opinion, is the one we’ve described, the healthy one, as it were. But let’s study a city with a fever, if that’s what you want. There’s nothing to stop us. The things I mentioned earlier and the way of life I described won’t satisfy some people, it seems, but couches, tables, and the other furniture will have to be added, and of course, all sorts of delicacies, perfumed oils, incense, prostitutes, and pastries. We mustn’t provide them only with the necessities we mentioned at first, such as houses, clothes, and shoes, but painting and embroidery must be begun, and gold, ivory, and the like acquired. Isn’t that so? OqjoOm le_fom\ te aw tµm p|kim de? poie?m7 1je_mg c±q B rcieimµ oqj]ti Rjam^, !kk’ Edg ecjou 1lpkgst]a ja· pk^hour, $ oqj]ti toO !macja_ou 6mej\ 1stim 1m ta?r p|kesim, oXom oV te hgqeuta· p\mter oV te lilgta_, pokko· l³m oR peq· t± sw^lat\ te ja· wq~lata, pokko· d³ oR peq· lousij^m, poigta_ te ja· to}tym rpgq]tai, Nax\do_, rpojqita_, woqeuta_, 1qcok\boi, sjeu_m te pamtodap_m dgliouqco_, t_m te %kkym ja· t_m peq· t¹m cumaiue?om j|slom… (373b2 – c1)

Then we must enlarge our city, for the healthy one is no longer adequate. We must increase it in size and fill it with a multitude of things that go beyond what is necessary for a city – hunters, for example, and artists or imitators, many of whom work with shapes and colours, many with music. And there’ll be poets and their assistants, actors, choral dancers, contractors, and makers of all kinds of devices, including, among other things, those needed for the adornment of women… And we’ll also need many more cattle, won’t we, if the people are going to eat meat?

In intercepting Socrates’ description of the first, healthy city, Glaucon had probably wished to introduce to the discussion only variety in food for the city’s inhabitants.137 Nonetheless, in Socratic terms, it appears that variety and diversity cannot receive a piecemeal treatment and, as a result, they start to penetrate every aspect of people’s civic lifestyle.138 Thus Glaucon’s variety of food causes sympotic luxuriousness and is coupled with the emergence of various de˜miourgoi whose products are representations of “diversity”, “colorfulness”, and “multifariousness”.139 Before investigating justice in Glaucon’s luxurious city, Socra137 On food in the first city, see also Rosen (2005: 75 – 76). 138 The argument here parallels Socrates’ comments in Book 5. 474c8 – 475c8. If you “love” (philounta) something, you have to “love it on the whole” (alla pan stergonta). 139 See Rep. 372d – e1: ja· !p¹ tqapef_m deipme?m, ja· exa ûpeq jai oR mOm 5wousi ja· tqac^lata (“… dine at a table, and have the delicacies and desserts that people have nowadays”). This type of food implies a sympotic context. On

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tes observes that the city they have left behind in their speech is a truly “real city” and a “healthy”, as it were, one (B !kghimµ p|kir, ¦speq . rci^r tir).140 Socrates revisits the character of the first city in the context of his definition of the status of the just soul in Book 4.141 Thus it turns out that justice had already surfaced in the first city, almost in full view for his interlocutors to ‘see’. Only an eidlon of it to be sure, according to Socrates, since it externalized in the polis the internal state of the just soul, both city and soul being stamped by the seal of justice (t}por dijaios}mgr), but all the same a satisfactory and accurate eidlon of it to Socrates (443b7 – c7).142 In my view, Glaucon’s interception of Socrates’ building of a city in speech and his introduction of poikilia in the lives of the inhabitants has important methodological and stylistic effects on the development of the discussion. Some of them are well known and frequently discussed the trage˜mata in the symposia and the poetry performed in these contexts, see Noussia (2001: 353 – 359). See also Murray (1990). 140 See 369c1 – 370d, esp. 370c3 – 5: 9j dµ to}tym pke_y te 6jasta c_cmetai ja· j\kkiom ja· qøom, ftam eXr 4m jat± v}sim ja· 1m jaiq`, swokµm t_m %kkym %cym, pq\tt, (“So the conclusion is that more things will be produced and the work be more easily and better done, when every man is set free from all other occupations to do, at the right time, the one thing for which he is naturally fitted.”) See also 374b – d. On Plato’s first city, see also Schofield (2006: 203 – 205); and Rosen (2005: 69 – 76 and 79 – 82). Both Rosen and Annas (1981: 76 – 79) in their respective analyses call attention to the fact that the establishment of Plato’s first city in the Republic results from the need to satisfy people’s needs and, from that point of view, this community both corresponds to, and portrays, the appetitive (epithyme˜tikon) psychic part. Both also comment on the absence of the logistikon from this polis. They, nonetheless, refrain from observing that, if there is in the Republic a place where the appetitive part is presented as fully and successfully tamed, this is in Plato’s first city, before, that is, the process of ‘purification’ of the “luxurious and fevered” polis is instigated. But cf. Reeve (1988: 171 – 172). 141 On justice in the soul, see Rep. 443b7-e6. 142 […] eQr !qw^m te ja· t}pom tim± t/r dijaios}mgr jimdume}olem 1lbebgj]mai. T¹ d] ce Gm %qa, § Cka}jym –di’ d ja· ¡veke? – eUdyk|m ti t/r dijaios}mgr, t¹ t¹m l³m sjutotolij¹m v}sei aqh_r 5weim sjutotole?m ja· %kko lgd³m pq\tteim, t¹m d³ tejtomij¹m tejta_meshai, ja· tükka dµ ovtyr (“we had hit upon the origin and pattern of justice right at the beginning in founding our city. Indeed, Glaucon, the principle that it is right for someone to practice cobbler and nothing else, for the carpenter to practice carpentry, and the same for the others is a sort of image of justice – that’s why it’s beneficial’. On the Forms’ seal (typos) on the human soul in the Republic, see Petraki (2008: 147 – 170, esp. 158 – 161 with n. 41).

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in the literature. The emergence of de˜miourgoi and artists of all sorts in Socrates’ tryphsa polis will lead to the long censorship of myths and poetry, since Plato’s main speaker will now have to start “purifying” his city from the poikilia and luxuriousness which he had denied to it in the first place (kek^hal]m ce diajaha_qomter p\kim Dm %qti tquv÷m 5valem p|kim, 399e5 – 6).143 Yet, little attention has been paid to the way Glaucon’s interference with the argument at this stage of the dialogue signals a turn in terms of methodology on the part of Socrates. After variety (poikilia) surrounds the inhabitants of the new polis by way of poetry, painting, and the other various visual arts, and becomes an integral part of their nurturing environment, Socrates introduces to the discussion of the term eikn and its various cognates. As stated above, the word eikn initially appears in relation to the city’s guardians in 375d5. It then re-emerges most prominently in Socrates’ condemnation of the poets and myth-makers’ depiction of gods and heroes in 377e1 – 3: ftam eQj\f, tir jaj_r [oqs_am] t` k|c\, peq· he_m te ja· Bq~ym oXo_ eQsim, ¦speq cqave»r lgd³m 1oij|ta cq\vym oXr #m floia boukgh0 cq\xai ([“The worst of all faults], especially if the story is ugly and immoral as well as false – misrepresenting the nature of gods and heroes, like an artist whose picture is utterly unlike the object he sets out to draw”). I will return shortly to Socrates’ use of the term in relation to the city-guardians. For the moment, I would like to dwell on the semantics of comparison and resemblance that this term introduces to the dialogue. 143 It is Glaucon’s introduction of imitators of all sorts to the polis that will instigate Socrates’ ensuing discussion about the perilous effects of mime˜sis on the formation of the guardians’ character. See discussion in Murray (1996: 3 – 6). See also Annas (1981: 73 – 79), who contrary to the view I take here, argues that “the first city adds nothing, except a context in which the Principle of Specialization is introduced in a plausible way” (at 78 – 9). On this principle, see also Reeve (1988: 172 – 176). From my point of view, it is indeed important that this Platonic principle emerges in the first city, but, only if seen retrospectively, that is, after the establishment of the “fevered” city in the dialogue and the identification of justice in it and in the human soul. Thus the principle of Specialization in the first city re-affirms the harmonious and balanced psychic and civic state of affairs. In other words, Plato’s most important principle was there from the start, only the Socratic interlocutors were not trained to see it. From this point of view, Rosen (2005: 80 – 81) is right to stress that philosophy is excluded from Socrates’ first, natural city, since it has no role to play in this context. It is the interlocutors’ inability to identify justice in it that generates the “luxurious” city and, with it, philosophy.

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According to Socrates, Glaucon’s introduction of variety and diversity (poikilia) in the polis is followed by various imitators (painters, poets and sculptors) whose imitations, representations, or copies of reality are not correct (this is made explicit in 377d8 – 9).144 In the next lines, Socrates turns to the poets and myth-makers’ productions, the imitators par excellence, and uses terms such as “diversity in colours” (cicamtolaw_ar te luhokocgt]om aqto?r ja· poijikt]om) and “multifariousness” (%kkar 5whqar pokk±r ja· pamtodap±r he_m te ja· Bq~ym) to describe their techniques and the characteristic features of their compositions and art products (378b8 – 379a4). Note that in these lines, Socrates juxtaposes the terms mythologe˜teon and poikilteon (narrating in myth and weaving coloured embroideries or producing multicoloured paintings) thus coupling together the poets’ treatment of various themes (gods, heroes, and humans) with the visual artists’ pictorial representation of similar subjects. According to Socrates, imitators of both artistic strands depict in their visual mediums diverse representations of the most important concepts in a wrong and unfaithful manner. Socrates’ use of poikilteon (diverse in colour) in this context is a most appropriate term to draw attention to the captivating effect that the combination of colours has on the receiving audience. In these lines, Socrates also employs the term eikaz (to compare or liken), etymologically cognate to the word eikn (image), to argue that poets and visual artists aim to reproduce and represent visual impressions of subjects (gods and heroes) which lie in a sphere beyond our sense-perception. Thus, as Halliwell (2000b) has rightly pointed out, Socrates is not striking here an attack against poets’ naturalistic artistic representations, but is primarily interested in emphasizing the elusive character of the prototype (gods and heroes) of these representations. One who is ignorant of the distinctive qualities of these prototypes cannot but fail to produce a truthful representation of them on stage, in paintings, and in visual arts in general (see also 402b5 – c8).145 144 Halliwell (2000b: 99) rightly points out that the term ‘imitation’ as a translation of mime˜sis hardly does justice to the wide scope of this concept. See also detailed discussion in Halliwell 2002. 145 See Halliwell (2000b: 106 – 107). Halliwell rightly observes that as regards painting Plato does not so much attack the artists’ graphic naturalistic reproductions of reality, but their inability to mimetically represent in their art objects which need not exist independently in reality, namely ideal Beauty, or “models” and “exemplars” (the so-called paradeigmata in the Republic and the Cratylus’ discourse). Nonetheless, in this work I argue that in the Republic the represen-

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Matters become even more complex and dangerous, according to Socrates, if one considers the alluring effect of these colourful visual impressions on the uneducated or the erroneously educated people. In Plato’s view, the ethical qualities reproduced either by way of body movement (sche˜mata) and facial expressions, or depicted in the painter’s pictorial mime˜sis, are mixed and combined in such a way that one cannot easily tell apart what is (ethically) good from what is bad in the representations.146 This is stated most explicitly in Plato’s botanical image in Book 3 (401b – 402a4), which I discussed in Section One of this work.147 This image, which concludes Socrates’ severe censorship of education and psychaggia by means of mousike˜, also offers a most forceful treatment of the term eikn. According to Socrates, one’s ethical upbringing is greatly endangered by the poets’ imagistic spoon-feeding (to?r poigta?r 1pistatgt]om jai pqosamacjast]om tµm toO !cahoO eQj|ma poie?m… Vma lµ 1m jaj_ar eQj|si tqev|lemoi… ¦speq 1m jaj0 bot\m,… !p¹ pokk_m dqep|lemo_ te ja· mel|lemoi, 401b1 – d3). As mentioned in Section One, Plato’s Socrates depicts in this image the poets’ influence on the human soul in materialist terms and emphasizes one’s automatic, almost subconscious, reception of “images” of badness. The discussion on mousike˜, mime˜sis, and mimetic human nature in Book 3 weaves together into a unified whole a variety of ideas that will not be untangled until later in the dialogue. Thus, in the same context of the guardians’ upbringing, Socrates also makes reference to their diet (404d11 – e5). The relevant passage brings together in a single linguistic and thematic environment humans’ spoon-feeding of poetic imagery with eating unhealthy food. At the same time, Plato’s imagery inextricably associates coloured diversity (poikilia) and viciousness (akolasia) with unhealthy diet (Suqajos_am d] , § v_ke, tq\pefam ja· Sijekijµm poijik_am exou, ¢r 5oijar, oqj aQme?r [“If you think that, then it seems that you don’t approve of Syracusan cuisine or of Sicilian-style dishes”, 404d1 – 3]). As a result, Socrates strongly argues for a total ban on inappropriate food and on poetic images (eikones) of this type from the tation of nature (or, in general, the sense-perceptive physical reality) in graphic arts offers Plato a vehicle for reflecting on how humans should both model and interpret reality, both sense-perceptive and invisible. On Plato’s use of painting in the dialogues, see also Janaway (1995: Ch. 5); and Morgan (1990: 121 – 145). See also my discussion in Chapter Four below. 146 On sche˜mata as regards Plato’s concept of imitation, see Rabel (1996: 365 – 375). 147 See Section One pp. 85 – 90.

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guardians’ nurturing environment.148 For Plato then, colourful diversity (poikilia) in all its manifestations (in music, in poetry, in visual arts, and in food) has disastrous effects on one’s intellectual and physical health: fkgm c±q oWlai tµm toia}tgm s_tgsim ja· d_aitam t0 lekopoi_ô te ja· ád0 t0 1m t` pamaqlom_\ ja· 1m p÷si Nuhlo?r pepoigl]m, !peij\fomter aqh_r #m !peij\foilem… OqjoOm 1je? l³m !jokas_am B poijik_a 1m]tijtem, 1mtaOha d³ m|som, B d³ "pk|tgr jat± l³m lousijµm 1m xuwa?r syvqos}mgm, jat± d³ culmastijµm 1m s~lasim rc_eiam ; (404d11 – e5)

I believe that we’d be right to compare this diet and this entire life-style to the kinds of lyric odes and songs that are composed in all sorts of modes and rhythms… Just as embellishment in the one gives rise to licentiousness, doesn’t it give rise to illness in the other? But simplicity in music and poetry makes for moderation in the soul, and in physical training it makes for bodily health?

Glaucon’s intervention introduced diversity to the first polis and Socrates must now draw a sharp distinction between the simplicity of the good (agathon) and its representation in music, dance, and human actions, which he links with physical health and vigorousness on the one hand, and ethical badness on the other, which relates to multiplicity and diversity and is associated with physical and psychological disease (nosos).149 The associations drawn in these lines, I argue, establish one of Plato’s most fundamental theses in the Republic as regards the perilous effects of poetry and poetic imagery on the human soul, namely Plato’s negative view of colourful variety, since it is through it that poetry and the visual arts seek to entice human sight in order to reach and deceive the soul. In line with the view I have taken in Chapter One above, Plato’s condemnation of poikilia lies behind his prescriptions about the organization of the guardians’ lifestyle in the just polis of Book 5; that is, their restrained sexual relations (mixis) in order to preserve the clan’s homogeneity. Poikilia can be held in check if the ‘mixture’ of various elements, male and female guardians, good and bad ethical qualities, or the various colours that define our visual perception of the natural en148 Socrates links again poikilia with viciousness (akolasia) in 404e3 – 5. On the impact that the paradeigmata (models or paradigms) of bad characters have on the souls of youths, see also Rep. 409a – b. On Plato’s use of the term paradeigma in the Republic, see Halliwell (2000b: 106 – 108). See also Jowett II (1894: 338 – 339) and above Chapter One, n. 53. 149 On Plato’s use of well-established scientific terminology to speak about the soul’s health, see Pender (2000: 183 – 185 with n. 296). See also Kenny (1969: 229 – 253).

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vironment, is understood for the confusion it can generate. This is obviously no easy task and, as I suggest in this study, this is a task in which, in Plato’s view, the poets’ treatment of ethical concepts have failed. In the Republic, Plato’s Socrates undertakes to educate his interlocutors on the disastrous effects of verbal diversity (poikilia). In Book 5 he constructed one of the least adorned verbal images to depict the homogeneity of the ideal polis. As we will see in this chapter, the image of the Good as the Sun is another indicative example of how pictorial language this time can be treated so as to portray the simple character (haplote˜s) of the good in contrast to the mixed diversity of baseness. For Socrates, the two cities, Glaucon’s luxurious and fevered city and his own, stand in stark contrast to each other.150 Contrary to Glaucon’s city, the first polis had enveloped its inhabitants in a simple, harmonious, and tranquil environment. The health of the first city was portrayed in a most naturalistic manner by way of simplicity in food. This simplicity, though, was all pervasive, regulating every aspect of their lifestyle: their interaction with nature, their clothing, their work, their breeding, and their singing of hymns to the gods (372b – c). In this community, people’s relation to their physical environment is direct and the inhabitants are fully integrated in it. Their singing is also unmediated: in the absence of trained professionals, people sing themselves their hymns to gods. By eliminating all forms of multiplicity and variety, Socrates has also left out mimesis from this city.151 It is not surprising then that in this context which seeks to identify civic justice, the term eikn is also absent. This would immediately presuppose a division between two domains or concepts and raise questions about their relation or resemblance. However, in the first city this distance or separation between external reality and its representation is redundant. There is no gap between the world and its inhabitants that must be bridged by drawing comparisons between the original and their representations in eikones. In addition, in Socrates’ first city justice is present in people doing the job for which they are best and naturally fitted. As previously mentioned, according to Socrates this is only an eidlon of 150 Pappas (1995: 61 – 62) argues that Socrates thus constructs his first city in order to offer an alternative and different account of the “birth of human society” to the one that Glaucon provided in Book 2. 358e-359c. According to this interpretation, Socrates’ description of this idyllic community is intended to contrast people’s “skeptical use of history” to speak about the origins of society. 151 See also Bloom (1968: 344 – 348).

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justice, but a correct one which could have provided a satisfactory answer to their investigation if only the interlocutors had eyes to ‘see’ it. They did not.152 Yet, we should not lose sight of the fact that the inhabitants’ lifestyle in the first Socratic city (372a5 – d3) also contrasts strikingly with the description of life in the botanical imagery in 401b1 – 402a4. The botanical image, as we saw in Section One above, is a vivid imagery in itself (an eikn) which also makes reference to the guardians’ food consumption. Socrates raises there the strong possibility that, unless verbal images are held in check by the city’s founders, the guardians will inevitably run the same danger as Plato’s contemporaries: they will be fed on poetic images (eikones), whose representation of the world (sense-perceptual and ethical – Plato’s language refrains from strictly separating the two in Book 3), is wrong and contaminated by representations of badness, for, as Socrates will explain in Book 10, it is not knowledgeable. From Socrates’ point of view, the various imitators that Glaucon introduced to the Socratic city offer in their productions multifarious representations (eikones) that detach people from their physical environment and alienate them both from their own souls and from the ethical qualities that dwell in the soul, as these, being erroneously externalized in poetry and painting, are automatically re-internalized, but now towards (further) corruption: Ja· 5ti ce to}tym, § )de_lamte, va_meta_ loi eQr slijq|teqa jatajejeqlat_shai B toO !mhq~pou v}sir, ¦ste !d}mator eWmai pokk± jak_r lile?shai C aqt± 1je?ma pq\tteim ¨m dµ ja· t± lil^lat\ 1stim !voloi~lata.

(395b3 – 6) And human nature, Adeimantus, seems to be minted in even smaller coins than these, so that it can neither imitate many things well nor do the actions themselves, of which those imitations are likenesses.

A vicious circle is thus generated, whereby confused people are fed on ethical images by the ignorant. This circle, says Socrates in Book 3, must be broken by restraining the diversity and multifariousness of the poets’ representations (pas_m "qlomi_m… p\mtym d³ Nuhl_m… di± t¹ pamto152 Socrates’ description of the first polis shares characteristic features with Hesiod’s account of the life of the Golden Race in WD 109 – 19. On Plato’s reception of Hesiod, see the compilation of articles in Boys-Stones, G. R. and Haubold, J. H. (2010). On Plato’s adaptation of the Golden Race in the Politicus, see El Murr, in the same volume (2010: 276 – 297).

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dap±r loqv±r t_m letabok_m, 397b6 – c6).153 In Book 10, Plato will re-

visit his initial comments about poetry: in the end only (the “purified”) hymns to the gods are allowed in the city. But this purification is no easy task for poets, for, as Socrates claims there, they do not possess the true knowledge of the good and simple character (e˜thos) and thus cannot pass it to their audience. Thus purification becomes part of Plato’s agenda.

3.2 Plato’s eikones in the Republic 3.2.1 Images of human nature In Section One I suggested that Plato’s eikones in the Republic draw attention to methodological issues about the correct use of language to investigate and communicate reality. In this view, the emergence of the term eikn in Book 2, after Glaucon’s intervention in the construction of the first city, is not incidental. Plato makes Glaucon intercept Socrates’ line of investigation into the nature of justice and, in response, Socrates modifies his approach and starts building his own philosophical imagery to educate his interlocutors in matters of ethics and philosophical thought. His deployment of the pedigree dog as an image for the cityguardian is the first in a long series of Platonic eikones in our text. Yet the image of the pedigree dog, in particular, becomes thickly woven in the Republic’s text in manifold ways, since not only does it turn into a watchword for the city’s guardian class throughout the dialogue on justice, but it also becomes enhanced with further animal vocabulary, building thick clusters of imagery throughout the text. At the same time, the significance of food in people’s life-style, which was introduced in the first polis, is retained in Plato’s imagery of animal-like hu153 See 396d3-e2: ftam d³ c_cmgtai jat\ tima 2autoO !m\niom, oqj 1hek^seim spoud0 !peij\feim 2aut¹m t` we_qomi, eQ lµ %qa jat± bqaw}, ftam ti wqgst¹m poi0, !kk’ aQswume?shai, ûla l³m !c}lmastor £m toO lile:shai to»r toio}tour, ûla d³ ja· dusweqa_mym art¹m 1jl\tteim te ja· 1mist\mai eQr to»r t_m jaji|mym t}pour, !til\fym t0 diamo_a, fti lµ paidi÷r w\qim. (“When he comes upon a

character unworthy of himself, however, he’ll be unwilling to make himself seriously resemble that inferior character – except perhaps for a brief period in which he’s doing something good. Rather he’ll be ashamed to do something like that, both because he’s unpracticed in the imitation of such people and because he can’t stand to shape and mould himself according to a worse pattern. He despises this in his mind, unless it’s just done in play”).

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mans, with food consumption now working as a vehicle through which Socrates investigates the essential characteristics of human nature in Books 8 and 9. In my view, in these contexts of the Republic, food consumption also works as a symbol for the treatment of philosophical language and public speech. This idea is expressed in Book 7 where Socrates discusses the education of the guardians’ children in philosophical argumentation: /q’ owm oq l_a l³m eqk\beia avtg suwm^, t¹ lµ m]our emtar aqt_m ce}eshai ; OWlai c\q se oq kekgh]mai fti oR leiqaj_sjoi, ftam t¹ pq_tom k|cym ce}ymtai, ¢r paidiø aqto?r jatawq_mtai, !e· !mtikoc_am wq~lemoi, ja· lilo}lemoi to»r 1nek]cwomtar aqto· %kkour 1k]cwousi, wa_qomter ¦speq sjuk\jia t` 6kjeim te ja· spaq\tteim t` k|c\ to»r pkgs_om !e_. (539b1 – 7)

You must have seen how youngsters, when they get their first taste of it, treat argument as a form of sport solely for purposes of contradiction. When someone has proved them wrong, they copy his methods to confute others, delighting like puppies in tugging and tearing at anyone who comes near them. (trans. Cornford)

In Book 7, Socrates discusses the young guardians’ education in military action in parallel with their theoretical education in philosophy. Part of Socrates’ educational programme for the young guardians is that they should campaign together with their parents during war (p|kelor) as observers (heyqo_) and be made to “taste blood” like little puppies. Socrates then goes on to explain to Glaucon how young people usually fail to engage in philosophical argumentation in a constructive manner. In the lines cited above, Plato’s Socrates re-deploys the familiar watch-dog imagery and combines it with aggressive language to now discuss the dangers latent in the young guardians’ education in philosophy. One should be extremely careful about how he introduces them to arguments, since the guardians’ young children have not yet fully developed a well-balanced spirit. That is, they are not yet “both gentle and high-spirited at the same time” (375c8 – 8).154 They are rather high-spirited, and not yet as gentle and moderate as they should be. This imbalance, according to Socrates, jeopardizes the young guardians’ exposure to philosophical language and their treatment of argumentation. In the lines cited above, Plato retains his dog imagery to refer to the guardians’ offspring, but changes it in a significant way. The ill-treatment of philosophical language, the practice, that is, of antilogic instead 154 Socrates has suggested in Book 2 that in ideal guardians, these two characteristics must be harmoniously combined.

