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by Corry Shores
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[Logic and Semantics, entry directory]
[Brice Parain, entry directory]
[Parain, Recherches sur la nature et les fonctions du langage, entry directory]
[The following is summary (and not translation). Bracketed commentary is my own, as is any boldface. Paragraph enumerations and headings are also my own. Proofreading is incomplete, so typos remain, even in the quotations. So please consult the original text. Also, I welcome corrections to my interpretations, as my French is not good enough to make an accurate translation of the text.]
Summary of
Brice Parain
Recherches sur la nature et les fonctions du langage
3.
Chapitre III:
Πρᾶγμα et ὄνομα
Brief summary:
(3.1) It is an error to confuse the mode of existence of words with their denoted, sensed objects. Pre-Platonic philosophy shows the problems that arise from this confusion. (3.2) Our correspondence view of truth can be traced to the ancient Greeks, who thought that every ὄνομα (noun / proper noun / subject) corresponded to some πρᾶγμα (state of affiars / fact / l’objet). (3.3) Plato and his contemporaries were concerned with what they thought to be a natural connection between names and their designated objects. (3.4) Democritus shows that names have an arbitrary and not a natural link to the things they designate. (3.5) Even proper names normally do not uniquely designate an object, and when they do, like with enumerated royal names, they do not represent that particular person but rather only their place in a succession. (3.6) Language deals with abstract categories or classes and not with particulars. (3.7) At some point in our intellectual development, we come upon the realization that all words designate abstractions rather than unique, concrete things. (3.8) Even though we treat language as if it were able to designate real things, what we find is that it is doomed to fail at this. Certain things, like war, cannot be adequately captured in words. And whatever is named will change enough to require a different name eventually. (3.9) We see in Plato’s Sophist an illustration for why language is doomed to fail to render all by itself some extra-linguistic reality. (3.10) On the other hand, we have concrete sensory experiences of things that we want these abstract entities to be identified with, for otherwise our language is not latching onto our experienceable world. The ancient Greeks struggled with this problem no less than we do. (3.11) Socrates noticed this problem and sought to save thinking from being unable to distinguish true from false. (3.12) Socrates mistrusts words, especially in the hands of the Sophists. He also ascribes some sort of a mysterious power to language too. (3.13) Socrates wanted to link practical matters concerning life and morality to their linguistic expressions. But he ultimately failed at this task. (3.14) Plato often shows how when we try to apply linguistic distinctions to our moral activity, we find that contradictions ensue. (3.15) Plato’s argument here in the Protagoras involves him challenging the assumption that language can be straight-forwardly related to reality. For, actions which in themselves are pleasant can be called bad, even though the fact they are pleasant also means they can be called good. This holds likewise for certain painful activities. (3.16) In the end, however, Socrates and Plato come on the side of language and concepts rather than sensory experience. (3.17) Our words designate concrete sensible realities, but they have as their sense abstract entities. The conditions of the sensible world are such that they can call for contradictory senses in the same occurrence. So insofar as we insist on our language directly expressing concrete sensible reality, we will find that it will ultimately involve meaningful reference only to abstract designations that admit of contradictory combinations. For example, Socrates has a body of certain spatial features. And we have words, namely ‘large’ and ‘small’, that we want to apply to the sensibly real and concrete circumstances of Socrates’ physique. But we find that ‘large’ applies to him when he stands next to a smaller person, and ‘small’ applies to him when standing next to a larger person. And so when standing between these two other people, both ‘large’ and ‘small’ apply to him. Even if we use metrical determinations for temporal and spatial properties, we find that they refer not to the sensible situation itself but rather to the insensible metrics that measure it. (3.18) Aristotle notes that Socrates discovers inductive reasoning and the fashioning of general definitions. We turn now to these matters to see if they bear some relation with respect to naming.
[Confusing Words and Denotations. The Such in Pre-Platonic Philosophy.]
[Ancient Greek Metaphysical Assumptions about Linguistic and the Correspondence Theory of Truth.]
[The Ancient Greek Assumption of a Natural Link between Names and Things.]
[The Arbitrary Links between Words and Things]
[The Non-Designation of Proper Names]
[Language’s Abstractness]
[Learning about Linguistic Abstraction]
[The Impossibility of Naming]
[The Failure of Language in the Sophist]
[The Philosophical Problem of Language]
[Socrates, Truth, and Language]
[Socrates contra Language and Sophistry. Socrates and Language’s Mysterious Power]
[Socrates’ Failed Linguistic Endeavor]
[Plato and Contradictions from Applying Language to Moral Action]
[Socrates and the Absurdity of Tying Language to Moral Actions]
[Plato’s and Socrates’ Ultimate Preference for Language and Concepts over Sensory Objectivity]
[Socrates as Larger and Smaller. Temporal and Spatial Determinations as Always Incorporeal]
[Aristotle on Induction and General Definition Possibly in Relation to Naming]
Summary
3.
Πρᾶγμα et ὄνομα
[Preview/Outline]
(p.49: “Des embarras auxquels on s’expose…”)
[Preview: In this chapter we examine problems arising from making linguistic entities correspond to sensible objects. We also will see how the ancient Greek philosophers dealt with these issues.]
Des embarras auxquels on s’expose en voulant faire correspondre aux mots de notre langage des objets du monde sensible. La philosophie grecque les a tous éprouvés et notés. Puis de la conversion socratique au langage.
(49)
[Confusing Words and Denotations. The Such in Pre-Platonic Philosophy.]
(p.49: “On a confondu longtemps ces deux…”)
[It is an error to confuse the mode of existence of words with their denoted, sensed objects. Pre-Platonic philosophy shows the problems that arise from this confusion.]
[Recall quickly the main ideas of the prior chapter, here copying from our brief summary of it:
Our words exist in a different realm than that of the things they denominate. The realm of the word itself is one of fixities and universals, while the world of things and events that words reference and that we perceive is fleeting and contains just particulars. There are two main illustrations for this. {1} A peasant farmer is digging up potatoes. He has impressions of the changing, dynamic world around him. He notices many things silently, and these images pass in and out of his awareness. But he suddenly sees something white in the soil. It is a beetle larva. This image calls to his mind the image of a beetle infestation that will come later. He exclaims, “Hey, a white worm!”. He thereby turns his awareness no longer to the actual white grub in the soil, which is metamorphosing gradually into a beetle, and instead he turns it toward a conceptual class of things, beetles (or a beetle infestation). But this word/image of the class of things, white worms (or beetles), is not the actual thing itself in the soil. {2} The “I” in “I am hungry” or even in Descartes cogito argument refers not to the speaker in the flesh and in her entirety, but rather to a linguistic entity that expresses no more than some aspect of the speaker that is relevant in that context. (The use of the “I” is a matter of the manifestation of this linguisticized self.)
(brief summary of Parain, ch.2)
Section 2.9 in particular we summarized as:
Even though there is this infinite regress built into discursive thinking, it must always begin problematically with denomination. Before we can predicate something, we need to denominate it, so denomination is the first conceptual attribution we make. It is also the first error, because the denominated thing does not inherently bear any such name, and so it is a sort of falsification or fabrication.
(Summary of Parain section section 2.9)
And Section 2.15:
We notice the difference between a true situation and its verbal articulation in the case of love. It is not enough to truly be in love with someone and to behave accordingly but without speaking that love. One must communicate that love verbally. In the case of the peasant, he is aware of the particular existences around him, like the potatoes he digs and the sounds of other peasants working near him. He also comes to be aware of the particular existence of the white worm he sees. But by declaring it verbally, he turns his mind not just to that particular worm but more broadly to the general type, white worms and their resulting beetle infestations.
(Summary of Parain section 2.15)
Also section 2.16:
Words transcend the particular individuals they might be referencing and instead exist on another conceptual level. When we speak of specific things, including reference to our own self as in “I am hungry”, the listener is not seeing the reference as going to the particular thing in question, even the speaker themself, because words refer our minds to a realm of ideas. When someone dies, their name survives them, but their name is simply our memory of them, and not they themselves.
(Summary of Parain section 2.16)
As well section 2.19:
But to be clear, language does not really have this intimate relation with the things referenced. Our nouns refer to classes of things, and even the first person pronoun refers not to we in the flesh and in the entirety of our being but rather to some limited aspect of us that is relevant to the circumstances of that utterance of ‘I’.”
(Summary of Parain section 2.19)
And finally section 2.20:
There are two modes of existence: {1} that of inner sentiment, and {2} that of the word. The ‘I’ of speech thus exists under the second mode. And the stable, universal, determined, and permanent reality that we come to know is thus language.
