. Spinning .

So Socrates is dead.  What wisdom I gleaned about man’s immortal soul from this dialogue helps somewhat, in that Socrates’ belief in the life of the soul, the intellect of man as an everlasting existence can be reasoned out to a degree by the examples of opposites opposing their opposites.  It’s much too complicated to go into here, and I understand the basic premise and yes, it can be logically reasoned.  But is it right?

Plato is food for thought.  His words must be digested slowly and stored as energy in the brain, ready when called upon to apply to the questions that don’t ever really leave us but are often set aside to bubble and ferment into a smooth clarity of wine.

There was much in this essay that challenged my own thinking.  Especially at the end where Socrates describes an afterlife he could not possibly know.  Phaedo is, however, something I know I shall pick up again when wondering sets in.  And not just about the essence of a soul, but of the arguments presented that show a logical progression of thinking.

Had to put it down for a bit, but got into Phaedo again and am glad to see that Simmias and Cebes aren’t falling for the total picture of the life of a soul according to Socrates either.

Simmias brings up the example of a harp (material, like the body) and the music or harmony (akin to the soul in immortality) it produces.  If the harp is broken, he claims, then while it continues to exist even in its broken state, the harmony is gone before it. This seems in contradiction to Socrates’ discussion of everlasting life of the soul.

What these questions bring up to me (and Plato’s purpose is to answer the questions by posing them via the characters) is the correlations that are used to "prove" the arguments.  In other words, while the harp like the body is material and mortal (will eventually decay and leave no trace) who says that the body is like the harp in all ways?  Therefore, how is the pre-birth and after-death existence of the soul determined by likening it to something that does not resemble it in all aspects?

Yes, Simmias, Cebes and I are the doubting Thomases of the group.

Well I’m not really finding any solid answers to the question of life, death, body and soul as I’d hope to easily accept in Plato’s Phaedo. 

While it is very clear (as is Plato’s way) in explanation, I think that I still tend to force scientific principles upon philosophy, and therefore approach it with an attitude of disbelief until proven, and the logic that forms Socrates discussion of the "proven" existence of a soul falls a bit short, at least to my mind.

"Very well then," said Socrates, we must ask ourselves what sorts of things properly undergo this; I mean, what sorts of things are dissolved and scattered, for what sorts we must fear such an end, and for what, not?  Next we must consider which sort the soul belongs to.  We shall know then whether to be confident or fearful for our own soul."  (p. 482)

From here Socrates "proves" that that which is unchanging cannot be seen, such as the soul, versus that which changes, such as the body, that can be seen.  Beauty and justice and purity is not seen or felt by the senses, but rather known by the mind, and therefore belongs to the soul.  Then we come to mortal (changing, body) versus the ever existing (unchanging, soul) that cannot be seen. 

It is difficult here to summarize this section but worse, I swear, to type it all out word for word so you may readily disagree with me that this form of logical process of thought to me, doesn’t exactly "prove" anything.  Not that it has to, I understand; but it should form a theory that isn’t based on necessary explicit assumptions along the line of "if all redheads have green eyes, and Jane is a redhead…" 

I truly need to take a course in Philosophy so that this is more immediately open to discussion and therefore, my own sad attempts at understanding and poking holes in Plato’s theories can be honestly and productively argued.  I love studying philosophy, but I need to have some means of clarifying some points as they come up and be convinced of them.  Otherwise, I tend to either reject a concept or not take it seriously enough.  Either way, it does not have the impact of conviction.

There must be, I thought, a reason other than a busy schedule to have laid aside so interesting a theory on life and living, death and dying as presented in logical argument by Socrates in Phaedo.

Socrates attempts to prove the existence of an eternal soul by argument of opposites:  If smaller, than greater must have existed prior, and vice versa.  More just is a product of unjust, as unjust must once have been just.  While the "change" or transition would certainly prove this point, I’m not sure I have not been lulled by Plato’s "therefore’s" to agree to the opposities of life and death.  Certainly death springs from life, but does the theory still hold as undoubtable that life springs from death?

After an intimate revelation of his personal involvement in the novel he offers us, Vonnegut hits his reader hard with a very strange character in Chapter 2:

LISTEN:

Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time. 

