1~

~~

\-l\':-,;::;" I.",. "'\"') ' '\

"

,~,,','\\,\' .. .
\ "

~,j 'L. ~""" \{''>-It'llj'''\',,,I,\'\!, ~".~l ":\"\,,\ \:,(:~H ,IV.,,{. 1'\ ~ ~ ,I

'. /I: "'" ,.
J.;;, .\"

,,', ""

- ,t"-I ,1: \' i". t" '\ "', ':,,\',')'1: 'H",,',.,,' , "'r .t,I)
1\:1> ~
<,

x 0 tr1 ~
Vl_

,'I

"

"':: ' \

iC
tr1
l,.I.J.

'\"

:'i\\\,',\\{
\ \" ( \\ ,~'~,..

\\',

",-.

I\"'\'[<;~'I

"" '"

"\

~'t,;i.t,'1,,~,,\\\\.~.

';'t'\',u,'I);"'1 " "

d,.'

I'" \,

~
l

\J"''.: ~ ""4 'I " j 10,\", -.: .,., ,I l ,~y)fl~(." \'11 -', '\\""..~\I'';','iI'\"'", \, I 't \.,,~,-: ,(I. \', J \ t.!...~1 \.;:',... f'J,~ -,q" i~\ .. \. . ) tJ'~"'~'$.~r:~\~\I\\..r~"')'IIJ;.d

-1'

":\;::'~>Z:'-"'I'?tt,.{".,(;,:,\~,,~~~~\~., "I ~ ,l. \ \I, \' ,\, 1_ t. 'I \, ~ 1\",(,

/"'t" :.
"f

:>
~
~

'

0 ~
~

.... tT1
0
~
~

'\ ,'\:
"":'\"J~ ~

\'''\
, .....

'v.
1,,\

'\
",'~,\--. I

.,\"".~\';,~.,
'1'

t:

('!:.,

I, ,''.'",',
\ t

!,

,,!
t ,

:----'.' !;(J (Htl, \

.,

-"'} " \" t

1;;\\,

'll
\\\\",'
..1 ,\ ,I

h<::,
4'1

'11
,
'".

,(~ \'
-"

'-

'i.'-" ~ ~\,' \,,,",,,,IDI.!"!'\'~\'~!YV"~ \J 1,,/(",\.'Ii.. '~'

r; \. '"'
J' \...."

l)'~ ~

1. 'r. "~:\\~'':

;'''!.,.J~o,t'';~'''-''tl.i\\~l...\.1
:"'~~'I ,\~,
'"

~'";'\,},?,;,,,'"t :11)
I!1.j';

11',
.,

tI1
,

"..,

')J\~

''':

~,:,v>'}','
r~'"

,,4\ :~it')~~~?:';~~~':4~~~:\0
~ ' ,-~ f t
q

V~.'. "l-<i~' rl 'J~;}I,~t' . 'I

"I

0
l.l.~

"""iX

"

.1/ ' ,. '"

)\,i', ''1

't"
-:

"\i;~t~';\';,r f.'>l,(:",t, \' ",\~,t"!~~'if,\-'~:">i~~'S;' ,'t',J~ ,'>1>"1 ,'1' . "r-:I , ':I.'1~\\~'1': :~~f)S,
'-r-.t
'~"j1\.'!L..~\... . '\\~(~",t >Ivl

tri
~

' , I /'

'\11"

..''''-L.~:..q,-t,\).:,\ ~ '\'-;

~.. "',

",":

\"

,::,~,

"

i,J\l;';;j( '~l(~', ., \ ..... , "-"'(' "",,,~,, ' ,,'L

m o ~ ~ Z ~ Z 0
~

:x

~ C

i C

J ~

,~~-------------~-~-~~

"Geier's compelling exploration of the meaning of Plato's term eros and how it manifests itself seems to me unique (and uniquely valuable) both in its approach and in its conclusions. One encounters a first-rate intelligence -- steeped in Plato and acutely aware of the nuances of classical Greek -- actively working toward a full understanding of a crucial dimension of Plato's thought." - Dennis Baumwoll, Emeritus Chair and Professor of English, Bucknell University "A truly marvelous book. The text speaks with authority. Geier has obviously spent his life pondering the key passages of Plato's works on love. He writes in a well-focused manner and brings out many meanings that are often not noticed in translation." - David Goicoechea, Professor of Philosophy, Brock University

ISBN 1-58046-068-2
University of Rochester Press P.O. Box 41026 Rochester, NY 14604, USA P.O. Box 9, Woodbridge Suffolk IP12 3DF, UK www.urpress.com

9 781580

460682

Plato's Erotic Thought: The Tree of the Unknown

Rochester Studies in Philosophy

ISSN: 1529-188X Senior Editor: Wade L. Robison Rochester Institute of Technology
1. The Scottish Enlightenment: Essays in Reinterpretation Edited by Paul Wood 2. Kant's Legacy: Essays in Honor of Lewis White Beck Edited by Predrag Cicovacki 3. Plato's Erotic Thought: The Tree of the Un/mown Alfred Geier

PLATO'S EROTIC THOUGHT: THE TREE OF THE UNKNOWN

Alfred Geier

o reine
'There,

Da stieg ein Baum. Ubersteigungl

Rilke
a tree was rising. 0 pure rising-above!"

Epa !lEV o-6v, otcu 8 u1top1 Plato

"He definitely loves, but whatever it is [he loves] he is perplexed."

