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'Phaedrus.' (The Rhetoric of Jacques Derrida, part 2)

IN MY PREVIOUS ESSAY, I concentrated on the importance for Derrida of regarding a text, qua text, as an ahierarchical phenomenon, and of the unity of contradictions necessary for a deconstructive reading.(1) In this essay I shall discuss in detail the realization of the latter principle in Derrida's reading of Plato's Phaedrus.(2) This will illuminate the problematic relationship between the deconstructive interpreter and his text. Since the path is long, the reader will need to follow me patiently through the different and sometimes tedious stages of the discussion. I shall begin with Plato's notions considering the origin:

The soul as a whole [[unkeyable]](3) is immortal, for that which is always in motion [[unkeyable]] is immortal. But that which is both a cause of movement for something else and is moved by something else is able to stop its moving, and therefore is able to stop being alive. Only that which moves itself ... is the beginning and the origin [[unkeyable]] of movement. Yet, it is an origin without a genesis [[unkeyable]]. For it is a rule of necessity that from the origin becomes all that exists while the origin itself becomes from nothing. For if the origin had become of something, it would no longer have been an origin ..., and since that which is moved by itself comes into being as immortal, one will not have to feel shame saying that this thing itself is the essence of the soul and its logos [[unkeyable]]. For any body which is moved by an external source is soulless, while the body which is moved by an internal source has a soul, since that is the essence of the soul's nature.... It is thus a rule of necessity that the soul would be without a genesis [[unkeyable]] in as much as it would be immortal. (245c5-246a2)(4)

The expression [unkeyable] is usually translated as "the soul's essence and definition."(5) Although the validity of this interpretation cannot be disputed, in a metaphysical context(6) one might prefer to preserve the Greek original, [unkeyable]. Thus, there is almost an identity between essence and logos,(7) and therefore a reaffirmation of what Derrida calls the "logocentric hierarchy." This logos is the uncreated origin, and as such the beginning of everything. It is not, however, identical to the logos which is contrasted to writing, since it is definitely not what one might call speech. It is quite similar, though, as can be seen from the repeated use of the word "logos." What is this logos, then?

The answer is found in the context. The passage preceding the one cited above makes a distinction between two types of soul: the human and the divine (245c3). In other words, Plato makes an internal division within the signifier "soul." The same technique is apparent here; we have, in fact, two kinds of phenomena under the heading of logos, and only the logos connected with the divine appears in the above section. The human logos is something different. This difference is marked in my analysis in the following manner: "Logos" refers to the divine Logos, and "logos" to the human logos. The division itself is far from new and the hierarchical aspects have been previously noted.(8) I give it emphasis here due to the fact that the Derridian avoidance of paying attention to such internal divisions will be revealed as a crucial element in his rhetoric.(9)

Somewhat later in the dialogue, when Socrates deals with the art of eloquence ([unkeyable]; 266c3), it becomes evident that an internal division within the category of the human logos is also needed. While the Sophists Thrasymachus and Lysias are mentioned in connection with dialectic, Socrates and his interlocutor are searching for the definition of a different kind of art: rhetoric. The latter, says Phaedrus, has "escaped our notice," and Socrates agrees that it should be discussed (266c8-d4). Here Phaedrus comments, "No doubt, what is written in the books about the art of eloquence [[unkeyable]] is quite long." Socrates answers: "How elegantly you have mentioned [[unkeyable]] it" (266d5-7).

It is apparent from this that the art of eloquence, [unkeyable], is connected with writing, since the argumentation is in the written books, and since the verb [unkeyable] reappears in the king's deprecation of writing as a [unkeyable] which impairs memory ([unkeyable]; 275a5). Yet, in this context, it is not the form that is to be blamed, but rather the content.(10) The Sophistic art of eloquence, that of Teisias and Gorgias, is revolting to Socrates not because it is written--which is, in this context, relatively unimportant--but because the power of the logos ([unkeyable]; 267a8) is put into practice in an unseemly manner. The minor role writing plays in the argument can be deduced from the emphasis given to the logos in Socrates' condemnation of the Sophists. In Polus's book, A School for Eloquence [unkeyable] there are three techniques of speech containing the word "logos": repetition of words [unkeyable], sententious style [unkeyable], and figurative speaking [unkeyable] (267b10-c1). They are condemned by means of a metaphor which is very well known to Derrida's readers: Socrates says, "But, my blessed of all, have a look for yourself as well, whether, in truth, it seems to you too that their wrap is loose [unkeyable] as it seems to me" (268a5-6).

The Sophistic weave is criticized for its disjointed nature. The participle [unkeyable] is taken from the Greek verb [unkeyable], which means, according to the LSJ dictionary, not only "to loosen" but also "to set apart," "to be at variance," "to differ." The participle itself can also be translated as "not homogeneous." One might be surprised that so many Derridian concepts appear under the same Platonic signifier. From the deconstructive point of view, however, this merely serves as another proof of the validity of the Derridian interpretation. Still, the Platonic applications are fundamentally different from the Derridian ones; while Platonists find fault with difference, Derridians find difference laudable. For our discussion, however, the emphasis lies not in the valuation itself but rather in its roots. In other words, the significance lies not in regarding a phenomenon as either good or bad, but in the deeper motives for the ethical labelling of the phenomena.

Derrida tries to claim that Phaedrus is focused on the devaluation of writing as writing. The above, however, indicates that Plato's emphasis is not on the textual angle, on the written nature of Sophistic argumentation, but on the logos, on the meaning, in which writing is no more than a formal aspect. Of course, it is always possible to overemphasize the formal aspects, and, by making them predominant, to lead the reader to a deconstructive variety of meanings. This procedure, however, creates a weave which is both different from the Platonic one and alien to it. Although legitimate in itself, this different weave is the definition of failure according to the Derridian rules of the game.(11)

In accordance with the Platonic context, the art of eloquence is bad as much because it lacks "speaking in a plausible way" ([unkeyable]) as because it lacks harmonious composition (269c2-3). Socrates states explicitly that it is impossible to reach dialectic, the summit of the art of speech,(12) while following the Sophists Lysias and Thrasymachus, since they cannot be regarded as experts in this field. At this stage, I shall postpone the examination of the role of the expert in order to go back to the Platonic distinction between logos and writing.

