Names and Nature in Plato's Cratylus

Rachel Barney, Robert Nozick

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2001
• Print ISBN: 9781138994331
• eBook ISBN: 9781135575694
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Ancient & Classical Philosophy

This study offers a ckomprehensive new interpretation of one of Plato's dialogues, the Cratylus. Throughout, the book combines analysis of Plato's arguments with attentiveness to his philosophical method.

II
The Second Stage of Naturalism: Function and Genre in the Etymologies

The centre of the Cratylus—and almost half its total length—is taken up with an extravagant array of etymologies. Urged on by Hermogenes, Socrates analyzes the names of the gods, of natural phenomena, and of psychological and evaluative concepts—virtually the whole lexicon of contemporary philosophy, religion, ethics and science. For example, ‘Hermes’ is so called because to eirein emêsato, ‘he devised speaking’ (408b1–3). Technê can—admittedly with a lot of phoneme-fiddling—be seen to disclose ‘possession of reason’ [hexis nou] (414b7–c8). And aischron, ‘shameful’, relates to ‘always restricting what flows’ [aei ischon ton rhoun] (416a10–b6); for, according to Socrates, the ancient namegivers believed that things are in flux, and that what flows is good.¹

This is obviously not etymology in the modern sense, which offers a nonevaluative, largely evolutionary account of the origins of words. Ancient etymology, for which the Cratylus was a classic and central text, was a quite different practice—or rather a loose family of practices, with a wide range of purposes and standards.² As practised by Socrates in the Cratylus, an etymology evidently amounts to a proof of the correctness of a name; but it is more mysterious than it might appear just how this proof is supposed to proceed— especially as Socrates’ procedures are often rushed or allusive, and vary considerably from one case to the next. Roughly and in general, a name is explained or analyzed by Socrates in terms of (at least one) etymologizing term or phrase; this phrase is presented as a phonetic explication of the name; and it is shown that the meaning of that explication—what I will call the deep content of the name etymologized—is true of the nature of the referent of the name.³ For instance, Socrates deems psuchê to be a correct name for souls because soul embraces [echei] nature [phusis] (399d–400b). That is, psuchê is explicated as phus[in]-echê; the meaning of that phrase, ‘nature-holder’, is thus revealed as the deep content of psuchê, and Socrates affirms that ‘nature-holder’ is true of souls. Thus the etymology is presented as an unpacking of the name itself—as decoding a deeper meaning or content actually expressed by it, albeit obscurely. A complication, however, is that in some cases the relation between name and etymologans seems to be vaguer and weaker: ‘Ares’ is said to be a correct name simply because it is ‘in accordance with’ [kata] the kindred terms ‘virile’ [arren], ‘courageous’ [andreios] and ‘tough’ [arratos] (407d1–4).⁴ At any rate, the collective effect of the etymologies is to offer an interpretation of the names of Greek as an expression of the theory of flux held by the namegivers.

This procedure raises many puzzles; I will consider some of them in Chapter III when I discuss Socrates’ eventual turn from etymology to mimesis. The concern of this chapter is with the more general question of the spirit and intention of Socrates’ undertaking. Because of their exorbitant length, and their extravagant, humorous tone, it is hard to read them without suspecting that there is more to them than meets the eye (or, perhaps, less). The question of what this is has made the etymologies the subject of much inconclusive speculation.⁵ Commentators have differed not only over the significance of the etymologies but, equally intensely, over their status and provenance. Are they, or are they meant to be, plausible, acceptable, good etymologies? Are they Plato’s own creations, or borrowings, or parodies? Interpretation has tended to suffer from a lack of clarity regarding the relations of these questions; and failure to accept that the Cratylus’ etymologies are not etymologies in the modern manner has led to much irrelevant controversy.⁶ Worse, the tendency has been to collapse all these questions into one and ask whether the etymologies are Scherz oder Ernst— whether Plato is expounding dogma or enjoying a (fairly private) joke.⁷

In this chapter I will begin from what seems to me a prior, not to mention more interesting question, the question of function: what is the etymological section for, relative to the overall purposes of the Cratylus? I have already noted one obvious function: the etymologies help to specify what the natural correctness of names consists in. Their point of departure is the idea that names are well-designed tools when their content is appropriate to (by being true of) their objects (393d–4c). Operating on the heuristic assumption that Greek is more or less a naturally correct language—for Hermogenes’ request was that Socrates show [deixeias] him what he means by natural correctness (391a3)—Socrates now reveals how such a language would work.

