On Beauty and Measure

Plato's Symposium and Statesman

John Sallis, S. Montgomery Ewegen, S. Montgomery Ewegen

• Publisher: Indiana University Press
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9780253057976
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Phenomenology in Philosophy

On Beauty and Measure features renowned philosopher John Sallis' commentaries on Plato's dialogues the Symposium and the Statesman. Drawn from two lecture courses delivered by Sallis, they represent his longest and most sustained engagement to date with either work.

Brilliantly original, Sallis's close readings of Plato's dialogues are grounded in the original passages and also illuminate the overarching themes that drive the dialogues.

PART I.

PLATO’S SYMPOSIUM

Lecture course presented at Boston College, Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts Fall 2011

1.Introduction (172a–173e)

THE CONCERN OF the present inquiry is Plato’s dialogue the Symposium.¹ Our goal is to read this text—or, perhaps better, to begin to learn how to read this text. For reading such a text is no simple matter at all, if indeed, rather than simply assimilating it to our ready-made preconceptions, we want to open ourselves to it such that it can engage us and evoke our wonder—which, for the Greeks, was the very beginning of philosophy.²

We will need to read slowly and carefully. Like Nietzsche—and, indeed, perhaps even more so—Plato is a teacher of slow reading.³ We will need to read carefully, with utmost attentiveness, to every turn in the text, to every theoretical, mythical, and dramatic nuance.

This dialogue, above all, will force us to give up thinking that Plato’s texts consist primarily of so-called logical arguments, and to abandon the belief that whatever does not belong to these arguments can safely be ignored, or at least be passed quickly by as if it were a mere ornament. For not only is there, strictly speaking, no logic in Plato’s Symposium—nor, for that matter, in any other Platonic dialogue, since it was Aristotle who first invented logic⁴—but there are also mythical elements that inform the discourse, that give it added, or even different, sense. For example, there are the various myths, such as those about lovers who endure the descent into Hades in search of their beloveds (Symp. 179d). Additionally, there are deeds (ἔργα) that contribute to what a dialogue makes manifest: for example, when drunken Alcibiades puts a wreath around the head of Socrates (Symp. 213e), or when Aristophanes gets the hiccups (Symp. 185c).⁵

Owing to all of this, we as slow readers must—insofar as we can—weigh every nuance, every turn, no matter how subtle, for in the Platonic dialogues there are virtually no insignificant details. These are texts in which everything counts, wherein everything contributes to the manifestation that the dialogue as a whole accomplishes.⁶

***

In the Timaeus, there is an injunction about beginning. It occurs near, though not quite at, the beginning of Timaeus’s first discourse: “With regard to everything, it is most important to begin at the natural beginning” (Tim. 29b). In keeping with this injunction, we shall begin with the title of the dialogue presently under consideration: the Symposium. We note immediately that this is a unique title, for the majority of Plato’s dialogues are named for a character who speaks within the dialogue—for example, the Theaetetus, the Protagoras, the Meno, and the Gorgias. Some other texts have a theme as their title—for example, the Republic, the Laws, and the Statesman. But only the Symposium is named for an event represented in the dialogue.

What kind of event is a “symposium”? The word συμπόσιον comes from συμπίνω, which means “to drink together.” The event in question, then, is a drinking party. Very near the beginning of the text, two other words are used to describe the event. The first word is συνουσία, which means “being-together”—as, for example, at a party. However, this word can also have a sexual sense;⁷ and, indeed, Greek symposia often included sexual activity. (The flute girl who typically attended such get-togethers⁸ was often expected to provide not only musical, but also sexual, entertainment.) The other word used at the beginning of the text to describe the event is σύνδειπνον, which refers to a common meal or a banquet. We will see as the text unfolds that the participants in Plato’s Symposium will indeed enjoy a meal—although Socrates himself will miss about half of it.

Despite these other important nuances, the party is primarily a drinking party. After the meal, the participants make libations to gods, daimons, and heroes, and they sing songs in praise of gods: then, as the dialogue says, they “turned to drinking” (Symp. 176a). As a result, wine figures prominently in the dialogue, as does the god most closely associated with wine, Dionysus.⁹ In the figure of this god, the Greeks recognized the sense of elation, sociality, and well-being induced by wine, but also the frenzy and even madness that it could produce. In Euripides’s Bacchae, for example, Dionysus is portrayed with the Maenads, who were bands of women frenzied with wine who roamed the countryside. They uttered cries and waved wands topped with pine cones, and would attack wild animals, tearing them to pieces and eating their raw flesh.

Dionysus was the only god whose parents were not both gods: he was the child of Zeus and the Theban princess Semele.¹⁰ The great dramatic festival in Athens, the Lenaia, was held in honor of Dionysus. Such a festival is what provides the occasion for the drinking party depicted in Plato’s Symposium, which occurs on the day after the solemn celebration (with sacrifices) of the tragic poet Agathon’s winning, with his first tragedy, the prize that accompanied the festival. The drinking party is a continuation of the previous day’s celebration.

The next word we read after the title is the name of the narrator, Apollodorus, who narrates the entire account of the drinking party to some unnamed companions. The dialogue consists entirely of Apollodorus’s account, except for a couple of brief remarks made by one of the (anonymous) companions near the beginning of the text. Apollodorus’s name means “gift of Apollo”: thus, his serving as narrator indicates that another god, Apollo, also figures in the dialogue.