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of dialectic, is rendered through the use of the imagery of tearing and dragging (¦speq sjuk\jia t` 6kjeim te ja· spaq\tteim t` k|c\). Yet this specific imagery of a dog dragging (6kjeim) and tasting flesh and blood belongs to the stock language of blame and conjures up strong connections with iambic poetry.155 In my view, Plato’s canine image here, enhanced as it is with “eating flesh” and “tasting blood”, seeks to incorporate in the Republic the distinctive features of iambic poetry in particular, and relate this type of poetic language with the way the disintegrated souls of Books 8 and 9 treat judicial and philosophical language.156 The characteristics of iambic poetry, which in Book 7 are rather subtle, will be fully accommodated and exploited in Book 9 of the Republic to describe and depict the tyrant’s beast-like conduct.157 155 On the semantics of 2kj}sai as part of the language of invective, see Pindar Nem. 7. 102 – 5 with discussion in Steiner (2001: 154 – 158, esp. 156). 156 Socrates states this clearly in his description of the tyrant’s civic behavior in 565d-566a and in his description of the tyrant’s psychic state in 589a – b. In the first passage, the tyrant is severely criticized for bringing people to trial on false charges or killing people and taking pleasure in tasting “kindred citizen blood”. In the latter passage, the two parts of the tyrant’s soul, that is, “the multicoloured beast with a ring of many heads”, and “the lion” bite and kill one another, allowing, at the same time, the third part, the “human being” to “starve and weaken”. Contrary to the food that Socrates has prescribed for the inhabitants of the first city in Book 2, the tyrant’s ‘food’ consists of (human) flesh and blood that he enjoys in courts. Note that this abnormal food is not even the prepared or cooked type of meal (to opson) that Glaucon sought to introduce in Socrates’ first city. The absence of meat or flesh from the first city’s cuisine is also noted by Rosen (2005: 75), who rightly stresses that neither Glaucon nor Socrates make explicit reference to it, but does observe that such a reference is implied “by Glaucon’s distaste for Socrates’ own vegetarian interpretation of the term”. Note also that meat is introduced in the “luxurious” and “fevered” city along with the swineherds (373c4 – 6). Rosen, however, refrains from following in his interpretation the various ramifications of this particular Platonic imagery. Influences from iambic poetry on Plato’s prose here cannot pass undetected. These lines form strong connections with Pindar’s portrayal of anti-heroes and arrogant humans whose hybristic attitude is exhibited in their inappropriate food consumption. On the psogeros Archilochus, who “feeds” (piain) on phthonos, see Pindar Pyth. II. 50 – 6; cf. also Pindar’s treatment of Tantalus in Ol. I. 28 – 57. See discussion in Steiner (2002: 297 – 314). On Plato’s use of poetry to depict the base and the unjust, see also my detailed discussion in Chapter Four below. 157 The animal imagery goes back to Homer, Archilochus and Semonides. It was also integrated in the aristocratic symposia as a pastime game, whereby the participants had to build animal-like images (eikones) of each other (apeikazein). See the discussion in Lloyd (1966: 184 – 190). On the symposium game see, Stehle

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Consequently, if we follow closely Plato’s animal imagery in the text, strong contrasts are conjured up between the pedigree-dogs as guardians in the first part of the dialogue, and several other images of animal-like humans, which are intended to highlight the essential characteristics of the disintegrated polities and souls in Books 8 and 9.158 Thick clusters of poetic language (poetic words, quotations, and imagery) are used to portray the oligarchic man as a “drone” (ke˜phe˜n) in 552c. In 559d – e, the democratic man is lured to the “drones’ honey and various other beast-like pleasures” (pamtodap±r Bdom±r ja· poij_kar [“every variety of multicoloured pleasure in every sort of way”]), causing the birth of democracy, whereby “animals” (the˜ria) enjoy much more freedom than elsewhere (563c3 – d1). In the democratic state, dogs become like their masters, and horses and donkeys “are accustomed to roam freely and proudly along the streets, bumping into anyone who doesn’t get out of their way” (563c5 – 9). Yet, it is the tyrant, in 565d – 566a, who tastes “with impious tongue and lips kindred blood in courts” and, as a result, transforms himself into a wolf (k}j\ 1n !mhq~pou cem]shai). Plato’s use of animal imagery climaxes in this famous eikn of the tyrant’s unjust and diverse soul in Book 9 (588c1 – 589a4): this creature is camouflaged as a human being, without truly being one. Images of this type hold a most prominent place in the Republic’s discourse about human souls and politics, creating thus a strong contrast with the image of the dog-guardian introduced in Book 2. In what way then are the dog image and the subsequent animal imagery of the Republic philosophically significant? I have already proposed above that Socrates’ first city was set to drive the argument in different directions, but the logos was diverted by Glaucon who instantly made the lifestyle of the first city resemble that of contemporary Athens by inserting arts and Mousike˜ in the dialogue. In Platonic discourse, Glaucon’s introduction of food variety in the city brought about variety (poikilia) of all sorts that generated imbal(1997: Ch. 5); and Hunter (2004: 5 – 6). On the connection between animal imagery and iambic poetry, see also Nagy (1979: Ch. 12 and 13). On iambic poetry in Homer, see Martin (1989: 43 – 87). 158 Saxonhouse (1978: 888 – 901) discusses Plato’s animal imagery in the Republic Book 5, but follows a different line of interpretation from the one I pursue here. He takes a Straussian view of the dialogue and links the animal imagery of Book 5 with Comedy and, more specifically, with Aristophanes’ Birds to indicate the utopian character of the Platonic Kallipolis. On Plato’s use of the dog imagery, see Annas (1981: 79 – 82); and Rosen (2005: 83 – 86).

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ance (vkecla_mousam p|kim, 372e8).159 Physical health and harmony achieved by way of food regulation and its unmediated relation to nature is contrasted with the guardians’ unreformed education in poetry and music, which, due to their poikilia and linguistic colourfulness, dazzle humans and overwhelm their perception of reality, thus endangering their ethical development. Socrates cannot allow the two cities, the potentially just and the phlegmainousa one, to intertwine or become identified, for that would result in their investigation ending once more in deadlock.160 Thus, as the conversation on justice unfolds, he exploits several techniques to keep their fundamental differences constantly in the foreground. As suggested previously in Chapters One and Two, the Platonic eikones and imagistic language form an essential part of Socrates’ techniques to contrast politics and ethics in contemporary cities to the Socratic just city and soul; imagistic language also emphasizes the (epistemological) distance that separates the Socratic interlocutors from the Platonic Real. Imagistic language can do this, since, as we saw in Chapter Two, it constitutes the type of language that the Socratic interlocutors are most at ease with.161 Thus the Platonic eikones militate against the poets’ images as described in 401b (1m jaj_ar eQj|si tqev|lemoi… ¦speq 1m jaj0 bot\m,, 401b8 – c1) and constitute a different type of ‘food’, a verbal pharmakon that seeks to restore (ethical and intellectual) health in diseased and contaminated cities and souls (372e8).162

159 The word phlegmain (LSJ sv: to be heated, inflamed, to fester) implies disturbance of balance and, from that point of view, it can also be linked with disease. 160 This was the case with Socrates’ discussion with Cephalus, Polemarchus and Thrasymachus in Book 1. See Dorter (2006: 57 – 65); see also Petraki (2009: 27 – 67). Note that in Book 1 Thrasymachus is already likened to a wolf (336d – e). Note also that the discussion about justice in Book 1 ends in a heavy ironic tone with a vivid description which likens philosophical investigation to inappropriate and erratic food consumption (354a10-c3). See my discussion above, Chapter Two, n. 60. 161 Glaucon’s intervention has shown how significant mousike˜ and the visual arts are in general to the Republic’s interlocutors. This stresses the fact that Socrates’ philosophical discourse must investigate and argue highly debatable ethical and political issues with ethically confused people, who have been raised in a culture that bombards them with images of all sorts, both verbal and visual. See also Socrates’ comment in Rep.515a5: “The prisoners are likes us.” 162 See Rep. 459c8 – 9; see also 382a – d. On Plato’s use of pharmakon in the dialogue, see the discussion above, Ch. One, n. 33.

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I propose that Socrates’ building of philosophical eikones from Book 2 onwards is intended to dramatize the interlocutors’ dissociation and distance from Plato’s true ethical and metaphysical reality. This process culminates in the three well-known images of the dialogue’s middle Books. Thus the Platonic images of the Sun and the Cave, in particular, work to a great extent by exploiting humans’ perception of their senseperceptive environment and their relation to it, with a view to disrupting the interlocutors’ erroneous beliefs about the unity of the world as they perceive it. As the golden era of the first polis, when humans enjoyed a privileged relation with nature, is left behind in speech, Plato’s humans become misplaced and totally disoriented. Taking this view, to be at a loss in ethics is to be at a total loss in every aspect of human nature both in the way humans ‘view’ and interact with nature and use their language, as well as in the way they organize their states and politics. In Platonic terms, and in the Republic’s discourse specifically, to be ethically confused amounts to losing fundamental characteristics of one’s human nature. Once this happens it is easy for humans to turn into animals and beasts of any sort. And the more ethically corrupted one is, the worse their transformation into animals and their disintegration into beasts. With that said, the eikn of the city-guardian as a pedigree dog becomes Plato’s catchword that underscores Socrates’ difficulty in identifying a human model for setting up his city. The emergence of the dog analogy, then, is intended to pave the way for Socrates’ harmonized and just human soul, and to bridge the gap between the way humans have been erroneously portrayed in poetry so far, as well as in the way humans should become by way of Platonic philosophic education. In deploying the dog-image, Socrates has already started to “cleanse his canvas” and to remix the (familiar poetic) verbal colours with a view to portraying his political and ethical reality. This is, in essence, an educational process and Plato has Socrates drawing his interlocutors’ attention to it by way of building a number of linguistic eikones (399d5 – 6). In doing so, Socrates has already embarked on his grand scheme to depict in his dialogue the haploun e˜thos, which poetry has failed to do. At the same time, in introducing the eikones in his philosophical investigation, Plato also dramatizes in speech the way in which the Socratic interlocutors differ from the inhabitants of his first city. They are not as integrated into their physical environment or to the polis as they believe, and thus nature and the polis turn into an image for them to reflect upon and re-think their confidence in their perceptive and intellectual capa-

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bilities. This immediately engages them in questioning their approach to various other abstract concepts or qualities, such as justice, temperance, courage, or friendship, which may be thought of as invisible and ill-defined, but are constantly materialized in real life and in art, albeit ‘mixed’ in the wrong way due to incorrect cultural education.163

3.2.2 The way to the Form of the Good If the image of pedigree dogs underscores Plato’s difficulty in depicting a balanced and harmonized human, paving the way for purifying contemporary education in mousike˜ so that a reformed one nurtures just souls, then the three eikones in the middle, metaphysical Books of the Republic portray most vigorously the distance that separates the Socratic interlocutors from Plato’s true reality. Their relation to the Platonic Ideas unfolds in the text through the exploration of motifs and imagery that was introduced at the end of Book 5, in Socrates’ presentation of the Doxa to the philotheamones. The imagistic type of language employed in Book 5 and, more specifically, the mixture of light and darkness as the characteristic par excellence of the cognitive state of Opinion, is coupled in the three images of Books 6 and 7 with the cognate motifs of route and distance to emphasize the interlocutors’ dissociation from their natural and sense-perceptive environment.164 The Socratic interlocutors, poorly educated in poetry as they are, must simultaneously rethink an ‘invisible’ ethical and ontological reality, which is new to them, and their own perception of their physical surroundings, for, in Platonic terms, the process of coming to understand these modes of reality cannot be broken into separate parts, one for each mode.165 The ascent towards acquaintance with the Forms involves familiarization with unsuspected truths about our own nature, intellect and senses. It 163 See, for example, Rep. 476a4 – 7. 164 On one’s ‘distance’ from justice, see Rep. 343c1-d1. On the motif of the route, see, for example, Rep. 445c4 – 7. Note that Parmenides’ On Nature rests entirely on the route-motif. See Mourelatos (1970: Chs. 1 and 2). Nightingale (2004: 94 – 138) links the motif of distance with philosophic theoria and casts new light on the philosopher’s engagement with politics in the ideal polis and on the problem of the reconciliation of contemplative and practical life. See in addition Goldhill, in N. K. Rutter and B. A. Sparkes (eds.) (2000: 166 – 169). See also n. 133 in this Chapter. 165 Socrates states this explicitly in the image of the Line (509e-511e).

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is not surprising then that Plato’s images of the Sun, Line, and Cave exploit human sight and sense-perceptual and pictorial vocabulary to educate the intra-dramatic audience. Plato’s most important Form, the Good, is presented in the dialogue by way of the eikn of the Sun.166 The image not only introduces a most astounding “essence” (see, for example, Glaucon’s rather comical reaction in 509c1 – 2: dailom_ar rpeqbok/r), but also investigates its relation to the earthly world of mortals, and it thus rests on Socrates’ earlier discussion with Glaucon on Platonic Forms at the end of Book 5 (see 507b – c; cf. 476a – b and c – d). That said, in the light of my conclusions as regards Socrates’ alternation of linguistic styles in his distinction between Knowledge and Opinion in Chapter Two above, it is instructive to turn to the most prominent eikn in Book 6 and examine the poetics of the stylistic mode in which Socrates presents an entirely elusive essence (1p]jeima t/r oqs_ar, 509b6 – 10): the idea of the agathon. We should not lose sight of the fact that Socrates himself in 507b2 – 7 links these two contexts, the Sun-image and the latter part of Book 5, thus foregrounding his earlier argumentation. All three verbal images, the Sun, the Line, and the Cave, are thus linked to the epistemological and ontological ideas of Book 5. My analysis will mainly focus on the diverse linguistic styles (in method and in diction) that Socrates adopts in these two contexts, namely in Books 5 and 6, and seek to account for their stylistic discrepancies. In Section One of this work I suggested that the ethical and intellectual dynamics of the personae of the Socratic interlocutors play an integral role in the dialogue’s alternation of stylistic modes on both the macrocosmic and microcosmic plane. In Chapters One and Two above I tested this observation in Plato’s treatment of Glaucon’s persona in Book 5. Nonetheless, nowhere in the Republic is this authorial stance as regards the influence of the Socratic interlocutors on the dialogue’s development more prominent than in Socrates’ choice to present the Form of the Good by means of an eikn. 166 On the image of the Sun, see Cherniss (1936: 445 – 456); (1962a: 211 ff.), and (1962b: 5 ff.); Ross (1953); Whittaker (1968: 131 – 144); Guthrie (1975 IV: 506 – 518); Raven (1965); Moravcsik, in Werkmeister (ed.) (1976: 1 – 21); Annas (1981: 217 – 242); Santas (1980: 374 – 403) (Reprinted in Santas, in Fine, G. [ed.] [1999: 247 – 274]). See also Penner, in Cairns, D., Hermann, F. G. and Penner, T. (eds.) (2007: 93 – 123); and Rowe in the same volume (2007: 124 – 153).

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The Idea of the Good surfaces in the dialogue in 504a, in the context of Socrates’ discussion with Adeimantus about the nature of the true philosopher (503b3 – c7) and the importance of education to preserve the qualities of exceptional characters (mathe˜mata, 503e – 504a), but it is not fully established for investigation until 505a. Socrates’ introductory approach to the Form of the Good in 504a2 – 505b3 is philosophically significant since it raises a number of crucial issues in relation to the formulation of philosophical argumentation. In addition, it also constitutes an important self-referential moment, for Plato has Socrates make certain observations that cannot leave our reading of the Republic unaffected. Socrates’ comments about the true philosophers’ education in 503e intrigue Adeimantus, who now wants to know more on the subjects that these will have to undertake. Rather than giving a straightforward answer, Socrates returns to his tripartite division of the soul and to his definition of justice. He then raises issues of methodology and claims that the method he had then adopted towards the definition of justice, sphrosyne˜, andreia and sophia, will not take them far this time (Adam 1963 [1902] vol. 2: 50). Indeed, in 435d, Socrates settled for an approach to the four virtues of the soul and the city, which, satisfactory as it was for his co-speakers, only looked as one that Socrates alone had to settle with: EQr vaOk|m ce aw, Gm d’ 1c~, § haul\sie, sj]lla 1lpept~jalem peq· xuw/r, eUte 5wei t± tq_a eUdg taOta 1m art0 eUte l^. Oq p\mu loi dojoOlem, 5vg, eQr vaOkom7 Usyr c±q, § S~jqater, t¹ kec|lemom !kgh]r, fti wakep± t± jak\. (“Then once again we’ve come upon an easy question, namely does the soul have these three parts in it or not? It doesn’t look easy to me. Perhaps, Socrates, there’s some truth in the old saying that everything fine is difficult”, 435c4 – 8.) Socrates deployed the well-established route-motif to explain that there is an alternative method that could be used to investigate these issues (435c7 – d6). This method would offer an accurate (akribs) answer to their question, but is more complex (the route is longer) and above the standards set by their discussion thus far (435d4 – 5). In Book 4, Glaucon dismisses this alternative philosophical line of argumentation and settles for the one they have already been treading on (435d6 – 9). The case is similar in 505a, only this time Socrates is adamant in refusing to settle for a methodology that will give anything less to the investigation than complete “accuracy” (t± t|te t/r !jqibe_ar, ¢r 1lo· 1va_meto, 504b5 – 6) of the “most important subject”, the Good. Socrates’ interlocutor at this stage of the discussion is Adeimantus, but he will

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soon be replaced by Glaucon, who will then be the main co-speaker for the remainder of Book 6 and throughout the discussion on metaphysics, epistemology, and ontology in Book 7. As regards the view I take in this study, this change of interlocutors at this crucial point in the dialogue is not fortuitous. Socrates discusses with Adeimantus the various methodological problems that relate to the Form of the Good but Plato has Glaucon take over the argument when the Sun analogy is fully launched in the conversation.167 To explain their methodological difficulties at this stage, Socrates resorts once more to his well-established comparison of philosophic speech with painting (504d6 – e3). According to him, their previous discussion of virtues in the soul was an hypographe˜ (rough outline) for the group to “look at”, but one should not lose sight of the fact that what they should truly be aiming at is a teletate˜ apergasia (a complete [verbal] picture): “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it, to strain every nerve to attain the utmost exactness and clarity (fti !jqib]stata ja· jahaq~tata) about other things of little value and not to consider the most important things worthy of the greatest exactness?” (504d8 – e3) Socrates’ methodological comments here raise significant issues of an epistemological and philosophical/linguistic character about people’s approach to the Form of the Good. In the Republic’s discourse, the Good can only be approached in a “clear” (katharos) and “accurate” (akribe˜s) manner. I have already suggested in the introduction to this work that the philosophical ramifications of the word katharos permeate the Republic’s thickly woven texture throughout. The word becomes Plato’s catchword for purity and homogeneity that is only to be found at an eidetic level. Thus the notion of purity also regulates Socrates’ organization of the ideal polis in Book 5, as the guardians’ class must remain pure and unmixed in order to secure the city’s stability and preservation (jahaq¹m t¹ c]mor t_m vuk\jym). In this view, Platonic eidetic purity is heavily contrasted with the earthly concepts of mixture (of sense-perceptive elements and ethical qualities), and of contamination and variety (poikilia), and thus governs several of Plato’s prescriptions about the con167 Adeimantus replaces Glaucon in Book 8 (549b) and it is with him that Socrates will discuss the unjust souls and polities in Book 8 and in the first part of Book 9. Glaucon reappears in 576b, at a crucially philosophical moment in the dialogue when Socrates is about to discuss the worst type of man, the tyrant, and his relation to he˜done˜. Plato’s change of interlocutors is not incidental. I will examine this important observation in the following pages.

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struction of the ideal polis. (For example, his reformation or purification of music and poetry in Books 2 and 3 of the dialogue).168 Yet, in my view in this study, the metaphysical connotations that Plato assigns to this word cannot be seen separately from his philosophical concerns about how language should be used to express reality. In other words, Socrates’ philosophical and stylistic approach to the Form of the Good must also reflect (or re-enact) the Form’s purity, since a ‘mixed’ or ‘contaminated’ language will only confuse and disorient the participants in the investigation and, what is most significant from my point of view, it will not do justice to the matter at hand, namely to the Form of the Good. As Socrates will explain later in the dialogue, the interlocutors have not been trained in Dialectic (the ultimate mathe˜ma) that leads the philosopher to the ultimate Reality, and thus cannot have a direct familiarization with the Good.169 On that basis, it is interesting to follow Socrates’ approach to the Good and investigate the pictorial language he exploits to introduce this difficult concept to his interlocutors. This will also pay rich dividends in our own analysis of the reasons that motivate Plato’s alternation of philosophical styles (diction and imagery) in his Republic or, what I have called above, his dramatization of language.170 168 On the words katharos (pure) and katharmos (purification), see Introduction above, n. 31. The notion of ‘contamination’ stands in stark contrast to ‘purity’ and ‘purification’. See also Rep. 364e where Socrates describes how begging prophets and priests promise to absolve people from guilt through sacrifices and prayers. In this broader context, contamination is also linked with blood and killing; see Arist. Frogs 1033, Soph. O.T. 1227 ff.; Seven against Thebes 738. But see also Emp. Katharmoi Fr. 135 (Arist. Rhet. 1373b6), where the time of human blissfulness and innocence ends when they commit the sin of killing and eating animals. See the detailed discussion in Parker ([1983] 1985: 104 – 143, 281 – 307). As we will see in Chapter Four, Plato makes the most of his Presocratic and poetic precedents in several of the Republic’s images, but especially in Books 8 and 9, when he has Socrates describe in vivid colours the tyrant delighting in tasting kindred blood. See also above n. 156 in this Chapter. 169 See Robinson (1953: 61 – 92). On the ‘longer road’ that the conversation could have followed, see Mitchell, in Ferrari, G. R. F. (ed.) (2007) (310 – 344). 170 I concur with Nightingale that Plato’s imageries (his myths and metaphors) “cannot be fully translated into analytic argument” without losing certain of the implications conveyed in imagistic philosophical discourse (2004: 95, n. 4). On this issue, see also McCabe, in Barker, A. and Warner, M. (eds.) (1992: 47 – 67, esp. 59 – 61). In my view, Plato’s imagery of the Good as the Sun in Book 6 becomes fully meaningful if seen in relation to the other images

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But before we embark on this examination, a few observations are in order here as regards Socrates’ interlocutor, Adeimantus. Contrary to the commonly held view about Socrates’ two main interlocutors in the Republic, I claimed in Chapter Two above that Plato’s choice of Glaucon as Socrates’ interlocutor in the presentation of complex epistemological and ontological issues is not incidental. There is an authorial pattern behind the change of Socrates’ two co-speakers which also influences the text’s linguistic style and produces a vivid dramatization of language. The Republic informs us that both co-speakers are well acquainted with Socrates and that his philosophical ideas are not new to them. However, Plato employs certain techniques to differentiate between the two interlocutors, thus building into his Republic gradations of audience. Plato’s differentiation between the two brothers is indeed subtle and has often passed unobserved, but it is indicative of his educational aims in the dialogue (cf. Arieti [1991]; Strauss [1964]; and Bloom [1968]). Through Plato’s treatment of the personae of Glaucon and Adeimantus the reader learns a lot about the ethical and intellectual criteria that one should meet to engage in a philosophically constructive dialogue. One of these intellectual criteria often brought up in the discussion is good memory and Adeimantus’ aptitude in this is questioned in our text. Such is the case in Book 6. In 504e7 – 505a6, Socrates mentions twice that in the past Adeimantus has heard him referring to a most important philosophical subject, namely the Form of the Good. Adeimantus’ then raising anew this topic in the dialogue on justice shows that “he has either forgotten the Good or wants to put Socrates to trouble” (p\mtyr aqt¹ oqj akic\jir !j^joar, mOm d³ C oqj 1mmoe?r C aw diamo0 1lo· pq\clata paq]weim !mtikalbam|lemor, 504e7 – 9). These remarks obviously have several implications. Plato’s readership is informed that Socrates has repeatedly questioned his confidence in examining the matter at hand as well as his knowledge of it. This creates a dramatic tension in the dialogue, for we cannot be certain that the discussion of the Good will not be dismissed as exceptionally difficult on that basis. Yet, these remarks also highlight the philosophical significance of Socrates’ choice of stylistic mode to speak about the Good to people who have not heard of it before or have failed to register its value (as Adeimantus apparently has here). Nevertheless, Socrates decides to speak about the Form of the that Plato creates in the Republic as well as to the motifs of mixis and poikilia that permeate the dialogue throughout.

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Good, and not long afterwards Plato replaces the forgetful Adeimantus with Glaucon.

3.2.3 Plato’s eikones: The Image of the Sun In the introductory part of the section under investigation (504d4 – 508a7 – 8), Socrates lists two problematic definitions of the Good. Most people fail, says Socrates, to come up with a definition which fully renders the significance of the explicandum: “some think (to?r l³m pokko?r, 505 b5) that the good is pleasure, those more cultured (or refined) think that the good is phronesis (505 b6)”. A crucial observation is made immediately afterwards: Ja· fti ce, § v_ke, oR toOto Bco}lemoi oqj 5wousi de?nai Ftir vq|mgsir, !kk’ !macj\fomtai tekeut_mter tµm toO !cahoO v\mai [“Those who believe this can’t tell us what sort of knowledge it is, however, but in the end are forced to say that it is knowledge of the good”, 505b8 – 10]. Their attempt to define the Good fails, since the proponents of this definition can establish neither the semantics of phronesis nor of agathon. Their language is empty and their argumentation fruitless. For Socrates, language as a means to understanding and establishing the truth does not always bear fruit, and empty language can be as confusing as a highly versatile and colourful one, for both can lead to futile wandering (plane˜). Glaucon and Socrates first dismiss the definition of Good as pleasure. According to Socrates, those who take this view find themselves in no less confusion than those who identify it with knowledge (505 c6).171 Yet, the truth is that every soul spends its time pursuing this very thing and gets involved in actions whose aim is the attainment of true goodness (!cah± d³ oqdem· 5ti !qje? t± dojoOmta jt÷shai, !kk± t± emta fgtoOsim, tµm d³ d|nam 1mtaOha Edg p÷r !til\fei [“No171 This evokes the circuitous and futile journey of the Parmenidean youth, as presented in the proem to Parmenides’ On Nature, before the youth, due to divine intervention, is landed on the cognitive illumination of fragment 8. Mortal “wandering” can be highly complicated and diverse: it can stem from the diversity that lies in the multiplicity, as it can emanate from nothingness. The issues touched upon here have strong philosophical (and linguistic) bearings which cannot be fully analyzed within the scope of the present project. See extensive treatment by Denyer (1990: 46 – 67); cf. Bett (1993: 192 – 193). On the Good as pleasure, see the discussion in (Penner, n. 166 in this Chapter, 117 – 124).

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body is satisfied to acquire things he merely believes to be good, however, but everyone wants the things that really are good and disdains those that are merely believed to be so”], 505d8 – 9). “Fixed belief” about the Good, (p_stei lom_l\, 505d11 – 506), cannot be easily achieved and the soul’s pursuit usually ends in aporia. The city guardians, says Socrates, cannot be allowed to spend their entire lives in such an intellectual “darkness” (eskotsthai, 506a1). As I suggested above, Socrates’ epistemology and ontology is founded here on the traditional polarity of darkness and light. The images of the Sun and the Cave that will follow also rest on an imagistic and pictorial type of language that exploits these motifs. Socrates chooses to expand on the Form of Good by means of an analogy (eikn): he associates the Good with the Sun, and in doing so he amasses wording directly related to sense-perception (506e1 – 5).172 Glaucon’s intervention in 506d1 – 6 is philosophically interesting for our interpretation of Socrates’ stylistic modes in investigating human virtues and transcendental Forms: !qj]sei c±q Bl?m, j#m ¦speq dijaios}mgr p]qi ja· syvqos}mgr ja· t_m %kkym di/kher. ovty ja· peq· toO !cahoO di]kh,r (“We should be quite content with an account of the Good like the one you gave us of justice and temperance and the other virtue”, 506d1 – 6). But Glaucon’s challenge here is not without problems; in a final attempt to elicit Socrates’ participation in their cognitive quest of the Good, Glaucon asks him to lower their standards (cf. 506c4 – 5). Socrates is adamant that the idea of the Good as such cannot be tackled in their present discussion. He is willing, though, to offer an indirect approach to the Agathon by assigning to it characteristics that belong to the physical environment and relate directly to human nature. This is critical for our evaluation of the eikn: Socrates’ concerns with methodology and language suggest that the idea of the Good as such is all-pervasive for humans but, at the same time, distant and foreign to the interlocutors’ familiar thought patterns. The motifs of light, darkness, colour, and mixture are thus re-introduced to the discussion and linked with the faculty of sight to convey a sketchy and indirect account of the intellect’s cognition of the Good, and this is done through the 172 See Robinson (1953: 180 – 222); Gulley (1962: 53 – 67); Gosling (1973: 120 – 139); Wheeler (1997: 171 – 188); Ferguson (1963: 188 – 193); and Raven (1953: 22 ff.)

