APPROACHING THE PHAEDRUS

Plato's dialogues are masterpieces of the literary representation of philosophical conversations. Yet the Phaedrus stands out even in Plato's corpus. The dialogue's formal structure makes evident the main topics.1 After the opening scene establishes Ph.'s enthusiasm for Lysias' rhetorical art and S.'s intention to examine it, Ph. reads Lysias' speech on erōs aloud to his companion, whereupon S. delivers extempore two speeches on erōs of his own. Then, just past the halfway point, the dialogue undergoes its most overt change in style and substance as S. shifts from the rhetorical presentations on erōs to a dialectical inquiry into the nature of good discourse. The inquiry is concerned mostly with the art of rhetoric, but concludes with a consideration of written texts and dialectic. Beyond the topics that are given formal prominence – erōs, rhetoric, dialectic, written texts – other important themes that arise in the conversation include philosophy, beauty, play, the soul, the gods, the sophists, and the nature of technē.

Beyond the forms of discourse that structure the dialogue – the rhetorical speeches of the first half, the dialectical inquiry of the second half – S. addresses Ph. in friendly and ironic conversation, in allegories and myths, in didactic argument, in studied artificial language. S. prays; he quotes and invents verse; he mocks sophistic pretenders to rhetorical art.

Like other great works of Greek literature, the Phaedrus comes to us laden with established views and previous interpretations. The dialogue has acquired the additional burden of being considered important, and interpreted accordingly, in accounts of Plato's thought, of the intellectual debates of fourth-century Greece, and of the development of Greek culture and Western metaphysics. There is no better remedy, it seems to me, than an encounter with the dialogue itself. I have attempted to loosen up a bit the constraints of received wisdom and to take a fresh look at what Plato says in this dialogue to his contemporary audience and how he chooses to say it. Furthermore, in the ongoing process of reading and interpreting the Phaedrus, an approach that returns to the dialogue itself would make a timely contribution.

Of the vast secondary literature on the Phaedrus, I cite only those items that seem most useful for understanding whatever point is at issue; this is an economy that should benefit readers of this edition. For questions of syntax, I refer to Guy Cooper's Attic Greek prose syntax (AGPS) because it contains a wealth of informative examples and recognizes significant subtleties that go unremarked in other reference grammars. A new edition of Hermias' commentary on the Phaedrus by C. Lucarini and C. Moreschini (De Gruyter) is still forthcoming as of this writing, and thus could not be used in this edition.

227a1–230e5: PROLOGUE

Two friends, S. and Ph., meet on the street by chance and S. discovers Ph.'s enthusiasm for a speech by Lysias that he has just heard. After S. good-naturedly prods Ph. into admitting that he has a copy of the speech in his possession, they decide to retire to the nearby countryside where they will find relief from the summer heat and Ph. will read the speech to his companion. They converse easily as they walk and when they find a cool pleasant spot underneath a tall plane tree, they assume comfortable positions, the one to read, the other to listen.

The lively and realistic narrative constitutes a prime example of Plato's remarkable literary art. As in the opening of the Republic, the effect is complex: knowing that Plato is in control, the reader is nonetheless lulled into accepting the momentous conversation that follows as arising naturally in consequence of a chance, everyday encounter. All the more remarkable is Plato's ability to convey simultaneously beneath the narrative surface of smooth banter and innocent meandering another quasi-narrative of potentially transformative drama. Taking the measure of Ph.'s character, S. feigns enthusiasm for Lysias' speech in order to entice Ph. into a dialogue on erōs and discourse that will challenge his values and might possibly change his life. Without his being aware of it, Ph. is maneuvered into a position where the attractions of philosophy will make themselves felt.

In the Republic Socrates and his interlocutors consider the question of how one should live (352d). As befits a work of philosophy, the question is answered by Socrates by means of arguments that are intended to be compelling because of their logical and rational qualities. The characters in the dialogue demonstrate a great interest in the question, and in the arguments brought to bear, because they perceive that what is said about it will matter for, and may well determine, how they live their own lives (621c). How is the student of the Republic to react to Socrates' arguments? Students of the Republic are free to examine Socrates' arguments without feeling that those arguments may have any impact on how they will live their lives. That is an option opened up by the autonomy of reading and bolstered by the disciplinary practice of academic philosophy, which requires indeed the examination of the arguments but not the implementation of the results of that examination in one's own life. By long practice, it has been found possible, and often intellectually advantageous, to keep life and the study of life separate.

In this chapter I argue that Plato's purpose as a philosophical writer was not merely to present compelling arguments about how one should live, but to present them in such a way that the reader would be most likely to be compelled by them to choose to live in a particular way. This is not an entirely original idea; the urgency of Plato's writing has been evident to many of his readers for a long time. But at a time when writing and reading have many multifarious purposes and disciplinary habits are entrenched, it is worth examining anew Plato's practice as a philosophical writer.

Following a brief exposition of the rise of rhetoric in Athenian democracy, the first task of this chapter is to explain how rhetoric became a primary instrument of the judicial process in fourth-century Athens even though rhetoric had no intrinsic interest in the law. The second task of this chapter is to demonstrate how rhetoricians spoke about the law and used it for rhetorical purposes in speeches delivered by them or others before the law courts of Athens.

Athenian Democracy and the Rise of Rhetoric

The Athenian democracy of the fifth and fourth centuries B.C.E had no executive office or executive council. Rather, official, binding decisions were made in two public, democratic institutions, the Assembly and the courts. The purpose of both institutions was to express the will of the demos – that is, the mass of ordinary citizens who made up the vast bulk of the citizen body and wielded power in the state – in a fair, open, institutionally stable way. The demos delegated tasks and decisions to lesser institutions or colleges of magistrates in the name of efficiency. Initiatives in the Assembly and courts were in the hands of individuals, who competed for political leadership. And the demos often reconsidered or revised its own decisions. But there were no institutional mechanisms to limit the demos’ sphere of activity, and there was no doctrine of rights restricting the will of the demos. The power of the demos within the state was absolute, its decisions in the Assembly and courts were final and not subject to appeal.

This book considers a number of intellectual and social practices of ancient Greece: religion, law, medicine, science, philosophy, and several kinds of literature. In each case, we ask how the practice in question was affected by the introduction and use of written texts. Now, the relation between human activities and the tools employed in those activities is generally worth reflecting on, as the startling pace of modern technology cannot but remind us. Yet the case of written texts is compelling for reasons of its own. While the practices under consideration may not require writing for them simply to be carried out, they do require language as a vehicle for communicating intentions and meanings. So much is clear from Greece and elsewhere. Yet it is a fundamental fact of human history that, as a way of recording and transmitting language, writing established itself, over time and much of the world, as an indispensable feature of the practices under consideration. The current set of essays inquires into the conditions and consequences of the establishment of written texts within these cultural practices in ancient Greece.