Fringe Benefits (Kevin)

Philosophy, Poetry, Religion. The trinity by which we understand and create our being. The first step in any analytical task calls us to detach the subject of our concern from its context so that we may properly observe, dissect, and analyze. Such methods are expedient for study, but prove arbitrary when applied to lived experience. The distinction between these three disciplines may prove useful on a level that allows us to clarify the terms of certain definitions and concepts of truth, on some level of intellectual knowing, but on a more intuitive level of understanding our reality we find it necessary to unite method, poem, and prayer. In the fray of our experience we will cleave to any wisdom that, pragmatically speaking, will “help us to get into satisfactory relation with other parts of our experience.” A line from Shakespeare, a song from the Psalms, a maxim from Nietzsche, we summon all this wisdom into existence simultaneously when the need for ingenuity, action, and faith presents itself to us in life. Now, near the beginning of our 2,500 year old tradition of our philosophy Plato thought it proper to banish poetic artifice from the pursuit of truth. And perhaps, to some degree, he was right. How could we ever focus long enough to agree on the definition of a concept or establish the criteria for sound argument if we were all lost in the throng of our own apostrophic soliloquies? But one can become too focused and too methodical, just as one can become too poetic and too sentimental. William James seems to have recognized this fact; his philosophical writings always show him to have a touch of the poet. In his efforts to investigate the important consequences of unconscious life, he undoubtedly hoped to “unstiffen” the rigorous logic of philosophical thinking by showing the imperative role more intuitive modes of thought play in our lives; in fact, how the success of conscious thought is dependant upon the harmony it finds with the processes below it in the Unconscious.

The reconciliation of philosophy and poetry can only occur by acknowledging the psychology of the Unconscious. The existence of this aspect of our personality acts as the bridge between the unintelligible intimations with which poetry points us in the direction of certain truths, and the didactic and methodical explanation of truths philosophic exercise exacts. Psychology is truly the off-spring of this interdisciplinary marriage. Freud reports, “The poets and philosophers before me discovered the unconscious; what I discovered was the scientific method by which the unconscious can be studied,” and, “Everywhere I got I find a poet has been there before me.” Taking the cue from Freud, we might say that poetry provides the confused and tempestuous agglutination of passions and experience which it is philosophy’s task to clarify, refine, and categorize. What is philosophy, but a blueprint of chaos? Of the “undistinguishable, swarming continuum, devoid of distinction or emphasis,” James described as the pandemonium of pure reality? If finally, we can agree that all our truths—no matter: philosophic, poetic, religious—are but the instruments that help us to navigate more successfully through our experience, we may finally vanquish the antiquated distinctions that hold these three disciplines truths to be separate and unique for good, and begin to construct more successful instruments to navigate through reality from the categories that provide the necessary base of organization from which we gather the tools and materials to begin building. We Pragmatists are not saying no more sonnets for poetry, no more syllogisms for philosophy, no more meditations for religion; we are merely saying let us pray in verse; let us sing metaphysically; let us ask Shakespeare his opinion on God. Let us extend the benefits of each discipline's craft beyond their traditional boundries. Once we acknowledge the utility of our truths, it becomes obvious that each discipline need not resign itself to the methods and instruments it has been traditionally allocated in the pursuit of its truth. A philosophy may be on its last legs before it receives the revitalizing inspiration of a poet’s verse. The poet may search the library, weary of the time told epics and romances of her tradition before she finds her catalyst for innovation in a work of metaphysics. Inspiration, epiphany, revelation all these galvanizing forces of the spirit are translated into consciousness through the patience of the poet opening herself to her muse, the serenity of the philosopher in her wood, and diligence which the worshipper dedicates herself to her shrine. Truth, in whatever form, is never an act of will. This is the whole thrust behind James’s argument in “The Will to Believe.” We can never logically know why a hypothesis is live or dead for us; we can only sense the importance the accepting or denying the terms of its proposition means for us on an intuitive, Unconscious level. Belief only becomes an option for us once we reap the first fruits that ripen when our unconscious “gaps” are filled by the product of the hypothesis. At that point only, does our will become an instrument for us to utilize in the effort to sustain our beliefs despite their logical inconsistencies. It is my opinion that the introduction of the categories of psychology into philosophy has turned the appearance-reality debate of old into a debate over the role Unconscious drives play in conscious reality.

The poet, the prophet, the sage—all three are attuned to the activity of momentous live options floating by on the “fringe” of reality that become the visions of their namesake. James’s assertion that the artist’s vocation lay in her ability to “select her items, rejecting all tones, colors, shapes, which do not harmonize with each other and with the main purpose of her work,” hits the mark not only as a description of artistic creation, but also as a succinct summary of the Pragmatist’s conception of Truth. James believes what separates the artist from the woman in the street is her ability to eliminate the frivolous and seize upon the extraordinary aspects of existence. I don’t know if I agree with him on this point, I think anyone with eyes to see may observe and feel the effects of the extraordinary in reality. The difference between the artist and the woman in the street lay in the fact that the extraordinary impresses her more deeply. The conscious observation that sinks into her Unconscious is related to other monumental experiences that unite to form a poetic vision. She has the knack which James has described elsewhere as an “extraordinary faculty of association which characterizes what we call ‘intelligence.” Perhaps James and I do not think so differently on this matter after all, for he does describe this experience as a “harmonizing,” and that is the perfect verb to describe the consummation of separate images, characters, circumstances, settings, symbols, passions etc. achieve in the single unity of a poetic vision.