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depiction of the Good’s “offspring”.173 Within this context, the Platonic image also confirms blindness as a disease of the eye: the light of the Sun illuminates the objects of sight, but, if humans cannot perceive it, this is due to their own impaired vision. By exploiting in the eikn a type of language that rests on sense-perception to investigate the Good, Socrates dramatizes the cognitive limitations of his interlocutors and the limits of their conversation thus far, which seems to have never left behind the sphere of the human, the visible, and the corporeal.174 In the same context though, Socrates makes certain linguistic associations and exploits the terminology of Book 5 as regards the Doxa that will allow him to shift customary thought patterns towards new directions. Socrates’ choice of an eikn to approach the Good contrasts with his discussion about the virtues of the human soul. Glaucon asks Socrates to speak about the Good in the same way he talked about justice and sphrosyne˜ (in 432a – b), but Socrates refuses: ja· c±q 1lo_, Gm dû 1c~, § 2ta?qe, ja· l\ka !qj]sei7 !kkû fpyr lµ oqw oX|r tû 5solai, pqohulo}lemor d³ !swglom_m c]kyta avk^sy. !kkû, § laj\qioi, aqt¹ l³m t_ potû 1st· t!cah¹m 1\sylem t¹ mOm eWmai—pk]om c\q loi va_metai C jat± tµm paqoOsam bqlµm 1vij]shai toO ce dojoOmtor 1lo· t± mOm—dr d³ 5jcom|r te toO !cahoO va_metai ja· bloi|tator 1je_m\, k]ceim 1h]ky, eQ ja· rl?m v_kom, eQ d³ l^, 1÷m. (506d6 – e5)

That, my friend, I said, would satisfy me too, but I’m afraid that I won’t be up to it and that I’ll disgrace myself and look ridiculous by trying. So let’s abandon the quest for what the good itself is for the time being, for even to arrive at my own view about it is too big a topic for the discussion we are now started on. But I am willing to tell you about what is apparently an offspring of the good and most like it. Is it agreeable to you, or would you rather we let the whole matter drop?

How then has Socrates spoken about the virtues of the soul? Why is he not complying with Glaucon’s request here? Our attention needs to be drawn to Book 4 of the Republic where the relevant definitions took place. I shall not pursue here an examination of Plato’s division of the soul. Nonetheless, if we choose to follow Glaucon’s request and review the definition of sphrosyne˜, we come across some interesting findings. Socrates’ definition is not embedded in the context of an eikn, but it does share certain features with his verbal images. Towards the end of Book 4, the elusive concepts of justice and sphrosyne˜ are defined (Glau173 See also Hyland (1973: 26 – 27). 174 The latter part of Book 5 is an exception. See my discussion in Chapter Two above.

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con is again the co-speaker at that crucial stage of the discussion). Dikaiosyne˜ is defined as t¹ t± artoO pq\tteim (433b4), on the principle of civic class divisions (6ma 6jastom 4m d]oi 1pitgde}eim, 433a5). The two short phrases, configured so as to be notably alliterative and easily memorable, signal the climax of the discussion on justice. Socrates tackles sphrosyne˜ first and turns to justice afterwards. Relying once more on the soul and polis analogy, Socrates defines sphrosyne˜ as the harmonized mixture between the rulers and the ruled (431e4 – 6). Sphrosyne˜ and (musical) harmony (harmonia) are brought together in this definition: jqør owm, Gm d’ 1c~, fti 1pieij_r 1lamteu|leha %qti ¢r "qlom_ô tim· B syvqos}mg ¢lo_ytai ; (431e7 – 8). In his explanation of how sphrosyne˜ resembles some sort of harmonia, Socrates transfers terms from the field of music and musical instruments to refer to the sphrn psychological state.175 His definition is then built on the use of a term that is prominent in the Platonic eikones (homoitai, 431e8) and in the dialogue’s imagistic language in general (¢r and ¦speq). Several significant issues emerge here in relation to Socrates’ mode of speech. Firstly, in using common language to speak about music and sphrosyne˜, Socrates assigns to the latter significant features of the former. I have shown elsewhere that Plato’s use of musical terms to talk about the human soul in the Republic links psyche˜ and music in an indissoluble way and brings out their common relation to the Platonic Forms. Thus in deploying common vocabulary in both environments, Plato’s language is not metaphoric, but reflects the intrinsic relationship of soul and music (both are sealed [typoutai-typos] in the same way by the Forms) and also accounts for the reasons why music has, and once purified should have, such an emotional sway on the human soul.176 Thus in purifying sonorous music from incongruent variety and mixture (poikilia and mixis) in Book 3, Socrates does not reject mixture altogether, for this cannot happen in our sense-perceptive world, but trades poets and musicians’ ‘bad’ poikilia in music for a Platonic ‘good’ one (symphnia/harmonia).177 This new mixture or coordination of mu175 Rep. 432a – b: see the employment of tetatai, sunadontas, asthenestatous, ischurotatous and mesous, as well as the use of sumphnia which, in the present context, evokes coordination and harmony in music. For an extensive treatment of this, see Barker (1984: 127 – 140). 176 See Barker (1984: 137 with n. 45); and Barker, in Wright (ed.) (2000: 94); Petraki (2008: 147 – 170). 177 Only the Dorian and the Phrygian harmoniai are allowed in the ideal state (399a3 – 4). Within Plato’s framework of various harmoniai, the Dorian holds

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sical modes is based on certain mathematical principles that Socrates explores in Book 7.178 In Platonic terms then, Socrates’ definition of sphrosyne˜ as some form of harmonia seeks to ascribe to this virtue and, in effect, to the sphrn human soul characteristics of unity and homogeneity that are to be found in pure terms on Plato’s metaphysical level alone. The balance attained in the city and soul due to sphrosyne˜ is the result of a perfect mixture or harmony that strives to approach the homogeneity and purity of the Platonic Forms. Socrates’ definition of justice though differs from that of sphrosyne˜, as in his short definition Plato has done away with notions of similarity and resemblance (homoitai). This is crucial for the interpretative viewpoint I have adopted in this work. The Republic’s definition of justice as “doing one’s own job” (433a5 and b4) has been much discussed in the literature. What particularly interests me here is Socrates’ refusal in Book 6 to present the Good in the same mode as he spoke about sphrosyne˜ and justice earlier. Yet, we should also note, Socrates’ stylistic mode of approaching the two virtues is not exactly the same either as, contrary to sphrosyne˜, Socrates draws no comparisons in his definition of justice.179 This is a highly complex issue whose detailed discussion falls outside the scope of this work, but, nevertheless, attention needs to be drawn here to Socrates’ deployment of the pronoun hautou in the definition. The word introduces to the definition of justice the connotation of self and, thus, within Plato’s philosophy, raises important ques-

a most prominent place. Note that in Timaeus (35a – c) Plato has the Demiurge construct the World Soul on what comes out as a musical structure of composition. The first segment of this composition can be recognized as the Dorian musical scale of the diatonic genus. See Burkert (1972: 354 – 355); Barker (1984); and West (1992: 174 – 175 and 179 – 181). 178 In the Republic’s concluding myth of Er this aspired unity and homogeneity may be seen depicted in the Sirens’ prototype performance (617b4 – 7): 1p· d³ t_m j}jkym aqtoO %myhem 1v’ 2j\stou bebgj]mai Seiq/ma sulpeqiveqol]mgm, vymµm l_am Re?sam, 6ma t|mom7 1j pas_m d³ ajt½ oqs_m l_am "qlom_am sulvyme?m (“Upon each of its circles stood a Siren, who was carried round with its movement, uttering a single sound on one note, so that all the eight made up the concords of a single scale”). However, Rep. 530a-531c argues that the true nature of harmonia/ sumphonia can be discovered at nothing less than the mathematical level. See discussion in Barker (1978: 337 – 342) and (1994: 132 – 135); Huffman (2005: 63 – 64 and 423 – 425). 179 On sphrosyne, see Annas, in O’ Meara, D. J. (ed.) (1985: 111 – 138); North (1966); and Verene (1997: 75 – 76).

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tions about the person’s coherence, unity, or identity of self.180 From this perspective, the definition of justice also contrasts with Socrates’ description of human nature in 395b3 – 6, where “human nature is chopped up” (katakekermatisthai) in even smaller parts due to its exposure to mousike˜ and mime˜sis. Nonetheless, Plato’s use of hautou in Book 4 is broad enough to refer to the harmony of a tripartite soul, in which each part does its own work, and does not interfere with that of the other (443c9 – 444a2), and also implies an entirely unified soul which approaches homogeneity.181 Thus, Glaucon’s request in Book 6 is laden with a number of philosophical complications. In inviting Socrates to return to his usual methodology and mode of discourse in defining the Good, Glaucon has not grasped that their conversation has touched upon the pinnacle of ontological hierarchy (higher than the virtues, Knowledge or Truth), which cannot be approached by means of an imagistic or pictorial kind of language which rests entirely on familiar colorful polarities, and neither can it be examined in the same manner as sphrosyne˜ or justice. This is due to the Republic’s intra-dramatic audience and to the na180 This is a highly intricate issue that relates to Plato’s soul-division. In particular, Plato has been accused in the literature for making the mind consist of homunculi (little minds) with their own goals and desires, which leaves little space for a cohesive I. I, however, do not agree that Plato’s methodology or aim in the Republic points in this direction. On the contrary, one should always keep in mind that Plato exploits a variety of techniques in the dialogue in order to keep the distinction between just and unjust cities, souls and unity, and multiplicity in the foreground. On Plato’s tripartite division of the soul, see Chapter One, n. 44 and n. 131 in this chapter. See also Price (1995: Ch. 2); cf. Bobonich (2002: Chs. 3 and 4); Robinson (1970: 34 – 58); and Cooper (1977: 151 – 157). 181 Yet, what interests me here in particular is the fact that the language of similarity and resemblance, or mixture and versatility (poikilia) is completely left out from Socrates’ definition of justice. Note, however, that the most significant difference between the virtues of sphrosyne˜ and dikaiosyne˜ in the Republic is that sphoryne˜ unites the human soul (harmonia), whereas justice keeps the three parts divided, so that each part performs its own task [emphasis added]. Yet, according to this view too, Socrates again cannot speak of the Form of the Good in the same manner as he has spoken about justice. On the interpretation of justice ‘dividing’ the soul, see an excellent discussion in Bourloyanni (Unity and Complexity in Plato’s Conception of the Soul, unpublished PhD Thesis, Durham 2009); see also above, n. 131. Kenneth Dorter (2006: Ch. 10) has also touched upon this complicated aspect of justice in an insightful reading of how psychological justice may be related and reconciled with cosmic justice in the Republic’s myth of Er. On the cosmological ramifications of the myth of Er, see also Kalfas (2004: 181 – 214). See also n. 178 in this Chapter.

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ture of the subject as such, and Socrates dismisses Glaucon’s suggestion on both criteria. His interlocutors, he claims, have not been trained in dialectic (the longer road). They thus lack the means to approach the Good.182 As we will see below, his choice of the Sun image not only brings out certain characteristics about the use of Platonic eikones as a distinctive mode of philosophical discourse in the Republic, but also highlights the affinities that these two types of language, eikones and imagistic language, have at a methodological level. Both are found inadequate to define the Good, yet both are used by Socrates. It is interesting to see towards what end. In the eikn Socrates tells a story about how significant the Good is in our lives, drawing on language and imagery that is strictly related to human nature (begetting, mixing, light, and vision). The interlocutors agree not to deal with the “father” (this is Glaucon’s wording in the dialogue) but “the offspring” (ekgonos and tokos) that resembles the “father” (homoiotatos ekein, 506e3 – 4). In what follows Socrates draws parallels between the Sun and the Good: the Good has “given birth” to a child as an analogon to itself (508 b 13) to rule over our physical world. The offspring is omnipotent in the visible domain; it regulates birth and death, light, illumination, and darkness. The same wording is also deployed by Socrates in his explanation of how the soul interacts with the Good. Instead of defining the nature of the Good then, Plato’s speaker exploits a type of language that is directly linked to sense-perception and human nature. Platonic language has been accused of turning extremely impressionistic in this context, and being full of “empty metaphors”,183 since Socrates draws comparisons between two environments, Sun, light, and vision on the one hand, and the Good, Being, Knowledge, and Truth on the other, and uses the eye’s relation to the Sun to explain the influence on the soul by the Good.184 Thus, even when discussing the Good and its relation to truth, knowledge, and the soul, Socrates’ discourse is again notably imagistic and rests on the motif of mixis (or krasis) of light and darkness. 182 See above n. 169 in this Chapter. 183 Aristotle, Metaphysics 13.5, 1079b25. 184 Note that through the image of the Good as the “father” of the Sun Plato also bridges the gap between the visible and the intelligible spheres, since “generation” cultivates a sense of continuum and a succession of some sort from one sphere to the other. On Plato’s imagery of the “father” and its poetic overtones, see Baracchi (2001: 151 – 176). See also Pender (2000: 91 – 96).

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In his sketchy account of the Good in this eikn, Socrates settles a number of methodological and philosophical issues that he raised in the first part of the Republic. Firstly, the hyperbolic description of the Sun’s omnipotence is designed to impress on Adeimantus and the others the importance of the Good. After Socrates finishes with this image no one is likely to forget this impression. Secondly, the analogy drawn between the Sun and the Good by means of imagistic language is intended to instruct the interlocutors on the methodology and the (philosophical) terminology that Socrates has employed thus far in his treatment of the various subjects in the dialogue.185 By mixing the vocabulary of two different linguistic strands (sense-perceptual and philosophical), Socrates draws specific associations in his speech (between, for example, light, Truth and Being on the one hand, and mixis, Becoming and darkness on the other). This throws new light on the language and the ideas he had promoted thus far in his prescriptions about poetry and music in Books 2 and 3, and on his distinction between knowledge, belief (Doxa) and ignorance, or Being and Becoming in Book 5. It also casts light on the manner in which Socrates had talked to Adeimantus at the beginning of Book 6 about the dangers that can jeopardize the development of the true philosopher’s nature. Against this type of imagistic discourse, Socrates’ choice of the Sun as an analogon of the Good holds the most prominent place in the Republic. In my view, the pictorial effects that the image of the Sun introduces in the dialogue help us shift the way we interpret Plato’s eikones and imagistic language in this context. The Sun’s light, that is, becomes the binding force that holds together and elucidates Socrates’ mixture of imagistic language with more elusive philosophical terms, such as truth, 185 Note that methodological errors are vividly dramatized within the context of the eikn. When Socrates observes that the Good is even more beautiful and superior to both Knowledge and Truth (508e-509a), Glaucon replies: )l^wamom j\kkor… k]ceir… oq c±q d^pou s} ce Bdomµm aqt¹ k]ceir (“This is an inconceivably beautiful thing you’re talking about… You surely don’t think that a thing like that could be pleasure”, 509a7 – 8). Socrates’ response is weighted: Eqv^lei, Gm d’ 1c~. !kk’ ¨de l÷kkom tµm eQj|ma aqtoO 5ti 1pisj|pei (“Hush! Let’s examine its image in more details as follows”, 509a9 – 10). In re-launching here the Good’s association with pleasure, Glaucon’s intervention jeopardizes the conversation which had been hitherto placed on a correct methodological path. The Socratic euphe˜mei is probably a humorous reprimand which, nonetheless, bears strong religious connotations. The educational aspect of the verbal image then becomes manifest in Socrates drawing Glaucon’s attention to his endangering of the discussion.

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Knowledge (Episte˜me˜) and Being, as well as Book’s 5 prescriptions about the organization of the ideal polis. In the rest of this chapter I will expand on these suggestions. Setting out to approach the Good, Socrates first draws Glaucon’s attention to “things they have said before on many other occasions and earlier in this conversation” (507a7 – 9) and recapitulates: Pokk± jak\, Gm d’ 1c~, ja· pokk\ !cah± ja· 6jasta ovtyr eWma_ val]m te ja· dioq_folem t` k|c\. […] Ja· aqt¹ dµ jak¹m ja· aqt¹ !cah|m, ja· ovty peq· p\mtym $ t|te ¢r pokk± 1t_helem, p\kim aw jat’ Qd]am l_am 2j\stou ¢r li÷r ousgr tih]mter, “d 5stim” 6jastom pqosacoqe}olem. (507b2 – 7)

We have often drawn a distinction between the multiplicity of things that we call good or beautiful or whatever it may be and, on the other hand, Goodness itself or Beauty itself and so on. Corresponding to each of these sets of many things, we postulate a single Form or real essence, we call it. (trans. Cornford)

Hence Socrates re-launches the discussion of the Forms. The style in which he arranges linguistically his thesis here is interesting for we come across a rather rare moment in the Republic’s text where sense-perceptual terminology is carefully removed and words are amassed which stress singularity, essence, and a clear methodological approach to these elusive concepts (diorizomen, etithemen, tithentes). Socrates’ distinction refers back to the discussion at the end of Book 5. The thesis that was then reached by means of logos (507b3) will now become a stepping stone to their ensuing examination of the Good.186 Immediately afterwards, in 507b9 – 10, Socrates turns to the division of two spheres: the visible and the intelligible (noe˜ta, horomena and aisthe˜ta). His approach to the Good by way of the image of the Sun rests on this fundamental distinction and is expressed in diction that relates to sight. In specific terms, Socrates transplants in the sphere of the intelligible (noe˜ta), which is governed by the Good, sense-perceptual and imagistic vocabulary. This linguistic ‘uprooting’ and ‘transplanting’ that Plato also employs in other epistemologically crucial instances in the dialogue gives birth to the idi186 I have already suggested that the language of these lines is not one we come across regularly in the text of the Republic. This type of language is sporadic in the dialogue, exclusively used by Socrates, and rarely followed by the Socratic interlocutors. Glaucon, we should note in passing, is the only other speaker whose language exhibits vague seeds of linguistic trends of that sort. Socrates will deploy similar type of language a few lines later in the text, in a short passage that builds the Good’s supremacy on the repetition of different types of the verb to be.

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osyncratic imagistic type of language analyzed in the methodological section above: ivhaklo_, Gm d’ 1c~, oWsh’ fti, ftam lgj]ti 1p’ 1je?m\ tir aqto»r tq]p, ¨m #m t±r wq|ar t¹ Bleqim¹m v_r 1p]w,, !kk± ¨m mujteqim± v]ccg, !lbku~ttous_ te ja· 1cc»r va_momtai tuvk_m, ¦speq oqj 1mo}sgr jahaq÷r exeyr ; … ntam d´ c’ oWlai ¨m b Fkior jatak\lpei, sav_r bq_si, ja· to?r aqto?r to}toir ellasim 1moOsa va_metai (508c4 – d2).

You know what happens when the colours of things are no longer irradiated by the daylight, but only by the fainter luminaries of the night; when you look at them, the eyes are dim and seem almost blind, as if there were no unclouded vision in them. But when you look at things on which the Sun is shining, the same eyes see distinctly and it becomes evident that they do contain the power of vision. (trans. Cornford)

Language is employed in a customary way when Socrates explains how human sight “sees” with accuracy (saphe˜neia).187 The same diction, however, is not used in its familiar environment when Socrates immediately afterwards adds: Ovty to_mum ja· t¹ t/r xuw/r ¨de m|ei· ftam l³m ox jatak\lpei !k^hei\ te ja· t¹ em, eQr toOto !peqe_sgtai, 1m|gs]m te ja· 5cmy aqt¹ ja· moOm 5weim va_metai· ftam d³ eQr t¹ t` sj|t\ jejqal]mom, t¹ cicm|lem|m te ja· !pokk}lemom, don\fei te ja· !lbku~ttei %my ja· j\ty t±r d|nar letab\kkom, ja· 5oijem aw moOm oqj 5womti. (508d4 – 9)

Apply this comparison to the soul. When its gaze is fixed upon an object irradiated by truth and reality, the soul gains understanding and knowledge and is manifestly in possession of intelligence. But when it looks towards that twilight world of things that come into existence and pass away, its sight is dim and it has only opinions and beliefs which shift to and fro, and now it seems like a thing that has no intelligence. (trans. Cornford)

Socrates’ discussion of the soul’s relation to the spheres of Becoming and Being is based on the employment of the motifs of light and darkness/mixture. The passage of course lies at the heart of a Platonic analogy; one is not surprised with the ascription of sense-perceptive characteristics to the elusive and invisible concepts of Truth and Being. They 187 On Plato’s use here of the words phegge˜ and phs and their poetic and philosophical ramifications, see Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 59). Adam draws a distinction between the two, as phegge˜ contrary to phs “denotes an artificial or derivative light”. This distinction goes back to both Aristophanes’ Knights 1319 and to Parmenides’ famous lines of the “moon irradiating light borrowed from the Sun (allotrion phs)”. The motif is also found in Pindar in Pythian 8. 95 – 7: 1p\leqoi. T_ d] tir ; t_ d’ ou tir ; sji÷r emaq/ %mhqypor. !kk’ ftam aUcka di|sdotor 5kh,,/ kalpq¹m v]ccor 5pestim !mdq_m ja· le_kiwor aQ~m.

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“illuminate our surrounding particulars and empower our soul’s understanding and knowledge of them”. On the other hand, the soul that “looks towards” what is “mixed” (kekramenon) with “darkness” (to skot)” has only opinions (doxazei) and becomes dim-sighted (ambluttei) and shifts the “beliefs” (doxas) in this and that direction. Socrates’ description rests on the interlocutors’ natural familiarity with feelings of disorientation and sense-perceptive bewilderment. Yet, the use of pictorial diction in 508d4 – 9 re-directs these familiar sentiments to new directions.188 These few lines do not state explicitly in what way the soul is confused, nor do they mention the concepts about which confusion may be generated – although qualities such as justice, courage or sphrosyne˜ easily come to mind.189 The passage speaks in strong imagistic terms and draws the interlocutors’ attention to the state of aporia. If we are thus bedazzled when light mixes with night throwing dim radiance upon objects, Socrates argues, imagine what the case will be when the intellect is invited to untangle far more complicated matters which a priori evade the easy clarity (saphe˜neia) which, according to the many, sense-perception can provide.190 In this passage about the soul’s response to Being and Becoming (508d4 – 9), Socrates is relating Truth and Being with the verb apereisetai which denotes fixity, firmness and stability. All three words are then linked in a single sentence with the verbs enoe˜sen, gignsk and noon echein that look back to Socrates’ diction in Book 5 as regards episte˜me and also foreshadow the Line’s epistemological classification that will follow immediately afterwards. Conversely, intellectual perplexity and confusion are linked with the motif of mixture and disoriented, erratic movement. Thayer’s dramatic immediacy is at its most dynamic here; the lost and double-minded 188 As darkness often numbs the senses, in poetry it is often used to express stupidity and death. It is thus contrasted to “light” and to “illumination” which denotes intelligence and acute perception. At the same time, the human eye is viewed as the mortal counterpart to Helios, the source of Light that regulates intelligence (see Emp. B.84); these nuanced relationships are traced in the etymological relation of leuss (to look at) and leukos (white light). See Tarrant (1960: 181 – 187); Treu (1965: 84); and Vermeul (1979: 24 – 28). 189 In this context Socrates shows how by identifying the Good with the notions of he˜done˜ or knowledge, when these are not firmly fixed and defined, the soul cannot really progress to grasping the reality. Instead, on Parmenidean terms, we are again resolved to fruitless wandering. 190 See also the Politicus, 285d10 – 186b1.

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(Parmenidean) humans have been replaced with doxai that “move” confusedly and for no reason upward and downward, re-enacting and performing instability, uncertainty, vagueness and indecision.191 In addition, the lines where the Good is brought linguistically as close as possible to the Sun (508e1 – 509a5) present us with the moulding of new words (agathoeide˜ and helioeide˜) that intertwine as inextricably as possible knowledge and truth with goodness and sunlight. From this textual environment, which highlights the supremacy of the Good and its distinction from both episte˜me˜ and ale˜theia, the motifs of darkness and mixture are completely absent: 1pist^lgm d³ ja· !k^heiam, ¦speq 1je? v_r te ja· exim Bkioeid/ l³m mol_feim aqh|m, Fkiom d’ Bce?shai oqj aqh_r 5wei, ovty ja· 1mtaOha !cahoeid/ l³m mol_feim taOt’ !lv|teqa aqh|m, !cah¹m d³ Bce?shai bp|teqom aqt_m oqj aqh|m, !kk’ 5ti leif|myr tilgt]om tµm toO !cahoO 6nim. (509a1 – 5)

In the visible realm, light and sight are rightly considered sunlike, but it is wrong to think that they are the sun, so here it is right to think of knowledge and truth as goodlike but wrong to think that either of them is the good – for the good is yet more prized.

In these lines, the Sun and the Good have been thus intertwined to support each other linguistically and thematically. Keeping his analogy in the foreground, Socrates also distinguishes the Good from Knowledge and Truth, in the same way that the Sun differs from light (phs) and sight (opsin). Thus so far in his narrative Socrates has approached the Good only pictorially and by means of an eikn. Nonetheless, against this pictorial background, Plato’s main speaker abruptly switches linguistic modes and turns to a rather different linguistic type. Ja· to?r cicmysjol]moir to_mum lµ l|mom t¹ cicm~sjeshai v\mai rp¹ toO !cahoO paqe?mai, !kk± ja· t¹ eWma_ te ja· tµm oqs_am rp’ 1je_mou aqto?r pqose?mai, oqj oqs_ar emtor toO !cahoO, !kk’ 5ti 1p]jeima t/r oqs_ar pqesbe_ô ja· dum\lei rpeq]womtor (509b6 – 10).

Therefore, you should also say that not only do the objects of knowledge owe their being known to the good, but their being is also due to it, although the good is not being, but superior to it in rank and power. 191 It is not difficult for the interlocutors to draw certain inferences about the reasons why their own dialogue on justice initially failed. The Socratic elenchus in Book 1 has dramatized most vividly the devastating results of diversity of opinions – the doxai about justice were too many and too unstable to be accepted and Glaucon’s intervention at the beginning of Book 2 was designed to address this problem.

