LUIGI SPERANZA: "GRICE ITALO: UN DIZIONARIO" A-Z C CA
Luigi Speranza -- Grice e Carando:
la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale di Socrate – scuola
di Pettinengo – filosofia piemontese -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco di H. P. Grice,
The Swimming-Pool Library (Pettinengo). Filosofo piemontese. Filosofo italiano. Pettinengo, Biella, Piemonte. Grice:
“I like Carando; a typical Italian philosopher, got his ‘laurea,’ and attends
literary salons! – There is a street named after him – whereas at Oxford the
most we have is a “Logic lane!” -- Ennio
Carando (Pettinengo), filosofo. Studia a Torino. Si avvicina all'anti-fascismo
attraverso l'influenza di Juvalta (con cui discusse la tesi di laurea) e di Martinetti.
Collaborò alla Rivista di filosofia di Martinetti, dove pubblicò un saggio su
Spir. Insegna a Cuneo, Modena, Savona, La Spezia. Sebbene fosse quasi
completamente cieco dopo l'armistizio si diede ad organizzare formazioni
partigiane in Liguria e in Piemonte (fu anche presidente del secondo CLN
spezzino). Era ispettore del Raggruppamento Divisioni Garibaldi nel Cuneese,
quando fu catturato in seguito ad una delazione. Sottoposto a torture atroci, non tradì i
compagni di lotta e fu trucidato con il fratello Ettore, capitano di artiglieria
a cavallo in servizio permanente effetivo e capo di stato maggiore della I
Divisione Garibaldi. Un filosofo socratico. La metafisica civile di un filosofo
socratico. Partigiano. Dopo l'armistizio Ennio Carando, che insegnava a La
Spezia presso il Liceo Classico Costa, entrò attivamente nella lotta di
liberazione organizzando formazioni partigiane in Liguria e in Piemonte. A chi
gli chiedeva di non avventurarsi in quella decisione così pericolosa rispondeva
fermamente: "Molti dei miei allievi sono caduti: un giorno i loro genitori
potrebbero rimproverarmi di non aver avuto il loro stesso coraggio". For centuries the First Alkibiades was respected as a major
dialogue in the Platonic corpus. It was considered by the Academy to be
the proper introduction to the study of Plato's dialogues, and actually
formed the core of the serious beginner's study of philosophy. Various
ancient critics have written major commentaries upon the dialogue (most
of which have subsequently been lost). In short, it was looked upon as a
most important work by those arguably in the best position to know.
In comparatively recent times the First Alkibiades has lost its
status. Some leading Platonic scholars judge it to be spurious, and as a
result it is seldom read as seriously as several other Platonic
dialogues. This thesis attempts a critical examination of the dialogue
with an eye towards deciding which judgement of it, the ancient or the
modern, ought to be accepted. I wish to take advantage of this opportunity at
last to thank my mother and father and my sister. Lea, who have always
given freely of themselves to assist me. I am also grateful to my
friends, in particular Pat Malcolmson and Stuart Bodard, who, through
frequent and serious conversations proved themselves to be true dialogic
partners. Thanks are also due to Monika Porritt for her assistance with
the manuscript. My deepest gratitude and affection extend to
Leon Craig, to whom I owe more than I am either able, or willing, to
express here. Overpowering curiosity may be aroused in a reader upon his
noticing how two apparently opposite men, Socrates and Alkibiades, are
drawn to each other's conversation and company. Such seems to be the
effect achieved by the First Alkibiades, a dialogic representation of the
beginning of their association. Of all the people named in the titles of
Platonic dialogues, Alkibiades was probably the most famous. It seems
reasonable to assume that one's appreciation of the dialogue would be enhanced
by knowing as much about the historical Alkibiades as would the typical
educated Athenian reader. Accordingly, this examination of the dialogue
will commence by recounting the major events of Alkibiades' scareer, on the
premise that such a reminder may enrich a philosophic understanding of
the First Alkibiades. The historical Alkibiades was born to Kleinias and
Deinomakhe. Although the precise date of his birth remains unknown (cf.
121d), it was most surely before 450 B.C. His father, Kleinias, was
one of the wealthy men in Athens, financially capable of furnishing
and outfitting a trireme in wartime. Of Deinomakhe we know nothing save
that she was well born. As young children Alkibiades and his
brother, Kleinias, lost their father 4 in battle and
were made wards of their uncle, the renowned Penkles. He is
recognized by posterity as one of the greatest statesmen of Greece.
Athens prospered during his lengthy rule in office and flourished to such
an extent that the "Golden Age of Greece" is also called the
"Age of Perikles." When Alkibiades came under his care, Perikles held
the highest office in Athens and governed almost continuously until
his death which occurred shortly after the outbreak of the Peloponnesian
War. At an early age Alkibiades was distinguished for his striking
beauty and his multi-faceted excellence. He desired to be triumphant in
all he undertook and generally was so. In games and sport with other boys
he is said to have taken a lion's share of victories. There are no
portraits of Alkibiades in existence from which one might judge his
looks, but it is believed that he served his contemporaries as the
standard artistic model for representations of the gods. No doubt partly
because of his appearance and demeanor, he strongly influenced his
boyhood companions. For example, it was rumored that Alkibiades was
averse to the flute because it prevented the player from singing, as well
as disfiguring his face. Refusing to take lessons, he referred to
Athenian deities as exemplars, calling upon Athena and Apollon who had
shown disdain for the flute and for flautists. Within a short time
flute-playing had ceased to be regarded as a standard part of the
curriculum for a gentleman's education. Alkibiades was most surely the talk of
the town among the young men and it is scarcely a wonder that tales
of his youthful escapades abound. Pursued by many lovers, he for
the most part scorned such attentions. On one occasion Anytos, who was
infatuated with Alkibiades, invited him to a dinner party. Instead, Alkibiades
went drinking with some of his friends. During the evening he collected
his servants and bade them interrupt Anytos' supper and remove half of
the golden cups and silver ornaments from the table. Alkibiades did not
even bother to enter. The other guests grumbled about this hybristic
treatment of Anytos, who responded that on the contrary Alkibiades had been
moderate and kind in leaving half when he might have absconded with all.
Alkibiades certainly seems to have enjoyed an extraordinary sway over
some of his admirers. Alkibiades sought to enter Athenian politics as
soon as he became eligible and at about that time he first met
Socrates. The First Alkibiades is a dramatic representation of what might
have happened at that fateful meeting. Fateful it was indeed, for the
incalculable richness of the material it has provided for later thought as well
as for the lives of the two men. By his own admission, Alkibiades felt that
his feeling shame could be occasioned only by Socrates. Though it
caused him discomfort, Alkibiades nevertheless chronically returned
to occasion to save Alkibiades' life. The generals were about
to confer on him a prize for his valor but he insisted it be awarded to
AlkiThis occurred near the beginning of their friendship, at the start of
the Peloponnesian War. Later, during the Athenian defeat at the
battle of Delion, Alkibiades repaid him in kind. In the role of
cavalryman, he defended Socrates who was on foot. Shortly thereafter,
Alkibiades charged forward into politicsbiades., campaigns he mounted
invariably meeting with success. Elected strategos (general) in 420 B.C.
on the basis of his exploits, he was one of the youngest ever to wield
such high authority. Generally opposing Nikias and the plan for peace,
Alkibiades as the leader of the democrats allied Athens with various
enemies of Sparta. His grandiose plans for the navy rekindled Athenian ambitions
for empire which had been at best smouldering since the death of
Perikles. Alkibiades' policy proposals favored the escalation of the war,
and he vocally supported Athens' continuation of her position as the imperial
power in the Mediterranean. His first famous plan, the Athenian
alliance with Argos, is recounted in detail by Thucydides. Thucydides
provides an especially vivid portrait of Alkibiades and indicates
that he was unexcelled, both in terms of diplomatic maneuvering and
rhetorical ability. By arranging for the Spartan envoys to modify
their story from day to day, he managed to make Nikias look foolish in his
trust of them. Although Alkibiades suffered a temporary loss of command,
his continuing rivalry with Nikias secured him powerful influence in Athens,
which was heightened by an apparent failure of major proportions by
Nikias in Thrace. Alkibiades' sustained opposition to Nikias prompted some of
the radical democrats under Hyperbolos to petition for an ostrakismos .