The relationship between poetry and philosophy is one that we each must construct in the face of a tradition that seeks to enforce the rigidity of dichotomized thinking. Interdisciplinary thinking is the key to roundness; by limiting ourselves to the precepts of one discipline we risk developing the blind spots that specialization engenders. At those times when we become locked in the tautologies “substantive” analysis runs us up against, we must resign ourselves to passively attend the transitive workings of our Unconscious in hope of finding intuitive guidance past our logical impasses. Only on coming to the “fringe” of our consciousness do we glimpse a new horizon.

Philosophy. It's What You Do. (Leah Douglass)

I think it’s best to be honest, right here in the first sentence, before you read any further you should know that I don’t have much of a background in philosophy. There, now that that’s out of the way I don’t have try and pretend.
The way I understand it philosophy is a lifestyle. You live philosophy. You can have a philosophy on how to live your life such as “I think therefore I am” or a philosophy on an abstract concept like truth such as James: “that ideas become true just in so far as they help us to get into a satisfactory relation with other parts of our experience.”
While poets can metaphorically live and breathe poetry, they don’t generally live by the rules of poetry. Philosophy has always, to me, seemed like a search for an answer, for truth. Poetry does not work in definite answers. There are too many gaps in language, and it doesn’t try to answer. Poets use philosophy. One such poet is Wallace Stevens.
Stevens employs philosophy in his poetry because he lives it. For example this passage from the second canto of “Notes Toward A Supreme Fiction”:

“And yet so poisonous
Are the ravishments of truth, so fatal to
The truth itself”

Stevens is discussing the fatality of searching for truth that will never be had, but doesn’t provide an answer.
It is possible that we have merely made an arbitrary distinction in the two fields. That poet and philosopher are the same. It could be the way we read poetry as opposed to philosophy. It could be that when I think “philosopher” society has told me to think of crazy overgrown beards, and when I think “poet” I think of Emily Dickinson. But as of now I see philosophy as a way of life, and poetry as a means to express life.

A Poet Philosopher or a Philosopher’s Poet?

Within these two disciplines of philosophy and poetry the potential for connections does indeed exist. Despite the vastly differing forms, and the fact the Plato dismisses these imitators of reality, there are indeed poets who have attempted to account for this same account of ultimate reality in a form not based on argumentation and logic, but rather a mystical connection to the world of things as they are experienced, as opposed to the way by which they are articulated. Seeing as neither of these disciplines can be reduced to a paraphrase, but instead must be experienced to fully appreciate what meaning, or significance the poet or the philosopher is attempting to convey, which in general stands as an attempt to understand the fundamental essence of things.

In the chapter of William James' Psychology concerning the stream of consciousness he describes the nature of any perceivable thing as having an inarticulable element, which he refers to as the “Fringe”. Now there are plenty of different means by which one can attempt to understand this quality, as it can indeed be explored through a cognitive means, but it can never be accessed. There is no means to access these notions through the qualities of our everyday experience, as they are steeped in symbolic meaning. Therefore a number of attempts have been made by philosophers and poets alike to all for the experience or at least the understanding of these distant notions through language.

For the poet Wallace Stevens the necessary means by which to access this notion, or at least come close to this pre-symbolic truth, is to abandon all previous notions of the faculties by which we navigate reality. In his poem “Notes Toward A Supreme Fiction” Stevens suggests that:

You must become an ignorant man again

And see the sun again with an ignorant eye

And see it clearly in the idea of it.

Never suppose an inventing mind as source

Of this idea nor for that mind compose

A voluminous mater folded in his fire.

Now this poem for the most part essentially establishes Stevens' account of reality, wherein he sees truth in its purest primordial form as being isolated from humanity's understanding of it. This poem is functioning like a philosophical treatise, but because of the form it's philosophical merit could be widely dismissed. If it were to be considered by philosophically and literately conscious individuals, who are willing to appreciate what these two disciplines can offer, and entertain the possibility that the coalescence of these two disciplines has the potential to access this truth that we are all in pursuit of.

Relationships

The connection between philosophy and poetry is not always the most apparent. When we think of philosophy, our associations immediately tend to be of logic, reason, of strong facts and musings about the innermost workings of the consciousness. Poetry is free, exploring everything and anything under the kind of creative lens chosen at will by the respected poet. The fact is that both poetry and philosophy seek to explain the way we live our lives, the way we look at things, and the way we can continue to look at things. Poetry chooses to explore the way our perception changes the world by recreating it, while philosophy attempts to explain it.