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Plato’s technique here, this alternation of style and the diction introduced to this context to talk about the Form of the Good, is similar to his change of linguistic mode to talk about Episte˜me˜ and Doxa in the concluding lines of Book 5 examined above. In this passage in Book 6, Socrates departs from his customary mode of speech and offers us a glimpse of an alternative linguistic style to talk about the Good. Its relation to Knowledge (gnsis) – note the reiteration of gignoskomenois and gignoskesthai in the same line – is given through the juxtaposition of different forms of einai (pareinai, einai, proseinai, ouk ousias ontos) that create strong alliterative effects. Socrates dramatizes as vividly as possible the superiority of the Good when he argues that it is beyond essence and, although it defines essence, it cannot be identified with it. It is difficult to think what may lie “beyond essence” and, on the basis of the Republic’s imagistic discourse thus far, it is equally difficult to think of, or conjure up, an alternative linguistic mode that could lead us there. It is thus not surprising that Glaucon is awestruck (dailom_ar rpeqbok/r, 509c1). In my view, Glaucon’s comment here is directed at the content and the linguistic mode that has dramatized it. No matter then what function we assign to einai (predicative, veridical or existential),192 one thing becomes manifest in this context: the interlocutors’ ‘tasting’ of the idea of the Good once untangled from its analogy with the Sun is built on an ‘uncoloured’ type of language which rests heavily on the verb to be and cannot be easily depicted in imagistic terms. Socrates’ refusal to approach the Good directly, and his use of an eikn and imagistic language instead, seems to point toward the assumption that a direct examination of the Good would require an alternative type of language, one that connotes stability, singularity and firmness most faithfully. This would be a cleansed, or colourless, type of language that the members of this audience, who, with the possible exception of Glaucon, may be identified with the sight-lovers of Book 5, cannot easily follow. Socrates’ passionate description of the Good has stretched language to the limits and has also shaken its customary usage. Plato is quick to dismiss it.193

192 See Kahn (1981: 105 – 134); and (1988: 237 – 261). See also n. 93 to Chapter Two above. 193 On the language of Rep. 509b – c, see Burkert (1985: 325): “Plato’s philosophy seems to touch the boundaries of the unsayable. In the Republic the most important statement hides under the mask of the ridiculous.”

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However, it is by means of imagistic language that Socrates has associated thus far in the discussion the Good with firmness and stability. Even if we know nothing else of the Good, we know that it relates to Knowledge and Truth, but that it differs from them both, and that it is also identified with firmness and does away with mixture, confusion, and instability.194 In this context, to understand the importance of the Good is to fully grasp the omnipotence of the Sun in the physical domain. In Plato’s analogy, the Sun holds the most prominent place, since it not only opposes twilight and darkness, but it also differs from light and sight.195 In this image, the Sun turns into a symbol not only of enlightenment and life, but, most importantly, of purity, eternity and homogeneity.196 The Sun as such represents purity par excellence in our physical world for it dismisses mixture, and it is only the light it releases that can be mixed. The eyes that view it can be dazzled or blinded giving into the confusion of light’s mixture (krasis) with night, but the Sun as such is beyond mixture or ‘contamination’. Plato’s analogy of the Good as the Sun pays rich philosophical dividends in explaining both the unique characteristics of the most significant Platonic Form and the confusing effects of mixture in a stylistic mode that best fits the needs of those particular interlocutors who have been accustomed to thinking in pictorial terms. Socrates’ interlocutors should now understand that their world of becoming and genesis is one of mixture, contamination, and poikilia, and that in this world the purity of the Sun is often lost on them.197 In effect, Socrates’ eikn has also revealed something new about the use of philosophic language. One is allowed to talk about the world of Becoming by employing polarities and heavily pictorial and imagistic parlance without informing the audience that an exceptional type of discourse is adopted, because this type of language comes almost naturally to our earthly world of antithesis, Becoming and perishing. When it comes to the ultimate Form, 194 The motif of mixture cannot be seen separately from those of purity and purification: in the Republic, purification is a process by means of which purity may be attained in our earthly world. In the dialogue we witness Socrates’ approach to this process, but not its realization. For an extensive treatment see Chapter Four below. 195 On the various interpretations of light in Plato’s image of the Sun and its religious associations, see also Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 60). 196 See, in particular, Adam’s discussion of 508d1 (b Bkior jatak\lpei). 197 For an interpretation of the Form of the Good as “benefit and advantage pure and simple”, see Penner, n. 166 in this Chapter [emphasis added].

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though, language cannot be imagistic without attention being drawn to this idiosyncratic usage: the (linguistic) distance between the Good and our world of Becoming is emphasized through the adoption of a verbal image; of a well-wrought analogy that presents in strong pictorial terms the purity and homogeneity which, as Socrates showed in Book 5, the founders’ of a just city must struggle with in order to reproduce on earth. In pictorial terms, as regards to the image of the Sun as such, the Socratic interlocutors are invited to visualize a verbal painting, as it were, from which diverse landscapes (as those depicted immediately afterwards in the Line and the Cave) have been wiped out. What the Republic’s sight-lovers now ‘look at’ is clear and pure white colour, namely the light of the Sun (see Jowett II [1894: 307]). In the literature, this imagery has created complex problems about the manner in which philosophers come to grasp the Platonic Forms. Is Plato’s reference to direct vision of the Good to be taken literally? This interpretation suggests one’s acquaintance with the Forms is intuitive and also carries religious overtones,198 and has been opposed by scholars who argue that for Plato knowledge of the Forms can be achieved through Dialectic only and in a fully discursive rather than in a mystical manner.199 In this chapter, I have refrained from entering these discussions about Plato’s epistemology. In line with the view that I have taken in this study, I have tried to show instead that Plato’s use of the imagery of the Light and the Sun should not be read in isolation but that it forms strong connections with the Republic’s creation of imagery at large. These images are also to be seen in connection with the distinctive characteristics of Socrates’ interlocutors in this work, most of whom resemble, or are, sight-lovers. It is for this reason, in my view, that as soon as Socrates turns to the perils that endanger and destroy (the true philosophical) human nature, as well as to the depiction of the unjust souls and polities, that his creation of verbal images (eikones and imagistic language) becomes of a completely different sort. Human nature can hardly achieve this type of unity and homogeneity, and Plato’s language is thus moulded to depict this internal tension and conflict.

198 See, for example, Cornford (1965: 94); Cherniss (1965); but cf. Annas (1981: 282 – 284). 199 So Kahn (1996: 354 – 355). See also Crombie (1964: 112 – 113) and Cross (1965: 27 – 28).

4. Philosophers, non-philosophers and the unjust in the Republic In this chapter I first turn to the early part of Book 6 in order to analyse the stylistic mode that Socrates employs in his discussion of philosophic and non-philosophic human nature. I will then move on to Books 8 and 9, with a view to examining the poetics of Plato’s philosophical prose in his depiction of the unjust. Book 9, in particular, also presents us with another moment when the internal audience is divided. In his discussion of pleasure Plato makes a narratological manoeuvre similar to that which we examined at the end of Book 5. He removes Adeimantus from the conversation with Socrates and re-introduces Glaucon in order to discuss the complex concept of pleasure. This change of Socratic interlocutors is also followed by a modification to the stylistic mode.

4.1 Adeimantus’ philosophers In Book 6, Socrates sets out to examine the characteristics of true philosophic nature. Socrates has been led to deal with this subject by Adeimantus, who replaces Glaucon in the conversation after Socrates concludes his epistemological and ontological exposition at the end of Book 5. In the first part of Book 6, Socrates creates a further verbal image (eikn), the analogy of the state to a badly-sailed ship, in order to explain to his co-speakers why philosophers in contemporary cities are not highly esteemed (487e – 489a).200 The image is significant for the development of the conversation. It instigates Socrates’ ensuing discussion of the distinctive characteristics of true philosophic nature and, secondly, it is a notable moment of authorial self-reference, since within its context Plato offers us information on the importance of the creation of imagery in philosophical discourse. 200 On the poetic origins of the ship/city analogy in Alcaeus, see discussion in Gentili (1988: 197 – 215). The allegory is adopted by Theognis and Aeschylus and is also employed by Archilochus in the maritime image of a storm at sea (Fr. 91 T). See also Soph. Antigone, 582 – 592.

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At the beginning of Book 6, Adeimantus objects to Socrates’ description of philosophers: “This is not the way things are in reality (aleths). Those called philosophers nowadays are either allokotoi, corrupted or useless” (487d2). In order to meet Adeimantus’ challenge at this point in the dialogue, Socrates announces that he will use a verbal eikon: 9qytør, Gm d’ 1c¾, 1q~tgla de|lemom !pojq_seyr di’ eQj|mor kecol´mgr (“The question you ask needs to be answered by means of an image or simile”, 487e4 – 5). Adeimantus’ ironical comment in response emphasizes his dissatisfaction with this particular type of philosophical discourse: S» d] ce, 5vg, oWlai oqj eUyhar di’ eQj|mym k]ceim (“And you, of course, aren’t used to speaking in similes”, 487e6). Nonetheless, Socrates refuses to dismiss this discursive mode and goes on to narrate the story of a state as a badly steered ship. In concluding his story, Socrates stresses once more that the interlocutors have been listening all this time to an image (eikn, 489a4 – 6; Cp. 488a – b). He then encourages Adeimantus to use this image himself to reply to those who wonder why philosophers are not respected in contemporary cities (1je?mom t¹m haul\fomta fti oR vik|sovoi oq til_mtai 1m ta?r p|kesi, says Socrates, d_dasj] te tµm eQj|ma ja· peiq_ pe_heim fti pok» #m haulast|teqom Gm eQ 1til_mto, [“Then first tell this simile to anyone who wonders why philosophers aren’t honoured in the cities, and try to persuade him that there would be far more cause for wonder if they were honoured”], 489a8 – 10). The verb used in this context is “to teach” (note Adeimantus alla didax in 489b1). Socrates’ remarks here on his use of images in philosophic speech are significant for a number of reasons. Firstly, after Socrates’ deployment of an eikn of readily recognisable poetic origins, Adeimantus is convinced of the reasons why philosophers in contemporary cities are not respected or honoured and seem useless. Thus Socrates’ image has the rhetorical force of an ‘argument’ on Adeimantus at this particular stage of the dialogue.201 Nonetheless, what is more important from my perspective is Socrates’ advice to Adeimantus to teach the image. An image, then, may function independently as a coherent unit that can be taken from its original dialogical environment – this being the conversation that Socrates holds in the Piraeus – and re-used elsewhere. 201 Gordon (1999: 13 ff.) argues that this might indeed be the case. Nightingale rightly stresses that to try to substitute a Platonic image for an argument is methodologically ill-conceived (2004, Ch. 3 with n. 4). See also Tecusan (1992: 73 – 82) and McCabe (1992: 59 – 61).

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If the same question is asked of Adeimantus, he is advised to re-deploy this image. Does this instance in the dialogue then imply that when certain philosophical issues are raised in a conversation, images are the most appropriate method to persuade? Or could it be that there is another reason that differentiates Socrates’ creation of this particular image from the other verbal images in the Republic? If the latter is the case, then certain further characteristics regarding the function of the eikones as a mode of philosophical speech become apparent. Socrates’ employment of an image here highlights the restrictions that characterise Adeimantus as an interlocutor at this stage of the dialogue. In opposing Socrates’ earlier description of philosophical nature, Adeimantus re-introduces into the discussion the cultural situation in contemporary cities. The Republic’s two levels, the corrupt city-states and souls, and the ideal state and soul, are once more about to intertwine with each other in conversation. In drawing an image in speech at this stage of the dialogue, almost immediately after Socrates’ presentation of the Forms and his epistemological division of Episte˜me˜ and Doxa at the end of Book 5, Plato draws our attention to Adeimantus’ inability to grasp the importance of the innovative philosophical ideas proposed only a few narratological moments ago in the conversation.202 Socrates bases the distinction between Knowledge and Opinion in Book 5 on his initial distinction between true philosophers and sight-lovers.203 This has led him to a redefinition of the concepts of Truth and Knowledge which became correlated with the ontological status of the Forms. In posing the question in Book 6 regarding the importance of philosophers in a polis, Plato has Adeimantus demonstrate that the innovative proposals of Book 5 can be grasped only with difficulty by the majority of people. In the question he puts to Socrates, Adeimantus confuses the contemporary cities with the ideal city, thus re-introducing into the discussion those who do not believe in the Forms (the apistoi and the philotheamones).204

202 See Socrates and Glaucon’s exchange in the opening lines of Book 6. Socrates recapitulates the conclusions of their earlier discussion: “‘So at last, Glaucon, after this long and weary way we have come to see who are the philosophers and who are not.’ ‘I doubt if the way could have been shortened’”. 203 See my discussion above in Chapter Two. 204 Socrates makes this explicit in 493e: “Now, with all this in mind, recall that distinction we drew earlier, between Beauty itself and the multiplicity of beautiful things. Is it conceivable that the multitude should ever believe in the ex-

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Socrates has already suggested at the end of Book 5 that the epistemological distance that separates such people from Truth and Knowledge is great and, most probably, unbridgeable. Socrates’ ontological distinction in Book 5 then threw light on how philosophy is practised in contemporary cities. Not all philosophers are true philosophers (gne˜sios) according to Plato’s standards in Book 5, and thus the many ambitious and cognitively reduced sight-lovers, or, in Socrates’ imagistic language in Book 6, the ship’s crew, interfere in public affairs and in the practice of philosophy. The result is that they practise both philosophy and politics badly. Adeimantus fails to make the connection between true philosophy in the ideal city and ‘contaminated’ philosophy in contemporary states, an error which Socrates uses an eikn to emphasize. This image, however, which depicts civic life on the ship of state in striking colours, is intended to be different from other philosophical images employed in the Republic. In specific terms, a distinction can be drawn here between Platonic imagery which represents contemporary cities and the non-philosophical citizens, and images which are employed to portray the just society and its members examined in Chapter One above. In 488a, Socrates draws our attention to the technique that he uses as a verbal painter: “What the most decent people experience in relation to their city is so hard to bear that there’s no other single experience like it. Hence to find an image of it and a defence for them, I must construct it from many sources (!kk± de? 1j pokk_m aqt¹ sumacace?m eQj\fomta), just as painters paint goat-stags by combining the features of different things (oXom oR cqav/r tqacek\vour ja· t± toiaOta leicm}mter cq\vousim)”. The pictorial mixture of different colours in the painters’ creation of images of this sort is deployed in linguistic terms in Socrates’ ensuing narrative about civic and philosophical life on a badly run ship. This story, whose poetic precedent, as I have already suggested is readily recognizable, is in my view intended to reproduce in imagistic terms the diversity, conflict and antithesis, or alternatively, the mixture of various and incongruent elements. The result is strikingly pictorial: Socrates speaks of turmoil and erratic movement aboard a ship; a captain who is physically ill and people stupefied with drags and wine; sailors who only pretend to know how to navigate the ship, but who ignore the seasons of the year, the sky, the stars, the winds and anything of relevance to the craft of steering ships. istence of any real essence, as distinct from its many manifestations, or listen to anyone who asserts such a reality?”

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The image, in other words, is verbally as colourful as the painting (tqacek\vour ja· t± toiaOta) with which Socrates opened his narration of it (see 601a – b). As a result, this image stands in contrast to Socrates’ earlier description in Book 5 of the citizens of the ideal polis as a well-attuned human body, and with his employment of the colourless auto to to refer to true Being at the end of the same Book. Yet this image of human conduct in Book 6, as regards its colour diversity (poikilia), also contrasts with the epistemological images of the Sun and the Line, which rest primarily on the exploitation of the dynamics of light and darkness, and on their mixture and their separation in order to speak about the different levels of cognizance of reality. Nevertheless, it is not fortuitous that Plato’s image of the ship of state shares common characteristics in terms of its vivid pictorial effect with Socrates’ description of the Cave (O’Connor 2007: 55 – 89), or the unjust and the base in democracy and tyranny presented in Books 8 and 9. At the same time, Plato’s use of an eikon here also saves narratological time. It means that Socrates does not have to restate the criteria on the basis of which a person is to be characterized as a true philosopher, since these have been already presented to Glaucon and to the rest of the group in 475c – e (Tecusan 1992: 69 – 87; Cp. 489a4 – 490a, 490c – e). Nonetheless, Socrates’ imagery offered to Adeimantus is philosophically crucial for the development of the dialogue. Plato employs Adeimantus’ intervention here in order to embark on a detailed discussion of human nature. The image also leads the discussion to the topic of the long and strenuous education that philosophers will need to undertake in order to grasp the Forms. What, however, is far more important for my line of interpretation here, is that the image brings out the tension that underlies the dialogue all along, namely the contrast between true philosophical nature and non-philosophical nature, or “contaminated” nature (490e – 491b). As we will see below, in the first part of Book 6 the difference between the two is rendered in vivid, imagistic language. Book 6, then, starts with Socrates discussing the distinctive qualities of true philosophic nature, moves on to a vivid depiction of “contaminated” (nothoi) philosophers in contemporary cities, and culminates with the two eikones of the Sun and the Line. After the image of the Cave has also been added to the dialogue, Plato will have presented most vividly both the various cognitive levels that humans must ascend in order to attain knowledge of the Forms and the distance that separates those completely lost to philosophical thinking and education from true Reality (Petraki

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[2009: 27 – 67]). The procedure by which one becomes a true philosopher is lengthy, laborious and highly demanding. After Socrates’ sketchy account of the Good as the Sun, Adeimantus and the rest offer far fewer objections as to what becoming a gne˜sios philosopher involves in any city, be it Socrates’ ideal one or contemporary Athens (see 494c – d).

4.2 Human nature, “true” philosophers and “false” philosophers Before Adeimantus’ interruption in 487b1, Socrates has already started to offer an account of the distinctive features of true philosophers. First in his list comes the power of acute vision. Philosophers should be “keen-sighted” rather than “blind” (484c3 – 4), for, in line with the description of Opinion (Doxa) in Book 5, to lack knowledge of true Being is to be intellectually blind to true Reality. Plato invests a lot in the power of the intellect as discerning vision when he has Socrates use the pictorial language of painting to describe how the Forms should stand as a paradigm, a prototype par excellence (paradeigmata), for the philosophers to draw on the canvas of their own souls and on state constitutions: O owm dojoOs_ ti tuvk_m diav]qeim oR t` emti toO emtor 2j\stou 1steqgl]moi t/r cm~seyr, ja· lgd³m 1maqc³r 1m t0 xuw0 5womter paq\deicla, lgd³ dum\lemoi ¦speq cqav/r eQr t¹ !kgh]statom !pobk]pomter j!je?se !e· !mav]qomt]r te ja· he~lemoi ¢r oX|m te !jqib]stata, ovty dµ ja· t± 1mh\de m|lila jak_m te p]qi ja· dija_ym ja· !cah_m t_hesha_ te, 1±m d], t_heshai, ja· t± je_lema vuk\ttomter s\feim ; (484c6 – d3)

Do you think, then, that there’s any difference between the blind and those who are really deprived of the knowledge of each thing that is? The latter have no clear model in their souls, so they cannot – in the manner of painters – look to what is most true, make constant reference to it, and study it as exactly as possible. Hence they cannot establish here on earth conventions about what is fine or just or good, when they need to be established, or guard and preserve them, once they have been established.

Plato’s language is analogical here, but before we proceed to explore the philosophical value of his reference to painting, we should first turn to his list of the distinctive qualities that a philosophical nature should display and maintain through its cognitive association with the Forms. Non-philosophic human nature will inevitably be lacking in such qualities. With the Platonic Forms as their prototype, true philosophers will

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be the most appropriate rulers, says Socrates, because they will love (ersin) this subject that reveals to them the “essence (ousia) that always remains fixed (t/r !e· ousgr) and never wanders due to becoming (ja· lµ pkamyl]mgr rp¹ cem]seyr ja· vhoq÷r, 485a10 – b3)”. Socrates reiterates here terminology that he uses in his epistemological distinction between Knowledge and Belief in Book 5. While so doing, almost in the same breath, he also draws a linguistic contrast between the less colourful stylistic mode of Being and the pictorial and traditional (or poeticized) language that belongs to the world of becoming. These few lines lead to a whole list of divisions and distinctions. In emulating the Forms, the true philosophers will hate lying and love the truth; be moderate and orderly (sphrones) and not money-loving (philochre˜matoi); be fast-learners (eumatheis) and not slow-learners, labouring in vain (dusmatheis); possess a good memory (mne˜mones) and be not forgetful (epile˜smones);205 be measured (emmetroi) and not unmusical (ametroi 486a – e). The list is summarized in 487a1 – 5: 5stim owm fp, l]lx, toioOtom 1pit^deula, d l^ potû %m tir oX|r te c]moito Rjam_r 1pitgdeOsai, eQ lµ v}sei eUg lm^lym, eqlah^r, lecakopqep^r, euwaqir, v_kor te ja· succemµr !kghe_ar, dijaios}mgr, !mdqe_ar, syvqos}mgr ; Oqdû #m b L_lor, 5vg, t| ce toioOtom l]lxaito.

Is there any objection you can find, then, to a way of life that no one can adequately follow unless he’s by nature good at remembering (v}sei eUg lm^lym), quick to learn, high-minded, graceful, and a friend and relative of truth, justice, courage, and moderation? Not even Momus could find one.

In his description of the true philosophic nature, Socrates has selected one from each pair of opposites and has ignored their corresponding polar opposite. Immediately after this rather hyperbolic exposition of an ethically completely good human, Adeimantus breaks in to contradict Socrates. Adeimantus’ intervention leads to two more Platonic eikones: the ship of state discussed above (in which, we should note in passing, Plato presents the philosopher as being deaf but not blind) 206 and the image of Philosophy, who is led to a marriage unworthy of her because those whom she deserves have deserted her as a result of 205 See my discussion of Adeimantus above, in Chapter Three. 206 Note that the details of Plato’s eikn here engage in a dialogue and also display a stark contrast with his description of people’s affairs in courts, assemblies and theaters in 492b – d.

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their bad upbringing and poor education (495c – d).207 Her ill-matched intercourse (495c5) will generate illegitimate (notha) offspring and so counterfeit (nothoi) philosophers will inevitably hold sway. Note that this type of breeding (Becoming) is only the beginning of a disintegration (ekehq|r te ja· diavhoq\, 495a10) which inevitably leads to intellectual death: oxtoi l³m dµ ovtyr 1jp_ptomter, oXr l\kista pqos^jei, 5qglom ja· !tek/ vikosov_am ke_pomter aqto_ te b_om oq pqos^jomta oqdû !kgh/ f_sim, tµm d] , ¦speq aqvamµm succem_m, %kkoi 1peisekh|mter !m\nioi Õswum\m te ja· ame_dg peqi/xam, oXa ja· s» v+r ameid_feim to»r ameid_fomtar, ¢r oR sum|mter aqt0 oR l³m oqdem|r, oR d³ pokko· pokk_m jaj_m %nio_ eQsim.

(495c – d) And when men, for whom philosophy is most appropriate, fall away from her, they leave her desolate and unwed, and they themselves lead lives that are inappropriate and untrue. Then others, who are unworthy of her, come to her as to an orphan deprived of the protection of kinsmen and disgrace her. These are the one who are responsible for the reproaches that you say are cast upon philosophy by those who revile her, namely that some of those who consort with her are useless, while the majority deserve to suffer many bad things.

Socrates adds the final touches to this image when he says a few moments later (496a2 – 9): po?û %tta owm eQj¹r cemm÷m to»r toio}tour ; oq m|ha ja· vaOka ; t_ d] ; to»r !man_our paide}seyr, ftam aqt0 pkgsi\fomter blik_si lµ jatû !n_am, po?û %tta v_lem cemm÷m diamo^lat\ te ja· d|nar ; üqû oqw ¢r !kgh_r pqos^jomta !joOsai sov_slata, ja· oqd³m cm^siom oqd³ vqom^seyr [%niom] !kghim/r 1w|lemom ; (496a2 – 9)

And what kind of children will that marriage produce? Won’t they be illegitimate and inferior? What about when men who are unworthy of education approach philosophy and consort with her unworthily? What kinds of thoughts and opinions are we to say they beget? Won’t they truly be what are properly called sophisms, things that have nothing genuine about them or worthy of being called true wisdom?

Plato’s imagery here is powerful and pregnant with numerous philosophical nuances. It enhances Socrates’ language of Doxa in Book 5 (cf. planomene˜s) and builds a stylistically distinctive type of language that best fits the contaminated and cognitively diminished intellectual 207 See 491a – d. The same virtues and characteristics that render one a gne˜sios philosopher may also work in the opposite direction in a world of relativism and disorder.

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life of the so-called illegitimate (nothoi) philosophers in contemporary cities. Thus Adeimantus’ change of subject in the discussion also signals a change in Socrates’ stylistic mode. Plato’s main speaker turns again to the use of powerful images (eikones) that the philotheamones are most at ease with, but the basic pictorial motifs on which the discussion has been thus far woven are maintained, only now approached in a different manner. The discussion is still regulated by the motif of mixture that opposes purity. However, since Plato during the discussion has already outlined the harmony and homogeneity of the just soul and city, and shown the difference between Being and Becoming in Books 4 and 5, a strong contrast can now be drawn between the images of the polis as a single body (Book 5) and the highly coloured and imagistic language used in order to illustrate the disintegrating aspects of the realm of Doxa (Opinion and Becoming). As regards Becoming, there are different types of ‘mixing’ that generate different offspring: Philosophy is left to consort with the unworthy and beget illegitimate (nothoi) philosophers, who in their turn also breed unstable doxai and dianoe˜mata that are nothing more than sophismata. At the other end of the spectrum stands the true philosophers who consort with the truly Real: Ja· oqj !lbk}moito oqd’ !pok^coi toO 5qytor, pq·m aqtoO d 5stim 2j\stou t/r v}seyr ûxashai è pqos^jei xuw/r 1v\ptashai toO toio}tou – pqos^jei d³ succeme? – è pkgsi\sar ja· lice·r t` emti emtyr, cemm^sar moOm ja· !k^heiam, cmo_g te ja· !kgh_r f]g ja· tq]voito ja· ovty k^coi ¡d?mor, pq·m d’ ou ; (490b2 – 7)

He neither loses nor lessens his erotic love until he grasps the being of each nature itself with the part of his soul that is fitted to grasp it, because of its kinship with it, and that, once getting near what really is and having intercourse with it and having begotten understanding and truth, he knows, truly lives, is nourished, and – at that point, but not before – is relieved from the pains of giving birth?

It is easy to regard the language here as metaphorical (or mystical).208 Yet the use of this particular imagery to talk about the philosopher’s relation to Reality cannot be seen in isolation from the broader stylistic and linguistic framework that Socrates has created in order to distinguish be208 The allusions to Diotima’s speech in the Symposium (206d3-e1) are striking. See discussion in Hunter (2004: 88 – 90). The literature on the ‘mystical’ aspects of the philosopher’s union with the Real is very large. As regards the Republic, see above, Chapter Three, notes 198 and 199. As regards the Symposium, see Hunter (88 with n. 13). See also Sheffield (2001: 1 – 33).