This kind of legal ostracism was a device intended primarily for the
overturning of stalemates. With a majority of the vote an ostrakismos
could be held. Citizens would then write on a potsherd the name of the
one man in all of Attika they would like to see exiled. There has been
famous ostracisms before this time, some ofwhich were almost
immediately regretted (e.g., Aristeides the Just, in 482 B.C.). At any
rate, Hyperbolos campaigned to have Alkibiades ostracized. Meanwhile, in
one of their rare moments of agreement, Alkibiades persuaded Nikias to
join with him in a counter-campaign to ensure that the percentage of
votes required to effect Alkibiades' exile would not be attained. They
were so successful that the result of the ostrakismos was the exile
of Hyperbolos. That was Athen's last ostrakismos. Thucydides devotes
two books (arguably the most beautiful of his History of the
Peloponnesian War) to the Sicilian Expedition. This campaign Alkibiades
instigated is considered by many to be his most noteworthy adventure, and was
certainly one of the major events of the war. Alkibiades debated with
Nikias and convinced the Ekklesia (assembly) to launch the expedition. Clearly
no match for Alkibiades' rhetoric, Nikias, according to the
speeches of Thucydudes, worked an effect opposite his intentions
when he warned the Athenians of the ex- 19 Rather than
being daunted by the magnitude of the cost of the pense
expedition, the Athenians were eager to supply all that was
necessary. This enthusiasm was undoubtedly enhanced by the recent reports
of the vast wealth of Sicily. Nikias, Alkibiades and Lamakhos were
appointed co-commanders with full power (giving them more political
authority than anyone in Athen's recent history). Immediately
prior to the start of the expedition, the Hermai throughout Athens
were disfigured. The deed was a sacrilege as well as 22
a bad omen for the expedition. Enemies of Alkibiades took this
opportunity to link him with the act since he was already suspected of
pro¬faning the Eleusian Mysteries and of generally having a hybristic disregard
for the conventional religion. He was formally charged with impiety.
Alkibiades wanted to have his trial immediately, arguing it would
not be good to command a battle with the charge remaining undecided. His
enemies, who suspected the entire military force would take Alkibiades'
side, urged that the trial be postponed so as not to delay the awaiting
fleet's scheduled departure. As a result they sailed with Alkibiades'
charge untried. When the generals arrived at Rhegion, they
discovered that the 24 stories of the wealth of the
place had been greatly exaggerated. Nonetheless, Alkibiades and
Lamakhos voted together against Nikias to remain and accomplish what they
had set out to do. Alkibiades thought it prudent that they first
establish which of their allies actually had been secured, and to
try to persuade the rest. Most imperative, he 26
believed, was the persuasion of the Messenians. The Messenians
would not admit Alkibiades at first, so he sailed to Naxos and then
to Katana. Naxos allied with Athens readily, but it is suspected
that the Katanaians had some force used upon them. Before the Athenians
could address the Messenians or the Rhegians, both of whom held
important geographic positions and were influential, a ship arrived
to take Alkibiades back to Athens. During his absence from Athens,
his enemies had worked hard to increase suspicion that he had been
responsible for the sacrilege, and now, with the populace aroused
against Alkibiades, they urged he be 28 immediately
recalled. Alkibiades set sail to return in his own ship, filled
with his friends. At Thouri they escaped and went to the
Peloponnese. Meanwhile the Athenians sentenced him to death. He revealed
to the Spartans his idea that Messenian support in the west was
crucial to Athens. The Spartans weren't willing to trust Alkibiades
given his generally anti- Spartan policies, and they particularly
did not appreciate his past treatment of the Spartan envoys. In a spectacular
speech, as recounted by Thucydides, Alkibiades defended himself and
his conduct in leaving 30 Athens. Along with a delegation of
Korinthians and Syrakusans, Alkibiades argued for Sparta's participation
in the war in Sicily. He also suggested to them that their best move
against Athens was to fortify a post at Dekelia in Attika. In
short, once again Alkibiades proved himself to be a master of
diplomacy, knowing the right thing to say at any given time, even
among sworn enemies. The Spartans welcomed Alkibiades. Because of his
knowledge of Athenian affairs, they acted 32 upon his
advice about Dekelia (413 B.C.). Alkibiades did further service for
Sparta by inciting some Athenian allies in Asia Minor, particularly at Khios,
to revolt. He also suggested to Tissaphernes, the Persian satrap of
Asia Minor, that he ought to consider an alliance with 33
Sparta. However, in 412 B.C. Alkibiades lost favor with the
Spartans. His loyalty was in doubt and he was suspected of having
seduced the Spartan queen; she became pregnant during a long absence of
the king. Alkibiades prudently moved on, this time fleeing to the
Persian court of Tissaphernes where he served as an advisor to
the satrap. He counselled Tissaphernes to ally
neither with Sparta nor with Athens; it would be in his best
interests to let them wear each other down. Tissaphernes was
pleased with this advice and soon listened to Alkibiades on most
matters, having, it seems, complete confidence in him. Alkibiades told
him to lower the rate of pay to the Spartan navy in order to
moderate their activities and ensure proper conduct. He should also
economize and reduce expenditures. Alkibiades cautioned him against
being too hurried in his wish for a victory. Tissaphernes was so
delighted with Alkibiades' counsel that he had the most beautiful
park in his domain named after him and developed into a luxury
resort. The Athenian fleet, in the meantime, was at Samos, and with
it lay the real power of Athens. The city had been brought quite low
by the war, especially the Sicilian expedition, which left in the hands
of the irresolute and superstitious Nikias turned out to be disastrous
for the Athenians. Alkibiades engaged in a conspiracy to promote an
oligarchic revolution in Athens, ostensibly to ensure his own acceptance
there. However, when the revolution occurred, in 411 B.C., and the Council of
Four 37 Hundred was established, Alkibiades did not
associate himself with it. He attached himself to the fleet at
Samos and relayed to them the promise of support he had exacted from
Tissaphernes. The support was not forthcoming, however, but despite the
sentiment among some of the Athenians at Samos that Alkibiades intended
to trick them, the commanders and 38 soldiers were
confident that Athens could never rise without Alkibiades. They appointed
him general and re-instated him as the chief-in-command of the Athenian
Navy. He sent a message to the oligarchic Council of Four Hundred in
Athens telling them he would support a democratic boule of 5,000 but that
the Four Hundred would have to disband. There was no immediate
response. In the meantime, with comparatively few men and ships,
Alkibiades managed to deflect the Spartans from their plan to form
an alliance with the Persian fleet. Alkibiades became an
increasingly popular general among the men at Samos, and with his
rhetorical abilities he dissuaded them from adopting policies that
would likely have proven disastrous. He insisted they be more
moderate, for example, in their treatment of unfriendly
ambassadors, such as those from Athens. The Council of Four Hundred
sent an emissary to Samos, but Alkibiades was firm in his refusal to
support them. This pleased the democrats, and since most of the
oligarchs were by this time split into several factions, the rule of
the 40 Four Hundred fragmented of its own accord.
Alkibiades sent advice from Samos as to the form of government the 5,000
should adopt, but he still 42 did not consider it the
proper time for his own return. During this time Alkibiades and the
Athenian fleet gained major victories, defeating the Spartans at
Kynossema, at Abydos (411 B.C.), and 43 at Kyzikos
(410 B.C.) Seeking to regain some control, Tissaphernes
had Alkibiades arrested on one occasion when he approached in a
single ship. It was a diplomatic visit, not a battle, yet
Tissaphernes had him imprisoned. Within a month, however,
Alkibiades and his men escaped. In order to ensure that Tissaphernes
would live to regret the arrest, Alkibiades caused a story to be
widely circulated to the effect that Tissaphernes had arranged the
escape. Suffice it to say the Great King of Persia was not pleased.
Alkibiades also recovered Kalkhedonia and Byzantion for the Athenians. After
gathering money from various sources and assuring himself of the
security of Athenian control of the Hellespont, he at last decided
to return to Athens. It had been an absence of seven years.