If you look at the poetry of Gertrude Stein, there appears to be no real sense or reason to anything. The grammar is lacking, the pairing of objects and adjectives strange, and the associations are completely obscure. How could this have anything to do with what I was talking about, about the way philosophy and poetry come together? Well, from a pragmatist view, there is some kind of rhyme and reason to Stein’s madness. Pragmatism – like in William James’ essay “The Stream of Consciousness” – acknowledges the way in which our mind makes connections. The objects that create these associations and connections do not change; it is only the way we perceive them. An infamous example in our class is that of seeing a leaf. No matter how many times you may see the same leaf, if will never be exactly the same experience because every time you are different.

An example of Stein: “Enough cloth is plenty and more, more is almost enough for that and besides if there is no more spreading is there plenty of room for it. Any occasion shows the best way” (Tender Buttons: Objects, page 469). Now I won’t lie and say I understand what this means at all because I don’t. Stein does though. She has made connections, strange and wonderful connections , that are all formed from the experiences she has had with cloth. How she experiences it is expressed here. It is not necessary for any other than herself to completely understand it (though I do wish her poems came with an instruction manual sometimes).

Ideas are Ideas are Ideas (Cassie)

I'm not going to pretend that this is a new argument- I'll even go so far as to quote Gertrude Stein's words on the same subject: "A Writer must always try to have a philosophy and he should also have a psychology and a philology and many other things. Without a philosophy and a psychology and all these various other things he is not really worthy of being called a writer. I agree with Kant and Schopenhauer and Plato and Spinoza and that is quite enough to be called a philosophy. But then of course philosophy is not the same thing as a style."

Philosophy is not the same as a style. A philosopher is not a separate characteristic of a person, one can be a philosopher and a poet the same as someone can be a teacher and a mother. A teacher isn't always a mother but a mother is always a teacher. A mother might not directly say that she is a teacher just as a poet may not directly say that his or her poems are stemming from a philosophy. I do, however, think that when a poet seems to stick to a new style- a form that meddles with the minds of the readers (Stein), or when the poet stays on ONE TOPIC WAY TOO LONG (Stevens) then looking at this poet and discussing the poet amongst friends to figure out what can be gained by the poet's philosophy is the only worthy next step. Reading Stevens had a soothing effect on the reader; I easily got lost in the beautiful imagery or dismal feelings when I lost sight of his meanings or intentions. However, with Stein I find myself aggravated. (Yes I find myself instead lose myself in her work). At least I'm experiencing her- right? If you haven't read Gertrude Stein and don't understand what I mean by difficult style, here is a taste, a short poem from her Tender Buttons: Objects:

"A Cloth"

Enough cloth is plenty and more, more is almost enough for that and besides if there is no more spreading is there plenty of room for it. Any occasion shows the best way.

Enjoy some of Gertrude Stein's philosophy- I mean poetry.

Human things (Ian)

I don’t know. All my thoughts about this seem lame and useless. I cannot find any generalizations that do not end by seeming false. Philosophy desires truth above all and poetry desires beauty above all. Of course Dr. Johnson (Samuel, not Michael) would disagree with me there. And Milton. Yes, that’s not true at all, neither one of those statements. What is wisdom really? Sophie is the muse for both of them, because Sophie is everything. Is this true? J.P. Donleavy writes poetry, and he was no doer of the Good. But there was some wisdom in him.

Philosophy issues from a delineating motion, and poetry from a hermeneutic motion. Philosophical writings make use of words for the communication of ideas; poetry is words, words given the power of creation, invocation, heavy with magic. Philosophy records, much of it with a certain blankness. Poetry is a sounding of things, a pulling out of their reverberations. They can be made in all sort of styles. They are both thick with desire.

Where does it begin, their relationship? They are both human things, jars put upon the hillside for the taming of a wilderness. This fact is what makes them the same in the end. They are made of words, because this is what our jar is made of. They are at a remove from what they speak of. They are the agglomerations of the ages. They are a silly farce and they are lovely. They can be invested with my self. They have not given humanity a definitive answer. They cannot give humanity a definitive answer. They make me tired. Hungry too. Sometimes medieval monks (Ubi sunt?), when transcribing manuscripts, would throw a thought or two of their own into the parchment: My feet are cold. I wish they would put another log in the fire. Jars upon the wilderness of your body. Sophie dear, where have you gone? Suddenly I have a feeling, how do I say it- to have you in my mind would make my mind nothing more than it already is, a series of impressions, thin and frail, without form.

Sputter and Cough

Perhaps the greatest difference between poetry and philosophy is the manner in which they both are delivered to their intended audiences. Poetry comes to us typically in verse, with alliterative language, where greater power comes in the artful assembly of words to paint images that, when received, illicit various emotions in us. Philosophy, at the risk of using a sweeping generalization, tends to be more critical than artful. Its power comes in the depositing of ideas, their definitions according to the philosopher, and (if in a dialectic) a back-and-forth play of reasoned accounting. Both poetry and philosophy endeavor to convey a message, to be sure, but poety is far more engaging in its use of the language. It could even be said that poetry goes out of its way to be creative, artful, even obscure. Philosophy attempts to be direct as possible, even if the text itself can at times be so challenging as to be unapproachable to the layman.