Originally, both speech and writing are equally moral. Writing as such is not a shameful thing.(13) Socrates repeats it three times:

Well, this is a well known fact, that writing arguments [[unkeyable]] in itself is not a shameful thing. . . But I believe that the shameful thing is the following: both [[unkeyable] speaking and writing in a way which is not good [[unkeyable]] but shameful, i.e. [[unkeyable]] bad. . . . So, what is the way of writing either [[unkeyable]] in a good way or [[unkeyable]] in its opposite? (258d1-7)(14)

Writing is not, as Derrida claims, always an already disgraced version of speech; and when mortality is introduced into the discussion, it is applied to both writing and speech in the same manner. The distinction between the good and the bad(15) is not between writing and speech but rather within writing and within speech. To put it differently, Socrates defines two opposing kinds of speech and two opposing kinds of writing, and not one kind of speech which stands in opposition to one kind of writing.(16) This notion is stressed in the Socratic rejection of writing using the myth of Theuth.

When the king refuses to accept the new invention that might serve as a [unkeyable] for memory, he does so on the basis of its negative features: marginality, externality, supplementarity, and pretention. Socrates' words following the story seem to reaffirm both the rejection and its motives:

Certainly, the one who believes that he left an art in a written form [[unkeyable]] and also the one who accepts that reliability and firmness stem from writing [[unkeyable]] is possibly very naive, and, in fact, it is probable that he does not know the prophecy of Ammon, if he believes that the written arguments [[unkeyable]] are something different from a means of memory [[unkeyable]] for the one who knows the matters to which the written thing [[unkeyable]] refers. (275c5-d2)

Subsequently, Socrates compares writing to a painting:

For writing [[unkeyable]], Phaedrus, has this peculiar characteristic, which makes it more like a painting. For, although the products stand as if they were living, yet if you ask them something, they will respond in a great solemn silence. And in the same way the logoi also [do not answer]. Although you might think that they are talking intelligently, the minute you question them, wishing to learn something of the logoi, they are always signifying the same one thing. And whenever it is written even once, every logos is wandering indifferently among both the experts and among those who have nothing to do with it at all; moreover, it does not know whom to address and whom to avoid. And that is not all, since when it is treated without justice, it always needs its father's defense, for it is not capable of either helping or defending itself. (275d4-e5)

One of the most important aspects of the above discussion is that in it writing is revealed as a kind of speech. The expression "written arguments," [unkeyable], which appears in the former of the two passages, hints at this kind of connection. In the second passage, the process is illustrated explicitly: "every logos, whenever it is written." The origin of writing is in the logos. True the former is a derivative of the latter, as Derrida repeatedly stresses; but, in contrast with the claims of deconstruction, writing cannot abandon speech. [unkeyable] is always a [unkeyable], that is, a species of speech; it is a written speech, at least as far as Plato is concerned.(17) Writing is not a sign of a discontinuity between the gramma and the logos, as Derrida tries to claim, but rather a sign of the gap between the logos and the speaker.(18) The Derridian "writing in general," that which is defined as being disconnected from any logos, is impossible in the Platonic context, where writing is always dependent on and connected with speech.(19)

It is not surprising, therefore, that the distinction between the two kinds of writing is based on the assumption that writing is always derived from speech. Socrates says, "So, let us have a look at a different speech [[unkeyable]], the legitimate brother of the former, in what way is it born, on the one hand, and how much it is better and more capable by nature than the former, on the other hand" (276a1-3). The second kind of writing, "writing in the soul," is also a logos like the first one. The internal difference, that within writing, is on two levels. One level is that of the contribution to learning; the first type of writing, the illegitimate son of the logos, cannot contribute to learning (257d7-9), while the second, legitimate son can do so. The other level is that of the capability of self-defense. Unlike the weakness of the wandering orphan, the [unkeyable] [unkeyable], the logos written in the pupil's soul, is "written with knowledge [[unkeyable]]. On the one hand, it is capable of defending itself, and, on the other hand, it has the knowledge [[unkeyable]] of both speaking and keeping in silence as the situation demands" (276a5-7). The Derridian fascination with the status of the orphan (87; 77) thus needs to be reconsidered. This independence of the orphan, this freedom and liberty, this breaking of the limits is, more than anything else, a painful state of loneliness. Without a father, helpless, scorned, and humiliated, the illegitimate logos is pushed and pulled by those who pass by. Deprived forever of its origin, it is neither understood nor wanted, and, almost forgotten by everyone, it keeps repeating its unintelligible words. It is a sorry sight.

Let us go back to the dialogue. According to Socrates, the speech which is written in the soul has knowledge, [unkeyable], an epithet echoed in the participle [unkeyable] which appears somewhat later. Thus [unkeyable], which is connected with the good writing, contrasts with [unkeyable], mere opinion, which is a characteristic of the written speech described in the king's answer to Theuth: "For it will cause forgetfulness in the souls of the learners . . . , that which has the effigy of wisdom . . . , and they will believe that they know alot without learning . . . , and they will be seemingly wise ([unkeyable]) instead of being really wise" (275a2-b2). The opposition of [unkeyable] and [unkeyable] is a recurring theme in the Platonic dialogues. In the Phaedrus it characterizes the separation of physics from metaphysics. The region above the sky, the [unkeyable], is portrayed as the location of the essence of being ([unkeyable]; 247c7), in accordance with which every kind of real knowledge is defined ([unkeyable]; 247c8). There, the soul's governor inspects knowledge ([unkeyable], while the soul itself is nourished by knowledge (247e3). By contrast, the broken-winged souls that will be incarnated in human bodies are those which are nourished by mere opinion ([unkeyable]; 248b5).

Still, although the writing in the soul is able to act independently, can defend itself, has [unkeyable], and is installed in the learner's soul, it is always a kind of a logos; thus, writing in the soul is a kind of logos written in the soul. For Plato, this internal distinction (good and bad) within writing is analogous to the internal distinction (good and bad) within speech.(20) In other words, both logos and writing are ethically split.(21) As a consequence, the central opposition of the dialogue is not that writing and speech, as Derrida tries to claim, but that of the shameful ([unkeyable]) and the beautiful ([unkeyable]) regarding both writing and speech.(22) Socrates: "And what about both the speaking and the writing of arguments [[unkeyable]], is it beautiful or shameful [[unkeyable]]? . . . ; isn't it clear from what we've just said?" (277d1-3). To sharpen the above argument, I shall now proceed to the position of the writer of speeches, the logographer.