46 He was met with an enthusiastic reception in the Peiraeus.
All charges against him were dropped and the prevailing sentiment
among the Athenians was that had they only trusted in his
leadership, they would still be the great empire they had been. With the
hope that he would be able to restore to them some of their former glory,
they appointed Alkibiades general with full powers, a most extraordinary
command. He gained further support from the Athenians when he led the
procession to Eleusis (the very mysteries of which he had earlier been
suspected of blaspheming) on the overland route. Several years earlier,
through fear of the Spartans at Dekelia, the procession had broken
tradition and gone by sea. This restoration of tradition ensured
Alkibiades political support from the more pious sector of the public who
had been hesitant about 48 him. He had so consolidated his
political support by this time that such ever persons as opposed
him wouldn't have dared to publicly declare 49 their
opinions. Alkibiades led a number of successful expeditions over
the next year and the Athenians were elated with his command. He
had never failed in a military undertaking and the men in his fleet
came to regard themselves a higher class of soldier. However, an occasion arose
during naval actions near Notion when Alkibiades had to leave the major
part of his fleet under the command of another captain while he sailed to
a nearby island to levy funds. He left instructions not to engage the
enemy under any circumstances, but during his absence a battle was fought
nonetheless. Alkibiades hurriedly returned but arrived too late to
salvage victory. Many men and ships were lost to the Spartans. Such was
his habit of victory that the people of Athens suspected that he
must have wanted to lose. They once again revoked his citizenship.
Alkibiades left Athens for the last time in 406 B.C. and retired
to a castle he had built long before. Despite his complete loss of
civic status with the Athenians, his concern for them did not cease.
In his last attempt to assist Athens against the Spartan fleet
under Lysander, Alkibiades made a special journey at his own
expense to advise the new strategoi . He cautioned them that what
remained of the Athenian fleet was moored at a very inconvenient
place, and that the men should be held in tighter rein given the
proximity of Lysander's ships. They disregarded his advice with
utter contempt (only to regret it upon their almost 52
immediate defeat) and Alkibiades returned to his private retreat.
There he stayed in quiet luxury until assassinated one night in 404
B.C. The participants in the First Alkibiades, Socrates and
Alkibiades, seem at first blush to be thoroughly contrasting. To start
with appearances, the physical difference between the two men who meet this
day could hardly be more extreme. Alkibiades, famous throughout Greece
for his beauty, is face to face with Socrates who is notoriously ugly.
They are each represented in a dramatic work of the period.
Aristophanes refers to Alkibiades as a young lion; he is said to
have described Socrates as a "stalking
pelican." Alkibiades is so handsome that his figure and face
served as a model for sculptures of Olympian gods on high temple
friezes. Socrates is referred to as being very like the popular
representation of siloni and satyrs; the closest he attains to
Olympian heights is Aristophanes' depiction of him hanging in a
basket from the 55 rafters of an old house.
Pre-eminent among citizens for his wealth and his family, Alkibiades
is speaking with a man of non-descript lineage and widely advertised
poverty. Alkibiades, related to a family of great men, is the son of
Kleinias and Deinomakhe, both of royal lineage. Socrates, who is the son
of Sophroniskos the stone-mason and Phainarete the midwife, does not seem
to have such a spectacular ancestry. Even as a boy Alkibiades was famous
for his desire to win and his ambition for power. Despite being fearful
of it, people are familiar with political ambition and so believe they
understand it. To them, Alkibiades seemed the paragon of the political
man. But Socrates was more of a mystery to the typical Athenian. He
seemed to have no concern with improving his political or economic status.
Rather, he seemed preoccupied to the point of perversity with something
he called 'philosophy, 1 literally 'love of wisdom.' Alkibiades sought
political office as soon as he became of age. He felt certain that in
politics he could rise above all Athenians past and present. His combined
political and military success made it possible for him to be the
youngest general ever elected. Socrates, by contrast, said that he was
never moved to seek office; he served only when he was required (by legal
appointment). In his lifetime Socrates was considered to have been
insufficiently concerned with his fellows' opinions about him, whereas
from his childhood people found Alkibiades' attention to the demos
remarkable - in terms either of his quickness at following their cue, or
of his setting the trend. Both men were famous for their speaking
ability, but even in this they contrast dramatically. The effects of their
speech were different. Alkibiades could persuade peop le, and so
nations, to adopt his political proposals, even when he had been regarded
as an enemy. Socrates' effect was far less widespread. Indeed, for most
people acquainted with it, Socratic speech was suspect. People were moved
by Alkibiades' rhetoric despite their knowing that that was his precise
intention. It was Socrates, however, who was accused of making the weaker
argument defeat the stronger, though he explicitly renounced such
intentions. Alkibiades' long moving speeches persuaded many large
assemblies. Socrates' style of question and answer was not nearly so
popular, and convinced fewer men. Socrates is reputed to have never
been drunk, regardless of how much he had imbibed. This contrasts with
the (for the most part) notoriously indulgent life of Alkibiades. He
remains famous to this day for several of his drunken escapades, one of
which is depicted by Plato in a famous dialogue. Though both men were
courageous and competent in war, Socrates never went to battle unless
called upon, and distinguished himself only during general retreats.
Alkibiades was so eager for war and all its attendant glories that he
even argued in the ekklesia for an Athenian escalation of the war. He was
principally responsible for the initiation of the Sicilian expedition and
was famous for his bravery in wanting to go ever further forward in
battle. It was, instead, battles in speech for which Socrates seemed
eager; perhaps it is a less easily observed brand of courage which is
demanded for advance and retreat in such clashes. Both men could
accommodate their lifestyles to fit with the circumstances in which they found
themselves, but as these were decidedly different, so too were their manners of
adaptation. Socrates remained exclusively in Athens except when accompanying
his fellow Athenians on one or two foreign wars. Alkibiades travelled
from city to city, and seems to have adjusted well. He got on so
remarkably well at the Persian court that the Persians thought he was one
of them; and at Sparta they could not believe the stories of his love of
luxury. But, despite his outward conformity with all major Athenian
conventions, Socrates was st ill considered odd even in his home
city. In a more speculative vein, one might observe that
neither Alkibiades nor Socrates are restricted because of their common
Athenian citizenship, but again in quite different senses. Socrates,
willing (and eager) to converse with, educate and improve citizen and
non-citizen alike, rose above the polis to dispense with his need for it.
Alkibiades, it seems, could not do without political or public support
(as Socrates seems to have), but he too did not need Athens in
particular. He could move to any polis and would be recognized as an
asset to any community. Socrates didn't receive such recognition, but he
did not need it. Still, Alkibiades, like Socrates, retained an
allegiance to Athens until his death and continued to perform great deeds
in her service. Despite their outwardly conventional piety (e.g.,
regular observance of religious festivals), Alkibiades and Socrates were
both formally charged with impiety, but the manner of their alleged
violations was different. Alkibiades was suspected of careless blasphemy
and contemptuous disrespect, of profaning the highest of the city's
religious Mysteries; Socrates was charged with worshipping other deities
than those allowed, but was suspected of atheism. Though both men were
convicted and sentenced to death, Alkibiades refused to present himself
for trial and so was sentenced in absentia . Socrates, as we know,
conducted his own defense, and, however justly or unjustly, was legally
convicted and condemned. Alkibiades escaped when he had the chance and
sought refuge in Sparta; Socrates refused to take advantage of a fully
arranged escape from his cell in Athens. Alkibiades, a comparatively
young man, lived to see his sentence subsequently withdrawn. Socrates seems
to have done his best not to have his sentence reduced. His relationship with
Athens had been quite constant. Old charges were easily brought to bear
on new ones, for the Athenians had come to entertain a relatively stable
view of him. Alkibiades suffered many reverses of status with the
Athenians. Surprised from his sleep, Alkibiades met his death
fighting with assassins, surrounded by his enemies. After preparing to
drink the hemlock, Socrates died peacefully, surrounded by his friends.
It seems likely that Plato expects these contrasts to be tacitly in
the mind of the reader of the First Alkibiades . They heighten in various
ways the excitement of this dialogue between two men whom every Athenian
of their day would have seen, and known at least by reputation. Within a
generation of the supposed time of the dialogue, moreover, each of the
participants would be regarded with utmost partiality. It is unlikely that even
the most politically apathetic citizen would be neutral or utterly
indifferent concerning either man. Not only would every Athenian (and
many foreigners) know each of them, most Athenians would have strong
feelings of either hatred or love for each man. The extraordinary fascination
of these men makes Plato's First Alkibiades all the more inviting as a
natural point at which to begin a study of political philosophy.
In the First Alkibiades, Socrates and Alkibiades, regarded by
posterity as respective paragons of the philosophic life and the
political life, are engaged in conversation together. As the dialogue
commences, Alkibiades in particular is uncertain as to their relationship
with each other. Especially interesting, however, is their implicit
agreement that these matters can be clarified through their speaking with
one another. The reader might first wonder why they even bother
with each other; and further wonder why, if they are properly to be
depicted together at all, it should be in conversation. They could be
shown in a variety of situations. People often settle their differences
by fighting, a challenge to a contest, or a public debate of some kind.