Billy has gone to sleep a senile widower and awakened on his wedding day.  (p. 22)

It seems that I have been fairly consistent in my simulaneously reading of Philosophy and Fiction in that the selections assist each other in theme.  Socrates speaks of a linear timeline that traverses several lifetimes.  Vonnegut’s Billy Pilgrim appears to wander in out of sequence segments of a single lifetime. 

This should be a very interesting partnership, this trio: Philosopher and teacher, visionary and writer, and reader and student.

Surrounded by at least fifteen friends, Socrates is in his final hours before he sips his aperitif of hemlock.  He explains the viewpoint of the philosopher, who understands that the soul’s departure from the body is considered then unfettered by misleading information given it empirically which is considered to be inferior to reason.

"By any other sense of those the body has did you ever grasp them?  I mean all such things, greatness, health, strength, in short everything that really is the nature of things whatever they are:  Is it through the body that the real truth is perceived?  Or is this better–whoever of us prepares himself most completely and most exactly to comprehend each thing which he examines would come nearest to knowing each one?

"And would he do that most purely who should approach each with his intelligence alone, not adding in any other sense along with reasoning, but using the intelligence uncontaminated along by itself, while he tries to hunt out each essence uncontaminated, keeping clear of eyes and ears and, one might say, of the whole body, because he thinks the body disturbs him and hinders the soul from getting possession of truth and wisdom when body and soul are companions–is not this the man, Simmias, if anyone, who will hit reality?"  (Phaedo, p. 468)

While I cannot dispute that eyes and ears deceive us, and while I do believe in some sort of existence beyond this earth, I wonder what we are indeed put here on this earth to learn if not of itself and the human form of the nature of man.  Even in the belief, as that of Socrates, in a rebirth upon this earth after an extended period of time, what are we sent to study but man himself again, in but a different time. 

It’s a curious enigma, that while here, we have only available to us what is here and known, though from it we can conceive of more, and yet this is worthless in the grander story of what we may truly be.  And that, of course, is unknown to us here.

Glad I read this short dialogue between Socrates and Criton.  Basically, Socrates is in prison, doomed to die and planning to commit suicide the next day.  His friend begs him to reconsider, pointing out friends and family who care about him, and all those who would gladly "buy" his freedom for him.

Socrates has two great answers: 

First, that purchasing his release would consitute a wrong.  And second, that if he had accepted the laws of the state and in fact lived them and strove for justice by them all his life, he would be doing wrong by then escaping them or refusing to abide by them.

In plain talk:  It’s your country, love it or leave it.

Kind of neat that the words written centuries ago are as relevant today.  Especially since I was reading this and started on Phaedro while waiting for an oil change at Midas this morning.

It seems a plan of sorts, that as I delve into further study and love of philosophical works they appear to be so perfectly attuned to what is happening in my personal life just as I read them.  But of course, philosophy is exactly that; the relationship of thinking to current reality and then beyond.  So not coincidence, nor some spiritual intervention knowing my reading time is limited in coming to this late, nor even fate of any sort that could exist as foreknowledge by the Divine, has much to do with it I suppose.

I am continuing on with Plato after Symposium and Phaedrus mainly because I happened upon  this beaten paperback shoved sideways atop the other crammed in books upon the shelves.  In facing death again of a family member, I seek the words of Socrates in facing his own, and just before I get to Phaedo I decided to read the very short Crito that precedes it.  In just a few pages I find something that relates not to what I seek, but to other pressing matters even more.  Here, Criton visits his good friend Socrates in prison to warn him and attempt to change his mind about committing suicide.  Socrates approaches the question of decisions logically:

Socrates:  Think then:  Don’t you believe it was right enough to say that we must not respect all the opinions of men, but only some?  And not the opinions of all men, but only of some?  What do you say?  Was this not rightly said?

Criton:  Quite rightly. 

(Note:  From here on I will fore-go Criton’s acquiescence, as is normally Plato’s method of teaching through discourse.)

Socrates:  To respect the good opinions and not the bad? 

The good ones are those of the wise, the bad ones those of the foolish?

Very well, how did it go on?  A man practising athletics and making that his business–ought he to pay attention to everyone’s praise and blame and opinion, or only those of one, who happens to be a physician or a trainer?