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tween true and counterfeit philosophic nature in the Republic. In discussing human nature, Plato adapts his linguistic style to meet the needs involved in describing Becoming. Nothing is closer to this process than sexual intercourse and generation, although creation and sexual mingling/mixing, argues Socrates, cannot be treated en bloc. We saw above in Chapters One and Two that Plato constructs his theoretical ideal state in Book 5 on this underlying principle. There he proposes certain regulations to control and regulate the guardians’ sexual intercourse with a view to promoting the homogeneity of the guardian class, true friendship, and shared feelings.209 In such a philosophical-political endeavour the human body cannot be ignored.210 The physical is strictly correlated to the metaphysical and the ontological, and is re-directed to work in harmony with them. In his description of counterfeit philosophers, Plato is following the same thought-pattern, albeit in reverse. In his examination of human nature in the early part of Book 6, Plato has already started to pave the way for his portrayal of the unjust as representations of ethically wrong diversity (poikilia) that give birth to sub-humans, that is animals. In Books 8 and 9, Socrates argues that only true humans possess harmonious souls. In Book 6, Socrates has already embarked on his depiction of this loss of essential human qualities in his use of the diminutive anthrpiskoi to refer to the unworthy who consort with Philosophy (495c9). This is but the beginning of Plato’s description of ethical decline that reaches a climax in Books 8 and 9 of the dialogue. To continue our treatment of the narrative in Book 6, according to Socrates, true (gnesioi) philosophers differ from the counterfeit (peplasmenoi and nothoi, 485d12, 496a2 – 3) philosophers in that the former have embarked on the long and arduous task of eliminating the polarities and conflicting features inherent in human nature. Here Socrates argues that the true philosopher will need to refrain from indulging emotions of envy and hatred. Instead he will “imitate” the Real: Oqd³ c\q pou, § Ade_lamte, swokµ t` ce ¢r !kgh_r pq¹r to?r owsi tµm di\moiam 5womti j\ty bk]peim eQr !mhq~pym pqaclate_ar, ja· law|lemom aqto?r vh|mou te ja· dusleme_ar 1lp_pkashai, !kk’ eQr tetacl]ma %tta ja· jat± taqt± !e· 5womta bq_mtar ja· heyl]mour out’ !dijoOmta out’ !dijo}lema rp’ !kk^kym, j|sl\ d³ p\mta ja· jat± k|com 5womta, taOta lile?sha_

209 See also discussion in Ludwig, in Ferrari, G. R. F. (ed.) (2007: 217 – 222). 210 Note that in the image of the Sun, the Sun is an analogon of the Good on our world: the Good does not beget.

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te ja· fti l\kista !voloioOshai. C oUei tim± lgwamµm eWmai, ft\ tir blike? !c\lemor, lµ lile?shai 1je?mo ; (500c2 – 5)

No one whose thoughts are truly directed towards the things that are, Adeimantus, has the leisure to look down at human affairs or to be filled with envy and hatred by competing with people. Instead, as he looks at and studies things that are organized and always the same, that neither do injustice to one another nor suffer it, being all in a rational order, he imitates them and tries to become as like them as he can. Or do you think that someone can consort with things he admires without imitating them?

I will not consider the matter of Platonic mime˜sis here, since this has been thoroughly and articulately analysed in the literature.211 What primarily interests me here is the distinction that Socrates draws among the prototypes that humans imitate. Humans inevitably imitate things they consort with. Thus the true philosopher, as a result of consorting with what is divine and ordered, will “himself become as divine and ordered as a human being can” (500c9 – d2).212 The implications here are manifold. According to Plato’s view of mime˜sis, humans will always fall short of the “divine and the ordered”, however much they try to approach it, because they imitate it. However, Socrates’ description of the true philosopher helps us also draw certain inferences regarding the manner in which the philosophically unsophisticated humans spend their lives. The image used by Socrates is particularly instructive in this respect. The true philosopher will be a valuable public figure as, having already successfully eliminated in his own soul the vice that arises from opposition and contrariety (500c1 – 2), he will know how to effect the same in both public and in private spheres, and how to mould the characters and the souls of the others in accord with this paradigm (500d5 – 6). In this context, Plato once again employs his colourless auto pronoun, in striking contrast to the earthly conflict and antithesis. The philosopher will come to view “these (things) 211 The literature on Platonic mime˜sis is extensive. Greene (1918: 1 – 75); Tate (1928: 16 – 23) and (1932: 161 – 169); Cherniss (1932: 233 – 242); Verdenius (1949); Koller (1954); Else (1958: 73 – 90); Cross and Woozley (1964: 271 ff.); Golden (1975: 118 – 131); Murdoch (1977); Annas (1981); Grube (1981); Belfiore (1983: 39 – 62) and (1984: 121 – 146); Elias (1984); Babut (1985: 72 – 92); Osborne (1987: 53 – 73); Janaway (1995: 106 – 132); Farness, in Michelini, A. N. (ed.) (2003: 99 – 121). Moss, in Ferrari, G. R. F. (ed.) (2007: 415 – 443). 212 This issue is discussed informatively by Cooke (1999: 37 – 44). For a detailed analysis of the characteristics of the true philosopher as described by Socrates, see also Patterson (1987: 325 – 350).

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that are ordered and always the same that neither do injustice to each other nor suffer injustice” (500c2 – 3). Having such a Reality as his model and prototype, the philosopher, as a kind of painter, will “wipe” his sketching slate and paint anew on a “clean” one: kab|mter, Gm dû 1c~, ¦speq p_maja p|kim te ja· Ehg !mhq~pym, pq_tom l³m jahaq±m poi^seiam %m, d oq p\mu Nõdiom7 !kkû owm oWshû fti to}t\ #m eqh»r t_m %kkym diem]cjoiem, t` l^te Qdi~tou l^te p|keyr 1hek/sai #m ûxashai lgd³ cq\veim m|lour, pq·m C paqakabe?m jahaq±m C aqto· poi/sai. oqjoOm let± taOta oUei rpocq\xashai #m t¹ sw/la t/r pokite_ar ; 5peita oWlai !peqcaf|lemoi pujm± #m 2jat]qysû !pobk]poiem, pq|r te t¹ v}sei d_jaiom ja· jak¹m ja· s_vqom ja· p\mta t± toiaOta, ja· pq¹r 1je?mû aw t¹ 1m to?r !mhq~poir 1lpoio?em, sulleicm}mter te ja· jeqamm}mter 1j t_m 1pitgdeul\tym t¹ !mdqe_jekom, !pû 1je_mou tejlaiq|lemoi, d dµ ja· nlgqor 1j\kesem 1m to?r !mhq~poir 1ccicm|lemom heoeid]r te ja· heoe_jekom. (501a2 – c2)

They’d take the city and the characters of human beings as their sketching slate, but first they’d wipe it clean – which isn’t at all an easy thing to do. And you should know that this is the plain difference between them and others, namely, that they refuse to take either an individual or a city in hand or to write laws, unless they receive a clean slate or are allowed to clean it themselves… And I suppose that, as they work, they’d look often in each direction, towards the natures of justice, beauty, moderation and the like, on the one hand, and towards those they’re trying to put into human beings, on the other. And in this way they’d mix and blend the various ways of life in the city until they produced a human image based on what Homer too called “the divine form and image” when it occurred among human beings.

In their use of an analogy with painting, these lines also raise the problem of the feasibility of realising the ideal state and then moulding the ideal souls in it.213 In this passage, Socrates broaches discussion of the ethical qualities of justice, beauty, moderation and the like, on the basis of which true philosophers and humanity at large must be moulded. In Book 7 (535a9 – b9), Socrates claims that the exceptional ethical and intellectual qualities of the true philosophic nature cannot be preserved, unless they are coupled with a long and hard training in higher subjects, such as number theory, geometry, stereometry, astronomy, 213 Plato has Socrates admit that the philosophers’ task is not an easy one. As regards this difficulty, see Conford (1941 205), for example, who draws attention to Rep. 540e where Plato proposes “to rusticate the whole population above the age of ten”. But cf. Reeve (1988: 83 – 95). In addition see Rorty (1998: 167 – 171).

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harmonics, and dialectic. The struggle against the conflicting aspects of our own nature can win over even the most gifted people. At Republic 535d1 – 3, Socrates returns to his distinction between true and nothoi philosophers and clarifies his definition of the former further: Pq_tom l]m, eWpom, vikopom_ô oq wyk¹m de? eWmai t¹m "x|lemom, t± l³m Bl_sea vik|pomom emta, t± d’ Bl_sea %pomom (“No student should be lame in his love of hard work, really loving one half of it, and hating the other half”). Socrates’ proposals will not allow the simultaneous coexistence of a pair of opposites within the person who is to become a gnesios philosopher. The same holds for the philosophers’ relation to truth (535d9 – e5). The human soul becomes somatised and is given bodily features: OqjoOm ja· pq¹r !k^heiam, Gm d’ 1c~, taqt¹m toOto !m\pgqom xuwµm h^solem (“Similarly with regard to truth, won’t we say that a soul is maimed […]”, 535d9 – e). The distinction drawn in the latter case is not between truth and falsehood, but between “voluntary” and “involuntary” falsehoods (2jo}siom xeOdor and !jo}siom xeOdor, 535e), and between the philosopher’s capacity to resist the former and not to be deceived by the latter. The soul which fails in this again suffers diminution: !kk’ eqweq_r ¦speq hgq_om veiom 1m !lah_ô lok}mgtai (“[The soul] wallows in ignorance like a pig, 535e4 – 5).214 In this context the motif of “mixture” is intertwined with the motif of intellectual “contamination” (molunsis) and both are further linked with conflict and antithesis. A true philosopher cannot be both philo-ponos and aponos. Socrates thus concludes his portrait here of the true philosophic nature that he starts at the beginning of Book 6. Antithesis must be erased completely.215

214 Plato again employs the diminutive, this time for the soul of the calculating and cunning (pone˜roi) in Rep. 519a3: C oupy 1mmem|gjar, t_m kecol]mym pomgq_m l]m, sov_m d] , ¢r dqil» l³m bk]pei t¹ xuw\qiom (“Or have you ever noticed this about people who are said to be vicious but clever, how keen the vision of their little souls is…”) 215 The notion of completeness that human nature must achieve is linguistically given in Socrates’ terms !qtileke?r and !qt_vqomar in 536b. The adjective %qtior is etymologically connected to "qaq_sjy, thus evoking again the Platonic notion of harmony and harmonisation. See LSJ v I and II. See also Socrates’ poignant remarks in Rep. 536c: “I forgot we were only playing, and so I spoke too vehemently. But I looked upon philosophy as I spoke, and seeing her undeservedly besmirched, I seem to have lost my temper and said what I said too earnestly, as if I were angry with those responsible for it” (emphasis added).

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Nonetheless, true philosophers cannot escape the world of Becoming and antithesis completely (Cornford 1941: 148).216 This entanglement is dramatized in Plato’s description of the philosophers’ task in society in 519d1 – 5. The rhetoric of these lines is powerful.217 Socrates employs a vocabulary that brings out artistically the tension arising from conflict that defines the innermost depths of human nature: ja· !mab/mai 1je_mgm tµm !m\basim, ja· 1peid±m !mab\mter Rjam_r Udysi, lµ 1pitq]peim aqto?r d mOm 1pitq´petai. T¹ po?om d¶; T¹ aqtoO, Gm d’ 1c¾, jatal]meim ja· lµ 1h´keim p²kim jataba_meim paq’ 1je¸mour…. (519d1 – 5)

[It is our task as founders, then, to compel the best natures to reach the study we said before is the most important, namely,] to make the ascent and see the good. But when they’ve made it and looked sufficiently, we mustn’t allow them to do what they’re allowed to do today. What is that? To stay there and refuse to go down again to the prisoners in the cave…

Plato’s reiteration of different forms of the same words emphasizes every stage of humans’ philosophical progress: the struggle towards intellectual ascent, the desire for stability and permanence, and the inability to enjoy for ever the vision of the fixed and unchanging Reality. In a way, then, true philosophers cannot transcend their nature; they must always remain tied to the earth-bound mundane. They must continuously descend (katabainein), for their philosophical task is to educate others. In this sense, the philosopher becomes the hermeneus, the channel through which humanity may be introduced to the Platonic Reality.218

216 In Book 10. 609d6 – 7, the ‘simplicity’ of the human soul is linked to disembodiment. See discussion in Reeve (1988: 159 – 162); Rowe (2007: 166 – 176). See also Bourloyanni (Unpiblished Phd Thesis 2009). 217 In a sense, Socrates, despite his constant disavowal of knowledge, resembles a true Platonic philosopher who keeps returning to the ‘cave’ of Athens. Scholars have interpreted the Republic’s opening sentence as Socrates’ katabasis. See, for example, Pappas (1995: 17 – 20). The literature on the philosophers’ obligation to return in order to educate and organize the city is vast. See discussion in Nightingale (2004: Ch. 3). 218 Cp. Plato’s language in 486d10: =lletqom %qa ja· euwaqim fgt_lem pq¹r to?r %kkoir di\moiam v}sei, Dm 1p· tµm toO emtor Qd]am 2j\stou t¹ aqtovu³r eq\cycom paq]nei. (“Then in addition to those other things, let’s look for someone whose thought is by nature measured and graceful and is easily led to the form of each thing that is”.) Blondell (2002: 247 – 250) discusses the reasons why Glaucon cannot be transformed into a “Socratic-like philosophical” figure.

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4.3 The poetics of the unjust in Books 8 and 9 The analysis above of Books 6 and 7 has shown that the conflicting qualities of human nature form a prominent theme in the Republic. In lines 501a2 – c2 cited above, Plato focuses on the philosopher-kings’ organisation and education of society on the model of the Forms. The passage employs terminology drawn from painting to describe the new type of mixture that the philosophers will seek to promote in moulding ethics and politics. The procedure described through the analogy of painting is thus similar to that which Socrates practises in his construction of the ideal city in Book 5. Plato’s Socrates does not seek to ban mixture from his just city or soul. Instead, he attempts to keep it under control by restraining sexual intercourse within the guardian class. As long as the mixed elements are qualitatively identical, their mixture does not generate incongruent diversity (poikilia) but leads to civic homogeneity. In resorting to analogies drawn from painting, Plato theorizes on such a process. Thus, in my view, if we follow his analogy in 501a2 – c2 and seek to grasp the parallels, then “colours” are to be equated to virtues and the fundamental characteristics of this new mixture are thus revealed: the ethical qualities that relate to the Forms must be ‘mixed’ by means of correct education in the ethics of the city and of the soul (501a1). According to Plato’s Socrates, this is capable of creating a new humanity (andreikelon) that resembles the divine as much as possible (theoeides, theoeikelon).219 What must be then wiped off this canvas is vice as the polar opposite of the good (agathon) in all its diverse manifestations. The philosophers’ canvas when complete will be the representation par excellence of the good, the just, the temperate, and the courageous. Such an analysis pertains to the philosophers’ moulding of the ideal polis and souls on the basis of the Forms. However, in the introduction to this work I suggested that Plato also attempts a task similar to that of the philosopher-kings’. This is the education of Socrates’ interlocutors in philosophy, ethics, and ontology in an attempt to rectify the ethical damage caused by poetry and rhetoric.220 From my interpretative point of view here in this work, then, lines 501a2 – c2 also raise interesting issues regarding Plato’s task in the dialogue of demonstrating to Socrates’ 219 The painting of the andreikelon was based on mixing pigments that produced the carnation colour. See Keuls (1997: 115 – 116). 220 Plato does not always distinguish the two: See Rep. 492b5-c8 and 493a6-d9.

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interlocutors how true Reality truly is. As I will explain in the following pages, his use of the analogy with painting proves particularly illuminating in untangling the complex narratological levels of the dialogue on justice and injustice, since Plato’s use in our text of the language of painting is twofold. Plato, I argue, cannot eliminate mixture from the ethical environment of Socrates’ interlocutors since they are culturally fully immersed in it and the “colours” of vice (kakias) have inevitably rubbed off on them. What he can do, however, is to restrain the mixture by drawing the interlocutors’ attention to its perils – as he repeatedly does in the work – and analyse or separate its conflicting constituents so as to reveal that what seems true to them is only the result of a false and ignorant construction (see 377d – e: platt, syntithentes). The erroneous reception of this fabrication as real rests on the interlocutors’ intellectual distance from true Reality and on their weak and feeble intellectual eye-sight (368d). If we adopt this interpretative viewpoint then we are in a better position to understand the rich philosophical potential that lies in Plato’s constant references to painting in his dialogue. In particular, we are in a better position to comprehend Plato’s references to skiagraphia and to describe the philosophical task that Socrates undertakes when he embarks on a joint investigation into justice and injustice with Glaucon and Adeimantus, and to describe the reasons that dictate Socrates’ manifoldness of stylistic modes in the Republic’s discourse.221 Thus Socrates’ educational venture in the Republic differs at crucial points from the philosopher-kings’ “painting and moulding of ethics in the ideal city and souls”. From this perspective, it is not coincidental that in 501a – c cited above Plato has refrained from mentioning the technique of skiagraphia in the context of his description of the philosopher-kings’ task in the polis. Skiagraphia carries the meaning of shadow or of a mixture of light and darkness and, from this point of view, it is an inappropriate term for rendering the clarity of the good that the philosopher-kings will have to draw on their “clean slate” in order to organise the earthly ethics and constitutions. 221 On Plato’s use of the metaphor of painting, see Halliwell (2002: 119 – 147). Halliwell focuses on Plato’s discussion of painting in Rep. Book 10 (at 120), but his suggestion regarding the philosopher’s use of the metaphor throughout his writings accords with the reading I propose here: “the analogies and metaphors of philosophers can be revealing, indeed partly constitutive, of their patterns of thoughts” (at 124, emphasis added).

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However, before we examine the way in which Plato’s references to the technique of skiagraphia is revealing as to how his thought-patterns and linguistic styles are arranged in the Republic, it is instructive to turn to Books 8 and 9 and review his description of the increasing corruption and decline of souls and polities. Socrates’ description of ethical disintegration in the dialogue’s two penultimate Books has received extensive treatment in the literature.222 In this section my aim is to draw attention to Socrates’ distinctive linguistic style in his description of corrupted souls and polities, rather than examine the political and psychological repercussions of his proposed divisions of souls and constitutions. However, a review of these ideas is in order here. At the beginning of Book 8 Socrates returns to the argument interrupted at the start of Book 5. Plato’s main speaker has already outlined the character of his kallipolis and of the man or woman that resembles it, and has argued for the existence of a single type of justice, but of multiple forms of injustice, unjust souls and, as he will explain further in Books 8 and 9, of characters. At the beginning of Book 8 Plato has Socrates invoke the Muses to narrate the reasons for the ethico-political corruption. Plato’s Muses adopt unusual language and explain by means of difficult mathematics that the disintegration will start when the leaders of the ideal city fail to control their reproduction and “beget children when they ought not to do so”. In their innovative song, Plato’s Muses deploy the “noble lie” that Socrates had ready for the kallipolis’ guardians and trace the origins of ethical and civic corruption in the erotic intercourse of the city’s two upper classes.223 As a result, disintegration lies in incorrect and inharmonious ‘mixtures’: 1j d³ to}tym %qwomter oq p\mu vukajijo· jatast^somtai pq¹r t¹ dojil\feim t± Jsi|dou te ja· t± paq’ rl?m c]mg, wqusoOm te ja· !qcuqoOm ja· wakjoOm ja· sidgqoOm7 bloO d³ lic]mtor sidgqoO !qcuq` ja· wakjoO wqus` !moloi|tgr 1ccem^setai ja· !mylak_a !m\qlostor, $ cem|lema, ox #m 1cc]mgtai, !e· t_jtei p|kelom ja· 5whqam. ta}tgr toi ceme/r wqµ v\mai eWmai st\sim, fpou #m c_cmgtai !e_. (546e – 547a)

222 See Bloom (1968: 413 – 426); Annas (1981: 295 – 305); Rosen (2005: 305 – 332); and Parry (2007: 386 – 414). 223 On the Muses’ difficult mathematics here see Brumbaugh (1949: 197 – 199); and Adam (1963 [1902] vol.2). On the Hesiodic resonance of these lines see Solmsen (1960: 171 – 211). In addition see the compilation of articles in Boys-Stones and Haubold (eds.) (2010) and O’ Connor, in Ferrari, G. R. F. (ed.) (2007: 55 – 89).

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Hence, rulers chosen from among them won’t be able to guard well the testing of the golden, silver, bronze and iron races, which are Hesiod’s and your own. The intermixing of iron with silver and bronze with gold that results will engender lack of likeness and unharmonious inequality, and these always breed war and hostility wherever they arise. Civil war, we declare, is always and everywhere ‘of this lineage’.

The Muses’ language in 546a – 547a is a well-wrought amalgamation of traditional poetic language and ideas, and Platonic mathematical language. This amalgamation emphasizes further people’s inability to adhere to Socrates’ rules regarding purity and erotic mixture prescribed for the ideal city. Thus the guardians will neglect the “noble lie” on which the city’s organisation was initially founded and the philosopher-kings will at some point inevitably fail to practise “calculation with sense perception” (546b1 – 2).224 The result of this miscalculation is the generation of the four corrupt polities. Human souls disintegrate as internal psychic divisions give rise to new varieties of mixtures and imbalances, which then generate conflict, division, and polymorphy. The first step, of course, in the direction of internal (psychological) and external (civic) corruption is the guardians’ disregard for the music and poetry which was designed to strengthen and consolidate their distinctive natural qualities. Throughout Book 8 Plato’s Socrates builds on his initial isomorphism of city and soul to show how psychological instability, division and strife causes civic tension and is reflected in the organisation of various societies. In his outline of the four corrupt polities, namely timocracy, oligarchy, democracy and tyranny, Socrates also allows for the emergence of other constitutions, such as dynasties and purchased kingships, which lie at some intermediate point between these four (544c – d). He thus makes clear that the forms of vice and injustice are numerous and evade strict classification and complete accuracy thanks to their polymorphy (polueidia) and diversity (poikilia) (548c – d). In their discussion of Book 8, scholars have rightly drawn attention to its relation to the division of the soul described in Book 4 (Parry 2007: 386 – 414). Indeed, Plato here engages in a dialogue with his earlier thesis regarding the just soul and city in Books 4 and 5, and intends Books 8 and 9 to stand in a stark contrast to the books in which he expresses his earlier ideas. Less attention has been paid, however, to the gradual alteration of Socrates’ stylistic modes as he moves from the discussion of timocracy and oligarchy to consideration of democracy and 224 On the Republic’s Noble Lie, see Schofield (2006: 284 – 309).

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tyranny. The further Socrates moves towards his description of corruption, the more Plato has him exploit images, wording, and poetic quotations to depict the true nature of the unjust. Plato’s imagistic language culminates in Book 9 in the context of his discussion of pleasure, in his unveiling of the appalling polymorphy of the tyrant’s soul and, in particular, of the beast-like appetitive part in him. In my view, in utilising the language of poets and vivid animal imagery in the presentation of the different forms of vice in Books 8 and 9, Plato meets Adeimantus’ challenge to Socrates regarding justice and injustice that he makes back in Book 2. In Book 2, Adeimantus makes the most of poetic quotations and ideas, thickly weaving them in abundance into the linguistic texture of his argument that a similitude of justice is better that being truly just. In his speech, quotations from Homer, Hesiod, Pindar, Simonides, and Archilochus are employed to formulate the thesis that injustice pays more, that justice is more difficult, that the gods may not exist and so do not punish the perpetrators of unjust acts and, even if they do exist, they can be easily bribed to avoid inflicting punishment on the guilty as long as the unjust can afford the sacrifice (364a – b, 365d – e).225 Adeimantus’ speech is the occasion for Socrates’ long condemnation of poetry and music and for his prescriptions regarding the guardians’ education in Books 2 and 3, but Plato’s answer to Adeimantus’ challenge is not to be completed until we reach Books 8 and 9 of the dialogue (cf. Bloom 1968: 413). In these Books, Socrates meets Adeimantus’ challenge. At the beginning of his speech in 363a, Adeimantus introduces into the discussion the matter of the ethical influence of filial relations: k]cousi d] pou ja· paqajeke}omtai pat]qer te r]sim, ja· p\mter oR tim_m jgd|lemoi, ¢r wqµ d_jaiom eWmai, oqj aqt¹ dijaios}mgm 1paimoOmter !kk± t±r !pû aqt/r eqdojil^seir, Vma dojoOmti dija_\ eWmai c_cmgtai !p¹ t/r d|ngr !qwa_ te ja· c\loi ja· fsapeq Cka}jym di/khem %qti, !p¹ toO eqdojile?m emta t` dija_\. 1p· pk]om d³ oxtoi t± t_m don_m k]cousim. t±r c±q paq± he_m eqdojil^seir 1lb\kkomter %vhoma 5wousi k]ceim !cah\, to?r bs_oir û vasi heo»r did|mai7 ¦speq b cemma?or Js_od|r te ja· nlgq|r vasim… (362e4 – 363a5)

When fathers speak to their sons, they say that one must be just, as do all the others who have charge of anyone. But they don’t praise justice itself, only the high reputations it leads to and the consequences of being thought 225 See also Ford (2002: 215), who rightly observes that “Adeimantus in fact is a speaking anthology of the kind that Hippias composed with Orpheus, Musaeus, Hesiod, Homer and many prose writers (B 6DK)” (emphasis added).

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to be just, such as public offices, marriages, and other things Glaucon listed. But they elaborate even further on the consequences of reputation. By bringing in the esteem of the gods, they are able to talk about the abundant good things that they themselves and the noble Hesiod and Homer say that the gods give to the pious…

Integral to this paternal advice is Adeimantus’ idea of building a “façade” or “false appearance” of justice. The idea is first introduced into the discussion by his brother Glaucon only a few moments earlier, but Adeimantus enhances it with colourful poetic imagery and language to make the most of it: K]coi c±q #m 1j t_m eQj|tym pq¹r art¹m jat± P_mdaqom 1je?mo t¹ P|teqom d_jô te?wor vxiom C sjokia?r !p\tair !mab±r ja· 1laut¹m ovty peqivq\nar diabi_; T± l³m c±q kec|lema dija_\ l³m emti loi, 1±m lµ ja· doj_ evekor oqd³m vasim eWmai, p|mour d³ ja· fgl_ar vameq\r7 !d_j\ d³ d|nam dijaios}mgr paqesjeuasl]m\ hesp]sior b_or k]cetai. OqjoOm, 1peidµ t¹ doje?m, ¢r dgkoOs_ loi oR sovo_, ja· tµm !k\heiam bi÷tai ja· j}qiom eqdailom_ar, 1p· toOto dµ tqept]om fkyr7 pq|huqa l³m ja· sw/la j}jk\ peq· 1laut¹m sjiacqav_am !qet/r peqicqapt]om, tµm d³ toO sovyt\tou )qwik|wou !k~peja 2kjt]om 1n|pishem jeqdak]am ja· poij_kgm. ‘)kk± c\q, vgs_ tir, oq Nõdiom !e· kamh\meim jaj¹m emta.’ Oqd³ c±q %kko oqd³m eqpet]r, v^solem, t_m lec\kym7 !kk’ flyr, eQ l]kkolem eqdailom^seim, ta}t, Qt]om, ¢r t± Uwmg t_m k|cym v]qei. (365b1 – c6)

He would surely ask himself Pindar’s question: ‘Should I by justice or by crooked deceit scale this high wall and live my life guarded and secure?’ And he’ll answer: ‘The various sayings suggest that there is no advantage in my being just if I’m not also thought just, while the troubles and penalties of being just are apparent. But they tell me that an unjust person, who has secured for himself a reputation for justice, lives the life of a god. Since, then, ‘opinion forcibly overcomes truth’ and ‘controls happiness,’ as the wise men say, I must surely turn entirely to it. I should create a faÅade of illusory virtue around me to deceive those who come near, but keep behind it the greedy and crafty fox of the wise Archilochus. ‘But surely,’ someone will object, ‘it isn’t easy for vice to remain always hidden.’ We’ll reply that nothing great is easy.