Striking similarities do exist. The most prominent of which would be in how the poet and the philosopher are both trying to describe things (emotions and ideas) that do not necessarily lend themselves easily to the restrictions of our language. As I mentioned in class, reading Stevens, for example, frustrated me the same way a car does that rides perfectly for miles, then sputters and coughs, and then clears itself out and rides smoothly again. You keep driving on, but not without scowling and saying "What the hell was that?" Likewise, in reading Stevens or Descartes or James, I find myself driving forward through the text when, suddenly, the words begin to sputter and cough. As with driving, your endeavor is to get to where you're going lest you get stranded. I find myself stopping in the text to check under the hood, more often than not having no clue what I'm looking for. Poets and philosophers are handcuffed by the language. Each grasps for the meanings of things but inevitably comes up short, leaving us readers to do our best to interpret.

Philosophy in poetry (JulieC)

Ideas conveyed in philosophy can be hard to understand because of the way they are expressed in the essays written by philosophers. So much so that sometimes when I read some philosophical texts I understand the words, I know their meaning, but I am just not able to understand the meaning of the complete sentence.
For example in James' essay The Stream of Consciousness, there is a part about the 'Substantive' and 'Transitive' States of Mind. In one of the paragraphs he gives a few examples to illustrate his theory, but some sentences don't make sense to me: "Let anyone try to cut a thought across in the middle and get a look at its section, and he will see how difficult the introspective observation of the transitive tracts is." Or the following sentence: "[...] so, instead of catching the feeling of relation moving to its term, we find we have caught some substantive thing, usually the word we were pronouncing [...]"
I feel like James is trying to express an important point, but because I don't understand the meaning of these sentences, I don't get his ideas.
As far as I am concerned, I thought that poetry was "only" about words themselves, their sounds, and how they create images in the reader's mind. Then, growing up, I discovered that poetry is also a means to convey a deeper meaning and make the reader think about deeper ideas. Actually, it is an attractive way of doing so thanks to the seduction effect that we talked about. For instance in Stevens' poems we find his ideas about notions in philosophy such as the truth or the importance of the experience in one's life, some of the very notions that James expressed in his essay. I quote Stevens' poem Waving Adieu, Adieu, Adieu:
"One likes to practice the thing."
As well as Connoisseur of Chaos:
"This proves nothing. Just one more truth, one more
Element in the immense disorder of truth."
As a result, poetry can be an attractive way of expressing philosophical ideas.

from Kelsey Theriault

(posted by Prof. Cohen because of technical glitches)

Socrates Razzle-Dazzles ‘Em

When reading Symposium, you can never be sure who Plato is using for a mouthpiece. There are simply too many possibilities to narrow it down. However, by looking at the styles of presentation, you can guess which views on love are his favorites. At the very least, you can guess which are the most appealing to him. My personal guess is that the dialogue between Diotima and Socrates is one of his favorites, simply because it is so vastly different than the others.

Socrates’ dialogue explaining his view of love is interesting because it is, in fact, a dialogue. Up until this point, all the other opinions on love have been displayed through speeches. Plato turns Socrates into an entertainer, a showman, by having him switch up the literary styles. Socrates even sets the stage by engaging in a dialogue with Agathon before starting his own personal view. It is such a drastic change from the dry, straightforward speeches of his peers that Socrates immediately has our attention, drawing us in almost like a car salesman.

Also, the fact that Socrates does not have the role of the “teacher” in the dialogue is surprising. Socrates is usually portrayed as the sage that is trying to impart some piece of wisdom or understanding, so this is a complete role reversal. Not only that, but the “teacher” is a woman! To really appreciate the shock factor of this, you have to understand that in Ancient Greece women had next to no education and were generally dismissed as having very little importance. Additionally, almost every speech previous proclaimed the virtues of love between the minds and souls of men and denounced the base, carnal love between men and women. Socrates being taught about love by the woman Diotima is an incredibly drastic change that yet again brings more emphasis and attention to what view of love Socrates is trying to convey.

All in all, Plato turns Socrates into a showman-cum-salesman that greatly differs from the almost supercilious orators that came before him. The level of entertainment in the dialogue between Diotima and Socrates pretty much screams “Look at me,” drawing the attention of the readers. If Plato did not find at least some parts of that particular view appealing or interesting, he would not have used so many techniques to place a spotlight on it.

Plato and the medium

Plato was a playwright first and foremost. Though he was a disciple of Socrates he had an identity and dreams well before meeting Socrates. It is for this reason that when considering Plato's philosophical points in relationship to medium, the structure is important. Plato created seven speeches that represented seven different views on Love. I think it is important to note that the final speaker of the Symposium is a bitter tormented lover because in the end all of love ends it sadness.

The reason that Socrates' speech is directed around dialogue is important because Socrates was renowned for his commitment to dialogue. The use of myth is required for nearly all of Greek works because of their society's commitment to the use of myth in everyday life. Also by removing himself so many times from the original symposium Plato allows himself to put words in these characters' mouths. These are all historically existent characters who had a reputation in Greek society that would help to form the quality of the character in a way we cannot understand in present day. It is clear to me that some message is lost between translation and separation of time periods.