Then he ought to fear the blame and welcome the praise of that one, and not of the others.

Then he must act and exercise and eat and drink following the opinion of that one, the overseer and expert, rather than all the others put together. (Great Dialogues of Plato, Crito, p. 451)

Socrates goes on to inform that the truth holds forth despite the circumstances, and that to stray or bend to beliefs that are not of expertise or value except in numbers, is to harm justice and right.

Indecision then should look for answers from what is truth and is respected as wisdom.  The opinions of the masses may indeed point out new ideas or ways in which something is perceived, but reason can and should prevail.

Neat, huh?

While I cannot say that I have understood all the lessons put forth on speaking, writing, and love of both man and philosophy in this first complete reading of Phaedrus, I am interested in both the arguments used for the positions and  admiring of the manner in which Plato has managed to combine topics within a single piece that are separate and yet held in unity by these arguments.

The thread that holds them together is, to me, both logical and technical.  The progression of a natural discussion between two friends, Phaedrus and Socrates, allows for the subject to wander into separate but related areas.  The opening discourses about love and the admonishment to look at both sides of lover and beloved, as well as the good and bad elements of each, is a precurser, it would seem, of the logic Socrates uses in his speech on rhetoric versus dialectics.  Knowing truth, knowing audience, knowing the opposites and the similarities of all that is to be presented, is a form of philosophy that follows a logical progression and as well appeals to the reader (or preferably, the listener, as Socrates holds oratory over the written word). 

This also must be pondered: the immediacy of conversation that does allow for argument thus proving or disproving the presentation; the knowledge of the speechmaker of his subject and of the display of that subject so as to appeal to all in a fair and just manner without manipulation by clever prose; and the fault in the writing of perhaps not have the advantage of active editing that discourse allows. 

Phaedrus is something that I do need to reread to glean all the nuances of Socrates’ examples and subtle sarcasm.  It is also something, I believe, that could claim a permanent place on the shelf as a refresher and constant and continual teacher, so I will be ordering a copy of this work for future purpose.

Socrates. "The disgrace begins when a man writes not well, but badly."

Hmmm.  If I take little else from Phaedrus, this statement shall live with me the rest of my days.

Not the best time to hear it, as my own  self doubts are in the high point of their normal cycle.  But words to take to heart and if possible, turn them around to the good.  For as Boethius had said, the misfortune teaches and is therefore of great benefit to the wise man.  I’m also beginning to question my grammatical skills, and as with Faulkner’s great lesson on the tenses and differences of the verbs lay and lie, bad and badly seem to be suddenly mixed up and misused in my mind.  Even after understanding the principle and rules, within a very, very short time, I have forgotten it again. 

Black habits and clunking rosaries echo in memory; haunt me still.

But on to see what Socrates has to say, as he seems to have completed his discourse on the subject of love and moved onto the oratory and written speech patterns of the time.

I must admit that Phaedrus is not easily read.  There are many different concepts going on, and I get the feeling that they are not clearly defining merely love, and at that, not merely love of man (or woman), but instead, a lover of higher things such as knowledge and truth. 

In defining love as a madness, Socrates accepts the arts and philosophy as the beloved of those who seek it, or are driven by it to honor and treat it as a lover would a partner.  The glorifying of it, the intent to know it fully, the falling slave to its call is similar to the relationship of lovers.

Maybe Phaedrus is a bit beyond my realm of understanding, but I am determined to inch my way along the length of speechs and am heading now into the final discourse between Socrates and Phaedrus.  These question and answer dialogues usually reveal a clearing up of some of the long speeches that come before.

It is difficult to get through this without discussion, and I find myself questioning my thoughts as I have only myself with whom to argue.  This, of course, despite the best intentions and efforts at playing Devil’s Advocate taints somehow the argument and thus the meaning when, unconsciously seeking affirmation of opinion, the opposite is merely seeking disapproval.