Who is Apollo? Most important in this regard is his epithet “Phoebus.” The Greek word φοῖβος (from φαός/φῶς) means “bright,” “light,” “radiant,” and “shining.” In being associated with light, Apollo is also associated with truth (ἀλήθεια), for it is in the light that things become visible such that they show themselves as they truly are. Apollo is also a master musician who plays the lyre; indeed, there was a famous musical contest between Apollo and the satyr Marsyas, to which we will later find reference in the Symposium (215b ff.). Apollo is also a healer, and is the god who gave humans the art of healing—an art carried on by his son Asclepius, god of physicians. (One of the characters at the drinking party—namely, Eryximachus—is a physician.)

It is also very important to note that pronouncements of Apollo’s were given through the Delphic Oracle. This was the most famous oracle in Greece, often consulted when there were important questions to be settled. There is also, of course, a very important connection between the Delphic Oracle and Socrates. In Plato’s Apology, Socrates tells of how Chaerephon went to Delphi and asked the oracle if there was anyone wiser than Socrates (Ap. 21a). The priestess answered that there was no one wiser. At first, Socrates was puzzled. Since he was aware that he was not wise, he could not understand how the god could make such a pronouncement, since gods do not lie—least of all this god, the very god of light, manifestation, and truth. Then, Apollo’s pronouncement became the provocation for Socrates’s questioning of others in the search for someone wiser than he. In this way, Socrates called the god and his pronouncement into question—an action that borders on the kind of excess that the Greeks called ὕβρις: overweening pride, even outrage. (Later in the Symposium [175e], Socrates will once again be charged with ὕβρις.) Eventually, through his questioning of others, Socrates came to interpret the pronouncement as meaning that he was wiser in that he knew that he did not know (Ap. 21d). As a result, his questioning of others became a continual confirmation of the god’s saying. Thus, Socrates’s practice—that is, his philosophizing—is prompted and sustained by the Delphic pronouncement: hence, Socrates, as philosopher, has a decisive connection with the god Apollo.

But who is Apollodorus, the narrator of the Symposium? Apollodorus shows up in Plato’s Apology as one of those willing to give money to secure Socrates’s acquittal or release (Ap. 38b). In the Phaedo, we learn that he was present on the day of Socrates’s death. We also learn that he was the most emotional of those present, for when Socrates finally drank the potion (φάρμακον), he completely broke down in tears: “But Apollodorus, who hadn’t stopped weeping even during the whole time before, at that moment really let loose with such a storm of wailing and fussing that there wasn’t a single one of those present whom he didn’t break up—except, of course, Socrates himself” (Phd. 117d).

At the beginning of the Symposium, Apollodorus describes his relation to Socrates: “It is scarcely three years now that I have been spending my time with Socrates and have made it my concern on each and every day to know whatever he says or does” (Symp. 172c). He goes on to say that, before he attached himself to Socrates, he ran around aimlessly and, in truth, was miserable. Through the first pages of the Symposium, it becomes clear that Apollodorus is a rather blunt, almost rude fellow. He accuses his companion of being miserable, even without knowing it. He gives an indication regarding what kind of people the companions are by pejoratively describing their kind of λόγος as that of the rich and the moneymakers. In turn, the companion refers to Apollodorus’s nickname, μανικός (“mad”).¹¹

So, Apollodorus, this gift of Apollo, rages in frenzy like one who is mad—almost as though he were more on the side of Dionysus than of Apollo. This tension between his name and his character anticipates the fact that in the drinking party, the story of which he narrates, there is tension, interchange, and conflict between the two sides represented by Apollo and Dionysus.

***

We turn now to the first line of the Symposium:

In my opinion, I am not unprepared for what you ask about; for just the other day—when I was on my way up to town from my home in Phaleron—one of my acquaintances spotted me a long way off from behind and called, playing with his call: “Phalerian,” he said. “You there, Apollodorus, aren’t you going to wait?” And I stopped and let him catch up. And he said: “Apollodorus, why, it was just recently that I was looking for you; I had wanted to question you closely about Agathon’s party—the one at which Socrates, Alcibiades, and the others were then present at dinner together—to question about the erotic speeches.” (Symp. 172a–b)

To begin with, we must attend to the first two words of the text: δοκῶ μοι—literally, “I seem to myself” (i.e., to be not unprepared regarding what you ask about). It is not a matter of Apollodorus simply holding an opinion, carrying it around in his head. Rather, it is a matter of a seeming, an appearing, and in this case one that is reflexive: a seeming to himself. The words δοκέω, δόξα, and δοξάζω are often translated (as above) by some form of the word “opinion.” However, it is important to note that these words do not mean “opinion” in the modern sense: rather, they always have reference to an appearing, a seeming, a looking. One has an opinion (δόξα) about something—one opines (δοξάζω) about it in a certain way—because the thing itself seems, appears, or looks that way. In other words, opinion is always correlative to an appearing. It is perhaps closer to the Greek if we speak of “having a view” (of something). However, the translation of δοκέω and its cognates as “opinion” is so firmly established that we will retain it in what follows, but always while remembering its precise sense as delineated above. Unless we keep this sense in mind, we will never understand the importance of what these words name. That importance is evident in the fact that it is precisely a discussion of δοξάζω that forms the very first step in the discourse that Socrates will report having received from Diotima, a discourse that is usually considered to be the culminating discourse of the dialogue.¹²

As seen above, Apollodorus says that just the other day, as he was going up to the city from his home in Phaleron, an acquaintance spotted him from behind and called to him to wait. Phaleron is the old harbor of Athens, which lies six miles southwest of the city proper, at the point on the sea nearest to the city. Phaleron became less important as a port after the establishment of Piraeus as the main harbor of Athens (in the beginning of the fifth century BCE). Like Piraeus, Phaleron was joined to the city by a wall that ran between them. In going from the harbor in Phaleron up to the city, one walked along and inside the Phaleric Wall.¹³ Apollodorus says that he was going up (in)to the city. “Going up” translates the...