Tragedomedy

In the final dialogue of Symposium, a drunken man awakens to find that“ Socrates was trying to prove . . . that authors should be able to write both comedy and tragedy” (223D). No details of his argument are explained. Comedy is, classically, a coming together, and that's exactly what happens in Symposium. A few Greeks come together and resolve what love is once and for all, but the result is both comic and tragic. Each one of them gives different views, which in many ways contradict each other. For example, Alcibides is eager to get into bed with Socrates, who then refuses him (218E). Earlier on, Aristophanes praised homosexuals for being the best and that they are “bold and brave” (192A). Why would Socrates ever turn down what is surely worthwhile, according to Aristophanes? Symposium illustrates a discordant view of love; many well thought out views attempt to explain love, all seem valid, but none of them seem to come together. So perhaps this book is the argument that we do not hear.

Plato, Socrates, and Wisdom

To bring to life his own views on love, Plato uses the voice of Socrates and a few others. Through this he is able to express the different key aspects of love. We never directly hear Plato’s voice, nor do we have confirmation that this symposium did take place. What we can be certain of is that he was influenced by, and greatly admired Socrates for his wisdom and understanding of life. It is as if Plato is expressing his views on love through such speakers as Agathon, Aristophanes, and Eryximachus and others present. Whenever he wishes to criticize his various and differing thoughts, he uses Socrates’ voice to present an opinion, which often mocks or criticizes those points presented. It is as of he is getting into the mind of Socrates and uses what knowledge he has gained through following his example to almost question himself.

Plato doesn’t just stick to one form of love, but covers all types and how they relate to the gods. If it were one person speaking Plato’s thoughts and then Socrates breaks down those illogical thoughts one by one, then you don’t really have much of a discussion, nor is it all that interesting. Instead by using the setting of the Symposium, you have various opinions being tossed around like fish bate, waiting for Socrates to snag the line, but he doesn’t. He rejects all thoughts laid out, even the desires of Alcibiades. It is almost as if Plato is unable to lay down a thought that he feels won’t get torn down by Socrates, so instead of not speaking, he allows what Socrates would have said to make him a more wise philosopher.

Firstly, we must realize that the dialogue is the only form Plato used, and though we could discuss why this is, we need not discuss why he chose this form for his piece on love. The question is: why the symposium, rather than his standard form of Socrates duking it out one-on-one with interlocutors? One function of the symposium form is that it enabled Plato to present a multitude of perspectives on love without having to discredit any of them. Even after Socrates weighs in, the perspectives of the other speakers are not necessarily invalidated. Aristophanes’ concept that we are searching for our other half and Eryximachus’ idea of finding love in other pursuits and art forms (poetry, for example) both hold validity even after the great Socrates puts in his two cents.

Perhaps by offering a variety of different viewpoints and modes of deliver (story, myth, speech), Plato means to provide something that everyone can appreciate. Even those who are unwilling to follow in Socrates’ footsteps and let go of mundane, corporeal desires will be able to relate to one of the other views presented in the Symposium. The Socrates’ story is one where he is educated by a woman could surely have served to inspire other Greek women, and indicate the potential for women to have wisdom in a society so dominated by men.

Part of me wonders whether Plato even put very much deliberate thought into the forms he selected. (I know that you think he did, Professor Cohen.) The Symposium seems to somewhat randomly wander from speech to dialogue, dialogue to narration, and I would argue that classics scholars have a tendency to read much farther into things than the original authors would have

Philosophical Literature

Plato's choice to represent his philosophy, whether the Symposium or any other work, in dialogue, was a widely brilliant decision. As is proven by something as simple as a Literature and Philosophy class being able to come together, the placement of meaningful philosophy within the art of literature via dialogue and screenplay, opens up the world and words of thought for an audience far broader than those interested in what are quite often seen as complex and obnoxiously twisted essays of logic and speculation.

In the Symposium, Plato explores the multiple planes and realities on which love exists, ranging across logical, mythical, cultural, and emotional perspectives. Plato could have, of course, written in an essay that love is something that strikes humans in various ways, that it can be viewed as something mysterious and uncontrollable, like a god, or as an internal emotion, or a will of the soul. After some time, the reader could come to understand what Plato was talking about, but chances are they would come to these understandings by making connections regarding love to their own lives and own set of experiences.

By discussing love in dialogue, Plato is not only provoking the reader into a deeper mode of thought, but he is doing it in the same way that a piece of modern day literature brings us to think about love. Language and writing is, after all, brain food for those willing to process it, and I firmly believe that there are many pieces of literature that wouldn't be considered 'philosophy', in a stricter sense of the term, that would very effectively get a reader to consider love and its complexities in much the same, if not a more, significant way.

Plato's Socrates..what was he thinking?

Why is it that Plato chose to depict Socrates' speech as a dialogue rather than a single voice giving praise to love? Socrates himself was famous for his verbal discussions with other individuals. I believe that this was an important factor in Plato's decision to write using this particular literary form. Plato may have also used dialogue in order to set Socrates apart from his fellow party goers. Of all the speeches given in the Symposium I found Socrates' to be the most memorable solely for the fact that the structure of the speech was so different from all the others.