But this construal of correctness eventually turns out to be inadequate. It leads only as far as primitive ‘primary names’, the correctness of which is a function not of their semantic content (in any familiar sense) but of their mimetic resemblance to the objects they name (421c–7c). The mimetic account, which I will discuss in Chapter III, is Plato’s final construal of natural correctness: he seems to think that the two accounts are compatible, but the etymological account must be regarded as incomplete and superficial at best. Moreover, the remainder of the dialogue shows that natural correctness is itself not the whole story. The ‘re-examination’ arguments set limits to natural correctness as such (428d–35c); a later set of arguments shows that etymology is unreliable as a guide to things, and includes etymologies running counter to those of the earlier section (435d– 9c). In short, the etymological understanding of correctness is at least two removes from the dialogue’s final results on the subject, and seems to be seriously undermined by them. This makes our initial question all the more pointed: given that it is so far from being the truth and the whole truth about the correctness of names, why does Plato bother to etymologize at such length?

This chapter attempts to answer this question through a discussion of Platonic form or genre. My hypothesis is that to understand the etymological section we need to identify and understand the kinds of Platonic writing it exemplifies. I begin with two obvious steps in this direction. First, the etymological section is presented as a rational reconstruction of a ‘Cratylan’ position on the correctness of names, where Cratylus stands for a contemporary intellectual practice of using etymology to disclose the natures of things (II.1); second, it is an inspiration episode (II.2). More important, the etymological section is also an agonistic display. Socrates is depicted as beating etymology-mongers at their own game (II.3). As an agôn, the etymological section is an instance of an important Platonic genre, with counterparts in other works: notably Socrates’ first speech in the Phaedrus, the oration of the Menexenus and the interpretation of Simonides in the Protagoras.⁸ These examples can give us some idea of how the agonistic genre works and what Plato uses it for. Applied to the Cratylus, this will make it possible to answer the question of function, and to explain some of the puzzling features of the etymologies (II.4). It will also suggest a curious parallel. The etymological section in many ways resembles another notable philosophical agôn: Parmenides’ cosmology or Doxa (II.5). And the parallel will, I think, help to bring out something important the two texts have in common: a ‘Parmenidean’ conception of language as inherently, systematically deceptive.

II.1
RATIONAL RECONSTRUCTION

Socrates’ etymologizing is presented as part of his explication of Cratylus’ claim that there is a natural correctness of names. The Cratylus opens with Hermogenes asking Socrates to interpret this oracular claim [manteia] (384a5), playing the role of prophêtês or spokesman to Cratylus’ Pythia (cf. Timaeus 71e– 2b)—which suggests that his discourse will be rationalized and explanatory in comparision with what Cratylus himself has to offer—or to offer his own thoughts on the correctness of names. The subsequent imagery of inspiration suggests that Socrates instead becomes a full-blown oracle himself; and it is clear throughout that he is not simply expounding Cratylus but engaging in independent investigation. Nonetheless, his account is still presented as an explanation of the Cratylan position, and is accepted as such (428c1–8).

What does it mean for the etymologies to be ‘Cratylan’? Cratylus is depicted as having a specialized professional skill on the subject of correct names. His oracular arrogance with Hermogenes is probably the reticence of the feecharging expert (384a, cf. 427e). Socrates describes him as having both investigated these matters himself and learned them from others; he even offers to enroll as one of Cratylus’ students on the subject, if he can offer a better account than Socrates himself has done (428b4–5, cf. 6–7).

Though Cratylus’ acceptance of Socrates’ account applies to both its etymological and mimetic components, it seems likely that the former, much longer account is particularly in view, and that Cratylus’ expertise is supposed to be principally etymological. For an etymological understanding of correctness makes good sense of what little Cratylus does say independently: for example, his claim that natural correctness is the same for Greeks and barbarians (383a). More decisively, his initial claim that ‘Hermogenes’ is not Hermogenes’ name is manifestly based on an etymological understanding of correctness, and is explained in this way on two occasions (384c, 408b). Later on, when Cratylus claims that the study of names is the way to learn about their objects (435d–6a), it is clear that he has etymologizing in mind; hence Socrates’ refutation of his thesis by means of contradictory etymologies (436c–7c).