UNIVERSITY OF ROCHESTER PRESS

Copyright 2002 Alfred Geier All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation, no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. First published 2002 University of Rochester Press 668 Mt. Hope Avenue Rochester, NY 14620 USA and at Boydell & Brewer, Ltd P.O. Box 9 Woodbridge, Suffolk IP12 3DF United Kingdom www.urpress.com ISBN 1-58046-068-2 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Geier, Alfred, 1930Plato's erotic thought: the tree of the unknown / Alfred Geier. p. cm. - (Rochester studies in philosophy; 3) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1-58046-068-2 (alk. paper) 1. Plato-contributions in concept of love. 2. Love. 3. Plato. Symposium. 4. Plato. Lysis. 5. Plato. Phaedrus. I. Tide. II. Series. B398.L9 G45 2002 184-dc21 British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

2002022504 Data

Designed and typeset by Straight Creek Bookmakers Printed in the United States of America This publication is printed on acid-free paper

To Naomi

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments Prologue 1

ix

1 The Nature of Love ("Epror;)

3 19 67 143

2
The Symposium: The "Failure" of Love

3
The Birth of the Beloved, One Way: Plato's Lysis

4
The Birth of the Beloved, Another Way: Plato's Phaedrus 5
Tree-Leaves

217 231 233

References Notes

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to thank first of all P. K. Phanbelt for granting me auspiciousness. I want to thank also the many students I have known both at the University of Rochester and at classes at home for their challenges and their stimulation. I want to thank especially a small group of students with whom I have studied for many years, and continue to study, for the joy and learning I have experienced and continue to experience together with them: Barry Robbins, Ray Perez, Darrell Dobbs, Jeff Sapiro, and Derek Christ. I want to thank several individuals for reading the manuscript and making valuable comments and suggestions: Ray Perez and Eve Salisbury, who read an early version of the first chapter; Darrell Dobbs who read the first two chapters. Most of all I am deeply indebted to Dennis Baumwoll and Naomi Geier who read through the entire manuscript with great care and acumen. I want to thank also John W. Blanpied for reading the entire manuscript and making many valuable suggestions. I want to thank especially Bernadette La Paglia for her unwavering encouragement and deep support and Tim Madigan who has so graciously aided and abetted this project. I owe a special thanks to the efforts of john Blanpied, Barry Robbins, and Jason Potter, whose ingenuity and skill have made the text Greek-friendly. A special thanks also to Lisa Mauro for her ovate and arboreal artwork. I am deeply grateful to Jacob Klein and Leo Strauss, two great teachers I have had the great good fortune to have known, and without whose example this book might never have been written. A special thanks to Seraphino Paladino, whose compelling advice to "use a bridge" I have always tried to heed. Note: There are some errors in Greek for which I ask the reader's indulgence.

PROLOGUE

One evening, late, after a class on Plato's Phaedrus, I was sitting at one end of a living room. At the other end, a good distance away, was a fireplace. There was no fire in it at this time. As I gazed there, into that dark fireplace (were there ashes there? I don't remember. There may have been. There probably were), I kept asking myself: just what is the "object" of Eros. What is it? What can it be? After a while, as I kept gazing there, not a short while but not a very long one, I saw, with great excitement and delight, the "object" of Eros. It was the very thing I was looking at and asking "what" about. The very thing I was looking at and not seeing was the very thing I was looking for. Had the fireplace not been dark I would not have seen this. Then I realized that that "object" was not not known, but that it was known as unknown; and therefore that it was not just something unknown, but that it was the Unknown. I saw in that fire-less fireplace the very thing that was not there. And precisely this was (and is) the "object" of Eros.

CHAPTER ONE

THE NATURE OF LOVE

("Epro<;)

The Symposium of Plato serves up a grand banquet of many beautiful speeches in praise of Love ("EpwS), opening with the fairly short speech of Phaedrus and climaxing with the extremely long speeches of Socrates and Alcibiades. These speeches praise Love in all its manifestations, nonphilosophical and philosophical alike. We find, on the other hand, in the middle of that banquet of praise, and just about at the center of the whole dialogue, something different: a very brief and very plain dialogue.' This dialogue, so strikingly unlike those long and beautiful speeches, is referred to by Socrates as "some small matters" (ouixp' ana, 199b8-9), thus alerting us to anticipate that it will contain something of the greatest import. The dialogue between Socrates and Agathon opens with this question: Come, then, for me, concerning Love, since you described also (Kat) the other things Ct&Ua) beautifully and grandly as to what kind of thing it is (ol6.; O"'tt), say also (Kat) this: Is Love such (totoirroq oloc) that it is of something (nvoc) or of nothing (ouoEv6.;)? (199c6-d2) Why this question? The form of the question itself is unusual. Usually Socrates asks "What is Excellence?" or "What is Justice?" ete. Is this question-"Is Love such that it is of something or of nothing?"-the very question that needs to be answered to reveal the kind of thing Love is (olas Ecrn) ? Socrates at first leads Agathon to believe that he should be able to answer this question "since" (Emoloi)) Agathon did describe the other attributes ('t&AAa) of Love "beautifully and grandly." Socrates stresses the connection between Agathon's past answers and the present question by repeating the word "also" (Kat). Yet, although apparently Agathon should be able to answer, Socrates does not allow Agathon to answer immediately but instead clarifies the question, and, when he restates the question (19ge6-7), he omits