Plato may have also been trying to slip his own views into Socrates' speech. Socrates speaks of the woman known as Diotima. This woman is not only intelligent, but also succeeds in persuading Socrates into believing her own view of love. This is a tremendous feat for anyone, let alone a woman, to accomplish. There is also evidence to support the idea that the woman known as Diotima did not actually exist. Why would Plato decide to add this fictional character into the Symposium? I believe that Plato himself is trying to suggest that women are capable of deep philosophical thought as well. It is quite possible that Plato was ahead of his time with regard to his view of women.

I would finally like to comment on why Plato does not simply write a discourse on love. Why does he choose to write a story about a party that occurred years ago? I believe that Plato is not only a fantastic philosopher, but is also a master storyteller. He knows that in order to communicate a message, he must present the information in an interesting fashion. In this particular case, Plato creates a plot that is full of tragedy as well as comedy. It draws the reader in and forces him/her to analyse each of the speakers' views in order to determine who has given the best speech.

Plato's use of speakers

Love is complicated. This is something I am sure you will all agree with me on and something Plato would also agree with. There are many different layers to love and these layers tend to be subjective to the lover. There are, however, consistencies in both types of love and lovers. Plato was well aware of how complicated love is, and it is because of this that Symposium, his text devoted to love, is also complicated. Plato does not tell the story directly, but rather as recalled by Apollodorus, who was not at the Symposium. Aristodemus, who was in attendance, told the story to Apollodorus. Plato wrote Symposium in this way because it allowed him some leeway with accuracy and it also gave him the ability to give his own views. Symposium is in no way diluted due to it being told on Aristodemus’ account, as Alcibiades points out in his story that even a poor account of philosophy, or the word of Socrates has the ability to possess the attention of the listener.

Plato presents love in several layers. He does this through the speakers; had he only included Socrates dialogue with Diotima, Socrates view would not have been as powerful and it would have been missed by many readers. Plato uses Phaedrus to establish that love leads one to their best behavior. Plato follows this point with Pausanias, who in his speech shows that there are two types of love, common love-that of lust, and heavenly love-that which is pursued for virtue. Plato uses Aristophanes to explain an origin of love, which establishes that we are all searching for another half, and thus the nature of desire. The speech of Agathon is where Plato sets up Socrates’ argument for love by starting the argument of desire and it’s purpose; Agathon says that love is good and resides in those that are good and virtuous. This is where things get interesting. Socrates refutes Agathon and proves that desire is the pursuit of that which one lacks and that love is the desire for beauty and good. In Socrates’ speech, he recalls a dialogue he had with Diotima where she teaches him the meaning of love. This is appropriate for Socrates, as he prefers dialogue to preaching one’s view. Socrates goes on to show that love manifests in two ways - love of body and physical things and love of wisdom. Being a philosopher, he argues that love of wisdom is more virtuous and I agree with his argument. After Socrates’ Alcibiades, a Greek aristocrat known for his beauty shows up and proceeds to give a biting praise of Socrates. In his praise, Alcibiades tells of his love of Socrates and Socrates rejection of him. His portrayal of Socrates shows Socrates’ almost inhuman rejection of bodily love for the love of wisdom.

Plato uses the speakers and format to present a very thorough view of love, which covers every aspect of it. Plato is able to show conflicting views and build up his point through the use of speakers and also allows the reader to come to their own conclusion through Alcibiades, whose portrayal leaves the reader to question if it is human to reject bodily love in the way that Socrates does.

Literary form and transcendence

The Symposium utilizes many literary forms that are completely foreign to what you would expect to find in modern philosophy. Plato does not just give a straightforward argument. Instead he tells a secondhand story of a party where a number of different views concerning love are offered. It all leads up to Socrates' speech, which we can only assume is Plato's view. It then concludes with a somewhat bizarre rant about how wonderful Socrates is, and about the time Socrates' refused the advances of the beautiful young Alcibiades.

The question of why Plato chose to express his views in this way seems a lot like the question of why a poet would express his or her views metaphorically instead of just saying what he or she means. Some truths just do not translate well into argument. Plato's view of love is that it is a desire always compelling us towards the eternal form of beauty. The way I understand him, it seems that to behold the form of beauty is to go through some sort of transforming mystical experience. By its very nature, mysticism does not fit well into the bounds of a traditional logical argument; neither does love for that matter. Plato uses story, metaphor, and mythology to lead us through the elusive nature of love, first as we generally perceive it, and then as a mystical force uniting us with something that transcends everything it is to be human.

Love as a literary work

For a topic such as love it seems interesting that one would use a literary work, in multiple forms, to describe it. However, for Plato a literary work is the best way to express loves complex nature. For you see, in Symposium Plato reveals what love is in a multitude of ways. His use of speeches, dialogue and even myth allows for an array of styles to explain what love is. For Plato, love is not some tangible thing that can be touched directly (at least not necessarily), love instead is something that has at its utmost level a pure form. At different levels however it can be revealed in a wide assortment and as a result is experienced differently by each individual. As a result, Plato was forced to undergo a literary work to define/describe love. His lack of self involvement in the piece only further exemplifies this because a biased opinion of love would only damage the statement above (that love is experienced differently by everyone and therefore, has not definitive form outside of its pure, etherial, realm).