In the these lines, Adeimantus introduces for the first time in the Republic poetic animal imagery in order to discuss deceit and he associates it with the word skiagraphia, which disappears as the discussion on justice and injustice develops in the central books of the dialogue, only to reappear much later in Books 7, 9, and 10.226 Adeimantus argues his case 226 The word skiagraphia occurs ten times in the Platonic corpus, five of them in the Republic, the others in the late dialogues (with the exception of the Phaedo). See discussion in this chapter further below.

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to the effect that injustice is better than justice by focusing on the ability possessed by man to create around himself a façade of justice that will allow him the social benefits that one enjoys in a hypocritical society from ‘appearing’ just and the ‘true’ rewards of injustice that the unjust person enjoys throughout his life (hesp]sior b_or k]cetai). This presentation of the idea of a pretence of justice is achieved by means of an elusive metaphor that also introduces to the text the notion of “diversity” (poikilia) through the image of the versatile fox. Plato has Adeimantus adapt Archilochus’ imagery to describe in animal-like terms what is usually concealed behind a façade of deceitful virtue. Adeimantus, then, suggests that there is a distance between one’s internal condition and external appearance, and employs embellished poetic language to do so, for the image of the fox traditionally identifies deception with resourcefulness and cunning. In his depiction of unjust polities and souls in Books 8 and 9, Socrates addresses Adeimantus’ points and subverts them. However, the Republic is so organised that the discussion of the various forms of injustice follows the description of the just city and soul and the exposition of Platonic ontology, epistemology, and metaphysics in Books 5, 6, and 7. Thus Plato intends Books 8 and 9 to contrast with the ideas presented in the earlier books as regards the ideal city and the harmonious and just soul. One point of contrast relates to the notion of distance that separates human from intrinsic ethical qualities, and from the Platonic Ideas. As we saw in Chapter One above, the distance evident in Book’s 5 description of the just city is in fact almost annihilated. The guardians, who, according to Book 5, constitute the pool from which the city’s rulers are to be selected, share everything, their life being thus organized to combat both division and concealment. In Books 4 and 5, Socrates does his best to show his interlocutors how a soul may become harmonized and how a whole class and a whole city may be integrated into a whole so that it functions harmoniously as a single human body. In terms of Socrates’ imagery in Book 5, in the ideal polis internal psychological harmony is reflected in the external harmonious unification of the many humans who function as one body. The case with the various unjust individuals, however, is radically different. In Book 2, Plato has Adeimantus use poetic language to describe the views of the majority on individual and civic ethics. Yet, as the argumentation of the dialogue progresses, Plato demonstrates how the poets’ representation of versatile (poikile˜) reality completely misrepresents true Reality. In doing so, he simultaneously shows how the

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poets’ language is also to be dismissed, along with their false representation of reality, since their use of colourfulness, diversity, and multiplicity cannot be separated from the ideas they seek to convey in their compositions.227 By Books 8 and 9, however, Plato’s theme has changed, for Plato’s Socrates now employs the language and motifs which he severely criticises back in Book 3. In amassing poetic imagery and diction in these two Books, Socrates demonstrates to his interlocutors that the various forms of injustice have their own language which expresses their polymorphy and variety most faithfully. This is the “colourful” and “diverse” language of poetry (601a – b), and one is allowed to employ it when speaking of the unjust and the bad only. From this point of view, Adeimantus is right to describe the unjust as being entrenched behind a façade and correctly transforms the unjust into an animal, although he is completely unaware of the true repercussions of this description in relation to the unjust person’s true psychological condition and happiness. Plato then resorts to the familiar motifs of mixis and poikilia and uses poetic language and imagery to demonstrate how things truly are in the camp of the bad: “In this way, we can complete our investigation into how pure justice and pure injustice stand (B %jqator dijaios}mg pq¹r tµm !dij_am tµm %jqatom 5wei), with regard to the happiness or wretchedness of those who possess them (eqdailom_ar te p]qi toO 5womtor ja· !hki|tgtor)…” (545a5-8). Plato’s unjust and base cities are the result of various combinations or mixtures of different ruling elements in the soul and in society. Psychological and civic harmony is disturbed in various ways once we abandon the aristocracy of the philosopher-kings. The first city in the list is based on timocracy, in which rule people in whose soul the spirited part predominates. This, according to Socrates, is the second best city, in which people organize their civic life around the desire for honour, victories, and good reputation. Plato’s description of different gradations of injustice in Book 8 hinges on the various psychological tensions which underlie familial relationships. Thus the timocratic man is presented as the son of a good father who lives in an ill-governed city. The bonds between father and son are gradually broken as society 227 Ford (2002: 215) observes that Adeimantus’ use of epiptomenoi for the young “winging their way” among such [poetic] sayings, links the image of bees gathering nectar with anthologies (florilegia)’. See discussion below on how Plato’s language turns this nuanced imagery into “the stinged and stingless ke˜phe˜nes” in Book 8.

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nourishes his spirited and appetitive parts, which runs counter to his father’s attempts to strengthen the rational part of the son’s soul (549c – 550c). The case of the oligarchic man is similar. In oligarchy, the third best type of city, the people have forgotten that true gold is to be found only in their souls and devote themselves to their appetitive parts. As timocracy transforms into oligarchy, the rich usurp authority and relieve the poor of any share in ruling. Socrates is now only one step before his description of democracy and, as he outlines the characteristics of oligarchy and oligarchic man, his stylistic mode starts to change. Several images are now introduced to this new thematic environment and strikingly pictorial language and poetic diction become more frequent. In the greedy oligarchic man’s soul, the appetitive and money-making part predominate, thereby making him detest his father’s attitude which has left him poor. These forces drive him to amass property:228 ja· tapeimyhe·r rp¹ pem_ar pq¹r wqglatisl¹m tqap|lemor ck_swqyr ja· jat± slijq¹m veid|lemor ja· 1qcaf|lemor wq^lata sukk]cetai. üq’ oqj oUei t¹m toioOtom t|te eQr l³m t¹m hq|mom 1je?mom t¹ 1pihulgtij|m te ja· vikowq^latom 1cjah_feim ja· l]cam basik]a poie?m 1m 2aut`, ti\qar te ja· stqepto»r ja· !jim\jar paqafymm}mta ; t¹ d] ce oWlai kocistij|m te ja· huloeid³r wala· 5mhem ja· 5mhem paqajah_sar rpû 1je_m\ ja· jatadoukys\lemor… (553c – d)

Humbled by poverty, he turns greedily to making money, and, little by little, saving and working, he amasses property. Don’t you think that this person would establish his appetitive and money-making part on the throne, setting it up as a great king within himself, adorning it with golden tiaras and collars and girding it with Persian swords? He makes the rational and spirited parts sit on the ground beneath appetite, one on either side, reducing them to slaves.

Socrates is careful to preserve his analogy between city and soul.229 However, as his magnifying lens closes in, the different parts of the soul become magnified and simultaneously turn into humans so that they very vividly dramatize the appetite’s overpowering of reason and 228 On 553a 11, see Aesch. Ag. 1006 and Eud. 554 – 565. Note also that the oligarchic man neglects education and chooses instead “the blind” Plutus, the god of wealth, “as the leader or his chorus” (tuvk¹m Bcel|ma toO woqoO 1st^samto, 554b5 – 6). This is a clear reference to Aristophanes’ Plutus. See Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 228). A link can also be drawn here with Plato’s portrayal of Cephalus in Book 1. 328c1 – 4. 229 See Schofield (2006: 253 – 270); see also discussion by Lear (1992: 184 – 215).

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the “chopping up” (katakekermatisthai) of the soul into diverse and multiple pieces that cannot live harmoniously or become integrated in a unified whole (551e; Cp. 395b3 – 4). In the same context of Socrates’ presentation of the oligarchic city which relies on property and wealth, the image of the state as a ship is re-deployed to demonstrate how dangerous and foolish it is to entrust authority to the rich but ignorant (551c1 – 6). In the same breath, Socrates employs his animal imagery once again to discuss the residents of this city: the “drones” (jgv/mer) which lead the oligarchic city to democracy and who now make their first appearance.230 In the oligarchic city the “drones” are those who have lost or sold their property to the rich. As this city is divided into two factions, the poor and the rich, almost everyone, except the rich, says Socrates, is a drone-beggar. Their miserable condition transforms them into evildoers, and it is these people who eventually revolt and transform oligarchy into democracy (552d3 – 4). When turning to the oligarchic man’s psychological condition, we learn more about these drone-like qualities of character (554d6 – 7). In the oligarchic man, evil appetites transform one into a drone. These are checked by the better money-loving part in him although they bring turmoil to the soul, which is, as a result, divided into two: oqj %q’ #m eUg !stas_astor b toioOtor 1m 2aut`, oqd³ eXr !kk± dipkoOr tir, 1pihul_ar d³ 1pihuli_m ¢r t¹ pok» jqato}sar #m 5woi bekt_our weiq|mym. di± taOta dµ oWlai eqswglom]steqor #m pokk_m b toioOtor eUg7 blomogtij/r d³ ja· Bqlosl]mgr t/r xuw/r !kghµr !qetµ p|qqy poi 1jve}coi #m aqt|m.

Then someone like that wouldn’t be entirely free from internal civil war and wouldn’t be one but in some way two, though generally his better desires are in control of his worse. For this reason, he’d be more respectable than many, but the true virtue of a single minded and harmonious soul far escapes him (554d9 – e1).

The drone-like characteristics of the oligarchic man, constrained though they may be by his better appetites (554d10), are only a small step from the polymorphic (poikile˜) democratic polis, in which both psychological 230 See 552c2 – 4: Bo}kei owm, Gm d’ 1c~, v_lem aqt|m, ¢r 1m jgq_\ jgvµm 1cc_cmetai, sl^mour m|sgla, ovty ja· t¹m toioOtom 1m oQj_ô jgv/ma 1cc_cmeshai, m|sgla p|keyr ; (“His house might be compared to one of those cells in the honeycomb where a drone is bred to be the plague of the hive.”) The image is laden with poetic resonance: see Hesiod WD 304 ff.; Ar. Wasps 1114; see also Aristotle, Hist. Anim. ix. 40. See also Cornford (1941: 270).

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appetites and city residents transform into various animals. For his description of the democratic city and the democratic man Plato has reserved his most pictorial, imagistic, and poeticized prose. Ethical disintegration is thus reflected in the gradual and well-designed change of stylistic mode. True to the methodology practised in the Republic, Socrates lifts the veil and presents the true face of this city and of the soul to his interlocutors. In a city of diverse appetites and incongruent needs men are in reality animal-like, as are their ‘invisible’ souls.

4.4 The Language of Democracy and Tyranny 4.4.1 Democracy Plato’s watchwords in the Republic in his description of the essential characteristics of democracy and of democratic man is diversity and diverse (poikilia and poikile˜). As Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 235) rightly observes, the word and its cognates (pepoikilmene˜) should not be understood only in its narrow sense of embroidery, “for poikilein means no ‘more than to diversify with colours’ and implies nothing whatever as to the process”.231 According to Plato’s Socrates, the democratic city is characterized by freedom of speech, license, and equality among all desires, both necessary and unnecessary. In fact, democracy is born of oligarchy and of oligarchic men who have succumbed to their own appetites and have failed to educate their sons correctly or refrain from taking advantage of the poor. According to Socrates, the poor, the drones, initially “settle down in idleness, some of them burdened with debt, some disenfranchised, some both at once”. They are armed and can “sting” (jejemtqyl]moi te ja· 1nypkisl]moi, 555d8). They hate the men who have acquired their property and they long for a revolution.232 Their usurpation 231 See his comments on 557c: “the word [poikilon] is in every MS and thoroughly harmonizes with Plato’s characteristic fullness of style”. See also Adam’s (1963 [1902] vol. 2) note on the use of anthesi in 561e, which should not be understood as “flowers”, but as “dyes” or “colours”. Note also the verbal interplay in anthesi-e˜thesi in Rep. 406b. I will discuss the stylistic and philosophic repercussions of the ‘colourfulness’ of Plato’s poikilia in this chapter below. 232 The tension between the rich and the poor that finally leads to the revolt of the later and the dissolution of the oligarchic city is described in rich pictorial language that invests in the human body in 555d-557a. See esp. 556d2-e1: […]

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of power leads to democracy, and it is under this constitution that one finds people of “all types” (pantodapoi, 557c1 – 2), who have given into various different kinds of appetites. Democracy and democratic man are as “beautiful”, “manifold”, and “colourful” to look at as an embroidered and variegated “coat” (himation):233 jimdume}ei, Gm dû 1c~, jakk_stg avtg t_m pokitei_m eWmai : ¦speq Rl\tiom poij_kom p÷sim %mhesi pepoijikl]mom, ovty ja· avtg p÷sim Ehesim pepoijikl]mg jakk_stg #m va_moito. ja· Usyr l]m, Gm dû 1c~, ja· ta}tgm, ¦speq oR pa?d]r te ja· aR cuma?jer t± poij_ka he~lemoi, jakk_stgm #m pokko· jq_meiam. (557c4 – 9)

Then it looks as though this is the finest or most beautiful of the constitutions, for, like a coat embroidered with every kind of ornament, the city, embroidered with every kind of character type, would seem to be the most beautiful. And many people would probably judge it to be so, as women and children do when they see something multicolored.

In these lines, Socrates draws explicit parallels between characters (e˜thesi) and colours (anthesi) and places emphasis on the striking visual impact of beautiful appearance (kalliste˜). I shall return to this crucial passage in my discussion of Plato’s references to painting in the following section. I now turn to Socrates’ description of democracy, tyranny, and of their people. According to Socrates, the beauty of democracy and of the democratic man lies only in the eyes of the ignorant beholders for, when Plato’s main speaker addresses the essential characteristics of this polity and its corresponding character, this beauty is transformed into ugliness. In the following lines, Socrates examines each typical feature of democracy !kk± pokk\jir Qswm¹r !mµq p]mgr, Bkiyl]mor, paqatawhe·r 1m l\w, pkous_\ 1sjiatqovgj|ti, pokk±r 5womti s\qjar !kkotq_ar, Ud, %shlat|r te ja· !poq_ar lest|m, üq’ oUei aqt¹m oqw Bce?shai jaj_ô t0 svet]qô pkoute?m to»r toio}tour, ja· %kkom %kk\ paqacc]kkeim, ftam Qd_ô nucc_cmymtai, fti “0mdqer Bl]teqoi7 eQs· c±q oqd]m ; […] (“On the contrary, the poor man, lean and sunburnt,

may find himself posted in battle beside one who, thanks to his wealth and indoor life, is panting under his burden of fat and showing every mark of distress. ‘Such men’, he will think, ‘are rich because we are cowards’; and when he and his friends meet in private, the word will go around: ‘These men are no good: they are at our mercy’”. On the poetic resonance of Socrates’ description of the rich, see Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 232). 233 In the following lines, Socrates characterizes democracy a pantoplion (“supermarket”) of constitutions, which contains a sample of every kind. It is an ideal place for one to visit to choose the constitutional model he prefers best. See also 557d4 – 9.

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with a view to reversing the interlocutors’ positive ideas regarding the nature of each of these features. The city is grounded on an ill-conceived freedom of speech and on the lack of true and competent rulers. It distributes equality to “equals” and “unequals” alike. It fails to prosecute condemned criminals. It fails to educate its citizens correctly. According to Socrates, the poikile˜ demokratia fails to distinguish between those who are equal to each other and those who are not: TaOt\ te d^, 5vgm, 5woi #m ja· to}tym %kka !dekv± dglojqat_a, ja· eUg, ¢r 5oijem, Bde?a pokite_a ja· %maqwor ja· poij_kg, Qs|tgt\ tima blo_yr Usoir te ja· !m_soir diam]lousa. (558c3 – 6)

And then these and others like them are the characteristics of democracy. And it would seem to be a pleasant constitution, which lacks rulers but not variety and which distributes a sort of equality to both equals and unequals alike.

In democracy people become themselves representations of bad appetites (e˜the˜ kakias). In his portrayal of the democratic man (560c – 561a), Socrates describes this disastrous reversal of ethical qualities in strong pictorial and poeticized language. The young man of uncultivated oligarchic origins is lured to the “drones’ honey” and gives in to the influence of these dangerous and cunning creatures. Plato’s language here does not distinguish between unnecessary appetites and evil citizens. In most cases, paternal guidance has no influence on the appetitive forces of the youth. As a result, “the drones seize the citadel of the young man’s soul”, since “knowledge”, “right principles” and “true thoughts” are not at their post. The boy turns completely to “the lotus-eaters” and rejects parental guidance, “shutting the gates of the royal fortress upon them”. The drones take over the youth’s soul completely. They call his reverence foolishness, his moderation cowardice. They then “sweep it clean” and “purify” it of all the positive qualities that may have been left and re-install insolence, anarchy, extravagance, and shamelessness, which have been called back from exile, assigning to them fine names. Insolence is called “good breeding”, anarchy “freedom”, extravagance “magnificence”, and shamelessness “courage” (560c – d). The youth’s life from this point onwards becomes fully driven by unnecessary corporeal pleasures which he cannot distinguish from those that belong to fine and good desires: F0 dµ oWlai let± taOta b toioOtor oqd³m l÷kkom eQr !macja_our C lµ !macja_our Bdom±r !mak_sjym ja· wq^lata ja· p|mour ja· diatqib\r7 !kk’ 1±m eqtuwµr × ja· lµ p]qa 1jbawe}hg, !kk\ ti ja· pqesb}teqor cem|lemor toO

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pokkoO hoq}bou paqekh|mtor l]qg te jatad]ngtai t_m 1jpes|mtym ja· to?r 1peisekhoOsi lµ fkom 2aut¹m 1md`… (561a6 – b2)

And I suppose that after that he spends as much money, effort, and time on unnecessary pleasures as on necessary ones. If he’s lucky, and his bacchic frenzy doesn’t go too far, when he grows older, and the great tumult within him has spent itself, he welcomes back some of the exiles, ceases to surrender himself completely to the newcomers… OqjoOm, Gm d’ 1c~, ja· diaf0 t¹ jah’ Bl]qam ovty waqif|lemor t0 pqospipto}s, 1pihul_ô, t|te l³m leh}ym ja· jatauko}lemor, awhir d³ rdqopot_m ja· jatiswmaim|lemor, t|te d’ aw culmaf|lemor, 5stim d’ fte !qc_m ja· p\mtym !lek_m, tot³ d’ ¢r 1m vikosov_ô diatq_bym. (561c6 – d2)

And so he lives on, yielding day by day to the desire at hand. Sometimes he drinks heavily while listening to the flute; at other times, he drinks only water and is on diet; sometimes he goes in for physical training; at other times, he’s idle and neglects everything; and sometimes he even occupies himself with what he takes to be philosophy.

The democratic man is as diverse (poikilos and pantodapos) as the city that nurtures him and as the incongruent and conflicting necessary and unnecessary desires that dwell in his soul: OWlai d] ce, Gm d’ 1c~, ja· pamtodap|m te ja· pke_stym Ah_m lest|m, ja· t¹m jak|m te ja· poij_kom, ¦speq 1je_mgm tµm p|kim, toOtom t¹m %mdqa eWmai. (“And I suppose he’s a complex man, full of all sorts of characters, fine and multicoloured, just like the democratic city…” 561e3 – 5). He gives a striking impression of beauty (kalos) but this, according to Socrates, is only a false appearance, because if one takes a better look at his characteristic qualities, as Socrates has tried to do, then he discovers an unending conflict of desires, inconsistent and mixed lifestyle, and utter confusion of ethical qualities. As a matter of fact, ethical qualities in this constitution and character appear the opposite of what in fact they are, and are assigned names which do not express their true identity. The democratic city and soul, although multi-coloured and variegated, is not at all beautiful or pleasurable when analyzed in its constituent elements. Plato has here Socrates use a highly poeticized and strikingly pictorial type of discourse in order to subvert this false beauty. More specifically, he appropriates the familiar language of drama and adapts it to a new environment in order to untangle the variegated, multi-coloured, and base character of democracy. Socrates’ description shows how in democracy vision and external appearance deceives the intellect because vision has been so deeply entangled in this colourful diversity that it cannot function as a stepping stone to an in-depth understanding of this

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constitution’s true characteristics. Thus intellect is deceived by false polarities (as the good has a small share, if any, in the man’s life-conduct) in the same way that human vision is deceived by mixed and variegated colours. Against this incongruent background, Plato’s linguistic style ventures to untangle this confusing and complicating synthesis by means of colourful and poetically resonant language. Traditional poetic imagery and motifs are amassed to bring to life the true character of democracy in order to reject it. Plato’s use of the word poikilos in this context is not incidental. Nor is his construction of imagery, which rests heavily on corporeality and colourfulness to depict democracy. As I will show in the next section, both his methodology and his diverse linguistic styles can be grasped better if we relate them to his reference to painting, for in his work both e˜the˜ and words can be linked with colours. Plato has constructed a grand verbal picture of reality and of the world at large in this dialogue and he is demonstrating to Socrates’ interlocutors the correct way to view it. However, although a vividly colourful and pictorial type of language is required to expose the true qualities of democracy and democratic man, similar linguistic style is stretched to its limits in order to explain the true nature of tyranny and of the tyrant’s soul. 4.4.2 Tyranny Plato’s catchword for democracy’s indiscrimination between equals and unequal citizens, and necessary and unnecessary desires, was poikilia. In the animal imagery of the Republic, the democratic citizens have developed from oligarchy’s drones (ke˜phe˜nes). It is the ‘drones’ that take control of the polis and the soul’s citadel. When turning, however, to describe the birth of tyranny, Socrates weaves into the same language he employed to talk about democracy thicker clusters of imagery and poetic diction. Tyranny is listed fourth in Socrates’ classification of corrupted constitutions and it is considered the worse and most unhappy type of government. The tyrant of the polis is someone whose soul is ruled by lawless and unnecessary appetites, and, in Platonic language, can only be rendered through the adoption of an eikn. In the polis tyranny stems from democracy and, in order to bridge the political transition, Plato expands further on the characteristics of the democratic city that eventually gives birth to it. The democratic city was founded on freedom, but both the conception and practice

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of this principle gives way to disarray and multifariousness, and soon dictatorship is required as the only means to consolidate the incongruent underlying upheaval and tension. The citizens of the democratic constitution cannot get enough of their ill-conceived freedom and become accustomed to considering moderation as a restraint and form of slavery. To depict this civic state of affairs, Socrates exploits an image that couples bad leadership with citizens’ indulging in the consumption of “unmixed wine”. This metaphor builds a verbal and thematic interplay with Plato’s motif of mixis in the dialogue and in Book 8 in particular. It is the “wine of freedom” that must be drunk mixed and in a manner similar to the proper consumption of Greek wine: ftam oWlai dglojqatoul]mg p|kir 1keuheq_ar dix^sasa jaj_m oQmow|ym pqostato}mtym t}w,, ja· poqqyt]qy toO d]omtor !jq\tou aqt/r lehush0, to»r %qwomtar d^, #m lµ p\mu pqøoi §si ja· pokkµm paq]wysi tµm 1keuheq_am, jok\fei aQtiyl]mg ¢r liaqo}r te ja· akicaqwijo}r.

(562c8 – d4) I suppose that, when a democratic city, athirst for freedom, happens to get bad cupbearers for its leaders, so that it gets drunk by drinking more than it should of the unmixed wine of freedom, then, unless the rulers are very pliable and provide plenty of that freedom, they are punished by the city and accused of being oligarchs.

This loss of perspective in moderation and proportion will generate a series of further abnormalities in the organization of the democratic polis and of the oikos. Several reversals take place: fathers accustom themselves to behave like children; sons behave like fathers; foreign visitors and alien citizens are made equal to proper citizens; teachers are afraid of their students; the students become disrespectful of teachers; the young imitate (apeikazontai) and compete with the elders in word and deed; the old imitate the young and their manners (mimoumenoi) so as not to appear (doksin) disagreeable and despotic (562e6 – 563b2).234 Socrates’ description of ethical abnormality and reversal culminates in 563c1 – d1 in his verbal ‘transformation’ of the citizens of this city-state into animals. The relevant lines are introduced with an Aeschylean line (563c1 – 2) and, when integrated in the broader contextual environment, they are intended to reveal much more than merely achieve a rhetorical impact by way of a poetical metaphor. Socrates’ linguistic style is arranged in a crescendo manner that climaxes only when it has achieved a faithful depiction of these people’s true nature: the multi234 References to Aristophanes’ Clouds underlie Plato’s text here.

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fariousness (polueidia) and imbalance of the democratic state is depicted in the people’s transformation into animals; the proverb then has serious bearing (563c3 – d1): ja· 5cyce ovty k]cy7 t¹ l³m c±q t_m hgq_ym t_m rp¹ to?r !mhq~poir fs\ 1keuheq~teq\ 1stim 1mtaOha C 1m %kk,, oqj %m tir pe_hoito %peiqor. !tewm_r c±q aV te j}mer jat± tµm paqoil_am oXa_peq aR d]spoimai c_cmomta_ te dµ ja· Vppoi ja· emoi, p\mu 1keuh]qyr ja· selm_r eQhisl]moi poqe}eshai, jat± t±r bdo»r 1lb\kkomter t` !e· !pamt_mti, 1±m lµ 1n_stgtai, ja· tükka p\mta ovty lest± 1keuheq_ar c_cmetai. (563c3 – d1)

I put it this way: No one who hasn’t experienced it would believe how much freer domestic animals are in a democratic city than anywhere else. As the proverb says, dogs become like their mistresses; horses and donkeys are accustomed to roam freely and proudly along the streets, bumping into anyone who doesn’t get out of their way; and all the rest are equally full of freedom.