The logographer's first appearance on the dialogue's stage comes after the end of Socrates' second speech:

For, my dear friend, only recently one of the politicians railed at him [Lysias], and reproached him calling him through his whole speech logographer. And he, fearing for his reputation, might very soon stop writing speeches at all. (257c4-7)

For Derrida, this passage has a clear interpretation:

The logographer, in the strict sense, composes speeches for litigants; speeches which he himself does not pronounce, which he does not attend, so to speak, in person, and which produce their effects in his absence. In writing what he does not speak, what he would never say and would never think in truth, the author of the written speech is already entrenched in the posture of the sophist; the man of non-presence and non-truth (76; 68).

The explicit boundary separating the writer from the written speech seems obvious at first sight. The logographer is the symbol of the gap between the man who writes and the man who speaks,(23) yet an inspection of Demosthenes' speech dealing with the activity of the logographer Ktesikles reveals a different picture: "There is also a fourth law according to which Theocrines, the one who is now prosecuted, must pay 500 drachmae..., yet he arranged the things with Ktesikles the logographer, who acted in the matter for his opponents, so that he would not have to pay and would not be brought to the Acropolis."(24) The whole affair, therefore, was arranged by the logographer.(25) True, he did not pronounce it with his own mouth (il ne prononcait pas lui-meme), but one cannot therefore deduce that he was either absent or did not assist (il n'assistait pas) (76; 68).(26) On the contrary, in this case the presence and the help of the logographer were so great that the logos was not transformed into a [unkeyable]. The problem was solved outside the law court, not with a written speech learned by heart, but with the help of the man who is considered by Derrida to be the one who prevents his help from the logos. It is therefore impossible to treat the logographer as one who formulates his client's opinion (redigeait des discours) (76; 68); he is, rather, a counselor in matters of law.(27)

These facts would not have received so much attention if the logographer were not such an important link in Derrida's deconstructive chain. The lack of connection between the written speech and the writing subject represents for Derrida all the following phenomena: the sophist's position, (l'homme de la non-presence et la non-verite), the presence of the absence, and, later, the disconnection from the father. This associative chain not only originates in a highly problematic linkage (as can be understood from the above discussion of the logographer), but is also very difficult to verify, considering the position of both the written speech and Lysias in the dialogue. The written speech is not always presented as hopeless, disconnected, and wandering around. Thus, Lysias's speech (named "logos") can do without Socrates' help because of the author's presence: "Although I do love you alot, yet, since Lysias is actually here [unkeyable] I do not have even the slightest intention of offering my help to you" (228d8-e2).(28) The stress on the fact that Lysias is actually present signifies the impossibility of choosing the solution of simple irony.(29) Lysias's presence is not that of the Derridian absolute absence. Despite the fact that Lysias is not able to aid the written speech by his own living one, he is present enough to hinder Socrates from speaking against it. The weakness of the speech (logos) will be revealed as an internal one, stemming from its ethical character and not from its formal aspect as a [unkeyable]. In this context, writing is irrelevant to the discussion, and not inferior to speech. Even if Lysias had pronounced his speech with his own mouth it would have been impossible to help the argumentation, as Socrates later states explicitly:

No doubt, then, he would not seriously write these things with ink upon the water and would not sow them by means of his pen with arguments [unkeyable] which are not capable of defending themselves by means of speech [unkeyable] on the one hand, and are not capable of teaching the truth adequately on the other hand. (276c7-9).

The impossibility of teaching adequately is not an inevitable outcome of the use of writing instead of speech, although writing is more conducive to inadequate teaching. It is, rather, a reflection of the defective nature of the logos before it was ever written.(30) If the logoi have knowledge [unkeyable] and are able to defend both themselves and the one who has planted them in the pupil's soul, if they are not barren but fertile and signify continuity and immortality (276e7-277a3), then writing, which is a derivative of these logoi, also preserves the same qualities. Thus, again, the logoi are revealed in this passage as either ontologically good or bad independent of their written or spoken form. From an ethical point of view, both forms are predisposed to the shameful and the beautiful to the same degree (258d1-5). This leads us to the question of the [unkeyable].

In my previous discussion of the [unkeyable], I tried to reveal the hidden contradiction between the Derridian [unkeyable] and the Platonic one so as to explain the strategy of deconstructive reading. The concealment of this contradiction has another purpose, however, which is to cut the Platonic thread connecting the [unkeyable] and the physician. The central position of the [unkeyable] in the deconstructive interpretation is nourished by its independence; the [unkeyable], as a dominant link in the Derridian chain, cannot have an origin. The role of the [unkeyable] is to pose a dangerous question about the legitimacy of the origin while being immune from that same question. Moreover, its power stems exactly from that immunity. According to the rules of the deconstructive game, each link must be free, since subordination to something, or even worse, to somebody, means the immediate loss of the ability to ask, that is, the ability to play the central role in the game. Since the latter notion is a necessary condition in the deconstructive strategy, the exposition of the [unkeyable] dependence due to its connection to the physician would show the existence of an aspect within the Platonic text alien to Derrida's regulations.(31) This attitude does not dispute the legitimacy of the deconstructive assumptions in the case of the [unkeyable], but merely focuses on the impossibility that they may be realized within the Platonic weave.

Let us go back, then, to the dialogue, to illuminate somewhat the [unkeyable] hidden dependence. The conversation begins with the questions, "Wherefrom and whereto?" the answers being, "From Lysias...and I intend to walk outside the walls." This declaration is followed by its motivation: "Because I was persuaded by our mutual friend, Acumenus." It is only the fifth line of the text--the [unkeyable] will not appear for a considerable time--and yet the importance of the physician is already hinted at.(32) Acumenus the physician is a friend of Socrates and Phaedrus; his son, Eryximachus, himself a physician and a close friend of Phaedrus, "meets" both Socrates and Phaedrus in another Platonic dialogue, the Symposium.(33) As the discussion develops, it is clear that there is another physician besides Acumenus and Eryximachus and that he is the physician, Hippocrates,(34) according to whose instructions Socrates implicity acts. Thus, it is possible to infer from the context of activities done according to the instructions of the physicians (going outside the walls according to Acumenus,(35) checking the place according to Hippocrates) that there exists a certain bond between the [unkeyable] and the physician, an inference which is affirmed by the following:

Socrates: No doubt, it seems to me as if it were you who found the [unkeyable] of getting me out, like those who hold out and shake a green twig or some kind of fruit before the cattle and lead them, so you, carrying in front of me logoi in books, seem to be able to lead me through Attica and to whatever other place you'd like. (230d5-e1)

In the Greek language, the complete dependence of the [unkeyable] on its user is overemphasized. The sentence opens with a double emphasis on the agent of the action, Phaedrus; both the usage of the personal pronoun "you" (ov, which is not necessary in Greek) and the particle [unkeyable] strongly signify a human context.(36) The green twig and the fruit, which are not able to act autonomously, indicate the same dependence, as their movement is the outcome of a human decision. Despite what Derrida says (79-80; 71), the comparison underlined by Socrates is not between the [unkeyable] and the logoi in books, but rather between those who lead the cattle and Phaedrus. In other words, it is not between different objects but between different men. The [unkeyable] which leads Socrates out of the walls is not an inner-directed entity; although potentially powerful, a human being must put it into practice.(37) Phaedrus takes it with him, places it under his cloak, makes it peep out, conceals it, exposes it, and attracts Socrates with it (230e3).

This complexity of connections which exist between the [unkeyable], the physician, and the books is also seen when Socrates explains, using a fictitious dialogue, some of his ideas concerning the importance of the expert:

Socrates: Well, then, tell me; if someone coming to your friend Eryximachus or to his father, Acumenus, would say "I am an expert [[unkeyable]] in applying [[unkeyable]] the following things to the bodies so that they would be warmed whenever I want. . . ,and many other things of this kind; and because of my knowledge [[unkeyable]] of them I consider myself a physician, and I also believe I am able to make [[a physician]] every other man to whom I would give the knowledge [[unkeyable]] about these things. . ." (268a8-b4)(38)

The fictitious speaker claims to be a physician on the basis of certain knowledge ([unkeyable]), which enables him both to heal and to transmit the ability to heal to others. The importance of such a claim cannot be overemphasized, since [unkeyable], which is depicted in a different context as the opposite of [unkeyable], seems to be in this context identical with [unkeyable], as there is no doubt that the speaker cannot have the [unkeyable] of medicine merely on the basis of knowing the effects of the [unkeyable]. He can, however, have a plausible assumption as to the meaning of medicine, that is, the [unkeyable] of medicine. Thus, while using the word [unkeyable], the speaker in fact refers to [unkeyable]. In this light, one might wonder whether this is another hint at a Derridian thread. If the signifier [unkeyable] constitutes both knowledge and opinion, then it is fundamentally similar to the [unkeyable], which constitutes both medicine and poison. Such a conclusion, however, ignores the delicate construction of the Platonic text. The speaker's declaration that he has this certain kind of knowledge (applying [unkeyable] in order to get a certain result) means that he feels he has also acquired the art of medicine. From his point of view, this is not [unkeyable] but [unkeyable]. From Socrates' point of view, however, the mere claim that one has a certain kind of knowledge is far from being sufficient proof of its possession. Although the existence of knowledge can be reflected by such kinds of utterance, the latter in itself cannot create knowledge. This contrast is vividly expressed in Socrates' presentation of the claim. On the one hand, the dialogue form, which gives a different voice to each opinion, preserves a variety of perspectives. On the other hand, this same technique restricts the confused ideas concerning the nature of knowledge ([unkeyable]) to the limited domain of the speaker, the arrogant layman. By contrast, the vast field of the expert remains free from that kind of ambiguity.

Still, one might argue that the above is but another example of a binaric opposition, expert-layman, which can easily be resolved through deconstruction. Such a movement might have been possible if Plato's careful choice of words in the physician's answer had not already prevented it: "Does he know in addition [[unkeyable]] what kind of actions one has to do and when and in what manner they should be done?" (268b6-8). The difference, therefore, is not of quality but of quantity; both laymen and experts know how to apply certain [unkeyable] to achieve certain effects, but only the expert has the additional knowledge concerning specific actions and timing. It is again clear why deconstruction is impossible. What seemed at first to be another case of a binaric opposition is revealed to be a difference on the same level. In other words, instead of polarity, which is the starting point of any deconstructive maneuver, one finds a sequence which prevents any activation of the Derridian strategy.

The layman's position begins to be problematic only when he tries to deny the existence of the gap which separates him from the expert. This clearly indicates that Plato's main concern is not with the presence or absence of knowledge but with the proper use or abuse of words expressing that knowledge. In itself, the different amounts of knowledge are neither good nor bad. They are morally neutral. What is morally wrong is the oral concealment of the real situation. This brings us back to the [unkeyable]: "And because he heard once from a book [[unkeyable]] or he was acquainted with drugs [[unkeyable]], he believes himself to be a physician, while he is not an expert [[unkeyable]] at all" (268c2-4).

Again, both books and [unkeyable] appear in a deprecating context,(39) yet it is not their essence which is condemened, but their action. Medicine clearly cannot exist as a science, as [unkeyable], without a knowledge, [unkeyable], of [unkeyable]. To be a physician, however, one must in addition know the right application of each [unkeyable] to each patient. The distinction is not one between different objects but between different kinds of users of these objects. The difference is between the man who is an expert ([unkeyable]) and the man who is not an expert. It is the nonexpert's lack of knowledge which makes books and [unkeyable] harmful, not their mere existence. It is this same expert-nonexpert distinction which is the focus of a passage already cited in connection with the deprecation of written speech:

And whenever it is written even once, every logos is wandering around in the same manner both among the experts and among those who have nothing to do with it at all. Moreover, it does not know to whom it should speak and to whom it should not. (275d9-e3)(40)

The problem is not, therefore, with the wrong objects but with the wrong hands. Socrates repeats this notion regarding poetry (268c5-d2) and harmony (268d6-e6, with [unkeyable] in 268e5) as well. Again, knowledge itself is not at fault.(41)

There is one more point to be discussed, and that is the consequences of using the [unkeyable]. The duality of the [unkeyable], (poison-medicine) becomes more serious when the poison is not merely metaphorical (as in the king's answer to Theuth), but is a means of consciously causing harm. The Athenian in the Laws dedicates a separate section to the laws concerning poisoning where, again, the difference is between two sorts who use the [unkeyable], and not between different consequences of its use, that is, between different responsibilities:

This is the law concerning poisoning [[unkeyable]]; the man who poisons [[unkeyable]] someone in order to incite damage without a fatal consequence either to himself or to the other, or in order to have a fatal consequence for the latter or otherwise to his cattle or bees, would, if on the one hand [[unkeyable]] he is a physician and would be convicted of poisoning, suffer death; and if, on the other hand [[unkeyable]], he is a layman [[unkeyable]], the court will decide what he shall suffer or pay. And if there would be a suspicion that someone is causing harm by means of spells, charms, or some kind of incantations or other such kinds of witchcrafts [[unkeyable]], if, on the one hand [[unkeyable]], he is a prophet or a diviner, let him die, and if, on the other hand [[unkeyable]], he would be convicted of withcraft [[unkeyable]] without any help of prophetic art, he shall be dealt with as in the former case; the court will decide about him what he shall suffer or pay.(42)

The text is unambiguous; the legislator distinguishes between the expert and the layman, whether in medicine or in withcraft. The expert's fate is uniform; the penalty is always death, regardless of the seriousness of the outcome. With the exception of murder, where the penalty is humiliation in addition to death,(43) all damage to property and person is considered by the enforcers of the law to be the same; there is no place for mercy. The reason for the severity is clear: the abuse of knowledge--an abuse based on the power given by society to the expert so that he will put it to good use--is considered to be a kind of treason. This twofold aspect of the law, which allows different penalties for the layman, but only one for the expert, applies even though in both cases [unkeyable] were consciously used to cause harm. Although the layman's intentions were no better than those of the expert, it is only in the latter case that the court has no leeway. Thus, unlike Derrida, who disconnects his deconstructive agents from any subject and therefore from any responsibility, Plato emphasizes again and again the responsibility of the human being for his actions and their outcomes.

In conclusion, the above discussion illuminates the problematics of a deconstructive interpretation in accordance with its own regulations. The hierarchical construction of the Platonic text cannot be deconstructed unless the textual weave goes through a drastic change, which is impossible in the context of a subtle Derridian reading. In addition, the [unkeyable] autonomy, which is an essential characteristic of Derrida's commentary on Plato, was disputed here, and as a result the question of the validity of the deconstructive exegetical process is reopened. As for the last issue to be dealt with, namely, the notion of responsibility within the Derridian frame of reference, this must be developed another time.

Appendix: [unkeyable]

The expression "the soul as a whole," which is my translation for the Greek [unkeyable], was first suggested by Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff.(44) Even Wilamowitz himself, however, found it problematic and left some of the difficulties unresolved. Moreover, Wilamowitz is an exception, since the dispute among most interpreters since Hermias Alexandrinus(45) concentrates on the question whether the meaning of [unkeyable] is "all soul" or "every soul."(46) The latter problem cannot be resolved by means of textual criticism,(47) and therefore my suggestion is based on the context. In 246b6 and following, [unkeyable] appears as a complete being ([unkeyable]) having wings, which stands in contrast to the soul which has lost its wings ([unkeyable]). In 246d6 and following, the wings' power to carry the heavy part of the soul to the gods' place of habitation is mentioned; Zeus himself, driving a winged chariot ([unkeyable]), directs the gods toward the summit of the sky, from which it is possible to have a look at the metaphysical region. Moreover, falling to earth is a direct outcome of the falling off of the wings (248c7-8). The opposition is quite clear; the divine, the origin, and the presence stand in contrast to the human, the derivative, and the absence, while the insurmountable gap between the two poles is realized by the actual breaking off of the wings. It is according to this opposition that the insufficiency of both translations becomes manifest. The use of a collective signifier ("all" or "every"), which tends to give an impression of identity and closeness, is a misreading of an expression which appears in the context of difference and separation. By contrast, the translation "the soul as a whole" both emphasizes the existence of the difference and preserves the notion of completeness which is one of the characteristics of the Platonic primeval situation.

The above two options raise another problem. At 247b6 the dialogue presents the souls which are named immortal ([unkeyable]), while at 248a1, the other souls are presented ([unkeyable]). The Greek combination of [unkeyable] and [unkeyable] represents a binary opposition.(48) The souls of the second group, which belong to those which are not gods, are not named immortal. In the light of this contrast, both "all soul" and "every soul" are misinterpretations of the Greek [unkeyable], since they ignore the difference between the mortal and the immortal. It is the context again which hints at the accuracy of my translation. In 246c7-d2, the connection between the living being ([unkeyable]) and the immortal is depicted. The immortal has both a body and a soul which exist forever as a complete phenomenon ([unkeyable]).(49) By contrast, the living being, which is an outcome of an arbitrary connection between body and soul, has only a temporal completeness, which merely serves as a means for the new growth of the wings. Translating [unkeyable] as "the soul as a whole" stresses the difference between the complete immortal and the incomplete mortal in a dialogue where difference is a main theme.(50)

(1) The first article in this two article series is "The Rhetoric of Jacques Derrida I: Plato's Pharmacy," Review of Metaphysics 46 (December 1992): 369-86.

(2) Page numbers refer to Jacques Derrida, La dissemination (Paris: Seuil, 1967); and to Jacques Derrida, Dissemination, trans. Barbara Johnson (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981). The left number refers to the French original, the right to the English translation. The translations of Derrida in this essay, unless otherwise noted, are modified versions of Johnson's translation.

(3) See Appendix for more information on the translation.

(4) The Translations of Plato are based on Plato, Opera, ed. John Burnet, 5 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1900-1907). All translations from Greek in this essay, unless otherwise noted, are my own. Citations given in the text are from the Phaedrus.

(5) See for example Reginald Hackforth, Plato's Phaedrus, Translated with Introduction and Notes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1952).

(6) See Charles L. Griswold, Jr., "Self Knowledge and the [unkeyable] of the Soul in Plato's Phaedrus," Revue de metaphysique et de morale 86 (1981): 482.

(7) See Gerrit Jacob de Vries, A Commentary on the Phaedrus of Plato (Amsterdam: Adolf U. Hakert, 1969), 124.

(8) See Paul Friedlander, Plato, trans. Hans Meyerhoff, 2d ed. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1954) vol. 2, p. 108; and Robert Zaslavsky, Platonic Myth and Platonic Writing (Washington: University Press of America, 1981), 96.