PLATO'S EROTIC THOUGHT: THE TREE OF THE UNKNOWN

any mention of Agathon's earlier statements. This clarification and omission suggests that Agathon cannot rely on his earlier answers for any guidance in answering Socrates' question but must rather base his answer solely on his understanding of the present question. Indeed, Socrates is suggesting that to answer this question, "Is Love such that it is love of something or of nothing?", Agathon might need an entirely different basis than the one he used for the other attributes because the one now in question might be of an entirely different character from all the other attributes ('t&AAa) of Love. Socrates clarifies the question: I am asking (epOl'too) ot whether Love n (epOlC;)s love of a mother or father-for i the question (epol'ITUw)would be ridiculous if Love is love of mother or father ... Why would the question be ridiculous if Love were love of a mother or a father? First of all, there is nothing more familiar or one's own (ouceiov) than a mother or father,' and if the answer is someone or something familiar, someone or something already known, then the question would be unnecessary and hence ridiculous. Second, a "mother" or "father" is a particular being and specific object of love. The "object" of Love, it seems, is not that sort of thing. In order for the question, "Is Love such that it is love of something or of nothing?" not to be ridiculous, then it must be asking about "something" that is not familiar and is not a specific example of love. It seems that Socrates is distinguishing between ordinary human love and a different kind of love. Furthermore, by reminding us of the similarity between the words for "question" (POl'tOO, P0l-rl'Ula) and the word for Love (pro<;,pro'to<;) Socrates is suggesting that in order for Love itself also not to be ridiculous the "object" of Love, whatever that might be, must itself likewise not be familiar and not be specific, and as such must be discovered. Socrates further clarifies the question by offering Agathon some guidance for answering such a question. Socrates gives Agathon several examples of the kind of answer he is expecting from him. The first example is whether a father, as father, is the father of someone or not. The answer is: of a son or daughter. "And a mother similarly?" Agathon agrees. What could be plainer? The next example is of a brother, and the question is whether a brother, being the very thing he is (au'to 'tauS' 01tEP O''tlv),3 is a brother of someone or not. Agathon says: "He is" (<!laVat elver). Proceeding differently than he did with the first question, Socrates then goes on to ask, as a second and separate question, "Of a brother or sister, is it not so?" Agathon again easily agrees. Why the second example, that of a brother? When Socrates introduces the second example, he says (19ge2): " ... in order that you might understand

The Nature of Love

('Epmq)

more what I wish" (tvc fH1AAOV Ka'tawiHl]e; 0 ~OUAOf.lat).How does the second example provide more understanding than the first? Both examples seem to say the same thing, namely that certain words or names always imply something else to which their very being is necessarily related and which can be easily specified. In this respect, there is no difference between father (or mother) and son or daughter, on the one hand, and brother and brother or sister, on the other hand. Yet, there is a critical difference in the form of the questioning: unlike the question about a father, Socrates divides his question about a brother into two parts, and first obtains assent that a brother must be a brother of someone (nvoc), leaving that "someone" unspecified, and then, and separately, asks whether that someone is a brother or sister. But this separation of the two questions in the case of the brother presents us with the very distinction by which Socrates enables Agathon to "understand more" the question "Is Love love of something or of nothing?" The separation of the two questions in the example of a brother, where it is asserted that the brother is a brother of "someone" (or "something"-the Greek could mean either), prior to Agathon's answering that the someone is a brother or sister, shows us that it is possible to assert that the very being of certain things must relate to something else prior to any specification of what that something else is. And it is precisely this which provides Agathon with more understanding of what Socrates wishes. But this understanding at the same time must also provide Agathon with the very basis he needs to be able to answer Socrates' question, a basis entirely different from the one he used before to "go through" the other attributes of Love. Socrates now asks his question again:
Try to speak Love also (IILpiii ... Kat 'tOYepunu indv). Is Love love of nothing (ouovo<;) or of something ('tLVO<;)?

The question is now entirely separated from Agathon's earlier answer about the other attributes of Love. Furthermore, the restatement of the question differs in three ways from the original statement: First of all, Socrates is no longer asking about what kind of thing Love is (cf. 1:0lOU1:0e; oloe;, 199dl), but about Love itself. This suggests that Love does not belong to any class of like things but is something unique. Second, Socrates reverses the order of "of something or of nothing" to "of nothing or of something." This suggests that as Agathon tries to answer Socrates' question he must consider "of nothing" and "of something" to be equally possible answers." Third, Socrates is no longer asking Agathon to speak "about" Love (xepi EpO)'tOe;, 99c6), but, literally, to 1

PLATO'S EROTIC THOUGHT: THE TREE OF THE UNKNOWN

"speak Love" (rov Epro'ta el7u::l v). This means that, if he has understood Socrates' clarifications, and if he is able to answer Socrates' question, Agathon will somehow "speak Love"; that is to say, he will not be speaking about Love but he will literally and actually be presenting Love with his spoken answer. His answer is very plain-but not at all simple: Yes indeed it is. (Tlcvu ~v o-i'iv ECY'!:tv) Socrates had asked Agathon to "speak Love" (tov EPro'ta lnct v). Since Socrates goes on to consider something else on the basis of this answer (cf. roivuv, 200al), it seems that Socrates is satisfied that Agathon has succeeded in having "spoken Love." But how has Agathon "spoken Love?" There are two remarkable features to Agathon's answer "Yes indeed it is," which, understood together, show how his answer does indeed "speak Love." The first is the sureness with which he has spoken it ("Yes indeed it is"). The second is his omission from this answer of the word "of something" (rtvoc), that is to say, his omission from his answer of the very "object" of his sureness! Why does he omit what he is so sure of? The omission from his answer of the "object" of his sureness is significant because Socrates had stated the question twice (199dl-2, e6-7), first placing "of something" first and "of nothing" second, and then reversing this order, so that the changed order necessitated that Agathon specify in his answer which of the two he chooses, and yet Agathon did not so specify and did not add "of something." Yet Socrates seems perfectly satisfied with Agathon's answer. We have to conclude that the very omission of the "object" of Love, of the "of something," from Agathon's answer must not only not be a deficiency but must indeed be the only correct and correctly stated answer and the only way Agathon could "speak Love." And it seems that this is precisely what Socrates wished Agathon, and us, to understand by the example of a brother, by separating the fact that the brother is a brother of someone (rt vas) from the further specification of what he is a brother of. It is, therefore, precisely by this answer, "Yes indeed it is," with his affirmation of his sureness of the existence of some "object," and without his adding the Greek word "of something" (rivoc), that is, without yet specifying at all what that "object" is, that Agathon has thus in deed spoken Love. And if Agathon has been able to speak Love, it is only because Love has come into being, or arisen, for him. Because Agathon has not specified the object of Love, he has thus given us our first glimpse into the sort of thing Love is, for these two features of his answer, the sureness about the existence of the "object" of Love, on the one hand, and the omission of any specification of that "object," on the other