Alkibiades and Socrates converse in private. The man identified with
power and the man identified with knowledge have their showdown on the
plain of speech. The Platonic dialogue form, as will hopefully be
shown in the commentary, is well suited for expressing political
philosophy in that it allows precisely this confrontation. A Platonic
dialogue is different from a treatise in its inclusion of drama. It is
not a straightforward explication for it has particular characters who
are interacting in specific ways. It is words plus action, or speech plus
deed. In a larger sense, then, dialogue implicitly depicts the relation
between speech and deed or theory and practice, philosophy and politics,
and reflecting on its form allows the reader to explore these matters.
In addition, wondering about the particulars of Socratic speech may
shed light upon how theory relates to practice. As one attempts to
discover why Socrates said what he did in the circumstances in which he
did, one becomes aware of the connections between speech and action, and
philosophy and politics. One is also awakened to the important position
of speech as intermediary between thought and action. Speech is unlike
action as has just been indicated. But speech is not like thought either.
It may, for instance, have immediate consequences in action and thus
demand more rigorous control. Philosophy might stand in relation to
thought as politics does to action; understanding 'political philosophy'
then would involve the complex connection between thought and speech, and
speech and action; in other words, the subject matter appropriate to
political philosophy embraces the human condition. The Platonic dialogue
seems to be in the middle ground by way of its form, and it is up to the
curious reader to determine what lies behind the speech, on both the side
of thought and action. Hopefully, in examining the First Alkibiades these
general observations will be made more concrete. A good reader will take
special care to observe the actions as well as the arguments of this
dialogue between the seeker of knowledge and the pursuer of power.
Traditionally, man's ability to reason has been considered the
essential ground for his elevated status in the animal kingdom. Through
reason, both knowledge and power are so combined as to virtually place
man on an altogether higher plane of existence. Man's reason allows him to
control beasts physically much stronger than he; moreover, herds outnumber man,
yet he rules them. Both knowledge and power have long attracted men
recognizably superior in natural gifts. Traditionally, the highest
choice a man could 57 confront was that between the
contemplative and the active life. In order to understand this as the
decision par excellence, one must comprehend the interconnectivity between
knowledge and power as ends men seek. One must also try to ascertain the
essential features of the choice. For example, power (conventionally
understood) without knowledge accomplishes little even for the mighty. As
Thrasymakhos was reminded, without knowledge the efforts of the strong
would chance to work harm upon themselves as easily as not (
Republic). The very structure of the dialogue suggests that the
reader attentive to dramatic detail may learn more about the relation
between power and knowledge and their respective claims to rule.
Alkibiades and Socrates both present arguments, and the very dynamics of
the conversation (e.g., who rules in the dialogue, what means he uses whereby
to secure rule, the development of the relationship between the ruler and
the ruled) promise to provide material of interest to this issue.
B. Knowledge, Power and their Connection through Language As
this commentary hopes to show, the problem of the human use of language
pervades the Platonic dialogue known as the First Alkibiades. Its
ubiquity may indicate that one's ability to appreciate the significance of
speech provides an important measure of one's understanding of the
dialogue. Perhaps the point can be most effectively conveyed by simply
indicating a few of the many kinds of references to speech with which it
is replete. Socrates speaks directly to Alkibiades in complete privacy,
but he employs numerous conversational devices to construct circumstances
other than that in which they find themselves. For example, Alkibiades is
to pretend to answer to a god; Socrates feigns a dialogue with a Persian
queen; and at one point the two imagine themselves in a discussion with
each other in full view of the Athenian ekklesia . Socrates
stresses that he never spoke to Alkibiades before, but that he will now
speak at length. And Socrates emphasizes that he wants to be certain
Alkibiades will listen until he finishes saying what he must say. In the
course of speaking, Socrates employs both short dialogue and long
monologue. Various influences on one's speaking are mentioned, including
mysterious powers that prevent speech and certain matters that inherently
demand to be spoken about. The two men discuss the difference between
asking and answering, talking and listening. They refer to speech about
music (among other arts), speech about number, and speech about letters.
They are importantly concerned with public speaking, implicitly with
rhetoric in all its forms. They reflect upon what an advisor to a city
can speak persuasively about. They discuss the difference between persuading
one and many. The two men refer to many differences germane to speaking,
such as private and public speech, and conspiratorial and dangerous
speech. Fables, poems and various other pictures in language are both
directly employed by Socrates and the subject of more general discussion.
Much of the argument centers on Alkibiades' understanding of what the
words mean and on the implicit presence of values embedded in the
language. They also spend much time discussing, in terms of rhetorical
effect, the tailoring of comments to situations; at one point Socrates
indicates he would not even name Alkibiades' condition if it weren't for
the fact that they are completely alone. They refer to levels of knowledge
among the audience and the importance of this factor in effectively
persuading one or many. And in a larger sense already alluded to,
reflection on Plato's use of the dialogue form itself may also reveal
features of language and aspects of its relation to action.
Socrates seems intent upon increasing Alkibiades' awareness of the
many dimensions to the problem of understanding the role of language in the
life of man. Thus the reader of the First Alkibiades is invited to share
as well in this education about the primary means of education: speech,
that essential human power. Perhaps it may be granted, on the basis of the
above, that the general issue of language is at least a persistent theme
in the dialogue. Once that is recognized it becomes much more obvious
that speech is connected both to power, or the realm of action, and
knowledge, the realm of thought. Speech and power, in the politically relevant
sense, are thoroughly interwoven. The topics of freedom of speech and
censorship are of paramount concern to all regimes, at times forming part
of the very foundation of the polity. This is the most obvious
connection: who is to have the right to speak about what, and who in turn
is to have the power to decide this matter. Another aspect of speech
which is crucial politically seems to be often overlooked and that is the
expression of power in commands, instruction and explanation. The more subtle
side of this political use of speech is that of education. Maybe not all
political men do understand education to be of primary importance, but
that clearly surfaces as one of the things which Alkibiades learns in
this dialogue. At the very least, the politically ambitious man
seeks control over the education of others in order to secure his rule
and make his political achievements lasting. With respect to education,
the skilled user of language has more power than someone who must depend
solely on actions in this regard. Circumstances which are actually unique
may be endlessly reproduced and reconsidered. By using speech to teach,
the speaker gains a power over the listener that might not be available
had he need to rely upon actions. Not only can he tell of things that
cannot be seen (feelings, thoughts and the like), but he can invent
stories about what does not even exist. Myths and fables are
generally recognized to have pedagogic value, and in most societies form
an essential part of the core set of beliefs that hold the people
together. Homer, Shakespeare and the Bible are probably the most
universally recognized examples influencing western society. To mold and
shape the opinions of men through fables, lies and carefully chosen
truths is, in effect, to control them. Such use of language can be
considered a weapon also, propaganda providing a most obvious example.
Hobbes, for instance, recognizes these qualities of speech and labels
them 'abuses.' Most of the abuse appears to be constituted by the deception or
injury caused another; Hobbes all the while 58
demonstrates himself to be master of the insult. Summing up these
observations, one notices that speech plays a crucial part in the realm
of power, especially in terms of education, a paramount political
activity. The connection of speech to knowledge, the realm of
thought is much less in need of comment. The above discussion of
education points to the underlying concern about knowledge. Various
subtleties in language (two of which - metaphor and irony - will be
presently introduced), however, make it more than the instrument through
which knowledge is gained, but actually may serve to increase a person's
interest in attaining knowledge; that is, they make the end, knowledge,
more attractive. A most interesting understanding of speech emerges when
one abstracts somewhat from actual power and actual knowledge to look at
the relationship between the realms of action and thought. Action
and thought, epitomized by politics and philosophy, both require speech
if they are to interact. Politics in a sense affects thought, and
thought should guide action. Both of these exchanges are normally
effected through speech and may be said to describe the bounds of the
subject area of political philosophy. Political philosophy deals with
what men do and think (thus concerning itself with metaphysics, say, to
the extent to which metaphysical considerations affect man). Political
philosophy may be understood as philosophy about politics, or philosophy
that is politic. In this latter sense, speech via the expression of
philosophy in a politic manner, suggests itself to be an essential aspect
to the connection between these two human realms - thought and action. The
reader of the First Alkibiades should be alert to the ways in which
language pertains to the relationship between Socrates and Alkibiades.