(9) The prominence of the Logos in Phaedrus is strengthened at the end of the dialogue in Socrates' prayer to Pan. According to Diskin Clay ("Socrates' Prayer to Pan," in Arktouros: Hellenic Studies Presented to Bernard M. Knox on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, ed. Glen W. Bowersock, Walter Burkert, and Michael C.J. Putnam [Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1979], 347), Pan is a link in a chain of strong associations to the Logos. In the Phaedrus the Logos is not identified with the gods, who have to climb in order to have a look at the metaphysical region. They are however, closer to the Logos than are human beings, whose only connection with the Logos is a mediated one. The fact that Hestia does not join the climbing gods is evidence of the boundary between the metaphysical and the physical (see Zaslavsky, Platonic Myth and Platonic Writing, 82), and therefore another proof of the two kinds of logos. On the connection between Hestia's wings and the importance of the notion of internal division in the Phaedrus see Kenneth Dorter, "Imagery and Philosophy in Plato's Phaedrus," Journal of the History of Philosophy 9 (1971): 285.

(10) Ian Machattie Crombie emphasizes the fact that Socrates finds fault not in rhetorical techniques qua techniques but in the switch of their usage from a means to an end in themselves; see his An Examination of Plato's Doctrines (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1962) vol. 1, p. 198.

(11) See Derrida's Introduction to La dissemination, which considers the problems of adding something to the "object" of reading.

(12) Careful attention should be paid to the fact that dialectic is not the opposite of eloquence. On the contrary, dialectic is both eloquence and plausibility of argumentation, and therefore it is harmonious.

(13) See George Grote, Plato and the Other Companions of Socrates (London: John Murray, 1888) vol. 3, p. 27; and W. H. Thompson, The Phaedrus of Plato (New York: New York Times, 1973), 86.

(14) The emphasis in this passage is signified in the Greek original by means of [unkeyable].

(15) This is an aesthetic definition as much as a moral one since the good, [unkeyable], is also the beautiful; see Terence Irwin, Plato's Moral Theory: The Early Dialogues (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977), 239.

(16) The basic equality of writing and speech, which is prior to moral definitions, is a recurring theme in the dialogue, not only in 258d4-5 and 259e1-2, but also in the following passages: [unkeyable] (271b8), [unkeyable] (271c4), [unkeyable] (272b1). In 273a7 Teisias speaks ([unkeyable]); and in 273b4 he writes ([unkeyable]). These may serve as examples of the limited importance of binaric oppositions within the Platonic text, which stands in contrast to the predominance given them by deconstructionists. See also the relationship between mythos and logos in Griswold, "Self Knowledge and the [unkeyable]," 48; and in Charles L. Griswold, Jr., Self Knowledge in Plato's Phaedrus, (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986), 140. See also Kent F. Moors, Platonic Myth: An Introductory Study (Washington: University Press of America, 1982), 23. Clearly, equality is not an accidental attributive in the passages mentioned above; it is, on the contrary, a sign of the basic ethical neutrality of both speech and writing, as is claimed by Luc Brisson, Platon:

Les mots et les mythes (Paris: Maspero, 1982), 110. This moral neutrality is thoroughly discussed by Friedlander, Plato, 118; J.J. Muhlern, "Socrates on Knowledge and Information (Phaedrus 274b6-275a9)," Classica et Mediaevalia 30 (1969): 180; Victor Goldschmidt, Les dialogues de Platon (Paris: Presses Universite de France, 1971), 329; Gregory Vlastos, Platonic Studies, 2d ed. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), 395; Brisson, Platon: Les mots et les mythes, 120; and Daniel Babut, "[unkeyable]...[unkeyable]: Sur quelques enigmes du Phedre," Bulletin del'Association Guillame Bude 46 (1987): 272-3. The moral responsibility lies with the one who puts either the one or the other into practice, an aspect which is dealt with in a later stage of the dialogue.

(17) Friedlander, Plato, 110.

(18) Derrida does not overlook the importance of the speaker in the dialogue. On the contrary, he pays careful attention to the problem of the father-son relationship and its correlation with the speech-writing connection. The father is afraid of his own, not his logos's castration and murder. The difficulty in the deconstructive interpretation is elsewhere; it lies in the father-logos identity. For Derrida, the father and the logos are one, and thus they stand together in opposition to writing. Writing, he claims, is disconnected from the father, from the logos, and as such it begins to act independently. Actually, the disconnection of the logos from the father happens at a much earlier stage, when the logos comes into being. The moment the logos is pronounced, the moment it is uttered, it is disconnected from the living and speaking subject-father. Death, therefore, is already on the stage, and its immediate bond with being is not surprising. Thus, the difference between speech and writing is not between the internal and the external (with all the consequent Derridian meanings), but between the near and the distant. It is this difference that finds its expression in the ability to give aid. The logos, which is near its father, can have the benefit of the father's help, while writing, which is distant, has to wander around. Thus, the text again creates a hierarchy (of distances) and not an opposition between inside and outside. The merit of the logos in comparison with writing is, therefore, in the former's close relationship with the father. On this same aspect in Plato's Seventh Letter, see Thomas Alexander Szlezak, "The Acquiring of Philosophical Knowledge According to Plato's Seventh Letter," in Arktouros: Hellenic Studies, 358.

(19) Even in the passage where writing seems to be explicitly condemned, the connection between the speaker and the written arguments is stressed: "If, however, the one who knows the truth composes these things, and he is able to defend them directing himself towards a thorough investigation of what he wrote, and while he speaks, he himself is able to prove that the written arguments [unkeyable] do not deserve serious consideration, there is no need that he will be called after the latter, but rather after his serious occupations" (278c4-d1). Dealing with nonserious occupations is thus legitimate so long as the writer is able to limit them to the region of unimportant phenomena. This limitation is done by means of speech.

(20) This distinction between the two kinds of writing being kinds of speech reappears in 277e5-278b4: "And there is no doubt that the one who deems that, on the one hand, in the written speech [unkeyable] [unkeyable] great frivolity is a rule of necessity, and that no written speech [unkeyable]... deserves great seriousness, and that on the other hand.. only in the arguments which are really written in the soul [unkeyable] about the things which are just and beautiful and good exists that which deserves ... seriousness; and, moreover, who thinks that these kinds of speech should be called the legitimate sons of their speaker ..., [this man] it seems to me, Phaedrus, both you and I should aspire to be like." Again, writing is not of itself illegitimate. Moreover, the possession of the legitimate writing is one of the characteristics of the man whose personality is an object of desire for Socrates.