(Summary of Parain section 2.20)
Parain will now speak of “these two modes of existence.” So it would seem that he means inner sentiment on the one hand and words on the other. (Or maybe it is simply between the mode of existence of words and concepts on the one hand and that of objective things and sensible impressions of these concrete things on the other hand.) Parain says that these two modes of existence have long been confused on account of the fact that we want names to represent the material objects that come before our senses. Philosophy prior to Plato and hence prior to the birth of logic shows the difficulties that arise from this confusion.]
On a confondu longtemps ces deux modes d’existence, et précisément parce qu’on voulait que les noms représentassent les objets matériels qui tombent sous nos sens. L’histoire de la philosophie grecque avant Platon, c’est-à-dire avant la naissance de la logique, est un récit complet des embarras où l’esprit se trouve engagé dès qu’il commet cette erreur.
(49)
[Ancient Greek Metaphysical Assumptions about Linguistic and the Correspondence Theory of Truth.]
(p.49: “Les Grecs, croyant que c’était le monde sensible…”)
[Our correspondence view of truth can be traced to the ancient Greeks, who thought that every ὄνομα (noun / proper noun / subject) corresponded to some πρᾶγμα (state of affiars / fact / l’objet).]
[The ancient Greeks believed that the sensible world itself could be expressed through speech, and they were convinced that each name designates a particular object and that to every ὄνομα (noun / proper noun / subject) the corresponds some πρᾶγμα (state of affiars [Luhtala, Long & Sedley] / fact [Inwood & Gerson] / l’objet [Bréhier]) [On ὄνομα, see Luhtala On the Origin of Syntactical Description in Stoic Logic, pp.78-79, section 5.5.3.1; pp.47, 103-106, section 5.5.4.5; pp.26, 71-72, section 5.5.2. On πρᾶγμα, see Bréhier La théorie des incorporels dans l’ancien stoïcisme p.14-15, section 2.1.2; Luhtala pp.92-92, section 5.5.4.2; p.103, section 5.5.4.4.] [The next idea I might get wrong, but maybe it is the following. We currently have the view that to think or say something false means to say something that is not so in fact. That would be like forming a proposition whose terms or sense to not refer to something real or existing, and so our current opinion stems from this classic assumption. But I still do not fully grasp this. The idea might be that our current correspondence notion of truth comes originally from certain metaphysical assumptions the ancient Greeks held with regard to language’s own nature and its relation to reality. And, the only way we can identify truth and sensible reality is if we first assume that there is an identity between sensible reality and language.]
Les Grecs, croyant que c’était le monde sensible lui-même qui s’exprimait par notre voix1, étaient convaincus que chaque nom désignait un objet particulier, qu’à tout ὄνομα correspondait un πρᾶγμα, d’où l’opinion courante, alors, chez eux, que se tromper, penser ou dire faux, c’était penser ou dire ce que n’est pas. On ne peut identifier à ce point vérité et réalité sensible que si l’on admet préalablement qu’il y a identité entre la réalité sensible et le langage, qui est le lieu de la vérité et de l’erreur.
(49)
1. Cf. B. Parain, Essai sur le logos platonicien, chap. 1.
[The Ancient Greek Assumption of a Natural Link between Names and Things.]
(p.49-50: “ La plupart des contemporains de Platon…”)
[Plato and his contemporaries were concerned with what they thought to be a natural connection between names and their designated objects.]
[Most of Plato’s contemporaries thought that names have a natural link to the objects they designate. Proclus claims that Pythagoras taught this doctrine, and Epicurus adopts it too. Plato says that Protagoras thought this too. In Plato’s notion of ὀρθοέπεια (correctness of diction / propriété de la langue), or the ingenious arrangement of words, was a search for the truth contained in language, which supposedly expresses faithfully the nature of things. Plato says that according to Cratylus, the function of names is to teach and that to know names is to know things. Antisthenes similarly thought that all learning should start with a study of names. And Plato’s Cratylus is devoted to the problem of the natural correctness of names.]
La plupart des contemporains de Platon estimaient que les noms ont un lien de nature (φύσει) avec les objets qu’ils désignent. Proclus nous affirme que | Pythagore avait enseigné cette doctrine, ce qui ne nous surprend pas, étant donné le caractère réaliste de la théorie des nombres qui nous a été transmise par le pythagorisme, et le peu que nous savons de la mystique conservée dans cette école. Épicure la reprendra, plus tard, contre Démocrite et Aristote 1. Platon nous apprend que telle était aussi l’opinion de Protagoras et c’est ce qui nous explique que celui-ci non seulement ait entrepris des études grammaticales sur la distinction des genres, des temps, des modes verbaux et sur les diverses espèces de propositions, mais encore qu’il ait été si préoccupé du bien dire. Son ὀρθοέπεια que M. L. Robin traduit justement par « propriété de la langue 2 », plus qu’un souci de rhétorique, au sens où nous l’entendons à présent, c’est-à-dire d’arrangement ingénieux des mots, était une recherche de la vérité contenue dans la langue, puisque celle-ci était censée exprimer fidèlement la nature des choses 3. Socrate qualifiait de divine la science que son maître Prodicos avait acquise du sens des mots. Cratyle, au dire de Platon, dont il avait été le premier maître, pensait que la fonction des noms est d’enseigner et que « connaître les noms c’est aussi connaître les choses 4 ». Tel était aussi l’avis d’Antisthène, disciple de Socrate, pour qui « le commencement de toute instruction était dans l’étude des noms 5 ». Tout un dialogue de Platon, le Cratyle, est consacré au problème de la rectitude naturelle des noms et si Platon ne s’y déclare pas ouvertement en faveur de Cratyle, du moins y rejette-t-il sans appel les théories d’Hermogène sur le caractère conventionnel du langage.
(49-50)
1. Proclus, In Cratyl., éd. G. Pasquali, Leipzig, 1908, XVI, p. 5.
2. Phèdre, 267 b, éd. des Belles-Lettres, 1933, p. 75.
3. Cf. H. Gomperz, Sophistik und Rhetorik, Leipzig, 1912, chap. IX, p. 279 sqq.
4. Cratyle, 435 d : ὃς ἂν τὰ ὀνόματα ἐπίστηται, ἐπίστασθαι καὶ τὰ πράγματα.
5. L. Robin, La Pensée grecque, 2e éd., p. 201.
(50)
[The Arbitrary Links between Words and Things]
(p.50-51: “La grammaire, dans la Grèce antique…”)
[Democritus shows that names have an arbitrary and not a natural link to the things they designate.]
[Ancient Greek grammar precedes logic and finds its first application in rhetoric, out of which logic was born. Before Plato, only Democritus claimed that names were a product of convention (θέσει) and chance (τύχῃ). Democritus shows that there in fact is no natural link between names and the things they designate but rather only arbitrary ones. For, homonyms have the same sounds and thus should refer to the same objects but in fact they do not, and people can change their names without too much difficulty.
Il n’y eut, avant Platon, que Démocrite pour soutenir que les noms seraient un produit de la convention (θέσει) ou du hasard (τύχῃ). Démocrite montrait, pour appuyer sa critique de l’opinion reçue, que les homonymes désignent d’un même son des objets tout à fait différents et qu’il n’est pas rare de voir des personnes changer de nom sans inconvénient 1, ce qui ôte en effet aux noms tout caractère de nécessité directe.
(50-51)
1. Démocrite, B 26: ὁ δὲ Δ. θέσει λέγων τὰ ὀνόματα διὰ τεσσάρων ἐπιχειρημάτων τοῦτο κατεσκεύαζε... τύχηι ἄρα καὶ οὐ φύσει τὰ ὀνόματα...
(51)
[The Non-Designation of Proper Names]
(p.51: “La difficulté est bien précisément…”)
[Even proper names normally do not uniquely designate an object, and when they do, like with enumerated royal names, they do not represent that particular person but rather only their place in a succession.]
[Names really do not uniquely designate some thing or person and thereby reveal its essence to our mind. Even proper names are shared by many people, and so other data is needed to distinguish people on paper. Of course the names of kings get enumerations to uniquely designate them, but even here the number only designates a place in a succession without directly representing that particular person themself. Writers (even though giving names to their characters) create types rather than evoke actual people.]
La difficulté est bien précisément d’admettre que les noms soient justes naturellement, en ce sens qu’ils désigneraient chacun un objet particulier et en révéleraient l’essence à l’esprit humain. Il n’y a pas de nom qui soit propre à une seule chose, ou à un seul individu. Même les noms de personnes sont communs à de nombreux individus : aussi l’état civil est-il contraint, pour éviter les confusions, de les accompagner de toutes sortes d’autres renseignements sur la date et le lieu de naissance, sur les noms et prénoms des père et mère, sur les date et lieu de la naissance et de la mort de ceux-ci. Seuls les noms des rois, grâce à u n numéro d’ordre, Charles V, Louis XIV, correspondent à un individu unique. Encore doit-on remarquer que ces noms ne désignent qu’une fonction et surtout une place dans la chronologie, sans figurer en rien l’individu lui-même. Henri IV est un nom abstrait, aussi bien qu’arbre, je ou vanité. L’art de l’écrivain consiste à créer des types et non pas à évoquer des individus. Ceux-ci se dérobent sous sa plume.