A literary work also would be a useful tool in demonstrating love to the multitude. Since the work would be read by many and then told to many others in ancient Greece such a method would allow for these views of love to be demonstrated throughout the modern world. Although the intention is not clearly audience it is still a viable reason that one would choose to use such a method to demonstrate love.

Plato, Love, and Cheeseburgers

To consider why Plato chose to write the Symposium in a literary form, it would be pertinent to first establish what Plato believed love is. Before constructing the work Plato had a conception of love that he wished to convey. It was based on this conception that he decided what format would be suitable.

Understandably, the stage Plato chose was an erotic drinking party consisting of intellectually accomplished men and ascetically pleasing boys--A fair choice indeed. However, it must be acknowledged that love is not something that only exists between men and boys (though it is certainly a shining example). There can love between a man and woman, a woman and child, person and dog, dog and elephant (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAN5nf04L2s). Love also extends to inanimate objects as well. I really love cheeseburgers. This is one point Plato emphasized. Love does not only exist between two “souls” that have energia (the ability to actively alter or pursue the physical), as exemplified by the Speech of Aristophanes. The consistent characteristic of these love-filled examples is that involves multiple objects. Love is always of something. In addition, the Greeks firmly believed all facets of reality had an inherent hierarchy. Modern notions of equality are just that—modern. There is by nature the fastest cheetah and by nature the wisest man (they have a point—Einstein is probably smarter than me). Consequently there are superior and inferior objects of love. What is the most superior object of love according to Plato? You guessed it, surprisingly the philosopher believes it is wisdom! (In an effort to remain brief, I will not delve into Plato’s argument for why wisdom is the highest object of love, but I, along with an impressive contingent of human history, have found it compelling.) Complete wisdom however, cannot fully be attained (Pythagoras is still scratching his head why A squared + B squared= C squared). However, striving after wisdom is the ultimate pursuit and paradigmatic example of love. Plato says, “the lover is turned to the great sea of beauty, and, gazing upon this, he gives birth to many gloriously beautiful ideas and theories, in unstinting love of wisdom.” It is a beautiful idea isn’t it? To remain faithful to the object of your love even when you realize it is unattainable. For the man who loses interest in the girl when he discovers she is unavailable, only reinforces the fact he never genuinely loved her in the first place.

So why did Plato choose an orgiastic drinking party to present his account of love? Primarily, Plato had a great sense of humor. The common conception of love in Athens involved relations between men and boys followed by men and women. To be ironic, Plato chose this exact setting to argue why the highest love is not this at all. And his hero who expresses this opinion, Socrates, is the only one capable of refraining from such bodily-obsessed behavior “polluted by human flesh.” Plato reveres this hypothetical Symposium as opposed to the traditional intoxicated sex romps because our characters cease to indulge themselves in hedonistic behavior and instead turn their mind’s eye to the pursuit of knowledge, i.e. participate in the highest form of love. Love, because it does not pertain to truth, but instead is the search for truth, cannot be logically deduced. Thus a classic logic-driven Platonic dialogue between interlocutors is an unsuitable platform for this topic. Love can only be recognized to exist. Through the literary style, which utilizes stories and interpersonal exchanges, love comes to the forefront--these characters care about the topic. We read the Symposium for a reason. It is in pursuit of knowledge, is it not?

The Strain of Experience

In consideration of the effect of poetic language upon the individual's experience one must realize that it is unavoidable to approach any experience without preconceived notions of the meaning and significance. It is commonly held that when engaged in such an encounter one bases these preconceptions upon an understanding of either innate faculties or previous knowledge, which would appropriately apply to this new experience. In the experience of reading poetry however, the poet attempts to utilize this significance encountered within the cognition of these words in order to focus the reader solely upon that significance of that object, and not their preconceptions of it.

This reorganization of preconceptions then places what William James would consider a strain on these “old opinions”. In his essay What Pragmatism Means William James explores this process wherein the individual encounter a new notion, which could potentially conflict with their previous preconceptions. James states that,“The individual has a stock of old opinions already, but he meets a new experience that puts them to a strain... The result is an inward trouble to which his mind till then been a stranger, and from which he seeks to escape by modifying his previous mass of opinions”(James, 101). This process of constantly shifting opinions then could suggest a constant shift in the individual's conception of truth. In the instance of poetry though one can derive this process from any piece of poetry, which can lead to a completely subjective experience and interpretation of poetic language based upon an individual's preconceptions.

Through the experience of poetic language one can extrapolate a multitude of different meanings from a work of poetry, but through the use of this language the poet has the potential to direct the old opinions of the reader to focus upon a single instance in language without any preconceptions or symbolic meaning. In Wallace Stevens' poem “Anecdote of the Jar” one could potentially see a parallel between this encounter of preconceptions and poetic language, and the encounter between the the jar and the “slovenly wilderness”. As the poem develops a jar is placed within the wilderness, and process goes as followed:

The wilderness rose up to it,

And sprawled around, no longer wild.

The Jar was round upon the ground

And tall and of a port in air

This jar seems to be the foreign element of poetic language, which is being met by the wilderness of the individual's preconceptions. The qualities of the jar seem familiar as round or possibly cylindrical, but at the same time it goes beyond one's normal conception of jar as the poet applies these unspecified and undefined characteristics of tallness and a “port in air”. This jar of poetic meaning then takes “dominion everywhere” over the wilderness of preconceptions and old opinions to become unique, as the poem concludes, “Like nothing else in Tennessee”.