(21) This criterion has different reflections in the dialogue. Thus, the difference between Plato, who creates a speech imitating Lysias's style, and Lysias, who creates a speech imitating his client's style, is the monetary motivation of Lysias versus the educational motivation of Plato; see Ronna Burger, Plato's Phaedrus: A Defence of a Philosophic Art of Writing (Tuscaloosa: Alabama University Press, 1980), 21. Lysias's speech is disapproved of because it presents an attitude which is ethically defective; see Alfred Edward Taylor, Plato: The Man and his Work, 4th ed. (London: Methuen, 1937), 302. Cf. Giovanni, R.F. Ferrari, Listening to the Cicadas: A Study of Plato's Phaedrus (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 91. Ferrari's arguments are not convincing. On myth as a medium of an ethical message see Paul Shorey, The Unity of Plato's Thought (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1903), 7; and Leon Robin, Platon (Paris: Alcan, 1935), 192, 196. On the ethical context of the dialogue as a whole see Taylor, Plato: The Man and His Work, 30.

(22) Zaslavsky, Platonic Myth and Platonic Writing, 59.

(23) Already in the scholia: "for [unkeyable] was the name given by the ancients to those who wrote speeches [unkeyable] for money, and sold them to those who needed them in the law-courts, and the rhetoricians were those who spoke [unkeyable]." The translation is based on Scholia Platonica, ed. Gviliem Chase Greene, (Haverford: American Philological Association, 1938).

(24) The translation is based on Demosthenes, Orationes, ed. William Rennie (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1931), vol. 3, 1327.19

(25) See Demosthenes: Selected Private Speeches, ed. C. Carey and R. A. Reid, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 15.

(26) The expression il n'assistait pas is a very interesting example of the absent a. Like the a of the differance which is present in writing though absent from speech, here the a of the expression assister a, which means "to be present," is absent from writing, although present in meaning. The strong connection between presence and help is not new in either the Platonic or the Derridian contexts. On the wide range of assistance the logographer gives to his client see Stephen Usher, "Lysias and his Client," Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 17 (1976): 36. Regarding Usher's criticism, Kenneth D. Dover's suggestion (in his Lysias and the Corpus Lysiacum [Berkeley: University of California Press, 1968], 151) that the logographer did not write his speech at all seems to me an exaggeration.

(27) "L'auteur [Demosthenes] imput insi au logographe le role de mandataire de son client et s'il croit devoir critiquer ses agissements, il parait cependant trouver naturel que l'avocat, le conseiller, agisse bien au de la redaction du discours"; M. Lavency, Aspects de la logographie judicaire Attique (Louvain: Publications Universitaires de Louvain, 1964), 103.

(28) On the problematics of k[alpha]i in this passage see de Vries, A Commentary on the Phaedrus, 43. On translating k[alpha]i as "actually," see William Jacob Verdenius, "Notes on Plato's Phaedrus," Mnemosyne 8 (1955): 266; and Hackforth, Plato's Phaedrus, 12.

(29) It is, rather, a case of complex irony. Gregory Vlastos defines complex irony as an expression in which "what is said both is and isn't what is meant"; Gregory Vlastos, "Platonic Irony," The Classical Quarterly 37 (1987): 86. That is, on one level of meaning there is a gap between what is said and what is meant, while on a different level such a gap does not exist. Thus, on the literal level regarding Lysias's physical presence, there is a gap between words and meaning, while on the level regarding the relationship between the logos and his father this gap is cancelled. The notion of complex irony is further developed in Gregory Vlastos, Socrates: Ironist and Moral Philosopher (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 32, 236-42.

(30) This opinion contrasts with the opinions of most of the critics, who regard the deprecation of writing in the Phaedrus, itself a written text, as a paradox. See de Vries, A Commentary on the Phaedrus, 145; Burger, Plato's Phaedrus, 2; Mary Margaret Mackenzie, "Paradox in Plato's Phaedrus," Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 28 (1982): 65; Kenneth M. Sayre, "Plato's Dialogues in the Light of the Seventh Letter," in Platonic Writings, Platonic Readings, ed. Charles L. Griswold, Jr., (New York: Routledge, Chapman and Hall, 1988), 97; and Rosemary Desjardins, "Why Dialogues? Plato's Serious Play," in Platonic Writings, 110ff.

(31) Jasper P. Neel, who devotes an entire book to Derrida's reading of Plato, has completely missed the deconstructive concept of textuality; see Jasper P. Neel, Plato, Derrida, and Writing (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1988). The starting point does seem to be deconstructive: "The way to neutralize an old, strong text . . . is to attack it directly on its own grounds, then show the most obvious way to rehabilitate it, and finally expose the deceptiveness of that rehabilitation" (p. xi). The following page, however, reveals a basic misunderstanding: "Derrida repeatedly argues that writing is the truth of the West" (p. xii). The unequivocal use of the word "truth" in a Derridian context completely ignores Derrida's main aim: the exposure of the fictive nature of that "truth." Moreover, such argumentation hints at the existence of an original, deconstructive binaric opposition within the truthful poles of which lies writing. This implicit notion stands in contrast to the conception that Derrida regards the text as an ahierarchical weave. Neel's statement that "Plato is wrong and Derrida is right" (p. xii) is an explicit manifestation of his binaric attitude. The Derridian reading aims of unravelling the hidden threads of the textual net and not at presenting a dialectical position toward them. The whole strategy is planned so as to make impossible the placing of any deconstructive reading in opposition with its object of reference. Thus, the innocent binaric opposition of right and wrong is alien to Derrida's intentions.

Although I have focused on Neel's Introduction, the same criticisms hold for the book as a whole. One example will suffice to make the point. Neel says he thinks that "we'd rather be ill than suffer Plato's cure" (p. 65). In his discussion of the Phaedrus Derrida continuously plays with the ambivalence of the [unkeyable] as both remedy and poison, avoiding reference to the [unkeyable] as merely "medicine," because it is also a poison. Neel's declaration, in addition to its complete incompatibility with a Derridian reading, also avoids the importance of that play of meanings. What is more, the claim that writing for Plato is a "trivial play" (p. xi) stands in contrast to the serious position of Platonic play in Derrida's argumentation. This emphasis, however, follows a long tradition of reading; see W. K. C. Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975) vol. 2, pp. 56-65.