For example, their concern for each other and promise to continue
conversing might shed some light on the general requirements and
considerations power and knowledge share. As has already been indicated,
considerable attention is paid to various characteristics of speech in
the discussion between the two men. Rhetoricians, politicians,
philosophers and poets, to mention but a few of those whose activity
proceeds primarily through speech, are aware of the powers of language
and make more or less subtle use of various modes of speech. The First
Alkibiades teaches about language and effectively employs many linguistic
devices. Called for at the outset is some introductory mention of a few
aspects of language, in order that their use in the dialogue may be more
readily reflected upon. Metaphor, a most important example, is a complex
and exciting feature of language. A fresh and vivid metaphor is a most
effective influence on the future perceptions of those listening. It will
often form a lasting impression. Surely a majority of readers are
familiar with the experience of being unable to disregard an
interpretation of something illuminated by an especially bright metaphor.
Many people have probably learned to appreciate the surging power of
language by having themselves become helplessly swamped in a sea of
metaphor. There are two aspects to the power of attracting attention
through language that a master of metaphor, especially, can summon. Both
indicate a rational component to language, but both include many more
features of reason than mere logical deduction. The first is the power
that arises when someone can spark connections between apparently
unrelated parts of the world. This is an interesting and exciting feature
of man's rational capability, deriving its charm partly from the natural
delight people apparently take in having connections drawn between
seemingly distinct objects. The other way in which he can
enthrall an audience is through harvesting some of the vast potential for
metaphors that exist in the natural fertility of any language. There are
metaphors in everyday speech that remain unrecognized (are forgotten) for
so long that disbelief is experienced when their metaphoric nature is revealed.
Men's opinions about much of the world is influenced by metaphor. A most
important set of examples involve the manner in which the invisible is
spoken of almost exclusively through metaphoric language based on the
visible. This curious feature of man's rationality is frequently explored by
Plato. The most famous example is probably Socrates's description of education
as an ascent out of a cave ( Republic), but another perhaps no less
important example occurs in the First Alkibiades . Not only is the
invisible metaphorically explained via something visible, but the metaphor is
that of the organ of sight itself (cf. 132c-133c, where the soul and the
eye are discussed as analogues)! The general attractiveness of
metaphor also demonstrates that man is essentially a creature with
speech. That both man and language must be understood in order for a
philosophic explanation to be given of either, is indicated whenever one
tries to account for the natural delight almost all people take in being
shown new secrets of meaning, in discovering the richness of their own
tongue, and in the reworking of images - from puns and complex word games
to simple metaphors and idiomatic expressions. Man's rationality is bound
up with language, and rationality may not be exclusively or even
primarily logic; it is importantly metaphor. Subtle use is often made of the
captivating power of various forms of expression. One of the most
alluring yet bedevilling of these is irony. Irony never unambiguously
reveals itself but suggests mystery and disguise. This enhances its own
attractiveness and simultaneously increases the charm of the subject on
which irony is played; there seems little doubt that Socrates and Plato
were able to make effective use of this feature for they are
traditionally regarded as the past masters of it. Eluding definition,
irony seems not amenable to a simple classifi- catory scheme. It can
happen in actions as well as speeches, in drama as well as actual life.
It can occur in an infinite variety of situations. One cannot be told how
exactly to look for irony; it cannot be reduced to rules. But to discover its
presence on one's own is thoroughly- exciting (though perhaps biting).
The possibility of double ironies increases the anxiety attending ironic speech
as well as its attractiveness. The merest suggestion of irony can upset an
otherwise tranquil moment of understanding. Probably all listeners of
ironic speech or witnesses of dramatic irony have experienced the
apprehensiveness that follows such an overturned expectation of
simplicity. It appears to be in the nature of irony that knowledge
of its presence in no way diminishes its seductiveness but rather
enhances its effectiveness. Once it is discovered, it has taken hold.
This charming feature of Socrates' powerful speech, his irony, is
acknowledged by Alkibiades even as he recognizes himself to be its principal
target (Symposium 215a-216e). The abundance of irony in the First Alkibiades
makes it difficult for any passage to be interpreted with certitude. It
is likely that the following commentary would be significantly altered
upon the recognition of a yet subtler, more ironic, teaching in the
dialogue. It is thus up to each individual, in the long run, to make a
judgement upon the dialogue, or the interpretation of the dialogue; he
must be wary of and come to recognize the irony on his own. The
Superior Man is a Problem for Political Philosophy One mark of a
great man is the power of making lasting impressions upon people he
meets. Another is so to have handled matters during his life that
the course of after events is continuously affected by what he did.
Winston Churchill Great Contemporaries It may be
provisionally suggested that both Socrates and Alkibiades are superior
men, attracted respectively to knowledge and power. Certainly a surface
reading of the First Alkibiades would support such a judgement. One could
probably learn much about the character of the political man and the
philosophic man by simply observing Socrates and Alkibiades. It stands to
reason that a wisely crafted dialogue representing a discussion between them
would reveal to the careful, reflective reader deeper insight into
knowledge, power and the lives of those dedicated to each.
Socrates confesses that he is drawn to Alkibiades because of the
youth's unquenchable ambition for power. Socrates tells Alkibiades
that 59 the way to realizing his great aspirations is
through the philosopher. Accordingly Socrates proceeds to teach
Alkibiades that the acquisition of knowledge is necessary in order that
his will to power be fulfilled. By the end of the dialogue, Socrates'
words have managed to secure the desired response from the man to whom he
is attracted: Alkibiades in a sense redirects his eros toward Socrates.
This sketch, though superficial, bespeaks the dialogue's promise to unravel
some of the mysterious connections between knowledge and power as these
phenomena are made incarnate in its two exceptional participants.
The significance of the superior man to political philosophy has,
for the most part, been overlooked in the last century or so, the exceptions
being rather notorious given their supposed relation to the largest
political event of the Twentieth Century.^ in contemporary analysis, the
importance of great men, even in the military, has tended to be explained
away rather than understood. This trend may be partly explained by the
egalitarian views of the dominant academic observers of political
things. As the problem was traditionally understood, the superior
man tends to find himself in an uneasy relationship with the city. The
drive, the erotic ambition distinguishes the superior man from most
others, and in that ambition is constituted their real threat to the
polity as well as their real value. No man who observed a war could
persist in the belief that all citizens have a more or less equal effect
on the outcome, on history. A certain kind of superiority becomes readily
apparent in battle and the bestowal of public honors acknowledges its
political value. Men of such manly virtue are of utmost necessity to all
polities, at least in times of extremes. Moreover, political philosophers
have heretofore recognized that there are other kinds of battlefields
upon which superior men exercise their evident excellence. It
is, however, during times of peace that the community experiences fear about
containing the lions,^ recognizing that they constitute an internal
threat to the regime. Thus, during times of peace a crucial test of the
polity is made. A polity's ability to find a fitting place for its noble
men speaks for the nobility of the polity. In many communities, the
best youths turn to narrow specialization in particularized scientific
disciplines, or to legal and academic sophistry, to achieve distinction.
It is not clear whether this is due to the regime's practicing a form of
politics that attracts but then debases or corrupts the better sort of
youth, or because the best men find its politics repugnant and so
redirect their ambitions toward these other pursuits. In any event, the
situation in such communities is a far cry from that of the city which
knows how to rear the lion cubs. Not surprisingly, democracy has always
had difficulty with the superior men. Ironically, today the recognition
of the best men in society arises most frequently among those far from
power or the desire to enter politics. Those who hold office in modern
democracies are not able to uphold the radically egalitarian premises of
the regime and still consistently acknowledge the superiority of some
men. This has repercussions at the base of the polity: the democratic election.
Those bent on holding public office are involved in a dilemma, a man's
claim to office is that he possesses some sort of expertise, yet he
cannot maintain a platform of simple superiority in an egalitarian regime. Many
aspirants are required to seek election on the basis of some feature of
their character (such as their expenditure of effort) instead of their
skills, and such criteria are often in an ambiguous relation to the
duties of office. The problem is yet more far-reaching. Those
regimes committed to the enforced equalization of the unequal
incongruously point with pride to the exceptional individuals in the
history of their polities. A standard justification for communist
regimes, for example, is to refer to the distinguished figures in the
arts and sports of their nation. Implicitly the traditional view has been
retained: great men are one of the measures of a great polity.