(51)
[Language’s Abstractness]
(p.51-52: “La difficulté est bien précisément…”)
[Language deals with abstract categories or classes and not with particulars.]
[Language by its nature is an abstraction in the sense that it does not itself manifest reality; rather, it signifies reality in truth. Words like “tree,” “stone,” and “house” apply to an indefinite quantity of objects, none of which is uniquely a tree, house, or stone. The classic problem of the one and the many arises from this. Both science and literature have such generality, because the language they use has this generality. (Antisthenes said to Plato, “I can see a horse, but I cannot see horseness” (Simplicius 2002: p.67 / 208,30). I cannot tell what the next idea is, so please consult the quotation below. I am guessing that Parain might be saying, in light of this idea of language’s abstractness, that in fact we may not see the horse itself nor its horseness; these are not seeable things (maybe because we see our impressions of the horse and not the actual horse, and its horseness is not a matter of sensory data). Rather, we name the horse on the basis of its horseness, thereby giving structure to our sensory impressions. I am simply guessing, but this seems more or less in line with Parain’s other points about what is really being designated by words.]
Le langage est par sa nature une abstraction, en ce sens qu’il ne manifeste pas la réalité 2, mais qu’il la signifie dans la vérité. Arbre, pierre, maison s’appliquent à une quantité indéfinie d’objets, dont aucun n’est uniquement un arbre, une maison ou une pierre, | ni rien de ce que le langage exprime. Le fameux problème de l’un et du multiple est né de là 1. La science est du général 2, la littérature est du général, parce que le langage est du général. Antisthène aurait dû dire qu’il ne voyait pas plus le cheval que la caballéité. Il voyait un être que d’autre part il nommait cheval, mais il ne voyait pas ce que le nom cheval désigne. Et n’importe qui pourrait lui répondre qu’il voit la caballéité aussi bien qu’il voit le cheval, ni plus ni moins, puisque ni l’un ni l’autre ne tombent sous nos sens.
(51-52)
2. On observera que ce terme de manifester pour désigner la fonction du langage est un de ceux que les Grecs employaient le plus fréquemment, δηλοῦν, δήλωμα... parce qu’ils croyaient que le langage est une expression de la réalité sensible.
(51)
1. Platon, Sophiste, 251 b.
2. Aristote, Anal. post., I, 31, 87 b, 38.
(52)
[Learning about Linguistic Abstraction]
(p.52: “La réflexion d’Antisthène…”)
[At some point in our intellectual development, we come upon the realization that all words designate abstractions rather than unique, concrete things.]
[In the prior section 3.6, we saw how Antisthenes thought he could see the horse but not the horseness.] Antisthenes’ claim makes him seem like a child who is astonished by language. I may be mistaken, but the next part seems to be a story about Parain’s own daughter at the age of five. It seems that at this young age she was learning Russian and said something like she could see certain words, like ‘window’, but not others, like ‘I love you’. The idea might be that all words have a reference function, but some refer to sensible objects and others not. Parain says that this distinction was apparent to her only because she was learning a foreign language. Otherwise we would consider both words as designating things of equivalent reality. Yet at some point in our development we come upon this question. When learning words in other languages, we discover that certain ones associate with clear images, like ‘horse’, and others do not, like ‘horseness’. On this basis we try to distinguish the names by categorizing one as abstract and the other as concrete. But upon further reflection we realize that this distinction does not hold and rather that both types are ultimately abstract in nature.]
La réflexion d’Antisthène est une réflexion d’enfant étonné par le langage. « Il y a des mots que je vois, disait ma fille à sa mère vers l’âge de cinq ans, lorsqu’elle commençait à apprendre le russe, je vois bien la fenêtre, par exemple, mais il y en a d’autres que je ne vois pas, je ne vois pas je t’aime ... » Encore est-il probable qu’elle ne s’en serait pas aperçue si tôt, si elle n’avait pas été mise de si bonne heure au contact d’une langue étrangère. A son âge je n’aurais pas soupçonné qu’il y eût une différence entre fenêtre et je t’aime. Ces deux mots m’étaient aussi familiers l’un que l’autre, j’avais oublié la façon dont je les avais acquis et ils étaient l’un et l’autre pour moi des choses parfaitement réelles. Cependant il est impossible qu’on n’arrive pas un jour ou l’autre à se poser cette question. Elle constitue un moment inévitable de la réflexion sur le langage. Lorsqu’on est obligé d’apprendre un autre vocabulaire, ou de traduire une phrase étrangère, on essaie d’imaginer ce qu’elle signifie. L’image du cheval apparaît plus facilement et plus ordinairement à l’esprit que celle de la caballéité. On en conclut que les deux noms diffèrent l’un de l’autre, que l’un est abstrait, l’autre est concret. Mais en poussant plus loin la réflexion on se convainc ensuite rapidement qu’il n’en est rien, et que tous deux sont abstraits au regard des choses.
(52)
[The Impossibility of Naming]
(p.52-53: “La difficulté essentielle qui résulte…”)
[Even though we treat language as if it were able to designate real things, what we find is that it is doomed to fail at this. Certain things, like war, cannot be adequately captured in words. And whatever is named will change enough to require a different name eventually.]
[I do not grasp the next idea, so I will be guessing here. Parian now discusses a problematic aspect of holding the view that words designate real objects. I am going to venture that he is talking about the mistaken view that words designate unique individuals rather than classes of things or sets of sensory impressions or whatever else. He wonders how under this view we can say that this tree is beautiful. I am not sure what the problem is however. Maybe it is that there is no “this tree” to begin with. Or maybe we are to think again about how such statements refer to abstract entities and not to sensible, concrete particulars. I am making guesses. He then says that this tree cannot be at the same the what it is and also something else. I still do not know what distinction is being made. Is it between the tree as it is itself versus the tree as a linguistic or conceptual entity? He then says that he cannot say that Socrates is Theaetetus. He can only say that Socrates is Socrates. I again am not sure what the point is. Is it that Socrates and Theaetetus are two different things, so their names cannot be equated? Is it that their names are different and that is enough, or that their concepts are different? He then says that if the words correspond to the objects term for term, then these words are irremediably separated from one another like objects in space, or they are irremediably confused in one and the same duration like in the world of Heraclitus. I have to guess here. Maybe his point is that if you take the view that words uniquely designate unique real things, then you cannot equate two different names, as their objects are distinct. But I am still not sure why you cannot say this tree is beautiful. And I am also not sure why if this distinction does not hold, then the words are confused in one same duration in a Heraclitian sort of world of flux. Given what is said next, maybe the idea is that if you think that words designate concrete objects, then just as those words remain distinct and unchanging, so too would be your world of designated objects, which is not how we experience them to be. Objects have fuzzy identities and are never self-same forever. So here language has the power designate, because it can refer to things in the world, but it fails to do so adequately, because whatever it designates slips through its fingers, having changed just as soon as it is being referenced and thus requiring a different reference whenever one is given. The other problem is less obvious to me, but I will propose the following as a guess. In order to have a designation, you need the word/concept on the one hand and the referenced thing on the other hand. But on account of rules of identification in the abstract realm, a name like ‘Socrates’ can only designate something identical with it or at least something structurally or metaphysically homogeneous with it. So the name ‘Socrates’ cannot be said to be identical with sensory contents, because the name/concept and the sensory data are not identically the same. Parain then seems to say that in the first case we accuse language of betraying reality, because reality is of a flux-like nature that is warped by means of the fixational mechanisms of language. And in the second case we do not believe that language has the power of reference in the first place, because only identical things and not distinct ones can be related by designation. I am guessing especially on that second point. He then gives the example of asking young soldiers returning from war to formulate a sentence about war. They are unable to. When they hear the word “war”, what comes to their mind are sensory impressions of warfare and feelings of void where thoughts would normally be. They cannot link words together to express what they have learned war to be. And if they attempt to by describing certain objective features that are historically common to all wars, they soon will realize the inadequacy of such a description while remembering the indescribable mixtures of intense feelings they felt while at war. At last they will say, war is war. You just have to see it. We have the same problem when trying to represent death and birth. And in fact, we will ultimately encounter the same problem (for some reason) when trying to name any object whatsoever. For, there will come a time when we will be unable to name it. (I do not know why; my only guess is that the thing has changed, or contexts have changed, so much that it is seems to be something else altogether.) Thus definition is impossible, predication is impossible, and naming is impossible. Please see the quotation, because I have not summarized this one well.]