The Nature of Love ('EpOJr;) 7

hand, considered together, reveal just what Love is: Love is the sureness about

the existence of "something" without yet knowing at all what that "something" is. 5
The Love spoken by Agathon, then, is the very sort of thing Love is." Because Agathon has spoken Love, because Love has arisen for him, we have seen what sort of thing Love is of (and therewith what sort of thing Love is). We can thus now understand why Socrates asks this unusual question, "Is Love love of something or of nothing?" for this is precisely the question which alone can elicit Love in its spoken response. What we have not yet understood is how Love arose for Agathon. As we go on, we must always keep in mind these two characteristics regarding Love: first, that the "object" of Love is always not yet specified and, second, that the sureness with which Agathon, or anyone, affirms the existence of the as yet unknown "object" of Love is entirely different from the kind of sureness with which Agathon, or Socrates, or anyone, may hold or support his opinions or beliefs, for the latter sureness always has a specific and "known" object, while the former has not. Socrates goes on (200al-3). Socrates can go on because Love ("EproC;) as h arisen for Agathon. His first step now is immediately to caution Agathon:
This ('wuw), then, guard alongside yourself (napa crau'tiii) remembering whatever ()l)lV11)lVOS orou): ...

The "this" is the Love spoken by Agathon just now by and with his utterance "Yes indeed it is," with the demonstrative pronoun "this" (roirto) indicating the present nearness of Love. Why does Agathon need to guard (\n)A.a~ov) "this?" Why does Socrates say "alongside yourself" (literally, "by your side" [napa cramii'>]) instead of "in" yourself? The implication is that, , while Love may become close to the soul-later in the Symposium (212b3--4) Socrates calls it a "co-worker" (cuvepyov )-it does not and cannot reside "in" the soul. And this is why the guarding is necessary, for not being "in" but only "alongside," the danger of Love's escaping is very great. Love, as Socrates teaches us, is always short-lived for us and easily departs." Something which is "in" is not likely to escape easily or need guarding." It is suggested, then, by the preposition napa, "alongside," that Love cannot "settle" or "remain"-as Agathon earlier declared in his beautiful speech-or be "in" the soul at all.? Therefore, the problem of Love, once it arises, if it arises, is the very special effort required to preserve it "by one's side" and keep it from departing. What is the nature of this effort? The "object" of Love, which was just referred to indefinitely as "something" (nvoc), is now referred to even more indefinitely-and still unspecified, since it is not yet known at all-as "whatever" (orou). 10

PLATO'S EROTIC THOUGHT: THE TREE OF THE UNKNOWN

The word "whatever" is not used here in the loose sense in which it is used in English, but rather is perfectly precise. "Whatever" is an indefinite relative pronoun consisting of two parts, the relative "what," 0 in the Greek, and "ever," rou in the Greek. We must always keep in mind the precise indefiniteness of this pronoun. Now, the extraordinary effort needed to keep Love from departing from "alongside" oneself is, according to Socrates, "by remembering whatever" (/l-/l-VTJ/l-VOC; o'tou). And this effort must be made not by Love but by Agathon, the grammatical subject of that activity of remembering. Love arose originally "alongside" Agathon when he became sure of the existence of the "object" of Love without yet knowing at all what that "object," what that "something," is. The only way, therefore, the only way, he can keep or "guard" that Love "alongside" himself is if that "object," that "something," remains not yet known at all, and remains so to him. And the only way that that "something" can remain to him not yet known at all is if he does not forget at all, that is, if he "remembers" (ueuvnuevoq) that the "object" is still something indefinite, is still not yet specified and still not yet known, is still, to him (and to us), as Socrates precisely characterizes it, "whatever" (0't01)). It is entirely clear, then, that the primary and essential and permanent "object" of Love, the beloved, or the Beloved, is and can only be called, speaking most precisely, "whatever" (o't01))Y Agathon, then, must accomplish the most difficult and truly remarkable feat of somehow keeping present to his mind "something" of which he has not yet had knowledge of any kind and of keeping it present precisely as such! Yet doing this, "remembering whatever," is what is absolutely necessary. If Agathon fails to remember "whatever," the "object" of Love will be forgotten, that is to say, it will immediately "depart" and be entirely gone, and with its departure Love goes as well. Agathon's perfect sureness that the "object" of Love exists must always be unfailingly accompanied by the perfect unsureness of Agathon regarding just what that "object" is. That "object" must be for him (and for everyone else alongside of whom Love is present) always something indefinite (0't01)) but always definitely something (rt VOC;). It is absolutely necessary, in order to keep Love alongside oneself, to "remember whatever." How can one remember "whatever?" The memory used in remembering "whatever" seems to be a very different kind of memory than the memory we are familiar with. This memory, necessary for preserving Love, is unlike ordinary memory in three ways: ordinary memory is of what was once perceived or experienced or known, it is of what is not present but is now past, and it is of what is specific; on the other hand, this "erotic" memory here prescribed by Socrates is of what has not yet been perceived or experienced or known, it is of what is now not (yet) present, and