"And there is a law of Destiny, that the soul which attains any vision of truth in company with a god is preserved from harm until the next period, and if attaining always is always unharmed. But when she is unable to follow, and fails to behold the truth, and through some ill-hap sinks beneath the double load of forgetfulness and vice, and her wings fall from her and she drops to the ground, then the law ordains that this soul shall at her first birth pass, not into any other animal, but only into man; and the soul which has seen most of truth shall come to the birth as a philosopher, or artist, or some musical and loving nature; that which has seen truth in the second degree shall be some righteous king or warrior chief; the soul which is of the third class shall be a politician, or economist, or trader; the fourth shall be lover of gymnastic toils, or a physician; the fifth shall lead the life of a prophet or hierophant; to the sixth the character of poet or some other imitative artist will be assigned; to the seventh the life of an artisan or husbandman; to the eighth that of a sophist or demagogue; to the ninth that of a tyrant-all these are states of probation, in which he who does righteously improves, and he who does unrighteously, improves, and he who does unrighteously, deteriorates his lot."

I read into this, Socrates’ description via metaphor, a rendering of the soul and immortality.  Further, in the naming of the heights or levels of attainment of knowledge, a return to earth to seek the higher planes of truth and wisdom, with an eventual goal of perfect understanding.

It screams to me of theories of reincarnation, and to some degree, it follows my own beliefs–or rather, I the words of Socrates.  I’ll go along with the reading on my own, but do need to research further the other observations and interpretations that have been made–and I’m sure that there are many, many of them.  And I am also sure that they come much closer in meaning to this discourse. 

This is what I’m up against:

"Now, the beginning is unbegotten, for that which is begotten has a beginning; but the beginning is begotten of nothing, for if it were begotten of something, then the begotten would not come from a beginning. But if unbegotten, it must also be indestructible; for if beginning were destroyed, there could be no beginning out of anything, nor anything out of a beginning; and all things must have a beginning."

Faulkner’s a piece of cake compared to this spot in Phaedrus, where Socrates is really just beginning, after having begotten mere rhetoric, to get to the crux of the matter of love.  I do believe that Plato writes the setting and the setup one-third way into the essay more to get one prepared for what is to come, and in his wisdom, knowing one has spent time and effort to get this far, shall continue on to read the ending, knowing well that only then shall it all become evident to the reader.

So therefore, I am grateful I suppose, for the misbegotten beginning.

(If posting henceforth ceases, it is most likely due to a lack of computer access allowed to patients.)

In his comment to a prior post, Mark brings up what I have been purposely avoiding, or justifying on terms meant to allow the reading to apply to modern times and society.

There is no denying that in Symposium and Phaedrus the focus is upon man as lover, young boy as the beloved.  I have discounted this focus as primary for many reasons.  For one, I would feel that whether it be heterosexual or homosexual, abiding love that encompasses romance, lust, and friendship and esteem, they are no different from each other in theory or depth.  Secondly, while it is apparently clear that sexual love is included in these discussions, the same good and bad would apply in either case; the jealousies, the transitory nature, the demeaning and debasement that love can arouse just as the ecstacy and joy of fulfillment will be there.  I would think that what the Philosophers are seeking and focusing upon is the intimacy of the meeting of minds of the lovers, something that again can be achieved in any form of relationship.

But there is something else here that need be updated, and that is the current societal view of what would be considered pedophilia in a sexual relationship defined by Phaedrus, Socrates, and the others.  It is clear that Socrates, in discussing love, uses this as an example:

"Now the lover is not only unlike his beloved, but he forces himself upon him. For he is old and his love is young, and neither day nor night will he leave him if he can help; necessity and the sting of desire drive him on, and allure him with the pleasure which he receives from seeing, hearing, touching, perceiving him in every way. And therefore he is delighted to fasten upon him and to minister to him. But what pleasure or consolation can the beloved be receiving all this time? Must he not feel the extremity of disgust when he looks at an old shrivelled face and the remainder to match, which even in a description is disagreeable, and quite detestable when he is forced into daily contact with his lover; moreover he is jealously watched and guarded against everything and everybody, and has to hear misplaced and exaggerated praises of himself, and censures equally inappropriate, which are intolerable when the man is sober, and, besides being intolerable, are published all over the world in all their indelicacy and wearisomeness when he is drunk."