La difficulté essentielle qui résulte de cette opinion, que les mots désignent des objets réels, est la suivante : | comment dirons-nous que cet arbre est beau ? Cet arbre ne peut pas être à la fois ce qu’il est et autre chose encore. Je ne peux pas dire que Socrate est Théétète, je peux seulement dire que Socrate est Socrate. Si les mots correspondent aux objets terme pour terme, ils sont irrémédiablement séparés les uns des autres comme les objets le sont dans l’espace, ou irrémédiablement confondus dans une même durée comme le monde d’Héraclite. Ceux qui accusent le langage de trahir la réalité rejoignent ceux qui sont déçus dans leur croyance d’une représentation de la réalité par le langage. Demandez par exemple aux jeunes gens qui reviennent d’une guerre de construire une phrase sur la guerre. Ils ne le peuvent pas. Au seul nom de guerre ils entendent autour d’eux et dans leur tête le fracas des bombardements, ils voient des morts déchiquetés, des membres qui dépassent d’un éboulis, ils sentent un vide à la place de leur pensée, ils sont incapables de lier un mot à un autre, ils reprochent à ceux qui le font de se conduire en littérateurs; s’ils s’efforcent, pourtant, d’assembler des notions pour définir ou décrire ce qu’on appelle la guerre, ils diront qu’elle commence lorsque les diplomates quittent leur poste et que les armées entrent en bataille, mais cette formule leur paraîtra beaucoup trop historique et trop convenue, ils se rappelleront aussitôt leur vie sur le front qui fut un mélange d’ennui et d’héroïsme, d’exaltation et d’angoisse, et ils renonceront à en donner une image pour répondre finalement d’un air stupide : « La guerre, c’est, la guerre. Allez-y voir. » Pareillement ceux qui essaient de se représenter la mort ou le néant. Et même si nous tentons d’évoquer vivement n’importe quel objet ou n’importe quel individu, il arrivera un moment où nous serons également incapables de le nommer. De la confrontation entre langage et réalité il ne peut jamais sortir qu’une destruction du langage pour ce qu’il ne figure pas exactement la réalité : impossibilité de définir, impossibilité d’attribuer, impossibilité même de nommer.
(52-53)
[The Failure of Language in the Sophist]
(p.53-54: “ On comprend que les philosophes…”)
[We see in Plato’s Sophist an illustration for why language is doomed to fail to render all by itself some extra-linguistic reality.]
[I am not certain about the next ideas, so I will guess they are the following. Philosophers from the time of the fifth century B.C.E. continually failed to try to do the impossible task of grounding language in some extra-linguistic reality. In the Sophist, the stranger from Elea suggests to Theaetetus that the Sophist can be defined as the crafter of images. But that definition will not suffice, because images can only themselves be understood in relation to some kind of sensory experience of images themselves. I do not follow the idea here, but I am guessing Parain is saying that language is doomed to fail at presenting reality all on its own.]
On comprend que les philosophes du ve siècle aient abouti, en fin de compte, à défaites sur défaites à | force de tenter l’impossible. Platon nous en apporte maint témoignage. Lui-même perd le plus vif de son relief si on ne l’imagine pas aux prises avec ce drame. Dans un de ses derniers dialogues 1, par exemple, l’étranger d’Élée vient de suggérer à son interlocuteur, Théétète, qu’on pourrait sans doute définir le sophiste comme un faiseur d’images. Mais aussitôt il se reprend, car il s’aperçoit que le sophiste pourrait lui demander en retour ce qu’il appelle image. Il ne lui suffirait pas alors de répondre en évoquant les reflets des eaux et des miroirs, les peintures et les sculptures. Car l’homme en cause se rirait de ces formules (καταγελάσεται σου τῶν λόγων), bonnes tout au plus pour un homme qui voit (ὅταν ὡς βλέποντι λέγῃς) ; il feindrait d’ignorer miroirs, eaux et vue même, se bornant à reprendre toujours la même question embarrassante qui ressort de la nature des expressions elles-mêmes (ἐκ τῶν λόγων) 2, sans référence à aucune expérience sensible par nature incommunicable, à savoir : « qu’y a-t-il de commun entre toutes ces choses que l’on dit être multiples et que l’on honore pourtant d’un nom unique, celui d’image, comme si l’on pouvait étendre sur elles toutes une unité quelconque 3 ». Chacun peut ainsi arrêter n’importe quelle discussion ou même n’importe quelle conversation, en refusant de comprendre le sens des mots employés et en exigeant qu’on lui produise la réalité qu’ils désignent, opération impossible.
(53-54)
1. Sophiste, 240a.
2. W remplace λόγων par ἔργων ce qui montre qu’on avait cessé très tôt de comprendre que les problèmes de cette époque étaient des problèmes posés par les fonctions du langage, et non des problèmes de la connaissance expérimentale, tels qu’on est habitué à les formuler depuis Aristote.
3. 240a : Τὸ διὰ πάντων τούτων ἃ πολλὰ εἰπὼν ἠξίωσας ἑνὶ προσειπεῖν ὀνόματι φθεγξάμενος εἴδωλον ἐπὶ πᾶσιν ὡς ἓν ὄν. (54)
[The Philosophical Problem of Language]
(p.54-55: “On se figure aisément qu’Antisthène …”)
[On the one hand, words designate abstract entities. On the other hand, we have concrete sensory experiences of things that we want these abstract entities to be identified with, for otherwise our language is not latching onto our experienceable world. The ancient Greeks struggled with this problem no less than we do.]
[Antisthenes, it seems, argued that it is not possible to define essence on account of the fact that the definition is only a paraphrase and because we can only make known certain qualities that something possesses. So for example, (we do not define what money is essentially; rather) we say not what money is in itself but rather that it looks like tin. I am not sure, but the next idea might be that the essence is not definable because it is built inextricably into the thing’s name, and the only things that can be said about it are its features. And the only thing we can attribute to something is its own formula / statement (see Aristotle Metaphysics 1024b, 30: Greek, English). Aristotle admits that Antisthenes’ objection does not lack a certain appropriateness (application / opportunité / καιρόν), although Aristotle does not trust Antisthenes’ level of education on matter. And there is another problem. Suppose that for each object there is only one expression. This could mean that there is no expression for things which do not hold. But then how are we to discuss and argue against false things? These sorts of problems plagued ancient Greek philosophy at Plato’s time and led them to seek in language a world of sensible, designated objects. We find ourselves with the same difficulties whenever we wish to define our words by impressions that we want the words to express.]
On se figure aisément qu’Antisthène devait clouer ses contemporains sur place lorsqu’il répétait qu’il n’est pas possible de définir l’essence parce que la définition n’est qu’une périphrase et qu’on peut seulement de n’importe quelle chose faire connaître certaines qualités qu’elle possède ; ainsi dit-on, par exemple, | de l’argent, non pas ce qu’il est en lui-même, mais qu’il ressemble à l’étain 1. L’essence, elle, est dans le nom et y est enfermée. On ne peut attribuer à quoi que ce soit autre chose que sa propre formule (μηδὲν λέγεσθαι πλην τῷ οἰκείῳ λόγῳ ἕν ἐφ᾽ ἑνός). Aristote avoue que cette objection ne manque pas d’une certaine opportunité (ἒχει τινὰ καιρόν,), bien qu’il traite aussi Antisthène d’ignorant (οἱ Αντισθενείοι καὶ οἱ οὑτῶς ἀπαίδευτοι). Et en effet, s’il n’y a qu’une expression pour chaque objet, peut-on discuter et contredire, tout n’est-il pas vrai ? Tel était l’embarras où s’était placée la pensée grecque à l’époque de Platon à force de vouloir retrouver dans notre langage un monde d’objets sensibles qu’il désignerait. Tel est l’embarras où nous nous placerons, de même, chaque fois que nous voudrons définir nos paroles par des impressions que nous les chargerions d’exprimer.
(54-55)
1. Aristote, Métaph., 1043b, 26. τὸν γὰρ ὅρον λόγον εἶναι μακρόν. J’emprunte le terme de périphrase à la traduction de M. J. Tricot (Vrin, 1933) sans oublier, ainsi que le signale M. J. Tricot lui-même, que μακρός λόγος signifie aussi le verbiage des esclaves « qui, pour se disculper d’une faute, se perdent en explications longues et contradictoires, où il n’y a rien de raisonnable » (cf. L. Robin. La Théorie platonicienne ... , p. 424 et n. 335, avec renvoi à Ps. Alex. 818 4-9 Hd et Bonitz Métaph. 582).
(55)
[Socrates, Truth, and Language]
(p.55-56: “Socrate, le premier, aperçut le danger.”)
[Socrates noticed this problem and sought to save thinking from being unable to distinguish true from false.]