The Nature of Love ('Epmc;) 9

it is not of something specific but of something indefinite and not yet specified. But this "erotic" memory is also like ordinary memory insofar as it somehow keeps or makes present what is not present. Activating our ordinary memory is not at all difficult; its use is easy and natural. Exercising "erotic" memory is extremely difficult, a true feat, for one must remember what one doesn't yet know at all! Agathon has been commanded to keep Love alongside himself by remembering "whatever." Now, Socrates joins to this command a question: ... Say only so much, does Love, that of which it is love, desire (bn8ul-u::l) it, or not. Agathon answers strongly: "Certainly" (mxvu ye). Agathon's answer is said with sureness and seems correct. If this answer is correct, then Agathon has learned something about Love. How did he learn this? It was not by any introspection or cogitation about Love. It must have been because he kept Love alongside himself, and this he has succeeded in doing because, following Socrates' precautionary command, he succeeded in "remembering whatever." "Remembering whatever" has immediately borne fruit. We can say, therefore, that this activity of remembering "whatever" produces somehow an ability to learn. This is indicated by the Greek word order in Socrates' question, for the places the "object" ("that of which it is love"), which would be the "whatever," first, and by remembering it Agathon was able to discover, or learn, that it was also an "object" of desire. But how has Agathon's "remembering whatever" enabled him to learn? There is a myth in the Symposium, soon after the dialogue we are looking at, about the birth of Love." During the myth, Resource (Ilopoc), a god, has become drunk on nectar. Then he goes to sleep heavily drunk (~~apllllvoS), dead drunk, as one says, and yet filled with nectar or whatever gods drink. Poverty, plotting to make a child from Resource, lies down beside him and becomes pregnant with Love. Now, in his condition, being asleep and dead drunk, it is impossible for Resource to voluntarily give his seed. Moreover, since gods do not mingle with man (Symp. 203al-2), he could not choose to give us what he has. Yet, and although the seed was not given, and when it was impossible to give it, Poverty nevertheless found a way to somehow "draw" the seed from Resource and thus become pregnant with Love. The meaning of this strange birth is clear: when there was no way, and because of her own lack of a way (ou1 -nlVa1Yriis anopiav), Poverty found a way. This ability to find a way when there is none is transmitted to her offspring Love, and herein lies the great power of Love, and this is why Plato calls Love a "great daimon" (oaillOlV IlYuc;, 202d13). Whatever the impossibility, Love will always find a

IO

PLATO'S EROTIC THOUGHT: THE TREE OF THE UNKNOWN

way. And this is why Love is never without resource (203e4: ... oiite cmopl "Ep(O~11;Q't oirre 1tAoU'tl). Love's power to find a way when there is none, somehow to draw from "whatever," is alluded to also in a passage in Plato's Phaedrus (255d3): " ... it loves indeed, but whatever it loves, it is at a loss" (pa IlVo{)v, o'to'UOa1top1). Here Plato plays on the words for "to be at a loss" (a1topl) and to "flow from" (a1toppl). That is to say, it is because one is at a loss about that "object," that "whatever," that something can flow from or be drawn from that very "whatever," as one draws water from a well," provided that "whatever" remains remembered. Because one remembers "whatever," Love is not ever without resource to understand ( ... oiite a1topl "Ep(O~1to't ... ). And this is how Agathon in particular, with Love alongside himself, was able to learn. Agathon's accomplishment has broad implications. A condition in which one is so sure of the existence of "something" that is unspecified and in which one does not know yet at all what that "something" is seems to be a madness of some kind," for how can one be so sure of such a thing, a "something," a "whatever;" yet it is possible, as Agathon shows us, and precisely this is Love. But since this "madness," if it continues, consists of "remembering whatever," and "remembering whatever," as we have just seen, makes learning possible, is not this madness at the same time a certain great good sense, hence, a madness most sane? And is this sane madness, "remembering whatever," perhaps a necessary condition of all learning? Furthermore, with Love one is sure, madly and sanely, of the existence of the unspecified and unknown, or not yet known, Beloved. And yet, since this mad, sane sureness is directed towards what is not yet known in order to know it, must not this sureness be a divination of some kind, a mantic insight, truly an insight and truly mantically so, of the existence of the-to-be-known-Belovedi'" Since Love is sanely mad and truly mantic," and since it is an absolutely necessary condition for learning, is it not the very nature of Love, and uniquely so, to provide us with a link and access precisely to those "things" that are in themselves and by their very nature learnable-the only link and access, for otherwise what access to those "things" can there be? This would mean that those things that are in themselves learnable are intro-duced, literally, "led into," by Love in such a way that they are now able to be learned, and able to be learned by us, whereas before they were so introduced they were not able to be learned." Love ("Ep(O~), then, must be, at its very inception, the mediator between us and those things to be learned, and for this reason it is some kind of interpreter, or hermeneutic guide, precisely of those "things.':" Above all, Love, by introducing us to those "things" well beyond our present understanding, can be said to provide an initiation into the mystery of those higher things. And yet, that this sane madness, Love, along with its insepa-

The Nature of Love

('Epmr;)

II

rable companion, the Beloved, providing us with the greatest benefits, should arise at all, is itself perhaps the greatest mystery. Socrates asks further: "Is it by having (XO)v)what it both desires and loves, that consequently (11:a) it both desires and loves, or by not having (OUK XO)v)?"Agathon answers, weakly this time, in contrast to his other answers,
By not having, it is likely.