It is citizens of this sort, who cannot get enough of freedom and detest slavery, that welcome the tyrant as a warranty of utmost liberty. Nevertheless, what they eventually get is quite different from what they initially sought, since the desire for freedom gives birth to its polar opposite, dictatorship.235 Socrates’ description of the tyrant in Book 8 is built on animal imagery and contrasts strikingly with the Republic’s earlier images in Book 5. Thus the tyrant’s characteristics and ruling conduct are depicted as the extreme opposite of the Republic’s pedigree dogs, which produced the city’s guardians, the well-attuned and homogeneous pack (agele˜) which rules and protects the citizens. Plato’s strong imagery in Books 8 and 9 is intended to subvert the interlocutors’ perception of democracy and tyranny which are perceived as opposite constitutions but, from a Platonic perspective, when meticulously examined are found to be closely associated (572c – 573a). Socrates’ strong imagery then re-ad235 See Rep. 564a-565c, where Socrates explains how the tensions between the divided citizens of the democratic polis lead to the emergence of the tyrant. The passage makes again the most of animal vocabulary (the “stinged and stingless drones” resurface) and also draws on people’s desire for food consumption, but soon the “honey” they want to get hold of (ke˜phe˜si meli and ke˜phe˜nn botane˜, 564e9 – 10 and e13), turns into their own “flesh and blood” in the tyrant’s “impious tongue and lips” (565e5 – 566a4). As Lear (1992: 210 – 211) rightly observes, pleonactic civic behaviour in Books 8 and 9 is linked with the poets’ common representations of the gods which have been presented and criticized in Books 2 and Book 3. He rightly points out that “it is precisely by those acts that the tyrant is born”. On the image of the tyrant as a wolf in Greek political vocabulary, see Kunstler (1991: 189 – 205).

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dresses well-established polarities on multiple levels with a view to bridging the distance that divides external appearance and seeming (doxa) from true nature (571b3 – c1; Cp. 573c7 – 9). This distance, as Socrates suggested in his introduction of the soulcity analogy in Book 2, can deceive both human sight and the intellect, since both must cooperate to attain true knowledge. Socrates’ interlocutors had been ‘viewing’ their world and their own (ethical) place in it from afar, and in his Republic Plato has undertaken to redirect the “eye of their soul” so that it adopts a correct perspective. This primarily means that the sense-perceptible must be put into the service of true Reality and the Good. If one adopts this viewpoint, then our unnecessary appetites break human nature down into multiple pieces and transform us into animals. In the case of the tyrant, whom Thrasymachus had so much praised in Book 1, things are even worse (573a4 – b4; 574d1 – 575a7 and 575b6 – 9; 579d10). In Socratic terms, he is a “wolf” who cannot get enough of the flesh and blood of his people.236 In his case, as Socrates reveals in the famous image of the tyrant’s soul in Book 9, reality is utterly reversed since the tyrant’s human body is only a façade and flesh is put on to dress the beast-like and incongruent character of his soul.237 The relevant passage appears in Book 9, in the context of Socrates’ discussion with Glaucon about the pleasure (he˜done˜) and true happiness (eudiamonia) of the just. Glaucon replaces Adeimantus and this change of interlocutor again signals a change in the topic discussed and in the linguistic style employed.238 In 588b, Socrates re-introduces Thrasymachus’ initial thesis in the discussion, namely that injustice profits a completely unjust and powerful person. In this context, Glaucon and Socrates create a verbal image of the tyrant’s soul:

236 See Socrates’ imagery in 565e-566a. Note that Plato’s language here does not make use of any comparative linguistic markers such as hs or hsper. In linguistic terms, the transformation into a wolf is not a comparison but a smooth, almost natural, development. 237 This is Socrates’ long overdue answer to Adeimantus’ remark in 365c. See also his reference to Euripides and to tragedy in general in 568a – b. 238 Socrates employs difficult mathematics in order to calculate the philosopher and tyrant’s happiness and unhappiness. The mathematics is difficult to follow and, in line with the view I have taken in this study, it is far from incidental that Plato has Glaucon as Socrates’ respondent at this stage in the dialogue. On this complex passage, see the detailed discussion in Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2).

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MOm d^, 5vgm, aqt` diakec~leha, 1peidµ diylokocgs\leha t| te !dije?m ja· t¹ d_jaia pq\tteim Dm 2j\teqom 5wei d}malim. P_r ; 5vg. EQj|ma pk\samter t/r xuw/r k|c\, Vma eQd0 b 1je?ma k]cym oXa 5kecem. Po_am tim\; G d’ fr. T_m toio}tym tim\, Gm d’ 1c~, oXai luhokocoOmtai pakaia· cem]shai v}seir, F te Wila_qar ja· B Sj}kkgr ja· Jeqb]qou, ja· %kkai tim³r suwma· k]comtai sulpevuju?ai Qd]ai pokka· eQr 4m cem]shai. K]comtai c\q, 5vg. Pk\tte to_mum l_am Qd]am hgq_ou poij_kou ja· pokujev\kou, Bl]qym d³ hgq_ym 5womtor jevak±r j}jk\ ja· !cq_ym, ja· dumatoO letab\kkeim ja· v}eim 1n aqtoO p\mta taOta. DeimoO pk\stou, 5vg, t¹ 5qcom7 flyr d] , 1peidµ eqpkast|teqom jgqoO ja? t_m toio}tym b k|cor, pepk\shy. L_am dµ to_mum %kkgm Qd]am k]omtor, l_am d³ !mhq~pou7 pok» l]cistom 5sty t¹ pq_tom ja· de}teqom t¹ de}teqom. TaOta, 5vg, Nõy, ja· p]pkastai. S}mapte to_mum aqt± eQr 4m tq_a emta, ¦ste p, sulpevuj]mai !kk^koir. Sum/ptai, 5vg. Peq_pkasom dµ aqto?r 5nyhem 2m¹r eQj|ma, tµm toO !mhq~pou, ¦ste t` lµ dumal]m\ t± 1mt¹r bq÷m, !kk± t¹ 5ny l|mom 5kutqom bq_mti, 4m f`om va_meshai, %mhqypom. (588b6 – e2)

Now let’s discuss this with him, since we’ve agreed on the respective powers that injustice and justice have. How? By fashioning an image of the soul in words, so that the person who says this sort of thing will know what he is saying. What sort of image? One like those creatures that legends tell us used to come into being in ancient times, such the Chimera, Scylla, Cerberus, or any of the multitude of others in which many different kinds of things are said to have grown together naturally into one. Yes, the legends do tell us of such things. Well, then, fashion a single kind of multicoloured beast with a ring of many heads that it can grow and change at will – some from gentle, some from savage animals. That’s work for a clever artist. However, since words are more malleable than wax and the like, consider it done. Then fashion one other kind, that of a lion, and another of a human being. But make the first much the largest and the other second to it in size. That’s easier – the sculpting is done. Now join the three of them into one, so that that they somehow grow together naturally. They’re joined. Then, fashion around them the image of one of them, that of a human being so that anyone who sees only the outer covering and not what’s inside will think it is a single creature, a human being. It’s done.

In these lines Socrates returns to the idea of the soul’s unity and internal harmony. The imagery he fashions here, however, to speak about the tyrant’s soul rests on combining well-established poetic and mythical material with terminology that Socrates used in Book 5 to refer to

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the Forms. Yet, the “forms” (ideai) that Socrates employs in his speech now carry a totally different meaning, since they have become representations of multiplicity and diversity ( Jowett II [1894: 301 – 305]). These “forms” are now dissociated from the conflictual and unstable world of Becoming and they are deployed to dramatize and enact in speech the tyrant’s disintegration into a wild and incongruent beast. In effect, Plato has Socrates argue here that in reality the tyrant deceives people’s eyesight by passing for human, when in fact whatever he has internally has a small share in human nature.239 Socrates concludes the image by insinuating that human vision cannot penetrate the tyrant’s external cover, the “human flesh-coat”, and takes a good look at the intrinsic characteristics (¦ste t` lµ dumal]m\ t± 1mt¹r bq÷m, !kk± t¹ 5ny l|mom 5kutqom bq_mti, 4m f`om va_meshai, %mhqypom). However, there is much more to this observation than people’s mere inability to ‘view’ the ‘internal’ (see also 577b1: l\kista culm¹r [b t}qammor] #m avhe_g t/r tqacij/r sjeu/r [“when he is stripped of his theatrical façade.”]). Prima facie, one could argue there is nothing surprising in Socrates’ highlighting the difficulties that result from our inability to assess ethical qualities as these require much more than mere reliance on sense-perception. Yet, people do lay bare their inner selves through their actions and choices in life. (Both Thrasymachus and Glaucon’s argumentation about justice and injustice in Books 1 and 2 confirm this point.) Thus Plato’s Socrates makes the point here that people have serious problems in judging and deciphering (krisis: 360e1 and 361d4 – 6) as well as making correct inferences about one’s ethical behavior. His imagery of the tyrant demonstrates how our criteria for defining the essentials of human nature and its potential and dynamics should be reassessed on the basis of the ontological and ethical characteristics of the Platonic Forms. These characteristics are unity, homogeneity, and stability, which in our earthly world become harmony and concordance (harmonia/symphnia). The discussion in Book 1 on justice and injustice demonstrated that the majority lacks the criteria to assess these ethical concepts. In the course of the dialogue, Socrates addressed this vexed problem of understanding human nature and its relation to Platonic Reality. As I have argued in this study, Platonic philosophy aims to educate people about the transcendent and immutable Forms, but this is not a 239 For an insightful discussion of the political and psychological aspects of the economic class, see Schofield (2006: 270 – 275).

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process separate from understanding our own qualities and capabilities, or what is truly essential to human nature. Socrates’ eikn of the tyrant’s polymorphic, appetitive part addresses this problem. To be truly human is not to ‘look’ human, but rather to bear the characteristics integral to human nature. In the image of the tyrant, Plato has exploited stock poetic resources to reveal the incongruence of the beast that consumes the tyrant little by little from within.240 Only a small part of human nature is left in this ‘cave-like’ soul (Cp. 579b3 – c2). This “little human” strives to be set free, but is constantly weakened by the other “beasts” and thus remains powerless and entangled (Cp. 579b6 – 7). In this image we even leave behind Plato’s familiar polarities, for according to Socrates there is too little good in the tyrant’s soul when compared to the bad (e˜the˜ kakias). Plato’s eikn of the tyrant’s soul is rhetorically powerful indeed. Yet, against the Republic’s broader linguistic background, this type of language is the most appropriate stylistic mode to communicate to the unbelievers and the sight-lovers of the Republic the true nature of baseness and injustice. These people take great pleasure in sights of any sort and Plato here adapts diction and motifs that they have long enjoyed and thus can readily grasp. From this Platonic perspective, Socrates’ language best fits the topic at hand. Diversity (poikilia) has its own vivid and multifarious pictorial discourse that best brings out the characteristics of injustice (polueidia). The force of the eikn of the soul of the tyrant rests on Plato’s exploitation of the pictorial effect of the art of sculpture. Plato employs for the first time in his text the term “statue” (andrias) in Book 2 (361d4 – 5). Here, Glaucon challenged Socrates to distinguish the just from the unjust in his defense of justice and also proposed how this should happen (360e1 – 361d3). At the end of his long speech Socrates employs the term andrias and links it with the correct judgment of people’s ethical behavior: ¢r 1qqyl]myr 2j\teqom ¦speq !mdqi\mta eQr tµm jq_sim 1jjaha_qeir to?m !mdqo?m (“… how vigorously you’ve scoured each of the men for our competition, just as you would a pair of statues for an art competition” 361d4 – 6). In Book 9 Plato returns to Glaucon’s challenge and has Socrates fashion a statue, as it were, in his speech of injustice, with a view to showing that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to assessing people’s power, pleasure, and ethical behaviour. To provide a clear 240 The reference to Hesiod’s Typhon is most obvious here. See the Introduction above with n. 16.

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view of injustice, however, Plato must penetrate the external appearance of the idiosyncratic ‘statue’ which has levels of depth. Earlier in Book 9 Socrates had drawn Glaucon’s attention to the importance of this approach to the unjust man: ja· lµ 1jpkgtt~leha pq¹r t¹m t}qammom 6ma emta bk]pomter, lgd’eU timer ak_coi peq· 1je?mom, !kk’ ¢r wqµ fkgm tµm p|kim eQsekh|mtar he\sashai, jatad}mter eQr ûpasam ja· Qd|mter, ovty d|nam !povaim~leha. (576d8 – e2)

And let’s not be dazzled by looking at one man – a tyrant – or at the few who surround him, but since it is essential to go into the city and study the whole of it, let’s not give our opinion, till we’ve gone down and looked into every corner. /q’ owm, Gm d’ 1c~, ja· peq· t_m !mdq_m t± aqt± taOta pqojako}lemor aqh_r #m pqojako_lgm, !ni_m jq_meim peq· aqt_m 1je?mom, dr d}matai t0 diamo_ô eQr !mdq¹r Ghor 1md»r diide?m ja· lµ jah\peq pa?r 5nyhem bq_m 1jpk^ttetai rp¹ t/r t_m tuqammij_m pqost\seyr Dm pq¹r to»r 5ny swglat_fomtai, !kk’ Rjam_r dioqø; (576e6 – 577a5)

Would I be right, then, to make the same challenge about the individuals, assuming, first, that the person who is fit to judge them is someone who in thought can go down into a person’s character and examine it thoroughly, someone who doesn’t judge from outside, the way a child does, who is dazzled by the façade that tyrants adopt for the outside world to see, but is able to see right through that sort of thing?

For this reason in his verbal image of Book 9, he links the ‘statue of injustice’ with the pictorial forcefulness of diversity (poikilia) and constructs his verbal image out of manifestly poetic language. The ‘statue’ of the unjust soul that Socrates has fashioned in speech to compete with the just man is at the same time the representation par excellence of ugliness and unhappiness (576d2 – e2). The “simple” and “the homogeneous” (akraton and haploun) human e˜thos in the Republic, on the other hand, cannot be rendered in this type of imagistic or poetic language. And if we venture to portray its ontological status – as was the case with the Form of the Good in Book 6 – its colouring would have to be completely unified, with no levels of depth and no colour alternations, just pure and unmixed white of the Sun. Yet, we should not lose sight of the fact that the image of the tyrant’s soul comes immediately after Socrates’ difficult discussion with Glaucon on pleasure. In the concluding part of this section I turn to the linguistic style of this exchange. Socrates’ change of styles in this context of Book 9 is striking and similar to the one we examined in

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the concluding lines of Book 5 in Chapter Two above. As I will show, so are the reasons that necessitate this technique. Plato replaces Adeimantus with Glaucon in Book 9 (576b10), and it is with Glaucon not Adeimantus that Socrates discusses the complex concept of pleasure and builds the verbal image of the tyrant’s beastlike soul. Glaucon re-emerges in the discussion of Book 9 as a judge (krite˜s, 576d7) who announces (krineis) that the ideal city of Book 5 and the soul of Book 4 is the “best” and “happiest” possible (ariste˜ and eudaimonestera), contrary to tyranny and the tyrant’s soul which are the “worst” and “unhappiest” (kakiste˜ and athlitera): )kk± Nôd_a B jq_sir. jah\peq c±q eQs/khom 5cyce ¦speq woqo»r jq_my !qet0 ja· jaj_ô ja· eqdailom_ô ja· t` 1mamt_\ (“That’s easy. I rank them in virtue and vice, in happiness and its opposite, in the order of their appearance, as I might judge choruses,” 580b5 – 7; cf. 577a1, 577b7, 578b2 and 580a – b). In other words, Glaucon has remained a Socratic ally throughout the conversation which Socrates held with Adeimantus in Book 8 and the first half of Book 9. His resurfacing in the discussion, however, signals a change both as regards the topic and the linguistic style used to approach this particular topic, namely true and pure pleasure (kathara he˜done˜). Plato dismisses Adeimantus and brings back Glaucon as Socrates’ cospeaker for two main reasons (576b10). Firstly, Glaucon immediately passes the verdict (krisis, 579b8 – c4) that the just life is the happiest. Secondly, the discussion on justice has so far shown that he alone can support Socrates’ argumentation about the “pure” (kathare˜) pleasure of the philosopher in ways that the other interlocutors cannot. The discussion on the pleasure comes right before Plato’s construction of the beast-like image of the tyrant’s soul. The two passages are connected as Plato’s Socrates fashions this verbal ‘statue’ in order to depict the colourfulness and diversity of the tyrant’s appetitive part, which in pictorial terms is identified with a wild and multiheaded beast. The stretch of the argumentation of the three types of pleasure shares common linguistic characteristics with the concluding part of Book 5 where Socrates drew several distinctions: firstly, between true philosophers and sight-lovers; secondly, between Knowledge and Belief; finally, between the Forms and the many particulars. As regards the concept of psychic pleasure, Socrates distinguishes three kinds of it on the basis of his tripartite division of the human soul (580d3 – 5). These three types of souls are: the appetitive (1pihulgtij|m .. di± tµm pokueid_am.. ja· vikowq^latom, 580d10 – e5), the spirit-

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ed (huloeid]r, vik|mijom aqt¹ ja· vik|tilom, 581a9 – b3), and the rational ([kocistij|m] vikolah³r dµ ja· vik|sovom). Each type of soul is assigned its own kind of pleasure, yet in the ensuing discussion Socrates shows to Glaucon that true and pure pleasure (panale˜the˜s and kathara he˜done˜) can be enjoyed only by the philosopher (ho phronimos), as only he has a rational soul (583b – c). In addition, Socrates shows that only the phronimos can judge the best type of pleasure for he possesses the means (organon) and the experience (empeiria) of all three types of pleasure (582a5 – 6 and d1 – 14). There are three main points to which I wish to draw attention as regards Plato’s discussion of true pleasure here. Firstly, in the relevant lines (582a – 585e4), Socrates changes his linguistic style and removes from his speech motifs and diction that relate to poetry. In this stretch of argumentation, he employs instead terms such as logoi (582d11, 582d13), organon (582d13), kine˜sis (583e10), and he˜suchia (583e2) to examine true pleasure. Secondly, in the same environment, Plato has Socrates also sporadically deploy what I have defined as a ‘colourless’ type of language. This linguistic style consists mainly of pronouns, adjectives, and abstract nouns and, according to Adam (1963 [1902] vol. 2: 354), these sentences (585c1 – 5) are “among the most perplexing in the whole of the Republic, or indeed in the whole of Plato’s writings”. It is remarkable, nonetheless, that Glaucon, who in Book 5 we should note had difficulties following a similar stylistic mode, can now competently grasp Socrates’ linguistic style. Thirdly, in his attempt to define true and pure pleasure, Socrates employs the analogy with painting and, in specific terms, the elusive technique of skiagraphia, in order to explain the way in which “pure” pleasure differs from the “mixed” pleasure that the majority of people enjoy. I believe that in order to understand Plato’s stylistic alternation and its philosophical effect on the Socratic audience we need to pay close attention to the painting analogy. I argue that Plato’s use of skiagraphia (shadow-painting) in this context is a well adapted technique whose aim is not only to address the difficult issue of mixed pleasure as commonly understood (and experienced) by the philosophically unsophisticated people, but also to draw attention to the vexed issue of how philosophical language should be employed as regards the pleasure of the senses. Plato brings together shadow-painting and mixed pleasure in the following manner:

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%hqei fti oqd³ pamakgh^r 1stim B t_m %kkym Bdomµ pkµm t/r toO vqom_lou oqd³ jahaq\, !kk’ 1sjiacqavgl]mg tir, ¢r 1c½ doj_ loi t_m sov_m timor !jgjo]mai. (583b3 – 6)

Observe then that, apart from those of a knowledgeable person, the other pleasures are neither entirely true nor pure but are like a shadow-painting, as I have heard some wise person say.

And a little later he adds: /q’owm oqj !m\cjg ja· Bdoma?r sume?mai leleicl]mair k}pair, eQd~koir t/r !kghoOr Bdom/r ja· 1sjiacqavgl]mair, rp¹ t/r paq’!kk^kar h]seyr !powqaimol]mair, ¦ste svodqo»r 2jat]qar va_meshai, ja· 5qytar 2aut_m kutt_mtar to?r %vqosim 1mt_jteim ja· peqil\wgtour eWmai, ¦speq t¹ t/r :k]mgr eUdykom rp¹ t_m 1m Tqo_ô Stgs_woq|r vgsi cem]shai peqil\wgtom !cmo_ô toO !kghoOr ; (586b7 – c5)

Then isn’t it necessary for these people to live with pleasures that are mixed with pains, mere images and shadow-paintings of true pleasures? And doesn’t the juxtaposition of these pleasures and pains make them appear intense, so that they give rise to mad erotic passions in the foolish, and are fought over in just the way that Stesichorus tells us the phantom of Helen was fought over at Troy by men ignorant of the truth?

In the Republic the term skiagraphia occurs five times. It is initially introduced by Adeimantus in his speech to Socrates in Book 2 (365c4) discussed above, and it reappears much later: once in Book 7 (523b), twice in Book 9 (583b and 586b – c) and, finally, once in Book 10 (602d).241

241 Demand (1975: 11 – 17) also notes the term’s absence in the dialogue’s central Books: she links the word’s sporadic distribution with the chronological dating of Plato’s composition of the Republic and considers the possibility tempting “to see these passages which demonstrate awareness of the dangers of skiagraphic painting as being later than the passages which do not demonstrate such awareness” (11). She thus argues for “a major split” in Plato’s view of painting in the dialogues, which is also manifested in the way that “pre-skiagraphic” passages on painting differ from “the skiagraphic” passages. Thus Plato seems to hold two distinct positions in relation to painting: he favours “good painting” which aims at a realistic presentation of its subject, in colour, shape and arrangement of part, and dismisses skiagraphia whose optical illusion promotes deception. This is not a line of interpretation I follow as regards the use of skiagraphia in the Republic. Plato makes Adeimantus initially employ the term in Book 2 and re-launches it later in the text to refer to people’s ethically and epistemologically confused and reduced lifestyles. The subjects treated in the middle Books of the dialogue could not allow references to this illusionary and deceitful technique.

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The same term surfaces five more times in later dialogues.242 A close reading of these ten occurrences demonstrates that Plato has found in this pictorial technique a technical vocabulary that best addresses the challenge of correctly untangling mixed pairs of opposites. In the two passages cited above, shadow painting is used to explain how people lack knowledge of “true pleasure” (kathara he˜done˜), which is unregulated and free from conflicting sentiments, and experience only “mixed pleasure”, which is always reliant upon the continuous rapid change of feelings of pleasure and pain. In the above passages Plato, then, depends on the mixis integral to this pictorial technique in order to explain that in our earthly world conflict and antithesis can be deceptively interwoven in an integrated and meaningful whole. If we choose to follow the analogy of skiagraphia in its details, Plato is mounting here an attack against the visual illusion of this technique, since it requires distant viewing to make sense to the viewers. When seen in relation to the mixed kind of pleasure, this ‘illusion’ amounts to sheer ignorance. For Plato’s Socrates, the majority view their psychic pleasure from afar; they do not enjoy “pure” and “un-mixed” pleasure, nor do they enjoy it truly. However, the nuances of lines 586b7 – c5 are far richer than this since Socrates employs pictorial terminology to describe also the manner in which the various pairs of opposites (for example, pleasure and pain) become fully meaningful because of their constant alternation (rp¹ t/r paq’!kk^kar h]seyr !powqaimol]mair). This change of emotions is rapid. In most people, these sentiments are placed side by side, so close to each other in fact that they require each other in order to become meaningful (Bdoma?r sume?mai leleicl]mair k}pair). Plato identifies the eskiagraphemenai pleasures with the “mixed” pleasures (memeigmenais) and, what is most important, associates both with the effect of poetry (see Stesichorous and Helen).243 At the same time, in 586a – b Plato has Socrates state in heavily pictorial language, which rests on traditional poetic images and myths, that most people spend their entire lives in this way, namely experiencing ‘mixtures’ of sentiments.

242 Phd. 69b is an exception. See also Prm. 165c – d, Tht. 208e, Laws 663b – c, Crit. 107c – d. 243 The same line of thought is also followed in Book 10 where Socrates again links the illusionary character of skiagraphia with poetry.

5. Conclusion ‘Viewing’ the skiagraphia I dealt above with the reasons that lie behind Plato’s choice of skiagraphia as an analogy for mixed pleasure. However, I also proposed above that we can use this analogy in order to understand the philosophical importance of Plato’s employment of an imageless type of language in the dialogue. I will now turn to this suggestion. In my view, the diversity of Plato’s stylistic modes and the poetics of his philosophical language in the dialogue are integrated into a unified whole. This becomes evident if we also pursue the philosopher’s various references to painting in this work. Several studies have drawn attention to Plato’s recurrent references to painting and to his exploitation of the quasi-technical language of images in the dialogues. As has been rightly stressed in the literature, Plato’ stance towards painting and painters is far from uniform or consistent. Plato often refers to painting in a derogatory manner, condemning its imitative character. On these occasions, painting becomes an analogy for the poets and sophists’ deception of their audience. Thus in the same breath, painting, poetic, and sophistic speech are all dismissed as misrepresentations of reality. Yet, there are times when painting and painters are also employed as an analogy for the philosopher’s task. Plato appears to have found in painting and in its techniques, with which he appears to be familiar, an analogy for the various perspectives one may hold on the earthly world and on Reality. I shall not venture here a wholesale evaluation of Plato’s references to painting nor will I discuss its imitative character.244 What will primarily interest me here is to unearth the rich potential that may lie in Plato’s references to the technique of skiagraphia in the Republic and investigate their possible relation to the diversity of the dialogue’s linguistic styles and discursive modes.245 244 On this, see Halliwell’s insightful interpretation (2002: 1 – 33, 37 – 71 and 118 – 47). In addition, see Morgan (1990: 121 – 145). 245 See Keuls (1974:126). In her discussion of Plato’s references to painting in his writings, Eva Keuls draws particular attention to the dialogues’ various references to the technique of skiagraphia. Keuls expands on the distinctive character-

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I believe that Plato’s versatile imagistic treatment of the notion of mixture of polar opposites is better understood if we view the Republic as a grand verbal picture whereupon Socrates mixes and analyses his own verbal colours to rectify and represent correctly those themes and motifs that the interlocutors so far had been viewing erroneously because they were looking at skiagraphic poetic images from afar (601a – b). To argue that the Republic may be seen in terms of verbal images is in accord with what Plato’s Socrates says in the Timaeus 19b – c when he refers to his previous conversation about the just city. However, to argue that Plato exploits the visual technique of skiagraphia in order to shape his philosophical language and his method of educating Socrates’ interlocutors is to bring together into a unified whole the dialogue’s interaction of the stylistic modes I outlined in Section One of this work. I refer of course to the Platonic eikones, the vividly pictorial and poeticized language, and those few linguistic moments in the text in which Plato’s style is built out of pronouns and other terminology. In this study I have used the terms colourless and imageless to refer to this linguistic style. In his treatment of painting references in Plato, Stephen Halliwell has rightly argued against the common-held belief that the philosopher’s approach to visual arts and painting in particular, is unitary throughout the dialogues and pejorative in character. Halliwell rightly (2002: 120 – 124) argues “that Plato’s attitude to the visual arts is more exploratory and fluid than is usually realized”, and he emphasizes the philosophical value that lies in Plato’s use of painting analogies to broach the idea that “philosophers are painters in another medium, in the sense that they endeavour to give vivid realization or embodiment to ideals conceived in and held before their minds”.246 But the point istics of skiagraphia, but she refrains from establishing any conclusions that may throw light on the philosophical reasons that may lie behind Plato’s references to this pictorial technique and to his use of language of images and quasi-technical details in his Republic. In relation to skiagraphia in particular, Keuls argues that the philosopher “is playing a word game”, whereby he “uses a word in an idiomatic or technical meaning but plays on its literal or etymological sense”. Skiagraphia, then, whose literal meaning is “shadow-painting”, becomes Plato’s watchword for the rejected world of appearances and deception. 246 Plato’s abundant references to painting in his dialogues corroborate the point that the fifth century Greeks were interested in interpreting the products of the visual arts. See Xenophon’s Mem. 3.10.1 – 8. See also the Ion 532e – 533b.