[Socrates was the first to notice this danger (of wanting language to both have its abstract and concrete designations), because he had the audacity to focus on the destructions at work in language and at work in his own philosophizing. (I do not follow the next idea, so see the quotation below. It might be that by assuming there is a direct correspondence between material objects and their names, we arrive upon the notion that language expresses these impressions and thus that science is sensation. I am not sure what that last part means, however. Next Parain notes that Protagoras held that all is true, and Gorgias held that all is false, because the plurality of real objects escapes discourses ability to express them. Thus Socrates and Plato sought a rational basis for determining truth and falsity.]
Socrate, le premier, aperçut le danger. C’est qu’il avait eu, l’audace de considérer sans détour la destruction qui s’opérait, et qu’il opérait lui-même. De la croyance en une correspondance directe entre les objets matériels et leurs noms, on était passé, naturellement du reste, à l’idée que le langage exprime nos impressions2 et que par conséquent la science est la sensation. Protagoras avait soutenu que tout est vrai. Gorgias affirmait que tout est faux parce que « la pluralité des objets réels échappe à la prise du discours, en sorte que ni l’un ni les autres ne peuvent rendre réciproquement compte de leur nature », et que donc de ce qui ne peut être « démontré à autrui nul critère n’est possible3 ». Il fallait « redres- | ser le logos1 ». Ce fut l’entreprise de Socrate, puis celle de Platon 2.
(55-56)
2. « En effet le discours, selon Gorgias, résulte des impressions que font sur nous les choses extérieures, c’est-à-dire les sensibles », nous rapporte de Gorgias Sextus Empiricus, Adv. Math., VII, 84.
3. Ibid., 86.
(55)
1. R. P. Festugière, Contemplation et vie conlemplative selon Platon, Paris, Vrin, 1936, p. 248.
2. Cf. B. Parain, Essai sur le logos platonicien, chap. II sqq.
(56)
[Socrates contra Language and Sophistry. Socrates and Language’s Mysterious Power]
(p.56: “Partout, dans les dialogues de Platon...”)
[Socrates mistrusts words, especially in the hands of the Sophists. He also ascribes some sort of a mysterious power to language too.]
[Throughout Plato’s dialogues, Socrates often seems mistrustful of words, as he accuses the Sophistic rhetoricians of being charlatans of discourse. Socrates even thinks that it is possible to obtain knowledge of the real even without the aid of names. Nonetheless, he also regarded language as having some sort of a mysterious power. In the Phaedo, he says, “you may be sure that such wrong words are not only undesirable in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil” (English; Greek). And “‘The danger of becoming misologists or haters of argument,’ said he, ‘as people become misanthropists or haters of man; for no worse evil can happen to a man than to hate argument’” (English; Greek).]
Partout, dans les dialogues de Platon, Socrate nous apparaît à la fois comme animé d’une méfiance raisonnée à l’égard des mots, accusant les sophistes rhétoriciens d’être des charlatans du discours, pensant qu’il « est possible d’acquérir sans les noms une connaissance du réel3 », et en même temps comme soumis toutefois à certaine puissance mystérieuse du langage. « Sache-le bien en effet, disait-il, une expression vicieuse ne détonne pas uniquement par rapport à cela même qu’elle exprime, mais cause encore du mal dans les âmes4 ... Ne devenons pas des misologues, comme il arrive à certains de devenir misanthropes ; car il ne peut advenir à personne pire malheur que de prendre en haine le discours5.
(56)
3. Cratyle, 438e.
4. Phédon, 115e. Τὸ μὴ καλῶς λέγειν οὐ μόνον εἰς αὐτὸ τοῦτο πλημμελές, ἀλλὰ καὶ κακόν τι ἐμποιεῖ ταῖς ψυχαῖς.
5. Phédon, 89c-d. Μὴ γενώμεθα μισόλογοι, ὥσπερ οἱ μισάνθρωποι γιγνόμενοι· ὡς οὐκ ἔστιν... ὅτι ἄν τις μεῖζον τούτου κακὸν πάθοι ἢ λόγους μισήσας.
(56)
[Socrates’ Failed Linguistic Endeavor]
(p.56-57: “Admirateur à la fois de Prodicos...”)
[Socrates wanted to link practical matters concerning life and morality to their linguistic expressions. But he ultimately failed at this task.]
[Socrates tried to define such moral notions as the just, the beautiful, and the good in terms of how they are attained in practice, trying to link our acts (ἔργα) with their linguistic or rational expressions (λόγοι). He did so drawing inspiration from Prodicus who was very attentive to the meaning of words and from craftsman who were skilled at crafting beautiful objects and solving the technical problems encountered in their profession. And he also wanted to conduct his inquiries with total honesty and with a strong attention to issues of conduct. But in the end, Socrates failed, it seems. His death was in suicide. He for too long doubted language. And supposing Plato to be an accurate source, Socrates even to his last day saw his error. We do not in fact know whether or not Socrates was the inventor of Ideas or if Plato was and he simply attributed this to Socrates out of his deep reverence for him. Socrates was too reluctant to write, believing too much in the power of conversation. He is thus like a hero in a sublime tragedy.]
Admirateur à la fois de Prodicos si attentif à scruter le sens des mots, et des artisans si habiles à fabriquer de beaux objets et à résoudre les problèmes de leur métier, mû surtout par un souci d’honnêteté totale et par une vision extraordinaire du problème essentiel de notre conduite, celui de la sainteté, il cherchait à définir les notions morales, le juste, le beau, le bon, en fonction de leur accomplissement, essayant de déterminer à quelles attitudes pratiques elles correspondent et tentant de soumettre à une même loi, supérieure à eux, nos actes et leurs expressions, les ἔργα et les λόγοι. Mais il y échoua, semble-t-il. Sa mort fut un suicide. Il avait trop longtemps douté du langage. Et si Platon est un témoin fidèle, ce n’est qu’à son dernier jour qu’il reconnut son erreur6. Fut-il l’inventeur des Idées ou son disciple les lui attribua-t-il par piété ? Nous ne le savons pas. Socrate se convertit sans doute trop tard à la littérature et avec | trop de réticence pour écrire. Il avait mis trop d’espoir dans l’action pour pouvoir mener au but sa conversion. Il fut seulement le héros d’une tragédie sublime.
(56-57)
6. Phédon, 99e.
(56)
[Plato and Contradictions from Applying Language to Moral Action]
(p.57-59: “ Platon nous le montre toujours...”)
[Plato often shows how when we try to apply linguistic distinctions to our moral activity, we find that contradictions ensue.]
[Plato often shows us that he is dissatisfied by his formulas and frustrated by the contradictions that result from the formulas’ confrontation with action. (Parain then quotes the Protagoras at length. The English translation is pasted below. I do not quite understand Plato’s argument. My best guess at the moment is that first someone might claim that pleasure is good and pain is bad. Then it needs to be explained why certain unpleasant actions, like physical training and certain medical treatments, are still good even though they do not give pleasure. The reply then seems to be that they give greater pleasure later on. It also needs to be explained why certain pleasurable things are bad. The reply then seems to be that by doing them, one creates displeasure in the future on account of their unwanted consequences. Plato says that still this is an absurd use of language, but I am not sure why. He might be saying that we identify good with pleasure and bad with pain, but in our actual actions, we often identify bad with pleasure and good with pain.]
[353c] Then what do you call this thing which we described as [que nous traduisions par ces mots] “being overcome by pleasures”? The answer I should give them would be this: Please attend; Protagoras and I will try to explain it to you. Do you not say that this thing occurs, good people, in the common case of a man being overpowered by the pleasantness of food or drink or sexual acts, and doing what he does though he knows it to be wicked? They would admit it. Then you and I would ask them again: In what sense do you call such deeds wicked? [353d] Is it that they produce those pleasures and are themselves pleasant at the moment, or that later on they cause diseases and poverty, and have many more such ills in store for us? Or, even though they have none of these things in store for a later day, and cause us only enjoyment, would they still be evil just because, forsooth, they cause enjoyment in some way or other? Can we suppose, Protagoras, that they will make any other answer than that these things are evil, not according to the operation of the actual pleasure [353e] of the moment, but owing to the later results in disease and those other ills?
I think, said Protagoras, that most people would answer thus.
Then in causing diseases they cause pains? And in causing poverty they cause pains?
[354a] They would admit this, I imagine.
Protagoras agreed.
Then does it seem to you, my friends, as Protagoras and I assert, that the only reason why these things are evil is that they end at last in pains, and deprive us of other pleasures? Would they admit this?
We both agreed that they would.
Then again, suppose we should ask them the opposite: You, sirs, who tell us on the other hand that good things are painful—do you not give such instances as physical training, military service, and medical treatment conducted by cautery, incision, drugs, or starvation, and say that these are good, but painful? Would they not grant it? [354b] He agreed that they would.
Then do you call them good because they produce extreme pangs and anguish for the moment, or because later on they result in health and good bodily condition, the deliverance of cities, dominion over others, and wealth? They would assent to this, I suppose.