Now my interpretation of this piece is by no means devoid of symbolic meaning, but the significance of this process illustrates the abandonment of preconceived notions in the experience of poetic language. This understanding serves to further illustrate this endless strain that occurs in the midst of an encounter within the preconceptions of an individual and the endlessly shifting meaning of poetic language.

Narcassism: connecting reading to our experiences - the ultimate seduction (Leah Douglass)

Language is a means to communicate, to communicate past experiences to the reader, but also to generate experience. The prompt of “seduction” and “experience” are ultimately intertwined. The lure towards literature, the desire to read is prompted by connecting readers’s past experience. A good text, no matter what message it is trying to convey, connects with the reader by pulling on their experiences. Let me clarify with an example, Wallace Stevens’s poem Sunday Morning:

Complacencies of the peignoir, and late

Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo

Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.

And later in the second part:

Shall she not find in comforts of the sun,
In pungent fruit and bright, green wings, or else
In any balm or beauty of the earth,
Things to be cherished like the thought of heaven?

These passages create images for the reader. Stevens makes us feel the sun and the warm coffee in our hands on a lazy Sunday morning. This lures us into wanting us to know what he is trying to convey. But Stevens cannot just create these images, pull them out of thin air, they rely on the readers past experiences, and that these experiences of “pungent fruit” and “coffee” have been good ones. Our reminiscing of our past experiences lures us into reading more, into thinking on what the author has to say. It makes a connection with us. The whole of what Stevens is trying to portray is not a beautiful Sunday morning, but that imagery is what keeps us reading.

There is also the kind of trite notion that reading takes us to places that we otherwise couldn’t go to. In a very simple way beginning of this poem does this for me. I have never seen a cockatoo but Stevens takes me to a Sunday morning in a “sunny chair” and explores the “beauty of the earth.”

The process of writing generates experience even more so. When writing something happens between trying to communicate and the actual words produced. The cognitive processes of thinking about writing creates pulls the author into creating new thought processes, makes them think about their readers perspectives, about past events, about what will happen after that writing is complete.

Seduction in The Snow Man

Wallace Steven's The Snow Man is an interesting case of reader seduction. As was demonstrated in the class, it's hard to tell what it's actually about: a snow man in the most literal sense of the word, made from piles of snow and with snow for brains as the poem alludes to. However, it could also be about a man (or indeed, woman) that is cold as snow and ice, and has adapted that way because he or she has gotten to the point where they believe that's the only way to live.

However, the seduction works much like it should in writing: it gets you to ask questions. You want to know more, but at the same time, it gets you thinking about things for yourself without actually getting more from the author. However, it seems to me that the poem is more Zen than pragmatic, especially near the end with the lines, “And, nothing himself, beholds/Nothing that is not there and nothing that is.” Pragmatism often puts emphasis on what is actually there in the real world, concrete ideas and not the abstract. However, this poem is implying that the observer, whether an actual snow man or someone who has become “cold,” is seeing none of that, which could be very close to what Zen and Buddhism considers enlightenment.

James: Philosopher and Top-Notch Flirt

In our first joint class (nice to meet you all by the way), we discussed the way in which Socrates used a seductive element to his writing, which was meant to “arouse” the readers’ interest as well as make them more open to the ideas presented in the essay. In William James essay “Prgamatism’s Conception of Truth,” I believe he uses a similar method. Though not filled with athletic young men and their tales of romantic conquest, James manages to seduce his readers in another and equally effective way. What way is that? He puts the charm on.

Charm may not be as arousing as half naked Greeks, but it’s still nothing to scoff at. James, known to be a very charming individual despite some mental duress, has a very personal touch to his writing that makes it easy for the reader to like him. He presents his ideas as simply as he can, never patronizes his readers, and – even better – is constantly engaging the reader throughout the essay. For example, after explaining for a few pages his pragmatists views on truth and its relation to reality James takes a moment to say “I have lead you through a very sandy desert. But now, if I may be allowed so vulgar an expression, we begin to taste the milk in the coconut” (pg 122 of Pragmatism: A Reader). This is a very James thing to do. After speaking at length about his ideas, James always takes a moment to remind the reader that he understands that they may not be completely convinced yet or else may need more information. He acts as our friend, our mentor who is helping us take our first shaky steps into the world of the pragmatist and if we don’t get it right away? Not a problem. James is here to help.

It is because of how personable and persuasive James is that he is able to seduce his readers. I may hate baseball, but if a hot guy smiles at me, asks if he can explain how the stats work and then comments on how well I’m doing to keep up with him, you know what? I’m sure as hell going to try and understand everything he’s saying. James is flirting with us and because he’s just so good at it, we can’t help but get swept up. He makes us want to understand pragmatism if only because we want to make him proud…even if he may be dead and buried. What Socrates does with the hard bodies, James does with a few compliments.

In conclusion, I think I speak for everyone when I say if you want to get someone to understand your philosophy, you should seduce the hell out of them.