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should be made that in painting Plato has found rich metaphorical potential to bring home the idea that philosophical language too is arranged to realize and communicate ideals. However, contrary to poetic language and techniques, it does so in a correct manner, for the philosopher, unlike the poet, is knowledgeable.247 Plato’s various references to painting then cannot be fully integrated into a unified doctrine because the dynamics that the philosopher has found in painting and visual art are too rich and versatile to be thus narrowed.248 Yet, as we have seen, there is one visual technique in particular of which Plato does not think highly – that of “shadow-painting” (skiagraphia), but little consensus has been reached over the establishment of its distinctive characteristics.249 Evidence for skiagraphia has been scarce, as the technique, which flourished in the fifth century B.C., was eventually abandoned or forgotten.250 As a result, Plato and Aristotle’s few references to skiagraphia are our main 4th century B.C. sources for inferring the characteristics distinctive to this type of painting technique. This is perilous ground on which we tread because, as is so often the case with Plato, the philosopher is much more interested in coupling or mixing current ideas with his own philosophic concerns and adapting them to his own needs than providing a clear, historical account of pictorial modes in current use at the time. Nonetheless, it is Plato’s reception 247 This seems to be the general idea argued in the Laws 2.668e-669b: the judge of the beauty of eikones must know three things: the identity of the depicted object, the correctness (orthote˜s) of its representation, and, lastly, how well (eu) it has been depicted. Halliwell rightly observes that Plato’s posing and combination of all three criteria demonstrate how “mimetic imaging turns from a technical into an ethical activity” (2002: 131). Interpretations that argue for a comprehensive Platonic derogatory view of painting are usually derived from Plato’s association of painting with poetry and primarily rest on his arguments in Book 10 of the Republic that these two arts are merely imitative. See also Halliwell (1988). 248 Plato does not view painting in a uniform or consistent way throughout his writings. Thus he is also hardly consistent in his view of painting and painters in the Republic. But it must be stressed that it is the technique of skiagraphia, in particular, in the Republic, and in the later dialogues, which is viewed in a wholly derogatory manner. See also Demand (1975: 1 – 20). 249 See the detailed discussion in Keuls (1997: 108 – 144); Demand (1975: 1 – 20); and Rouveret (1989: 24 – 26 and 50 – 59). For analyses of Plato’s references to painting in their historical context, see Steven (1933: 149 – 155) and Rouveret (1989: 22) with n. 29. 250 Pliny (N.H.) becomes interested in skiagraphia, yet his definition of it must also be treated with caution. See N.H. 35, 29.

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of skiagraphia that interests me here and I shall venture to follow his lead in his philosophical treatment of this pictorial mode. Plato mentions the word ten times in the entire corpus, five of which occur in the Republic and the rest are sporadically distributed in the other dialogues.251 A close reading of the relevant passages demonstrates that the technique was based on distant viewing and relied on the mixing of colours to depict what we would see from afar as a ‘faithful’ or ‘cohesive’ representation, usually of nature or landscapes. This is made clear in Critias 107c – d and Theaetetus 208e.252 Despite the differences in the ideas argued in these two dialogues, both passages suggest that this particular mode of painting is suitable for distant viewing and that its pictorial coherence breaks down once one attempts to take a closer look at the painting. In my view, in his writings Plato uses the rich dynamics of this particular characteristic of skiagraphia to draw attention to the poets’ deception of their audience. He then fashions certain verbal images to attack this deception.253 Thus the term skiagraphia is employed in the dialogues to show how the cohesiveness of certain ethical concepts treated by poetry resembles the artistic mixture of contrasting colours which, when viewed from afar, give the impression of unity and integration (601a – b, 605a8 – 605b2; Cp. 373a6 – 7, 373b2 – c1). However, this is an illusion only, since if one changes the perspective and chooses to examine the image closely, the incongruence of its mixing elements becomes striking and the artistic integration is lost. And this is the crucial point in Plato’s pejorative references to this technique. Plato exploits it to talk about the dangerous and confusing consequences of bringing together (“mixing”) 251 See Chapter Four above, n. 226. 252 See the Tht. 208e7 – 10: “Now all of a sudden, Theaetetus, I don’t understand anything at all, not even a little, since I’ve got too near to what is being said, just as if it were a shadow-painting (1peidµ 1cc»r ¦speq sjiacqav^lator c]coma toO kecol]mou). For as long as I stood way off from it, it appeared to me that something was being said.” (Trans. Seth Benardete [1984]). In the Critias 107c – d, Plato connects the technique of shadow-painting with the representation of landscapes and stresses its inadequacy for representing human bodies of which people have knowledge and experience. 253 In the Sophist, Plato has connected optical illusion to verbal illusion and investigated how this is also achieved in sophistic speech. The Eleatic Stranger distinguishes between eikastike˜ and phantastike˜ visual art on the basis of the visual illusion they generate on the viewers. See the detailed discussion in Notomi (1999). See also Nightingale, in Annas, J. and Rowe, C. (eds.) (2002b: 227 – 248).

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into what only appears to be a unified and coherent whole of pairs of irreconcilable opposites. It is in this sense that skiagraphia becomes Plato’s watchword for the poets’ deception of the audience. In this technique, which makes the most of mixing colour and perspective to achieve coherence, Plato has found a versatile analogy to speak about the dynamics of poetry to portray ethical reality (365c, 583b and 586c – c). The poetic skiagraphiai are built out of an artistic mixture of verbal ‘colours’ and ethical characters to misrepresent what is most important for humans, namely, ethical qualities embodied in all sorts of different characters and dramatized in their poetic performances. Socrates had previously brought together “colours”, “diversity”, and human “characters” (e˜the˜) in his description of democracy in 557c4 – 9: ¦speq Rl\tiom poij_kom p÷sim %mhesi pepoijikl]mom, ovty ja· avtg p÷sim Ehesim pepoijikl]mg jakk_stg #m va_moito (“like a coat embroidered with every kind of colour, this city, embroidered with every kind of character type, would seem to be the most beautiful”.) As we saw in the previous section, Socrates’ language to describe the characteristics of this state and its citizens was heavily poeticized, forming an amalgamation of poetic quotations, diction, and motifs. In his Republic Plato exploits diverse linguistic styles with a view to distinguishing justice from injustice, and goodness from badness. This is essentially a philosophical attempt to rectify poetry’s misrepresentation of ethical values. In the Republic’s pictorial language, Socrates’ interlocutors (the sight-lovers of Book 5) have spent their lives ‘viewing’ poetic skiagraphiai, with some more than others constantly experiencing the inner psychic conflicts that inappropriate education in Mousike˜ has imprinted on them.254 The Republic mounts multiple attacks on poetry by appropriating some of its techniques and inventing others with a view to untangling the poets’ ethically wrong and confusing mixtures of opposites. Plato cannot undertake the philosopher-king’s task described in the quasi-technical language of painting in 500c – 501b, for he does not have a clear canvas to work on. In our earthly world of conflict and continuous change (Becoming) it is difficult to erase the ‘mixture’ or even the ‘co-existence’ of opposites. It is also difficult to make hu254 Note that in the image of the Cave the terms skies, eidla and reflections appear to describe the reduced epistemological status of the prisoners and the various levels of distortion of the objects-ethical values perceived. In Petraki (2009: 27 – 67), I argued that the distortion of the various forms of reflections involves again the interplay and confusion of pairs of ethical opposites.

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mans possess only good ethical values. Elsewhere Plato argues that this amounts to approaching the divine.255 Nevertheless, he does meet an equally demanding challenge in this dialogue, which is to demonstrate how philosophy is the only way to bridge the distance that separates people from their own psychic harmony (symphnia and harmonia) and from the Platonic Forms. This is a long educational process which according to the philosopher-kings’ education described in Book 7, requires hard practical training and painstaking education in higher subjects. In his dialogue, Plato opts for an alternative, shorter route which requires that ethically wrong ‘mixtures’ are revisited to be analysed in their basic elements. The Republic’s mixis-motif opens up new possibilities, and Plato makes full use of them in his text. He has Socrates condemn and reject the various illusionary poetic skiagraphiai by creating various philosophic verbal images in the dialogue and bringing the interlocutors closer to inspect them. In pictorial terms, Plato’s attack on the poetic skiagraphiai is illustrated most forcefully in his building of the image of the Sun to present the Form of the Good. The Sun’s homogeneity and purity of light will not allow for any form of colour mixture, shading, or optical fusion. What is similar, although not identical in its pictorial effect, is also Socrates’ image of the citizens of the ideal city as being united in one single body in Book 5. According to my discussion in Chapter One, Socrates’ prescriptions as regards the guardians’ life-style and the citizens’ koinnia and philia in Book 5 aimed to fashion a homogeneous society. In visual terms this was rendered in the creation of a simple eikn: an andreikelon. However, at the other end of the spectrum stands Plato’s diverse and strikingly poeticized language describing the constitutions and souls of the unjust. This linguistic style is in full accord with the conflicting and incongruent characteristics that Plato’s Socrates identifies in these constitutions and souls. By using this linguistic style in this thematic environment, Plato also demonstrates how the e˜the˜ of the bad should use their own language – that of colourfulness and diversity (poikilia, 601a – b). Socrates’ interlocutors have been accustomed to thinking of these cities and psychic states as forming a coherent, consistent, and 255 See Rep. 500b – d and 613a – b. See also the Tim. 90 b – d; and Tht. 176a – c. See discussion by Annas (1999: 13 – 14 and 52 – 71). See also Armostrong (2004: 171 – 183); Pradeau (2003: 11 – 24); and Sedley, in Calvo, T. and Brisson, L. (eds.) (1997: 327 – 340).

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well-functioning unifying whole. However, once they view anew Plato’s verbal depiction of these their view is about to change. The poikilia of the unjust is colourful but ugly; the pleasure they enjoy is mixed, torturous, and false, and their actions make them subhuman. I believe that in his Republic Plato has found in the technique of shadow-painting a helpful analogy to draw our attention to the philosophical value of his own images and of his colourless linguistic style. Even the image of the Good as the Sun in Book 6 is rendered in the colourful terms of pure ‘whiteness’. At the same time, Plato has also described the pure quality of true pleasure (kathara he˜done˜) as being represented by the colour “white”: haul\foir #m owm eQ ja· oR %peiqoi !kghe_ar peq· pokk_m te %kkym lµ rcie?r d|nar 5wousim, pq|r te Bdomµm ja· k}pgm ja· t¹ letan» to}tym ovty di\jeimtai, ¦ste, ftam l³m 1p· t¹ kupgq¹m v]qymtai, !kgh/ te oUomtai ja· t` emti kupoOmtai, ftam d³ !p¹ k}pgr 1p· t¹ letan}, sv|dqa l³m oUomtai pq¹r pkgq~sei te ja· Bdom0 c_cmeshai, ¦speq pq¹r l]kam vai¹m !posjopoOmter !peiq_ô keujoO, ja· pq¹r t¹ %kupom ovty k}pgm !voq_mter !peiq_ô Bdom/r !pat_mtai ; (584e7 – 585a5)

Is it any surprise, then, if those inexperienced in the truth have unsound opinions about lots of other things as well, or that they are so disposed to pleasure, pain, and the intermediate state that, when they descend to the painful, they believe truly and are really in pain, but that, when they ascend from the painful to the intermediate state, they firmly believe that they have reached fulfilment and pleasure? They are inexperienced in pleasure and so are deceived when they compare pain to painlessness, just as they would be if they compared black to grey without having experienced white.

On the other hand, Plato allows the interplay of light and darkness as regards the shadows and reflections they generate, thus distorting reality, in his epistemological images of the Line and the Cave. In the Cave, in particular, he has invented insightful imagistic methods to analyse the mixture of these two opposites. However, he does not allow this mixture (or diversity) to penetrate his own language as regards true Being in Book 5. Thus it is not by chance that in the context of his discussion of Being in Book 5, and of pure pleasure in Book 9, he has Socrates employ an imageless type of language. In my view, this is an attempt in the Republic to make his text ‘dramatize’ or ‘reflect’ the immaterial characteristics of the concepts he tries to communicate to the audience. In Book 9, his use of imageless or colourless language demonstrates his effort to transfer some of the characteristics of Being to the way philosophers experience pure pleasure. Thus he deploys a similar, highly elusive and difficult type of language:

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P|teqa owm Bc0 t± c]mg l÷kkom jahaq÷r oqs_ar let]weim, t± oXom s_tou te ja· potoO ja· exou ja· sulp\sgr tqov/r, C t¹ d|ngr te !kghoOr eWdor ja· 1pist^lgr ja· moO ja· sukk^bdgm aw p\sgr !qet/r ; ¨de jq?me7 t¹ toO !e· blo_ou 1w|lemom ja· !ham\tou ja· !kghe_ar, ja· aqt¹ toioOtom cm ja· 1m toio}t\ cicm|lemom, l÷kkom eWmai soi doje?, C t¹ lgd]pote blo_ou ja· hmgtoO, ja· aqt¹ toioOtom ja· 1m toio}t\ cicm|lemom ; Pok}, 5vg, diav]qei t¹ toO !e· blo_ou. (585b12 – c5; Cp. 585d1 – 10)

And which kinds partake more of pure being? Kinds of filling up such as filling up with bread or drink or delicacies or food in general? Or the kind of filling up that is with true belief, knowledge, understanding and, in sum, with all virtue? Judge it this way: That which is related to what is always the same, immortal, and true, is itself of that kind, and comes to be in something of that kind – this is more, don’t you think, than that which is related to what is never the same and mortal, is itself of that kind, and comes to be in something of that kind? That which is related to what is always the same is far more.

Socrates links in difficult language here the concept of human pleasure with true Knowledge and Being. From a pedagogical point of view, what is particularly interesting is Glaucon’s response to this philosophical style. Unlike Book 5, Glaucon can competently follow Socrates’ thought rendered here in an ‘imageless’ type of language. Through Glaucon, then, Plato gives us a glimpse of an alternative type of philosophical dialect. Yet, this is again only a glimpse since in order to address the Republic’s sight-lovers a few moments later, Plato deploys the same narratological technique of Book 5. The image of the tyrant’s appetitive psychic part is explicitly announced in 588b1 – 9 as addressed to those who have argued in Book 1 for the prevalence of injustice over justice. In human terms, injustice was linked with profit, pleasure and happiness. Socrates attacks this ethical stance by subverting in vivid poetic language people’s commonly held ideas about pleasure, and happiness. The image of the tyrant, whose soul eats itself internally, is a representation par excellence of dreadful pain. Thus the language of poetry, which has been customarily associated with the generation of sentiments of pleasure (he˜dusmene˜n mousan, 607a5), is appropriated by Plato so that it now causes pain and terror. Concluding, I should say a few words about Plato’s imageless stylistic mode and its place in the Republic’s text where, as I have shown, images of one kind or another predominate. I believe that Plato’s references to skiagraphia could also help us untangle, as it were, this linguistic tension too. The ‘whiteness’ and ‘clarity’ which I read in these rare linguistic moments do not become meaningful in our text unless they are

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somehow linguistically juxtaposed with, and contrasted to, the imagistic type of language. The Socratic interlocutors in the Republic cannot follow a discussion that rests completely on this type of colourless philosophical discourse. From this point of view, and if we adopt a panoramic view of the Republic’s pictorial effect, Plato has brought Socrates’ interlocutors close to his verbal ‘paintings’ and has tried to analyze the mixed constituents of mundane human nature and transcendent knowledge. Yet, binary oppositions have not been rubbed off his various verbal ‘paintings’ either. ***

In this study I focused on Plato’s creation of verbal eikones in the Republic and argued that Plato exploits them to address epistemological problems in his dialogue in his attempt to draw the interlocutors’ attention to the complex methodological problems that arise from trying to investigate ethics and ontology through the ‘visible’. Plato’s use of philosophical images stems from his reformation of the guardians’ education in Books 2 and 3. In specific terms, the guardians of the theoretical polis cannot be ‘fed’ versatile or incongruent poetic imagery similar to that which has educated Socrates’ interlocutors in Piraeus. The Socratic city would then not differ from contemporary Athens and Plato would seek to found the ideal polis on a completely different basis. Thus I also suggested that Socrates’ discussion of justice and injustice is built on two narratological levels in the text, since, in founding his ideal polis and expanding on the education of its guardians and philosopher-kings, Socrates seeks simultaneously to educate his co-speakers in important ethical and ontological matters. This process is realized in our text through Socrates’ incorporating and adapting to his speech poetic techniques (traditional motifs, imagery, and poetic diction) that configures a type of philosophic dialect with which his interlocutors are most at ease. Nonetheless, Socrates’ philosophic discourse, far from being uniform, exploits manifold stylistic modes in the dialogue and it is these stylistic and linguistic alternations that become the pivot on which his education of the interlocutors hinge. Socrates ventures to investigate the invisible and the ontological by promoting his interlocutors’ re-familiarization with the visible and the sense-perceptible. Thus in approaching the Republic’s various linguistic modes in this work, I refrained from

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drawing strict stylistic divisions between the mythical or imagistic textual environments and the so-called argumentative parts of the dialogue. I argued instead that Plato’s stylistic variety in our text disrupts clear-cut linguistic divisions of that sort, as his adaptation of poetic motifs and diction permeates the dialogue throughout. I proposed instead an alternative reading of the Republic’s discourse according to which Socrates’ choice of philosophical style is dependent on the subject he tackles in the dialogue and on the interlocutor he addresses when examining a subject. Thus my methodology has given rise to a new distinction between a poeticized or highly imagistic type of language that is easily grasped by the members of Socrates’ audience and a novel mode of language, and thus experimental for the members of this particular audience. In this study, I followed a close reading of the dialogue to examine the interaction of these two stylistic modes in places where Socrates promotes complex ontological and epistemological ideas by way of argumentation. In the latter part of Book 5, Plato has Socrates adopt three different linguistic styles to present his epistemological distinction between Being and Becoming to two different types of internal audience, namely, to Glaucon and the sight-lovers. This process aims at educating the interlocutors in the use of philosophical language and reasoning. Yet, alongside the presentation of philosophical terminology, Plato also exploits imagistic and heavily pictorial language in his discussion of human nature in Books 6 and 7. Plato’s imagery in these contexts is laden with important philosophical ramifications, as vividly coloured and pictorial language creates in our text various polarities that contrast the simplicity, unity, and homogeneity of Plato’s true Being with “diversity” and “polymorphy” (poikilia and polueidia). From this interpretative point of view, the stylistic distinction proposed in this work could also be rendered in terms of a highly versatile (poikile˜) language, which is inextricably intertwined with ‘contaminated’ human nature and a purified type of discourse which strives to eschew colourfulness and poikilia when approaching the homogeneity of the Platonic Real or the simplicity of the just soul and city. Nowhere is this stylistic distinction more explicitly dramatized than in Plato’s treatment of the unjust souls and polities in Books 8 and 9. Plato’s discourse in these two Books identifies the multiple forms of injustice with incongruence and variety (poikilia) and exploits vivid imagery, animal language, easily identifiable poetic diction, several poetic extracts, and po-

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etic motifs in order to depict the contaminated unjust souls and their corresponding political systems. The ethical and political ideas of Books 8 and 9 stand in stark contrast to Plato’s description of the just city and the Forms in Book 5. The guardians’ communal life in Book 5 sought to reproduce the homogeneity of the Forms. It is not surprising, then, that these three Books differ in their linguistic styles too, and that in Book 5 poetic quotations almost disappear from Socrates’ language. At the same time, the description of the dynamics of human nature in Book 7 focuses on the elimination of ethical contradiction and conflict. As a result, Book 7 demonstrates how the poets’ parlance, criticized in Books 2 and 3, is the representation par excellence of mixture, polymorphy, and variety which deceive the senses, confuses the soul and moulds (plattein) incongruent and conflicting moral prototypes. As Socrates reveals in Book 7, to the other end of this type of poeticized language stand mathematics, in which the philosopher-kings must be strenuously trained for several years before they take on Dialectic, the subject that will lead them to the Forms. Plato’s practical and intellectual educational curriculum for the philosopher-kings of the ideal state is lengthy and highly demanding. Yet, this is not the type of education performed in the Republic. In this study I argued that in the Republic Plato creates modes of philosophical language with a view to educating Socrates’ interlocutors in matters of philosophical discourse. Under the first category falls language designed to serve argumentation in a ‘poeticized’ mode, the register being ‘concrete’ and heavily imagistic. The second category was defined as a mixed/combined register which interweaves in the same context imagistic language with seeds of an ‘abstract’ type of speech. In the third category language is entirely stripped of poetic motifs and is defined by a higher level of abstraction. This type of language eschews easily drawn associations based on information provided by our senses. In the Republic, this stylistic mode is employed infrequently, since Socrates’ interlocutors cannot keep abreast of it. The contexts in which this style emerges are rare in the text and difficult to grasp. Plato has Socrates experiment with this type of philosophical discourse, thus raising complex questions about whether there exists a philosophical type of language that can be totally stripped of images. Whether, that is, language can be dissociated from our senses in order to approach and express the transcendent Real. In the Republic, Plato, in the same breath, castigates poetic images and creates memorable philosophical imagery of prominent poetic influence. He thus raises a significant linguis-

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tic problem in relation to the use of imagery in philosophical discourse but refrains from solving it. In my view, the problem is raised anew in his Sophist or in the Parmenides. What he does solve, however, is questions about the poets’ ability to portray the Real and mounts his final attack against poetry by appropriating its features. Traditional diction, themes, and motifs which promote polymorphy of all sorts become in Plato’s prose the language of the ignorant and the confused, the base and the unjust.

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Index Aeschylus, 215 n200 – Agamemnon, Eumenides 237 n228 – Seven against Thebes 198 n168 Alcaeus, 215 n200 Anaxagoras, 17 n30 Archilochus, 135 n52, 190 n156 n157, 215 n200, 233 - 235 Aristides Quintilianus, 101, 101 n97 Aristophanes – Assemblywomen 112 n4 – Birds 15 n28, 191 n158 – Clouds 244 n234 – Frogs 198 n168 – Knights 209 n187 – Plutus 237 n228 – Thesmophoriazousai 15 n28 Aristotle, 16 n29, 43, 55, 72, 78, 9496, 95 n85, 101 n96, 257 – Metaphysics, 55 n33, 76 n54, 206 n183 – Physics 17 n30 – Poetics, Rhetoric, 31, 94, 98 n91, 198 n168 – Hist. Anim., 238 n230 – (Pseudo-Aristotle) De Coloribus, 16 n29 Democritus, 68, 87, 88 Dionysius of Halicarnassus, 6 n7 Empedocles, 8 n11, 16 n29 n30, 175 n126, 198 n168, 210 n188 Euripides, 246 n237 Gorgias, 5, 6 n6, 87, 88, 141 n58 – Helen 16 n29, 49, 54 n29, 65-69 – On Not-Being, 5 n3 Heraclitus, 3, 8 n11, 43 n12, 103 n102, 165 n114

Hesiod (and Hesiodic), 11, 42, 231 n223, 232, 233, 233 n225, 234, 249 n240 – Works and Days, 134 n51, 187 n152, 238 n230 Hippias, 233 n225 Homer (and Homeric), 13, 16 n29, 20 n37, 42, 44, 47, 52 n24, 190 n157, 226, 233, 233 n225, 234 – Iliad 5 n4, 47, 63 – Odyssey 5 n4 Hymn, Hymnos, 49 n18, 186, 188 Isocrates, 94, 105 n104 – Evagoras 55-56 Longinus, On the Sublime, 37 n1 Parmenides, 2 n1, 3-4, 8 n11, 16 n30, 26, 58, 62-63, 64 n40, 76, 98 n92, 103 n102, 148 n74, 166, 167 n117, 194 n164, 200 n171, 209 n187 Pindar (and Pindaric), 11 n16, 15 n28, 59 n37, 63, 64 n40, 103 n102, 136 n55, 175 n128, 190 n155 n156, 209 n187, 233-234 Philosophy of language, 31, 94 n78 Platonic dialogues – Charmides, 88 n74 – Cratylus, 16 n29, 18-19 n33, 20 n35, 78 n56, 79, 183 n145 – Critias, 1, 254 n242, 258, 258 n252 – Ion, 52 n24, 256 n246 – Laws, 15 n28, 78, 79 n61, 254 n242, 257 n247 – Parmenides, 25, 26, 32, 98 n92, 254 n242, 266 – Phaedo, 14 n23, 17 n31, 79 n57, 92 n77, 175 n128, 234 n226, 254 n242

292

Index

– Phaedrus, 19 n33, 25 n46, 32 n58, 44, 52-55, 53 n26 n27 n28, 63, 75 n52 – Philebus, 78 – Politicus, 40 n8, 187 n152, 210 n190 – Protagoras, 50, 60 n38 – Seventh Letter (Epistle), 19n33, 25, 24 n46, 32 n58 – Sophist, 19 n33, 25, 26, 29 n52, 32, 32 n57, 79 n59, 258 n253, 266 – Symposium, 38 n2, 91-93, 92 n77, 161, 190 n157, 223 n208 – Theaetetus, 19 n33, 55 n33, 159 n102, 254 n242, 258, 258 n252, 260 n255

– Timaeus, 18 n33, 29 n52, 60 n38, 79 n58, 159 n102, 204 n177, 256, 260 n255 Presocratics, 5, 15, 42 n10, 103 n102, 175 n126 Simonides, 233 Sophocles, 5 n4 – O.T., 198 n168 – Antigone, 215 n200 Theognis, 215 n200 Thucydides, 5 n4 Xenophon – Symposium, 20 n37 – Memorabilia, 256 n246