He agreed.
And are these things good for any other reason than that they end at last in pleasures and relief and riddance of pains? Or have you some other end to mention, [354c] with respect to which you call them good, apart from pleasures and pains? They could not find one, I fancy.
I too think they could not, said Protagoras.
Then do you pursue pleasure as being a good thing, and shun pain as being a bad one?
He agreed that we do.
So one thing you hold to be bad—pain; and pleasure you hold to be good, since the very act of enjoying you call bad as soon as it deprives us of greater pleasures than it has in itself, or leads to greater pains than the pleasures it contains. [354d] For if it is with reference to something else that you call the act of enjoyment bad, and with a view to some other end, you might be able to tell it us but this you will be unable to do.
I too think that they cannot, said Protagoras.
Then is not the same thing repeated in regard to the state of being pained? You call being pained a good thing as soon as it either rids us of greater pains than those it comprises, or leads to greater pleasures than its pains. Now if you have in view some other end [354e] than those which I mention when you call being pained good, you can tell it us; but you never can.
Truly spoken, said Protagoras.
Once more then, I proceeded; if you were to ask me, my friends, Now why on earth do you speak at such length on this point, and in so many ways? I should reply, Forgive me: in the first place, it is not easy to conclude what it is that you mean when you say [vous entendez par ces mots] “overcome by pleasures”; and secondly, on this point hang all our conclusions. But it is still quite possible to retract, if you can somehow contrive to say that [355a] the good is different from pleasure, or the bad from pain. Is it enough for you to live out your life pleasantly, without pain? If it is, and you are unable to tell us of any other good or evil that does not end in pleasure or pain, listen to what I have to say next. I tell you that if this is so, the argument [votre langage] becomes absurd, when you say that it is often the case that a man, knowing the evil to be evil, nevertheless commits it, when he might avoid it, because he is driven and dazed [355b] by his pleasures; while on the other hand you say that a man, knowing the good, refuses to do good because of the momentary pleasures by which he is overcome.
The absurdity of all this [L’absurdité de ce langage] will be manifest if we refrain from using a number of terms at once, such as pleasant, painful, good, and bad; and as there appeared to be two things, let us call them by two names—first, good and evil, and then later on, pleasant and painful.
(Plato, Protagoras, 353c-355b, copied from Perseus. Italics correspond to those in Parain, and bracketed French words are my insertions from Parain.)
]
Platon nous le montre toujours insatisfait de ses formules et toujours embarrassé par les contradictions qui résultent de leur confrontation avec l’action. « Imaginons qu’ils insistent, dit Socrate dans le Protagoras1, et nous posent la question suivante : “ Comment donc exprimez-vous l’idée que nous traduisions par ces mots, être vaincu par le plaisir ? ” Je leur répondrais : “ Écoutez, nous allons tâcher de vous l’expliquer, Protagoras et moi. Qu’entendez-vous, chers amis, quand vous dites que vous êtes vaincus par le plaisir du manger, du boire ou de l’amour, sinon ceci que, sachant ces choses mauvaises, vous les faites cependant ? – Oui ”, diraient-ils. Nous leur poserions alors cette nouvelle question : “ En quoi dites-vous que ces choses soient mauvaises ? Est-ce par l’agrément immédiat qu’elles vous apportent et par ce que chacune a d’agréable, ou parce qu’elles vous ménagent pour plus tard des maladies, la pauvreté et d’autres inconvénients du même genre ? Si elles ne vous préparaient rien de pareil pour l’avenir, et qu’elles vous donnassent seulement de la joie, seraient-elles mauvaises tout de même et de quelque manière qu’elles vous eussent procuré cette joie ? ” Que nous répondrait-on, Protagoras, sinon que ce qui les rend mauvaises, ce n’est pas la joie immédiate qu’elles donnent, mais les conséquences qu’elles entraînent, les maladies et le reste ? – Je crois, reprit Protagoras, que c’est là en effet ce qu’on nous répondrait. – “ Mais en vous rendant malades, elles vous apportent une douleur, et elles vous en apportent une en vous rendant pauvres ? ” – Nos interlocuteurs le reconnaîtraient, si je ne me trompe. – Je le crois aussi, dit Protagoras. – “ Vous admettrez donc, chers amis, que si ces choses sont mauvaises, c’est uniquement, comme Protagoras et moi le soutenons, parce qu’elles aboutissent à une souffrance et qu’elles nous privent d’autres plaisirs ? ” Le reconnaîtraient-ils? – | Nous fûmes d’accord pour dire que oui. – Et si nous leur posions la question contraire : “ Quand vous dites que certaines choses bonnes sont douloureuses, de quoi voulez-vous parler ? Des exercices du gymnase, du service militaire, des traitements médicaux qui comportent l’emploi du fer et du feu, l’absorption de drogues répugnantes et la diète : voilà ce que vous appelez des choses à la fois bonnes et douloureuses ? ” ils le reconnaîtraient, je pense? – Protagoras fut de mon avis. – “ Mais ces choses, les appelez-vous bonnes en raison des souffrances pénibles et cruelles qu’elles vous imposent sur le moment, ou parce qu’elles vous assurent par la suite la santé, le bien-être physique, la force des cités, l’empire sur les autres et la richesse ? ” Je pense qu’ils me l’accorderaient. – Protagoras en convint. – “ Et si elles sont bonnes, n’est-ce pas uniquement parce qu’elles aboutissent à procurer du plaisir, à écarter et à prévenir des souffrances ? Avez-vous en vue autre chose que des plaisirs ou des souffrances quand vous les déclarez bonnes ? ” Je crois qu’ils ne pourraient pas dire le contraire. – Je ne le crois pas non plus, dit Protagoras – “ Mais quand vous poursuivez le plaisir, n’est-ce pas comme un bien et quand vous fuyez la douleur n’est-ce pas comme un mal ? – D’accord. – De sorte que le mal, à vos yeux, c’est la douleur, et que le bien, c’est le plaisir, puisqu’une joie vous apparaît comme un mal si elle vous prive de plus d’agréments qu’elle n’en comporte par elle-même ou si elle vous prépare des souffrances supérieures à ce qu’elle vous donne de plaisir. Il est évident, en effet, que si vous aviez en vue un autre critérium quand vous déclarez la joie elle-même mauvaise, vous pourriez nous l’indiquer : mais vous ne le pourrez pas. ” – C’est aussi mon opinion, dit Protagoras. – “ Pour la souffrance, le cas n’est-il pas le même? La souffrance ne vous paraît-elle pas bonne quand elle vous préserve d’autres souffrances plus grandes qu’elle n’est elle-même, ou quand elle vous assure des plaisirs supérieurs ? Si vous faites entrer en ligne de compte d’autres considérations que celles-là quand vous les jugez bonnes, dites-les : mais vous ne le pourrez pas. ” – Tu dis vrai, reprit Protagoras. Je continuai : – “ A votre tour, chers amis, si vous me | demandez : Pourquoi tant de discours sous toutes les formes sur ce même sujet ? Je vous répondrai : Pardonnez-moi ; c’est d’abord qu’il n’est pas facile d’élucider ce que vous entendez par ces mots, être vaincu par le plaisir ; ensuite, c’est que ce premier éclaircissement entraîne tous les autres. Mais il est encore temps de vous reprendre et de voir si le bien ne serait pas pour vous autre chose que le plaisir, le mal autre chose que la souffrance, ou s’il vous suffit de vivre une vie agréable exempte de douleurs ? Si cela vous suffit, si vous ne pouvez concevoir le bien et le mal qu’en relation avec ce genre de résultats, écoutez ce que j’ai à vous dire. Je vous déclare que s’il en est ainsi, votre langage est absurde lorsque vous dites que souvent un homme, connaissant qu’une chose est mauvaise, l’accomplit cependant, sans y être forcé, parce qu’il est entraîné et égaré par le plaisir ; après quoi vous dites aussi qu’un homme, connaissant le bien, ne le fait pas, à cause du plaisir immédiat qui est plus fort que lui. L’absurdité de ce langage apparaît avec évidence, lorsqu’au lieu d’employer tant de mots, l’agréable, le pénible, le bon et le mauvais, on se contente, ayant constaté qu’il n’y a que deux choses, de n’employer aussi que deux mots, d’abord le bon et le mauvais, ensuite l’agréable et le pénible ... ”. »
(57-59)
1. 353c sqq. (trad. A. Croiset et L. Bodin, Platon., O. C., t. III, Ire partie, Les Belles Lettres, p. 75 sqq.).
(57)
[Socrates and the Absurdity of Tying Language to Moral Actions]
(p. 59-60: “Platon nous le montre toujours...”)