A less immediate but more profound problem for political philosophy
is posed by the very concept of the best man. Three aspects of this
problem shall be raised, the last two being more fully discussed as they
arise in commenting upon the First Alkibiades . All who have given
the matter some thought will presumably agree that education is, in part
at least, a political concern, and that the proper nurture of youth is a
problem for political philosophy. Accordingly, an appropriate beginning is the
consideration of the ends of nurture. The question of toward what goal
the nurture of youth is to aim is a question bound up with the views of
what the best men are like. This is inevitably the perspective from which
concerned parents adopt their own education policies. Since the young are
nurtured in one manner or another regardless, all care given to the
choice of nurtures is justified It must be remembered that children
will adopt models of behavior regardless of whether their parents have
guided their choice. As the tradition reminds is, the hero is a
prominent, universal feature in the nurture of children. Precisely for
that reason great care ought to be taken in the formation and
presentation (or representation) of heroic men and deeds. The heroes of
history, of literature and of theater presumably have no slight impact on
the character of youth. For instance canons of honesty are suggested by
the historical account of young Lincoln, codes of valor have been
established by Akhilleus, and young men's opinions about both
partnerships and self-reliance are being influenced by the Western
Cowboy. The religious reverence with which many young observe the
every word and deed of their idols establishes "the hero" as a
problem of considerable significance. One could argue that the hero
should be long dead. His less than noble human characteristics can be
excised from the public memory and his deeds suitably embellished (cf.
Republic 391d.6). Being dead, the possibility of his becoming decadent or
otherwise evil is eliminated. Although attractive, this suggestion
presents a rather large problem, especially in a society in which there
is any timocratic element. The honors bestowed on living men may be
precisely what transforms them into the "flesh and blood" heroes of
the young. Should honors not be delivered until after a man's death,
however (when he cannot turn to drink, women or gambling), it may dampen
many timocrats' aspirations. If the superior man is not recognized during
his lifetime, he must at least obtain some assurance of a lasting honor
after his death. This might be difficult to do, if he is aware of how
quickly and completely the opinions of those bestowing honor, the demos,
shift. Since this turned out to assume great importance historically for
Alkibiades, the reader of the First Alkibiades might be advised to pay
attention to what Socrates teaches the young man about power and glory. The
role of heroes extends beyond their pedagogic function of supplying
models to guide the ambitions of youth. Heroes contribute to the pride of
a family, help secure the glory of a nation and provide a tie to the
ancestral. Recognition of this should suffice to indicate that the
problem of superior men is a significant one for political
philosophy. Presumably any political theory requires some account
of the nature of man. It may already be clear at this point that a
comprehensive philosophic account of man's nature must include a
consideration of the superior man. Traditionally, in fact, the concept of
the best man has been deemed central to an adequate understanding. Many
people who would readily grant the importance of the problem of
understanding human nature consider it to be a sort of statistical norm.
That position does not concede the necessity of looking toward the best
man. For the immediate purpose of analyzing this dialogue, it seems
sufficient that the question be reopened, which may be accomplished
simply by indicating that there are problems with seeing nature as
"the normal." Without any understanding of the best man
(even one who is not actualized), comparison between men would be largely
meaningless and virtually any observation of, or statement about persons
would be ambiguous since they involve terms which imply comparing men on
some standard. There would be no consistent way to evaluate any
deviation whatsoever from the normal. For example, sometimes it is better
to be fierce, sometimes it is not. If one describes a man as being
more capable of fierceness than most men one would not know how to
evaluate him relative to those men, without more information. It is
necessary to have an understanding of the importance of those matters in
which it is better to be fierce, to the best man. If it is important for
the best man to be capable of being very fierce, then, and only then,
it seems, could one judge a man who is able to be fierce at times to be
a better man with respect to that characteristic. Any meaningful
description of him, then depends on the view of the best man. This is
implicit in the common sense understanding anyway. The statement "X
is more capable of fierceness than most men,' prompts an implicit
qualitative judgement in most men's minds on the basis of their views of
the best man. The statement "X has darker hair than most men,"
does not, precisely because most understandings of the best man do not
specify hair color. A concept of the best is necessary if a man is to be
able to evaluate his position vis a vis others and discern with what he
must take pains with himself. The superior man understands this. Aiming to
actualize his potential to the fullest in the direction of his ideal, he
obviously does not compete with the norm. He strives with the best of men
or even with the gods. Whenever he sees two alternatives, he immediately
wonders which is best. The superior youth comes to learn that a central
question of his life is the question of with whom is his contest.
Having raised this second aspect of the philosophic concern
about the best man, one is led quite naturally to a related problem he poses
for political philosophy with respect to what has been a perennial
concern of the tradition, indeed perhaps its guiding question, namely:
"What is the best regime?" The consideration of the best
regime may be in light of a concern for the "whole" in some
sense, or for the citizen or for the "whole" in some sense, or
from some other standpoint. Apart from the problem of how to understand
"the whole," a large philosophic question remains regarding
whether the best for a city is compatible with the best for a man. The
notion of the superior man provides a guide of some sort (as the 'norm'
does not) to the answer regarding what is best for a man; the view of the
best regime suggests (as the 'norm' does not) what is good for a city.
But what must one do if the two conflict? As has become apparent,
the complex question of the priority of the individual or the social
order is raised by the very presence of the superior man in a city. The
dialogue at various points tacitly prompts the reader to consider some of
the intricacies of this issue. Upon considering what is best
for man generally, for a man in particular, and for a city, one notices
that most people have opinions about these things, and not all of them
act upon these opinions. One eventually confronts a prior distinction,
the difference between doing what one thinks is good, knowing what is
good, and doing what one knows is good. While it is not entirely accurate
to designate them respectively as power, knowledge, and knowledge with
power, these terms suggest how the problems mentioned above are carried
through the dialogue in terms of the concern for the superior man.
Provisionally, one may suggest that Alkibiades provides a
classic example of the superior man. In a sense not obvious to the
average Athenian, so too is Socrates. They both pose distinct
political problems, and they present interesting philosophic
puzzles as well. But there is another reason, no less compelling
for being less apparent, that recommends the study of the First
Alkibiades . Since antiquity the First Alkibiades has been
subtitled, "On the Nature of Man." At first blush this subtitle
63 is not as fitting as the subtitles of some other aporetic
dialogues. The question "What is the nature of Man?" is
neither explicitly asked nor directly addressed by either Socrates
or Alkibiades, yet the reader is driven to consider it. One might
immediately wonder why " Alkibiades " is the title of a
dialogue on the nature of man, and why Socrates chooses to 64
talk about man as such with Alkibiades. Perhaps Alkibiades is
particularly representative, or especially revealing about man. Perhaps
he is unique or perhaps he is inordinately in need of such a discourse.
One must also try to understand Socrates' purpose, comprehend the
significance of any of Alkibiades' limitations, and come to an
understanding of what the character of his eros is (e.g., is it directed
toward power, glory, or is it just a great eros that is yet to be
directed). In the course of grappling with such matters, one also
confronts one's own advantages and liabilities for the crucial and
demanding role of dialogic partner. Perhaps the very things a
reader fastens his attentions upon are indicative of something essential
about his own particular nature. If the reader is to come to a decision
as to whether the subtitle affixed in antiquity to the dialogue is indeed
appropriate, these matters must be judged in the course of considering
the general question of whether the dialogue is indeed about "the
nature of man." The mystery and challenge of a dialogue may serve to
enhance its attractiveness. One of the most intriguing philosophic
problems of the First Alkibiades may well be the question of whether it
is in fact about man's nature. With a slight twist, the reader is faced
with another example of Socrates' revision of Meno's paradox ( Meno 80e).
Sometimes when a reader finds what he is looking for, discovering
something he was hoping to discover, it is only because his narrowness of
attention or interest prevented him from seeing conflicting material, and
because he expended his efforts on making what he saw conform to his
wishes. The good reader of a dialogue will, as a rule, take great care to
avoid such myopia. In order to find out whether the dialogue is primarily
about the nature of man (and if so, what is teaches about the nature of
man), the prudent reader will caution himself against begging the
question, so to speak. If one sets out ignorant of what the nature of man
is, one may have trouble recognizing it when one finds it. Conversely, to
complete the paradox, to ask how and where to find it (in other words,
inquiring as to how one will recognize it), implies that one ought
already know what to expect from knowledge of it. This could be
problematic, for the inquiry may be severely affected by a preconceived
opinion about which question will be answered by it. "Philosophical
prejudices" should have no part in the search for the nature of
man. This is a difficulty not faced to the same extent by other
aporetic dialogues which contain a question of the form "What
is _?" Once this first question is articulated, the normal way
of pursuing the answer is open to the reader. He may proceed naturally
from conventional opinion, say, and constantly refine his views according
to what he notices. It appears, however, that the reader of the First
Alkibiades cannot be certain that it will address the nature of
man, and the dialogue doesn't seem to directly commence with a
consideration of conventional opinions. Most readers of the dialogue know
what a man is insofar as they could point to one (111b,ff.), but very few
know what man is. Perhaps as the dialogue unfolds the careful reader will
be educated to a point beyond being ignorant of how to look for something
that he mightn't recognize even when he found it. By this puzzle the
reader is drawn more deeply into the adventure of touching on the
mysteries of his own nature. To borrow a metaphor from a man who likely
knew more about Socrates and Alkibiades than has anyone else before or
since, the same spirit of adventure permeates the quest for knowledge of
man as characterizes sailing through perilous unknown waters on a tiny,
frail craft, attempting to avoid perishing on the rocks. One can only
begin with what one knows, such as some rudimentary views about
navigation technique and more or less correct opinions about one's home
port. Upon coming to appreciate the difficulties of knowing, fully and
honestly, one's own nature, one realizes how treacherous is the journey.