(32) The association between medicine and the physicians creates a central axis in the dialogue, and exceeds the pharmaceutic links. According to Werner Jaeger, medicine is the model for Plato's ethics; Werner Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture, trans. Gilbert Highet, vol. 2 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1944), 3. The appearance of medical literature symbolizes in ancient Greece the transition to the age of professionalization (p. 11). Plato stresses the difference between the slave-doctor and the professional doctor in Laws, a difference which is highly connected with the logos (p. 12). In addition, toward the end of the dialogue, medicine is associated with Egypt, the land of the myth of Theuth, by means of Isocrates; see Hans Herter, "The Problematic Mention of Hippocrates in Plato's Phaedrus," Illinois Classical Studies 1 (1976): 39-40. On the connection between medicine and philosophy see also Pierre-Maxime Schuhl, "Platon et la medicine," Revue des etudes Grecques 62 (1960): 73-9; and Michel Frede, "Philosophy and Medicine in Antiquity," Essays in Ancient Philosophy (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987), 225 (on the ethical relationship of medicine to philosophy see p. 231).

(33) See de Vries, A Commentary on the Phaedrus, 33; and Hackforth, Plato's Phaedrus, 25.

(34) At the beginning of On Airs, Waters, Places, Hippocrates gives the following advice: "The one who wants to learn well the art of medicine must do the following. . . . And to test the warm winds and the cold ones . . . one should test the characteristics of the water . . . and the kinds of water the inhabitants apply . . . and the soil also, whether it is not fertile and dry or whether it is full of trees and water . . . and the inhabitants' way of life"; translation based on Hippocrates, On Airs, Waters, Places, in Opera, ed. and trans. W. H. S. Jones (Cambridge: Loeb Classical Library, 1923). The analogy between this and Socrates' actions when he arrives at Ilisos is quite prominent, as Ferrari shows very clearly: "He [Socrates] examines the soil and finds it well watered [the spring] and thickly covered with vegetation [the lush grass, the plane--and agnus--trees]; he checks the characteristics of the water supply [sweet and cool; and notice here the pedantically scientific 'as you can confirm with your toes', [unkeyable] [unkeyable], 230b7]; he considers the winds [the pleasant breeze]; and he concerns himself with the inhabitants of the place, detecting the presence of Achelous and the Nymphs and commenting on the musical activity of the cicadas--whose habits of spare eating and drinking and fondness for work he reserves, however, for late scrutiny"; Ferrari, Listening to the Cicadas, 17. See also Jaap Mansfeld, "Plato and the Method of Hippocrates," Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 21 (1980): 356; and Martha C. Nussbaum, The Fragility of Goodness: Luck and Ethics in Greek Tragedy and Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 124. On the connection between Hippocrates and Plato, see Ferrari, Listening to the Cicadas, 248, n. 19; and Mansfeld, "Plato and the Method of Hippocrates," 354. On the importance of medicine in the dialogue see Annie Lebeck, "The Central Myth of Plato's Phaedrus," Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 13 (1972): 21, n. 21; and Schuhl, "Platon et la medicine," 75, 77.

(35) The mere act of walking creates a bond between the physicians and the logos, a bond which is stronger than that of the one between the physicians and the [unkeyable]. See Lebeck, "The Central Myth of Plato's Phaedrus," 284, n. 32; 285, n. 34.

(36) All the textual corrections suggested by de Vries (A Commentary on the Phaedrus, 57) strengthen this accentuation by means of the Greek [unkeyable].

(37) On the emphasis given to the human factor in the dialogue see Stanley Rosen, "The Non-Lover in Plato's Phaedrus," Man and World 2 (1969): 425.

(38) On the verb [unkeyable], applying drugs to the sick body, see de Vries, A Commentary on the Phaedrus, 227. This is the same verb used in connection with the [unkeyable] of the head in Charmides 157c5.

(39) Plato uses here the word [unkeyable] and not the word [unkeyable], a diminutive which hints at humiliation. See de Vries, A Commentary on the Phaedrus, 228.

(40) On the epistemological deprecation associated with the verb "to wander around" ([unkeyable]) see de Vries, A Commentary on the Phaedrus, 252.

(41) Moreover, on the subject of harmony, the learning ([unkeyable]) to be condemned in the context of a deceitful [unkeyable] is a necessary ([unkeyable]) precondition for harmony (268e1) as much as the [unkeyable] are necessary for the physician (270b6). At this point I would direct the reader's attention to Michel Foucault's criticism of Derrida in the afterword to his Histoire de la folie a l'age classique (Paris: Gallimard, 1972), 583-603. Although his criticism deals with a Derridian reading of Descartes' notions about madness, Foucault's attitude toward the deconstructive text is very similar to my own criticism of Derrida. As with the internal division within writing, Foucault's indicates the internal division within madness (p. 591); like the claim that the main opposition in the Platonic text is not speech-writing but ethical-nonethical, Foucault states that Descartes' main opposition is not insanity-sanity but demens-dormiens. What is more, Foucault proves that the Derridian both-and phenomenon is impossible, while impossibility in general is an important criterion for Derrida's critical discussion (p. 596).

(42) Laws 933d1-e5.

(43) Ibid., 871d4-5.

(44) Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Platon (Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1920) vol. 2, p. 364.

(45) Hermias Alexandrinus, In Platonis Phaedrum Scholia, ed. Paul Couvreur (Paris: Librarie mile Bouillon, 1901), 102.

(46) Thompson, The Phaedrus of Plato, 44; Hackforth, Plato's Phaedrus, 63.

(47) Perceval Frutiger, Les mythes de Platon: Etude philosophique et litteraire (Paris: Alcan, 1930), 34.

(48) de Vries, A Commentary on the Phaedrus, 134.

(49) Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 239.

(50) See Raphael Demos, "Plato's Doctrine of the Psyche as a Self-Moving Motion," Journal of the History of Philosophy 6 (1968): 134; Guthrie, A History of Greek Philosophy, 419, n. 4; and Griswold, Self Knowledge in Plato's Phaedrus, 259, n. 13.
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Author:Rinon, Yoav
Publication:The Review of Metaphysics
Date:Mar 1, 1993
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