[Plato’s argument here in the Protagoras involves him challenging the assumption that language can be straight-forwardly related to reality. For, actions which in themselves are pleasant can be called bad, even though the fact they are pleasant also means they can be called good. This holds likewise for certain painful activities.]
[What interests us here is the way Socrates argues when refuting that the good can be reduced to pleasure, because he challenges the common understanding of the relation between reality and language. On one side, we have what is, and it is given to us by pleasant or painful sensation. On the other side we have what is said, and it leads elsewhere. Socrates tries to show that if words are given either a good or bad sensible content and thus that when we speak of good things we mean what makes us feel good or pleasant, and likewise for the bad, then we end up encountering absurdities, because after reasoning through matters we find that the words come to take up an opposite sense to the one assigned to them in the beginning. Parain then quotes the passages following directly after the above ones from the Protagoras. I do not follow it so well, but maybe Socrates is making the following point. If we say that someone does evil while knowing they should do something good, the reasoning would be that they were overcome by pleasure. That is to say, they did something bad, because it gave them so much pleasure in that moment. But we said that pleasure was good. So we would form the contradictory conclusion then they did not do good (as their acts would lead to pain), because they were doing what was good (as their acts were pleasant). Or maybe it is some similar sort of absurdity. See the Plato quotation below and Parain after.]
Let us then lay it down as our statement, [355c] that a man does evil in spite of knowing the evil of it. Now if someone asks us: Why? we shall answer: Because he is overcome. By what? the questioner will ask us and this time we shall be unable to reply: By pleasure—for this has exchanged its name for “the good.” So we must answer only with the words: Because he is overcome. By what? says the questioner. The good—must surely be our reply. Now if our questioner chance to be an arrogant person he will laugh and exclaim: What a ridiculous statement, [355d] that a man does evil, knowing it to be evil, and not having to do it, because he is overcome by the good!
(Plato, Protagoras, 355b-355d, copied from Perseus.)
]
Socrate ne prend pas à son compte, bien entendu, la théorie selon laquelle le bien se réduirait au plaisir. Il la réfute, au contraire. Mais ce n’est pas sa morale qui nous intéresse pour le moment, c’est le procédé de son argumentation, qui s’exerce sur le rapport établi par ses adversaires et par l’opinion commune entre la réalité et le langage. D’un côté il y a ce qui est, et qui nous est fourni par la sensation d’agréable ou de douloureux, et de l’autre ce qui est dit, et qui conduit ailleurs. Il s’agit pour Socrate de montrer que si l’on donne aux mots bon et mauvais un contenu sensible, si lorsque nous parlons d’une chose bonne nous entendons ce que nous ressentons comme bon, c’est-à-dire l’agréable, et pareillement pour le mauvais, on aboutit à des absurdités que le calcul révèle, parce que les mots prennent à la fin du raisonnement un sens opposé à celui qui leur avait été attribué au début. « Disons que l’homme, sachant que le mal est mal, le fait tout de même. Si l’on nous demande | alors : “ pourquoi ? ” nous répondrons : “ parce qu’il a été vaincu ” – “ par quelle force? ”, nous demandera-t-on ; mais nous ne pourrons plus dire “ par le plaisir ”, car ce mot “ le plaisir ” a fait place au mot “ le bien ”. Il nous faudra répondre en disant qu’il a été vaincu ; “ par quoi? ” demandera -t-on ; “ par le bien ” répondrons-nous forcément ... Il fait le mal sachant que c’est mal et qu’il ne devrait pas le faire, parce qu’il est vaincu par le bien! »
(59-60)
[Plato’s and Socrates’ Ultimate Preference for Language and Concepts over Sensory Objectivity]
(p. 60: “Dans cette joute entre le langage...”)
[In the end, however, Socrates and Plato come on the side of language and concepts rather than sensory experience.]
[In this conflict between language and reality, it is not language that will fall, but rather reality will. Socrates concludes that he should turn to language rather than sense experience: “I was afraid my soul would be blinded if I looked at things with my eyes and tried to grasp them with any of my senses. So I thought I must have recourse to conceptions and examine in them the truth of realities” (Plato, Phaedo, 99e, from Perseus). And Plato grounds his philosophy in Ideas.]
Dans cette joute entre le langage et la réalité, ce n’est pourtant pas le langage qui succombera, malgré l’absurdité de cette formule, mais la réalité. « Il me sembla dès lors que je devais chercher un refuge du côté des expressions et envisager en elles la vérité des choses », décidera Socrate en fin de compte1. Platon en tirera sa doctrine des Idées.
(60)
1. Phédon, 99e : Ἔδοξε μοι χρῆναι εἰς τοὺς λόγους καταφυγόντα ἐν ἐκείνοις σκοπεῖν τῶν ὄντων τὴν ἀλήθειαν.
(60)
[Socrates as Larger and Smaller. Temporal and Spatial Determinations as Always Incorporeal]
(p.60-61: “ En effet, si nous donnons aux mots...”)
[Our words designate concrete sensible realities, but they have as their sense abstract entities. The conditions of the sensible world are such that they can call for contradictory senses in the same occurrence. So insofar as we insist on our language directly expressing concrete sensible reality, we will find that it will ultimately involve meaningful reference only to abstract designations that admit of contradictory combinations. For example, Socrates has a body of certain spatial features. And we have words, namely ‘large’ and ‘small’, that we want to apply to the sensibly real and concrete circumstances of Socrates’ physique. But we find that ‘large’ applies to him when he stands next to a smaller person, and ‘small’ applies to him when standing next to a larger person. And so when standing between these two other people, both ‘large’ and ‘small’ apply to him. Even if we use metrical determinations for temporal and spatial properties, we find that they refer not to the sensible situation itself but rather to the insensible metrics that measure it.]
[Parain next says that in fact, if we give our words a sensible content, then we thereby make ourselves incapable of reasoning. Honey seems bitter to someone with a fever but sweet to another in good health. (I am not sure what the idea is there. Maybe it is that if we reason by assigning to words sensory designations, then we will encounter contradictions. So instead we should assign to words conceptual content. I am guessing.) (The next part seems to say that Socrates appears large to Phaedo but small to Simmias, because he is smaller than Simmias and larger than Phaedo. Here are the passages in that part of the Phaedo (in these passages, it is Simmias who takes the middle value, so maybe I misread Parain):
As I remember it, after all this had been admitted, and they had agreed that [102b] each of the abstract qualities exists and that other things which participate in these get their names from them, then Socrates asked: “Now if you assent to this, do you not, when you say that Simmias is greater than Socrates and smaller than Phaedo, say that there is in Simmias greatness and smallness?”
“Yes.”
“But,” said Socrates, “you agree that the statement that Simmias is greater than Socrates is not true as stated in those words. For Simmias is not greater than Socrates [102c] by reason of being Simmias, but by reason of the greatness he happens to have; nor is he greater than Socrates because Socrates is Socrates, but because Socrates has smallness relatively to his greatness.”
“True.”
“And again, he is not smaller than Phaedo because Phaedo is Phaedo, but because Phaedo has greatness relatively to Simmias’s smallness.”
“That is true.”
“Then Simmias is called small and great, when he is between the two, [102d] surpassing the smallness of the one by exceeding him in height, and granting to the other the greatness that exceeds his own smallness.” And he laughed and said, “I seem to be speaking like a legal document, but it really is very much as I say.”
Simmias agreed.
“I am speaking so because I want you to agree with me. I think it is evident not only that greatness itself will never be great and also small, but that the greatness in us will never admit the small or allow itself to be exceeded. One of two things must take place: either it flees or withdraws when [102e] its opposite, smallness, advances toward it, or it has already ceased to exist by the time smallness comes near it. But it will not receive and admit smallness, thereby becoming other than it was. So I have received and admitted smallness and am still the same small person I was; but the greatness in me, being great, has not suffered itself to become small. In the same way the smallness in us will never become or be great, nor will any other opposite which is still what it was, ever become or be also its own opposite. [103a] It either goes away or loses its existence in the change.”
“That,” said Cebes, “seems to me quite evident.”
Then one of those present—I don’t just remember who it was—said: “In Heaven’s name, is not this present doctrine the exact opposite of what was fitted in our earlier discussion, that the greater is generated from the less and the less from the greater and that opposites are always generated from their opposites? But now it seems to me we are saying, this can never happen.”
Socrates cocked his head on one side and listened.
[103b] “You have spoken up like a man,” he said, “but you do not observe the difference between the present doctrine and what we said before. We said before that in the case of concrete things opposites are generated from opposites; whereas now we say that the abstract concept of an opposite can never become its own opposite, either in us or in the world about us. Then we were talking about things which possess opposite qualities and are called after them, but now about those very opposites the immanence of which gives the things their names. We say that these latter [103c] can never be generated from each other.”
At the same time he looked at Cebes and said: “And you—are you troubled by any of our friends’ objections?”