"it is likely" is strange. Agathon has just been successful in learning, but now, immediately, he falters. Instead of answering, as before, with sureness, Agathon suddenly becomes uncertain. Why? Has Agathon begun to forget "whatever?" Socrates tries to "restore" Agathon's "memory":
Consider whether, instead of likely, it is necessarily so that the desiring thing desires what it is lacking or does not desire unless it is lacking. How wonderfully necessary this seems to me to be. How does it seem to you?

Socrates tries to assist Agathon in remembering "whatever" by substituting "lacking" for "not having" and by depersonalizing the lack (VOEC;). What presented a difficulty to Agathon was not, perhaps, any inherent inability to "remember whatever," but because Love desires, and a desire implies not having, the presence of Love "alongside" him meant that Agathon had to recognize and acknowledge his own lack of what Love was desiring, his own not having. But he has suddenly failed to do so. Perhaps it is because of his "fullness," shown in the bountifulness of his long and beautiful speech given just prior to this conversation with Socrates, that Agathon has great difficulty recognizing any lack he may have. We are struck by how soon after Love became present it departed, and hence also the prescience of Socrates in commanding Agathon to guard it, and we cannot avoid noting in particular how easily Love departed from Agathon, who had spoken earlier (196b2-3) so beautifully of Love settling and remaining. What we have learned from Agathon's mistake, then, is that the "object" of Love, first referred to as "something" ('!tVOC;), and then presented as "whatever" (orou), must also be perceived by the person to whom Love is "alongside" as "the-very-thing-that-person-is-lacking." Agathon's failure helps us to see that if the lack is not experienced, the "object" of Love, as the very "thing" that one is lacking, vanishes, and along with it Love vanishes also. And it is because the "object" vanishes, or is "forgotten," that Love vanishes, and not the reverse.

12

PLATO'S EROTIC THOUGHT:

THE TREE OF THE UNKNOWN

The distinction on which Agathon falters, namely, the distinction between what is lacking (1:0voeES), and that which what is lacking lacks (o{) VOcES), reminds us of the decisive example earlier (pp. 4-5) about a brother and brother used by Socrates when he wanted Agathon to "understand more" about the character of Love. We saw at that time how separating the sureness about the existence of a "someone" of which the brother is a brother from any specification of just what or who that "someone" is indicated the basic character of Love. The significance of the "brother-brother" example goes further. First of all, unlike fathers and mothers in relation to sons and daughters, brothers and brothers are not responsible for the coming into being of each other; second, brother and brother are more similar or closer in kind than parents and children; and third, and most important, a brother cannot exist, as brother, unless a brother (or sister) also exists. All these characteristics are true of Love and its "object." Love never stands alone. Just as a brother is always a brother of a brother (or sister), so Love cannot exist without the "object" of Love, "whatever," existing "with" it. Similarly, the "object" of Love, the Beloved, cannot exist without Love ("EpwS), for the very nature of the Beloved is to be loved, is 1:0pw).!evov, that-which-isbeing-loved, and exists only as such; hence the Beloved is not anything separate and by itself apart from Love. Neither Love nor the Beloved exist without the other. Love and its "object" exist simultaneously or not at all. They are thus joined to each other and constitute a duo, an inseparable duo. This is shown graphically by the Greek formulation in the Lysis: bepos 1:EPOU(the one of the other)," where, on the one hand, as the word "other" shows, each is other than the other, or they are two; but, on the other hand, at the same time, as the same word used for each shows, they are also the same, or constitute a unity. Where this duo, as a duo, does not come to be or exist, there is no Love, and whenever and wherever this duo exists, or, rather, comes to be, then and there, and only then and there, Love is. It follows also that they can be understood only in relation to each other. And since these two, Love and its "object," exist or come into being "together" and co-exist, Love and its "object," just as brother and brother, do not generate each other. The generation of both is simultaneous. The inseparability of Love and its "object" becomes even more clear if we bear in mind that Love is a lack, for a lack cannot be present, that is, cannot be recognized and acknowledged as such, unless the very thing it is lacking is also "perceived" as such. Just as "hunger" always presents and affirms the real existence of food, so the thing lacking always "presents" the thing lacked. Finally, no two things are closer in kind or are more similar to two brothers than what is lacking and what it is lacking, for there is no difference between a lack and what is lacked except that the latter is not yet present; hunger is only food not yet eaten.