In all likelihood one will either be swamped, or continue to sail
forever, or cling to a rock under the illusion of having reached the far
shore. This thesis is an introduction to the First Alkibiades .
Through their discussion, and more importantly through his own
participation in their discussion, Socrates and Alkibiades reveal to the
reader something about the nature of man. Both the question of man's
nature and the problem of the superior man have been neglected in recent
political theory; especially the connection between them has been
overlooked. To state the thesis of this essay with only slight
exaggeration: an understanding of politics - great and small - is impossible
without knowledge of man, and knowledge of man is impossible without
knowledge of the best of men. This thesis, investigating the dialogue
entitled the First Alkibiades, focusses on certain things the dialogue
seems to be about, without pretending to be comprehensive. It is like the
dialogue in one respect at least: it is written in the interest of
opening the door to further inquiry, and not with subsequently closing
that door. Through a hopefully careful, critical reading of the First
Alkibiades, I attempt to show that the nature of man and the superior man
are centrally tied both to each other and to any true understanding of
(great) political things. The spirit of the critique is inspired by the
definition of a "good critic" ascribed to Anatole France:
"A good critic is one who tells the story of his mind's adventures
among the masterpieces." The First Alkibiades begins abruptly with the
words "Son of Kleinias, I suppose you are wondering..." The
reader does not know where the dialogue is taking place; nor is he
informed as to how Socrates and Alkibiades happened to meet on this
occasion. Interlocutors in other direct dramatic dialogues may sooner or
later reveal this information in their speeches. In narrated dialogues,
Socrates or another participant may disclose the circumstances of the
discussion. In the case of this dialogue, however, no one does. The
reader remains uncertain that it is even taking place in Athens proper
and not in the countryside about the city. It may be reasonable to
suggest that in this case the setting of the dialogue does not matter, or
more precisely, the fact that there is no particular setting is rather
what matters. The discussion is not dependent on a specific set of
circumstances and the dialogue becomes universally applicable. The
analysis will hopefully show the permanence of the problems thematically
dealt with in the dialogue. Philosophically it is a discussion in no way
bound by time or place. Further support is lent to this suggestion by the
fact that there is no third person telling the story and Socrates is not
reporting it to anyone. Nobody else is present. Plato
presents to the reader a dramatic exchange which is emphatically private.
Neither Socrates nor Alkibiades have divulged the events of this first
dialogic encounter between the man and the youth. The thorough
privacy of the discussion as well as the silence concerning the setting help to
impute to the reader an appreciation of the autonomous nature of the
discourse. There is a sense in which this dialogue could happen whenever
two such people meet. Consequently, the proposition implicitly put forth
to the reader is that he be alive to the larger significance of the
issues treated; the very circumstances of the dialogue, as mentioned
here, sufficiently support such a suggestion so as to place the onus for
the argument in the camp of those who want to restrict the relevance of
the dialogue to Socrates and Alkibiades in 5th century Athens.
That the two are alone is a feature that might be important to much
of the reader's interpretation, for attention is drawn to the fact by the
speakers themselves. Such privacy may have considerable philosophic
significance, as it has a clear effect on the suitability of some of the
material being discussed (e.g., 118b.5). There is no need for concern
about the effect of the discussion upon the community as there might be
were it spoken at the ekklesia ; the well-being of other individuals need
not dissuade them from examining radical challenges to conventional
views, as might be the case were they conversing in front of children or
at the marketplace; and there is no threat to either participant, as there
might be were they to insult or publicly challenge someone's authority.
Conventional piety and civic-mindedness need place no limitations on the
depth of the inquiry; the only limits are those implicit in the willingness and
capability of the participants. For example, an expectation of pious
respect for his guardian, Perikles, could well interfere with Alkibiades'
serious consideration of good statesmanship. The fact that they are
unaccompanied, that Perikles is spoken of as still living, and that
Socrates first mentions Perikles in a respectful manner (as per 118c,
104b-c), permits a serious (if finally not very flattering) examination
of his qualifications. Socrates and Alkibiades are alone and are not
bound by any of the restrictions normally faced in discussions with an
audience. The reader's participation, then, should be influenced by this spirit
of privacy, at least in so far as he is able to grasp the political
significance of the special "silence" of private
conversation. Somewhere in or about their usual haunts, Socrates
and Alkibiades chanced to meet. If their own pronouncements can be taken
literally, they were in the process of seeking each other. Alkibiades had
been about to address Socrates but Socrates began first (104c-d). Since
his daimon or god had only just ceased preventing him from talking
to Alkibiades (105d), Socrates was probably waiting at Alkibiades'
door (106e.10). Although the location is unknown, the reader
may glean from various of their comments a vague idea of the time of the
dialogue. In this case, it appears, the actual dramatic date of the
dialogue is of less importance than some awareness of the substance of
the evidence enabling one to deduce it. Alkibiades is not yet twenty
(123d) but he must be close to that age for he intends shortly to make
his first appearance before the Athenian ekklesia (106c). Until today
Socrates had been observing and following the youth in silence; they had
not spoken to each other. This corroborates the suggestion that the
action of the dialogue takes place before the engagement at Potidaia (thus
before the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, i.e. before 432 B.C.) for
they knew each other by that time ( Symposium, 219e). Perikles and his
sons are referred to as though they were living, offering
further confirmation that the dramatic date is sometime before or about
the onset of the war with Sparta. The action of the dialogue must take
place before that of the Protagoras,^ since Socrates has by then a
reputation of sorts among the young men, whereas Alkibiades seems not to
have heard very much of Socrates at the beginning of the First Alkibiades
. Socrates addresses Alkibiades as the son of Kleinias. This
perhaps serves as a reminder to the young man who believes himself so
self- sufficient as to be in need of no one (104a). In the first place,
his uniqueness is challenged by this address. His brother (mention of
whom occurs later in the dialogue - 118e.4) would also properly turn
around in response to Socrates' words. More importantly, however, it
indicates that he too descended from a family. His ancestry is traced to
Zeus (121a), his connections via his kin are alleged to be central to
his self-esteem (104b), and even his mother, Deinomakhe, assumes a role
in the discussion (123c) . He is attached to a long tradition.
Through observation of Alkibiades' case in particular, the fact
that a man's nature is tied to descent is made manifest. Alkibiades lost
his father, Kleinias, when he was but a child (112c) . He was made a ward
of Perikles and from him received his nurture. For most readers, drawing
attention to parentage would not distinguish nature from nurture. One is
a child of one's parents both in terms of that with which one is born,
one's biological/genetic inheritance, and of that which one learns. In
the case of Alkibiades, however, to draw attention to his father is to
draw attention to his heredity, whereas it was Perikles who raised him.
The philosophic distinction between nature and nurture is emphasized by
the apparent choice of addresses open to Socrates. Alkibiades is both the
son of Kleinias and the ward of Perikles. It seems fitting that a dialogue
on human nature begin by drawing attention to two dominating features of
all men's characters, their nature and their nurture. Socrates
believes that Alkibiades is wondering. He is curious about the heretofore
hidden motives for Socrates' behavior. As a facet of a rational nature,
wonder or curiosity separates men from the beasts. Wondering about the
world is characteristic of children long before they fully attain reason,
though it seems to be an indication of reason; most adults retain at
least some spark of curiosity about something. The reader is reminded
that the potential for wonder/reason is what is common to men but not
possessed by beasts, and it serves to distinguish those whom we call
human. Reason in general, and wonder in particular, pose a rather
complex problem for giving an account of the nature of man. Though
enabling one to distinguish men from beasts, it also allows for distinctions
between men. Some are more curious than others and some are far more
rational than others. The philosopher, for example, appears to be
dominated by his rational curiosity about the true nature of things. Some
people wonder only to the extent of having a vague curiosity about their
future. It appears that the criteria that allow one to hierarchically
differentiate man from beast also provide for the rank-ordering of men.