“No,” said Cebes, “not this time; though I confess that objections often do trouble me.”
“Well, we are quite agreed,” said Socrates, “upon this, that an opposite can never be its own opposite.”
“Entirely agreed,” said Cebes.
“Now,” said he, “see if you agree with me in what follows: Is there something that you call heat and something you call cold?”
“Yes.”
“Are they the same as snow and fire?”
[103d] “No, not at all.”
“But heat is a different thing from fire and cold differs from snow?”
“Yes.”
“Yet I fancy you believe that snow, if (to employ the form of phrase we used before) it admits heat, will no longer be what it was, namely snow, and also warm, but will either withdraw when heat approaches it or will cease to exist.”
“Certainly.”
“And similarly fire, when cold approaches it, will either withdraw or perish. It will never succeed in admitting cold and being still fire, [103e] as it was before, and also cold.”
“That is true,” said he.
“The fact is,” said he, “in some such cases, that not only the abstract idea itself has a right to the same name through all time, but also something else, which is not the idea, but which always, whenever it exists, has the form of the idea. […]”
(Plato, Phaedo, 102a-103e, copied from Perseus)
And when being cauterized, we feel pain for a moment, but afterward relief on account of the resulting healing. What we find then is that we cannot assign a universal and permanent meaning that would fix magnitudes to such words as bitter, sweet, great, small, painful, and agreeable. And whatever we say is given neither a temporal nor a spatial specification. The next idea I might get wrong, but we should attend closely to it, as it may be relevant to the first chapter of Deleuze’s Logic of Sense. Parain might be saying the following, but you should consult the quotation below. We said that words like bitter, sweet, etc. have an abstract sense but a concrete reference, and the conditions of the concrete reference can call for multiple senses that are logically incompatible. The Socrates-height example is a matter of the sense involving arbitrary comparisons, such that the same person can express the sense of being large or larger while also expressing being small or smaller. Parain in previous sections when discussing the Heraclitian flux of the sensory world alludes to another way that contradictory senses can be assigned to the same thing, namely, when it is caught in an instant of change (on the logic of the instant of change as involving contradictory formulations, see Graham Priest In Contradiction chapters 11 and 12.) Parain then shows that this still holds even when we make spatial and temporal quantitative determinations rather than mere comparisons. So we can say that Socrates is 1.65 meters, while Simmias is 1.7 and Phaedo 1.6. The next example I do not quite grasp, but it might be that fire that is gradually rising (or that remains in contact with us eventually for too long) is pleasant at its level of intensity at the time 2:30 but it gets painful at the time 2:40. Parain then notes why this still does not sufficiently fix the determinations. His says that the quantitative fixing here only fixes it in relation to a measurable time that is distinct from the real concrete duration, or it fixes it in relation to a measurable and intelligible space that is distinct from our actual location in the world. So let us try to grasp this. Parain might be saying the following. When we say that Socrates is 1.65 meters, the metrical designation is not something inherent to his actual size. It is rather an abstract scale that applies universally to all spatial things. So we are not determining Socrates’ size solely with respect to his actual physical properties but rather to some abstract measure existing somehow always beyond any particular measure. The same would seem to hold for temporal determinations. The overall idea might be the following. Whether we use comparative or metricized temporal and spatial qualifications, we will do so using concepts and words whose referents are not the actual sensible realities but rather abstract ones, and this is problematic because the qualifications and linguistic descriptions would only have value and sense were they descriptive of the sensible properties themselves. Thus, “Elles resteraient donc, malgré tous nos efforts, irrémédiablement séparées du sensible par leur caractère abstrait.” So either these linguistic designations either have no sense, or their sense does not come primarily from sensible sources. Rather, they derive their value from the world of Ideas. And the Ideas give their name to sensible objects that they participate in. Thus Plato concludes in the Sophist that logos is a type of being.]
En effet, si nous donnons aux mots que nous prononçons un contenu sensible, nous nous mettons aussitôt dans l’incapacité de raisonner. Le miel paraît amer à l’un qui l’appelle ainsi parce qu’il a la fièvre, et doux à l’autre parce qu’il est en bonne santé. Socrate paraît grand à Phédon mais petit à Simmias, parce qu’il est plus petit que Simmias et plus grand que Phédon2. La pointe de feu est douloureuse sur le moment, mais elle produit ensuite un soulagement agréable puisque la dent en est guérie3. Il est donc impossible d’attribuer à ces mots amer, doux, grand, petit, douloureux, agréable, un sens universel et permanent qui permît de les traiter comme des grandeurs fixes. Cependant ce que nous disons n’est pas non plus spécifié dans le temps réel ni dans l’espace réel. Même si nous réussissions à soumettre nos paroles à la mesure4 disant que Socrate a 1 m 65 de haut, par exemple, tandis que Simmias a 1 m 70 et Phédon 1 m 60, ou bien que la pointe de feu est doulou- | reuse à 2 h 30, et agréable à 2 h 40, ce procédé ne les fixerait que par rapport à un temps mesurable, c’est-à-dire intelligible et distinct de la durée, ou à un espace mesurable et intelligible distinct par sa nature de notre place en tel ou tel endroit précis de l’univers. Elles resteraient donc, malgré tous nos efforts, irrémédiablement séparées du sensible par leur caractère abstrait. Il faut admettre par conséquent qu’elles n’ont aucun sens ou que leur sens leur vient d’ailleurs que d’un apport sensible. Le monde d’où elles tirent leur valeur est celui des Idées, qui donnent, en effet, leur nom aux objets sensibles et dont ceux-ci participent. Le logos est un genre de l’être, conclura Platon dans le Sophiste.
(60-61)
2. Phédon, 102b sqq.
3. Protagoras, 354a.
4. Exigence naturelle, d’où sont nées les mathématiques. Elle apparait dans les dialogues de Platon au terme de toute recherche sur le sens des mots (cf. Protagoras, 356 sqq. Phédon, la théorie des contraires. Rép., la place des mathématiques dans la dialectique ... etc.).
(60)
[Aristotle on Induction and General Definition Possibly in Relation to Naming]
(p.61: “Aristote attribue à Socrate la découverte...”)
[Aristotle notes that Socrates discovers inductive reasoning and the fashioning of general definitions. We turn now to these matters to see if they bear some relation with respect to naming.]
[Aristotle credits Socrates with discovering the first inductive expressions and the first general definitions. Parain then wonders something, but I may get it wrong. It seems maybe that we have on the one hand naming and posing the first term of an induction, while on the other hand we have the seeking of the name’s definition. He might be wondering if doing both is essentially doing the same thing, as the denomination is represented by a single name, which designates a type and thus a multitude of particular objects sharing a common essence. It seems this matter is further discussed in the next section. I did not adequately get the idea here, so I will revise it after learning how it comes to be developed further on in the text. For example, I do not know what is meant by induction here in relation to naming and defining.]
Aristote attribue à Socrate la découverte des premières expressions inductives, et des premières définitions générales1. N’est-ce pas, dirons-nous, même démarche, essentiellement, que nommer et poser le premier terme d’une induction, puis en chercher la définition, puisque le propre de la dénomination est de représenter par un seul nom, qui désigne un genre, une multitude d’objets particuliers à qui est attribuée ainsi une essence commune ?
(61)
1. Aristote. Métaph. M. 1087b 27: δύο γάρ ἐστιν ἅ τις ἂν ἀποδοίη Σωκράτει δικαίως, τούς τ᾽ ἐπακτικοὺς λόγους καὶ τὸ ὁρίζεσθαι καθόλου.
(61. Note, I found the quotation of footnote 1 in section 1078b. Here is the English for that line: “There are two innovations which, may fairly be ascribed to Socrates: inductive reasoning and general definition.”)
From:
Parain, Brice. 1942. Recherches sur la nature et les fonctions du langage. Paris: Gallimard.
Other citations, made by me or Parain:
Bréhier, Émile. 1962. La théorie des incorporels dans l'ancien stoïcisme. 3rd Edn. Paris: Vrin.
Inwood, Brad, and Gerson, Loyd P. 2008. The Stoics Reader. Selected Writings and Testimonia, edited and translated by Brad Inwood and Loyd P. Gerson. Indianapolis and Cambridge: Hackett.
Long, Anthony A. and David N. Sedley. 1987. The Hellenistic Philosophers, vol.1: Translations of the Principle Sources, with Philosophical Commentary. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Luhtala, Anneli. 2000. On the Origin of Syntactical Description in Stoic Logic. Münster: Nodus.
Plato, Phaedo, copied from:
http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Plat.+Phaedo+99e&fromdoc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0170
Plato, Protagoras, copied from:
http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Plat.+Prot.+353c&fromdoc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0178
Simplicius. 2002. On Aristotle Categories 7-8. Translated by Barrie Fleet. London: Bloomsbury.
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