The Nature of Love ('Epmc;)

13

Love, then, is always of "something," and, as brother to brother, is inseparably joined to that "something" (E'tpOS 'tpou). We can now understand better on what basis Socrates was able to encourage Agathon to guard this rEproS) alongside himself "by remembering whatever." We must not forget, however, that this further designation of the "object" of Love as "what Love is lacking" does not only not replace "whatever," but depends on it absolutely, for one cannot perceive what Love is lacking except by remembering "whatever." This "whatever" always remains precisely the primary object of Love'? and always remains as that which must always continue to be remembered. There are certain other characteristics about Love and the Beloved implied from all the preceding: the "object" of desire and Love, as such, can never be in, or part of, the soul, for what is lacking and that which it is lacking could not both exist together at the same time in the same soul. Similarly, since the Beloved cannot be in the soul, and Love and its "object" are, as we have seen, inseparably joined together, Love, being always "with" the Beloved, can never be in the soul either. This is why Socrates told Agathon to guard Love "alongside (napa) yourself' instead of "in" yourself. And since Love cannot be in the soul, it cannot be a feeling in the soul. Moreover, Love arises "alongside," but is never produced by the soul. Love "belongs" not to the soul it visits but only to its "object," its inseparable partner, its brother, and is wholly related to and dependent on that "something," for it is of that "something." Since we are considering Love itself ("EproS), it seems perfectly fitting for that "object" of Love to be called the beloved itself, or the Beloved (to 'Eponrsvov}. But, although we call it "the Beloved," just as Agathon is bidden to remember "whatever," so we too must never forget that the "object" of Love is and remains primarily "whatever." Most precisely, "whatever" is the Beloved. Finally, since that which we are trying to understand is Love itself, the sort of thing it is and the sort of thing it is of, it seems that whatever we are able to learn of Love and its inseparable partner, the Beloved, would be true of every particular manifestation of love. This means that the "object" of every erotic question, that is to say, every question asked with Love alongside, is also "whatever," the same kind of "whatever" Love itself is always of. To return to the Symposium and Agathon: Agathon goes along with Socrates' affirmation of the necessity that desire implies a recognized lack in oneself and says that that seems so to him also (200b3). We wonder how convinced Agathon is. Socrates' comment is: KaA,OOS U'YnS: "That's a nice thing to say." Or, perhaps Socrates means, "Now-you are speaking beautifully." Yet, we should not forget the difficulty Agathon had "remembering whatever," a difficulty

14

PLATO'S EROTIC THOUGHT: THE TREE OF THE UNKNOWN

due to his apparent inability to recognize his own lack. It is not yet clear whether or not he can overcome that difficulty. However, Socrates continues to pursue Love and what Love is of. He now himself raises a possible objection to saying that the "object" of Love is "that which is lacking." The objection states that it is possible to love what one already has and is not presently lacking. As he meets this objection Socrates is able to clarify the nature of Love and its "object" still further. He explains that it is possible to love what one already has only in the sense that one desires what is present to continue to be present also in the future. From this argument Socrates states the following "conclusion" about the character of the "object" of Love: .. everyone who desires desires that which is not at hand (-tOU J.lllsroiuou) and that which is not present ('wu J.lll1tapov1:o<;), and that which he does not have (8 J.lT] EXn) and that which he is not (8 J.lllEcrU and that which v) he is lacking (0-0Vbij<;); ome such things s (1:0WU1:' ana) are what desire and love is of. (ZOOe25) Two things are very striking about this "conclusion:" the overwhelming emphasis on "not," and the remarkable bounty of designations for the not yet known "object" of Love. Together the multiplicity and the "negativity" of the designations show us that the indefiniteness of the "object" of Love has been clearly perceived by Socrates (and Agathon?), which further suggests that for Socrates (and Agathon?) the "whatever" has been successfully remembered (cf. 200e4: 1:0WU1:' ana, "some such things"). This implies that the "object" of Love has thus become more certain still as something not present. Now we see why Socrates has raised this objection, for by meeting it he and Agathon have reached more understanding of the "object" of Love, and with this a strengthening of the presence of Love "alongside" themselves. With the objection having been met and the "object" of Love having become clearer and more definite in its indefiniteness, Socrates is ready to sum up: "Come, let us agree on what has been said": Is Love anything else than, first (1tPW1:ov), some things of (1:lVWV), next (E1tl1:a),of and, those things whose lack (Evbna) is present to it? (Symp. 200e7-9) This question is the final explicit statement, in this brief interlude in the middle of the Symposium, about the nature of the true "object" of Love. There

The Nature of Love ("EpOJ<;)

15

are three noteworthy features in this summing-up. The first is the return of "something." ("Is Love such that it is love of something or of nothing.") The second is the "something" (ri voiv) being put in the plural (cf. the plurality of prior "that which is not present," "that which one does not have," "that which one is lacking," etc.). The third is the ordering ("first," "next") consisting of these "some things" being given priority (7tpOO'tOv)over the more recent designations. The implication of this ordering is that the indefinite "object" of Love, the "something" which was the first designation of the "object" of Love, because it remained "remembered," has provided the basis for these "next" (7tLrc) objects, "that which is not present," "that which he is lacking." etc., to be understood. Furthermore, by referring to these "next" objects as "these things whose lack is present to it" (rourorv Jiv av VoW 7tapij a1J'tC!, Socrates is suggesting that when those objects are perceived by Socrates or Agathon (or anyone) as not present, the "object" of Love, by that very "perception," is brought closer, and brought closer in its absence! What follows is that since the "object" has been brought closer in its absence to Socrates and Agathon, it must now be more possible for them to pursue an understanding of "those things whose lack is present .... " In this summing-up, Socrates invites Agathon to agree on all these things (200e7: "Come, let us agree ... "). It seems that, while the primary "object" of Love, the "whatever," seemed to belong to Agathon individually (cf. ... alongside yourself," 200al-2), the ensuing "objects" ("these things whose lack is present to it") have come to be shared together by Socrates and Agathon and are now "held" in common" for these "objects" are the very things most meant in the saying "Common are the things of friends" (KOLv 'tU "1 <j>tAWV). Socrates and Agathon have been joined or befriended by this "Epex; Agathon's weak response to this exhortation and question, "Yes" (Nai), however, does not assure us that this has really occurred. From all that has been said certain things follow: Love is not an individual's desire to know, with which it is often confused. When Socrates asks his question about Love, it is not a person who loves but Love itself that loves (199dl2, e6-7) and it is Love itself that desires (200a2-3, 5-6; cf. also 200a9: 7tL8UIlOUV), Later (200e2 and ff.) the desire is transferred to a person but it still belongs, as the discussion preceding it indicates, to Love itself. Moreover, as we have seen, Love can only be "alongside" and can never be lodged in the soul and reside there, as a human desire would have to. Also, Love does not precede its "object" and does not exist in isolation from its "object," as a desire does, but exists simultaneously with its "object," for it is not looking for anything but is, from its inception, somehow already looking at its "object," and it is looking at its "object" because it is not yet