And elsewhere, in Symposium, the youth is described as not having yet come to beard.  But there are centuries of changes in the age of puberty, and so I have for the most part, read around this designation as well.  Then too, society and cultures vary; nine years of age may be considered by some to be a good age for marriage for a young girl.  In our own society, while only a century ago sixteen was fine and twenty for a young woman was considered nearly an "old maid," through the past several decades the age for both men and women has risen.  Thirty is common for women, thirty-five or older for men to consider marriage.  This of course also ties in with the rising level of longevity as well, and the childbearing years of women.

So as I read more into Phaedrus to reach into Socrates’ final argument (after all the friendly discourse of the first section, and the deniably valid argument of the second), I do hope that I am not bringing into the reading a preconceived notion that will change the wisdom of the words.  But as with Symposium (not necessary with Consolation of Philosophy), I will seek out research notes to help with the conclusions and proper understanding of the piece.

From Socrates’ opening speech, we catch a glimmer of the selfishness of love:

"He who is the victim of his passions and the slave of pleasure will of course desire to make his beloved as agreeable to himself as possible. Now to him who has a mind discased anything is agreeable which is not opposed to him, but that which is equal or superior is hateful to him, and therefore the lover Will not brook any superiority or equality on the part of his beloved; he is always employed in reducing him to inferiority."

Speaking still in the theory of lover and beloved, we see a very common fault of loving, in that manner of control, one over the other.  While man may desire a love of someone whom he would hold of highest esteem, it often fails to satisfy as it holds the danger of that person realizing, as does the lover, that the lover is unworthy. 

You see it all the time: the husband who is controlling of his wife; the short balding rich man with the gorgeous blonde on his arm who doesn’t have a brain beneath the halo of shining hair.  These lovers seek love in a self-indulgent manner, find someone who will make others jealous to see them, and yet privately knowing that the person has a flaw of sorts that keeps them dependent upon them. 

I’m not sure yet where Socrates is leading us with this, but most likely it is towards a goal of a purer love that is not for flattery, but for itself and its own purpose.

Something about the style of Plato’s essays, his use of what was common then, the play and interaction of the actors, permits a wonderful sense of realism to his lectures.

Phaedr: Now, Socrates, what do you think? Is not the discourse excellent, more especially in the matter of the language?

Soc. Yes, quite admirable; the effect on me was ravishing. And this I owe to you, Phaedrus, for I observed you while reading to be in an ecstasy, and thinking that you are more experienced in these matters than I am, I followed your example, and, like you, my divine darling, I became inspired with a phrenzy.

Phaedr. Indeed, you are pleased to be merry.

Soc. Do you mean that I am not in earnest?

Phaedr. Now don’t talk in that way, Socrates, but let me have your real opinion; I adjure you, by Zeus, the god of friendship, to tell me whether you think that any Hellene could have said more or spoken better on the same subject.

Soc. Well, but are you and I expected to praise the sentiments of the author, or only the clearness, and roundness, and finish, and tournure of the language? As to the first I willingly submit to your better judgment, for I am not worthy to form an opinion, having only attended to the rhetorical manner; and I was doubting whether this could have been defended even by Lysias himself; I thought, though I speak under correction, that he repeated himself two or three times, either from want of words or from want of pains; and also, he appeared to me ostentatiously to exult in showing how well he could say the same thing in two or three ways.

Phaedr. Nonsense, Socrates; what you call repetition was the especial merit of the speech; for he omitted no topic of which the subject rightly allowed, and I do not think that any one could have spoken better or more exhaustively.

Soc. There I cannot go along with you. Ancient sages, men and women, who have spoken and written of these things, would rise up in judgment against me, if out of complaisance I assented to you.

In the sarcasm of Socrates, in the willingness to play with words with his friend, and with the final statement that he does disagree, Plato reiterates what Phaedrus has just spoken of, the honesty of those who are not lovers, because the fear of loss and disapproval does not interfere.

Plato usually seems to let Socrates listen carefully, declaring himself less wise or knowledgable, and then, through clever and gentle discourse reveals the truth that often can refute without derision what has been said by others.  It’s a subtle style of argument and yet bears impact.  Socrates here, I don’t think, is proving Phaedrus’ recital wrong in content, but rather in presentation.  In other words, to question the writing separately from what is said.