That Cratylus is to be seen as primarily an etymologizer is strongly supported by the fact that etymology was a lively intellectual practice of the age.⁹ The sophists’ fascination with language and its ‘correctness’ is well known;¹⁰ and we find etymologizing in a wide range of pre-Platonic poetic and philosophical contexts as well—though it is difficult (and perhaps unnecessary) to mark off etymology proper from a broader genre of explanations, jokes and word-play relying on phonetic resemblances.

A fascinating source for early etymologizing in intellectual contexts is the Derveni Papyrus, which was probably composed around the end of the fifth century.¹¹ The Papyrus contains the remains of a religious text, the bulk of which is a commentary on an Orphic cosmogonie poem. Though his exact viewpoint is a matter of controversy, the commentator’s project seems to be an integration of the cosmogony with the findings of modern science. He performs this largely through naturalizing interpretations of the Orphic text, in many cases identifying gods with each other and with important components of the natural world: for example, Moira (Fate) is identified with breath [pneuma] and intelligence [phronesis] (Col. XIV). He frequently offers close readings of the poet’s ‘riddling’ statements, including explanations of his use of names. Sometimes the poet ‘names’ on the basis of etymological appropriateness, and it is suggested that he does so systematically:

having named reason [noun] which knocks [krouonta] things against each other ‘Kronos’, he says that he did great deeds against Ouranos…. He named [ônomasen] Kronos from the…[brief lacuna]…and the others each according to the same [?] principle [logon] (Col. X, 7–11).¹²

It would be natural to read such passages as descriptions of name-giving, but this is unlikely to be the idea. Rather, the poet is typically described as using names which are already current, using his special insight into the nature of things to select them as appropriate to their real denotations (Col. XV, 8–9, Col. XIX, 7– 8).¹³ He uses ordinary language to communicate a hidden or metaphorical meaning: he signals his own thought through established expressions. So the idea is presumably that the name ‘Kronos’ had already been in use as a name for a senior ruler-god: Orpheus alone recognized that it really signifies krouôn nous and used it accordingly. But since traditional theology is, it seems, to be reinterpreted rather than rejected, the name was in some sense correctly assigned all along. Like the commentator after him, Orpheus must have decoded truths already embedded in the language—with the difference that where the commentator translates these truths into the non-riddling language of natural science, Orpheus continues to speak in code.

Regardless of the exact nature of the Derveni commentator’s project, he provides striking evidence that etymologizing was already, before Plato, a practice which could be used to provide support for a theoretical view or to display esoteric knowledge.¹⁴ And if we turn to post-Platonic texts, etymological argument for philosophical positions becomes widespread. The Stoics were notorious etymologizers, but the practice was by no means restricted to them.¹⁵ For instance, the Peripatetic Alexander of Aphrodisias uses etymology to argue that philosophy is knowledge, not of just any subject-matter, but of divine beings; for the word theorem (contemplation, theoretical study) means ‘to see divine things’ [theia horan] (In An. Pr. 3.17–23).

I will call etymologizing of this ambitious sort strong etymology. It expresses the powerful assumption that the real meanings of words, as recovered by etymology, can provide insight into the natures of things. It is thus a means of discovery, teaching and persuasion not just about language but about the world. And it is a method which tends naturally to support normative conclusions about names: for if names can provide accurate information about the objects they name, it seems reasonable to suppose that a ‘correct’ name is one which does so.

I think that we are to understand Cratylus as a practitioner of strong etymology; in fact, since he is not much characterized as an individual, Cratylus is probably meant as the generic representative of people who do this sort of thing. This suggests, fortunately, that for the purposes of understanding the Cratylus we need not worry much about the views of the historical Cratylus.¹⁶ It also suggests that we are to see his Heraclitean affiliation in the dialogue as in a way secondary.¹⁷ The practitioner of strong etymology must have some view as to the natures of things—something for his etymologies to support—but this is not really the focus of his interest, and it may well be eclectic and ad hoc (as it seems to be in the Derveni case). What is fundamental is the method and the faith in names it depends on.

As a rational reconstruction, Socrates’ exposition of the Cratylan position represents an improvement over other possible versions. So Cratylus finds...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Preface
• Introduction: The Argument of the Cratylus
• I: From Convention to Nature
• II: The Second Stage of Naturalism: Function and Genre in the Etymologies
• III: The Third Stage of Naturalism: Mimetic Correctness
• IV: Natural Correctness Re–examined
• V: From Names to Things
• VI: The Cratylus and After: Names and Logoi
• VII: The Cratylus and After: False Statement
• Bibliography