'to

16

PLATO'S EROTIC THOUGHT: THE TREE OF THE UNKNOWN

seeing what that "object" is. In other words, there is Love only when the "object" of Love is present in its absence. Nor is Love in any way some general "desire" to know; rather it has for its "object" always only that-very-thing-whose-lack-has-actually-become-presentto-this-person-here-and-now, and for only so long as that lack is present. Love, then, arises only at a particular moment and for a particular person, Agathon, for example, and from its very birth exists full-grown, as it were, "alongside" the soul and inseparably from its "object." The account contained within this dialogue between Socrates and Agathon of the sort of thing Love is now ends, and Socrates returns (and descends) to the matters that were being considered in the Symposium before this brief conversation with Agathon, using what has just been "concluded" about Love as the basis (cf. E1tt Sf] 'T01nOte;,20 la2) for what follows. Although it is sufficient for providing a basis for examining and criticizing the views presented in Agathon's long speech, this discussion itself of Love, nevertheless, has not been completed. What has not yet been revealed and what we have not yet understood and what we most need to understand now about Love is its birth, for the being of Love (along with the Beloved) can be understood adequately only through understanding its birth. With Agathon its birth did occur but no explanation was given for its occurrence, and the only reference to its birth is shrouded in a myth (203b2-204a7). No account (AGyoe;)anywhere in the Symposium is given of the birth of Love. The account of how Love arises is missing from the Symposium. This is so perhaps because of how difficult it is to understand the birth of Love (along with the Beloved). Socrates says (Lysis, 212a5-6): "I am so far from the possession, that I don't even know in whatever way a friend arises (<plAoe; lyvE'w't 'TEpOe;'TPOU), the one of the other." But what Socrates Y means we do not yet understand. No account of its birth is given in the Symposium because Love itself does not truly arise in that dialogue about Love! Now, Love did arise "for" Socrates (we can only assume this because we are not given any view "inside" him) when, en route to Agathon's (174d4-7), he lags behind Aristodemus because he is absorbed in thinking about something, but this was before he arrived at the party, and it will arise again no doubt after he has left the party, but-and this is of the greatest significance-it does not arise for Socrates during the party itself (see Chapter Two). There is a brief attempt by Socrates to bring about Love through conversation (SWA.YECJeat,194c7-e2), but Socrates is immediately prevented from conversing in his usual way by Phaedrus, who asserts the justice of praising Love prior to any discussion about it. There are two other occasions in the Symposium when Love might have arisen: the first is after Socrates has finished his speech praising philosophical Love in which

The Nature of Love ('EpOJl;)

I7

he tries to persuade the other guests of its great value (d. 212c4-6), but the arrival of Alcibiades (see Chapter Two) foils Socrates' attempt, and the others, some of whom might have been persuaded had Alcibiades not come, remain unpersuaded by Socrates and are made speechless and Loveless by Alcibiades. The second occasion occurs in the brief dialogue with Agathon we have been looking at, where, as we saw earlier, Agathon had difficulty acknowledging that Love, since it is a desire, does not have but lacks the "object" it desires. Consequently, although Agathon "speaks Love," and speaks it so that, through him, we can understand its character-and this is what is good about Agathon-it vanished so quickly and so thoroughly from beside him that it seems it had not truly arisen for him. Indeed, the strangest and most significant thing about the Symposium, the so-called dialogue about Love, is this very circumstance, that Love ("Ep(j)(;) during the banquet fails to arise for Socrates through or with the others, and for the others it does not arise at all or, in the case of Agathon, too feebly and too poorly to last. Now, since Love does not (truly) arise, or, if it arises, does not flourish, in a dialogue devoted to Love, we can suppose three things: first, one of the most important aspects of Love itself is what prevents it from arising during the get-together at Agathon's: second, the explanation of why Love does not arise is presented in and by the Symposium; and, third, this is what the Symposium is chiefly about. Therefore, we need now to look at the Symposium as a whole in order to understand this problem of why Love does not arise there (Chapter Two). Then, since Love does arise elsewhere, we need next to look in two different places, in the Lysis (Chapter Three), and in the Phaedrus (Chapter Four), to see how, in two different ways, Love does arise. But whether we will be considering why it fails to arise or how Love does arise, we will ourselves throughout be constantly in pursuit of the understanding of the "object" of Love: that "object" of whose existence we can be sure without yet knowing at all what it is, that "something" (nvoc), as it was first "called" by Socrates, or that "whatever" (o'tou), the "object" of the special kind of memory, as he soon also "called" it, or, since it is the "object" of Love itself, the Beloved ('to 'Epouevov), as it pleases us to call it, or by whatever other form or name it may present itself to us. And, as we pursue the understanding of this "object," we must never forget, as Socrates enjoins upon us, that this "whatever" must remain so remembered, for only in this way shall we be able to be constantly aware how surpassingly beautiful this Beloved is.