Some people would be "more human" than others, following this
line of analysis. This eatablishes itself as an issue in understanding
what, essentially, man is, and it may somehow be related to the
general problem of the superior man, since his very existence invites
comparison by a qualitative hierarchy. He might be the man who portrays
the human characteristics in the ideal/proper quantities and proportions.
He may thus aid our understanding of the standard for humans.
Another opportunity to examine this issue will arise upon reaching the
part of the dialogue wherein Socrates points out that Alkibiades can come
to know himself after he understands the standard for superior men, after
he understands with whom he is to compete (119c,ff.). There
are at least two other problems with respect to the analysis of human
curiosity. The first is that it seems to matter what people are curious
about. Naturally children have a general wonder about things, but at a
certain stage of development, reason reveals some questions are more
important than and prior to others. It seems clear that wondering about
the nature of the world (i.e., what it really is), its arche (basic
principles), and man's proper place in it, or the kind of wondering
traditionally associated with the philosophic enterprise, is of a higher
order than curiosity about beetles, ancient architecture, details of
history, or nuances of linguistic meaning. This further complicates the
problems of rank-ordering men. The second problem met with in
giving an account of wonder and its appropriate place in life is that
next to philosophers and children, few lives are more dominated by a
curiosity of sorts than that of the "gossiping housewife." She
is curious about the affairs of her neighbors and her neighbor's
children. The passion for satisfying that curiosity is often so strong as
to literally dominate her days. It seems impossible to understand such strong
curiosity as "merely idle," but one would clearly like to
account for it as essentially different from the curiosity of the
philosopher. That the reader may not simply disregard consideration of
gossiping women, or consider it at best tangential, is borne out by the
treatment of curiosity in the First Alkibiades. It is indicated in
the dialogue that daughters, wives and mothers must figure into an account
of wonder. There are seven uses of 'wonder' 6 V (
thaumadzein ). The first three involve Socrates and Alkibiades attesting to
Alkibiades' wonder, including a rare pronouncement by Socrates of his
having certain knowledge: he knows well that Alkibiades is wondering
(104c.4; 103a.1, 104d.4). The last three are all about women wondering. Keeping
in mind the centrality of wondering to the nature of the philosopher (it
seems to be a chief thing in his nature), one sees that careful attention
must be given to curiosity. We have other reasons to suspect that
femininity is in some way connected to philosophy, and perhaps a careful
consideration of the treatment of women in the dialogue would shed light
on the problem. There is a sense in which wonder is a most
necessary prerequisite to seeking wisdom (cf. also Theaitetos 155d). To
borrow the conclusion of Socrates' argument with Alkibiades concerning
his coming to know justice (106d-e; 109e), one has to be aware of a lack
of something in order to seek it. A strong sense of wonder, or an
insatiable curiosity drives one to seek knowledge. This type of intense
wondering may conceivably be a major link in the connection between the reason
and the spirit of the psyche (cf. Republic 439e-440a). In the Republic these
two elements are said to be naturally allied, but the reader is never
explicitly told how they are linked, or what generally drives or draws
the spirit toward reason. An overpowering sense of wonder seems the most
immediate link. Perhaps another link is supplied when the importance of the
connection of knowledge to power is recognized; a connection between the
two parts of the psyche might be supplied by a great will to power, for
power presumably requires knowledge to be useful. However, final
judgement as to how the sense of wonder and the desire for power differ in
this regard, and which, if any, properly characterizes the connections
between the parts of Alkibiades' psyche must await the reader's
reflection on the dialogue as a whole. Likewise, his evaluation as to
which class of men contains Alkibiades will be properly made after he has
finished the dialogue. Socrates believes that Alkibiades is
wondering. Precisely that feature of Alkibiades' nature is the one with
which Socrates chooses to begin the discussion and therewith their
relationship. One may thus explore the possibility that wondering is what
distinguishes Alkibiades, or essentially characterizes him. The
discussion to this point would admit of a number of possibilities.
Curiosity could set Alkibiades apart from other political figures,
or it may place him above men generally, indicating that he is one of the
best or at least potentially one of the best men - should
reason/curiosity prove to be characteristic of the best. Alkibiades'
ostensible wondering could bespeak the high spirit which characterized
his entire life; perhaps one of the reasons he would choose to die rather
than remain at his present state (105a-b) is that he is curious to see
how far he can go, how much he can rule. Socrates remarks that he
is Alkibiades' lover; he is the first of Alkibiades' lovers. Socrates
suggests two features of his manner which, taken together, would be
likely to have roused the wonder of Alkibiades. Socrates, the first
lover, is the only one who remains; all the other lovers have forsaken
Alkibiades. Secondly, Socrates never said a word to Alkibiades during his
entire youth, even though other lovers pushed through hoardes of people
to speak with Alkibiades. A youth continuously surrounded by a crowd of
admirers would probably wish to know the motives of a most constant,
silent observer - if he noticed him. Socrates has at last, after many
years, spoken up. Assuring Alkibiades that no human cause kept him
from speaking, Socrates intimates that a daimonic power had somehow
opposed his uttering a single word. The precise nature of the power is
not divulged. Obviously not a physical restraint such as a gag, it
can nevertheless affect Socrates' actions. Socrates, one is led to
believe, is a most rational man. If it was not a human cause that kept
him from speaking, then Socrates' reason did not cause him to keep
silent. It was not reason that opposed his speech. Whatever the daimonic
power was, it was of such a force that it could match the philosopher's
reason. An understanding of how Socrates' psyche would be under the power of
this daimonic sign would be of great interest to a student of man. In
at least Socrates' case, this power is comparable in force to the power
of reason. Socrates tells Alkibiades that the power of the daimon
in opposing his speaking was the cause of his silence for so many
years. The reader does not forget, however, that the lengthy
silence was not only Socrates'. Something else, perhaps less divine, kept
Alkibiades silent. It is noteworthy that the first power
Socrates chooses to speak of with Alkibiades is a non-human one, and one
which takes its effect by restraining speech. Alkibiades is interested in
having control over the human world; the kind of power he covets involves
military action and political management. Young men seem not altogether
appreciative of speech. Even when they acknowledge the power made
available by a positive kind of rhetorical skill, they do not appear
especially concerned with any negative or restraining power that limits speech
such as the power of this daimon. Not only is talk cheap, but it is for
women and old men, in other words, for those who aren't capable of
actually doing anything. The first mention of power ( dynamis) in the
dialogue cannot appear to Alkibiades to pertain to his interest in ruling
the human world, but it does offer the reader both an opportunity for
reflection on power in general, and a promise to deal with the connection
between power and speech in some fashion. What the dialogue teaches about
language and power will be more deeply plumbed when Alkibiades learns the
extent of the force of his words with Socrates (112e, ff.).
According to Socrates, Alkibiades will be informed of the power of
this daimonic sign at some later time. Since apparently the time is not
right now, either Socrates is confident that he and Alkibiades will
continue to associate, or he intends to tell Alkibiades later during the course
of this very dialogue. Socrates, having complied with his daimon, comes
to Alkibiades at the time when the opposition ceases. He appears to be
well enough acquainted with the daimon to entertain good hopes that it
will not oppose him again. By simple observation over the years,
Socrates has received a general notion of Alkibiades' behavior toward his
lovers. There were many and they were high-minded, but they fled from
Alkibiades' surpassing self-confidence. Socrates remarks that he wishes
to have the reasons for this self-confidence come to the fore. By
bringing Alkibiades' reasons to speech, Socrates implies, among other
things, that this sense of superiority does not have a self-evident basis
of support. He also suggests that there is a special need to have reasons
presented. Perhaps Alkibiades' understanding of his own feelings either
is wrong or insufficient; at any rate, they have previously been left unstated.
If they are finally revealed, Alkibiades will be compelled to assess
them. Socrates proceeds to list the things upon which Alkibiades prides
himself. Interestingly, given his prior claim that he learned
Alkibiades' manner through observation, most of the things Socrates
presently mentions are not things one could easily learn simply through
observation of actions. One cannot see the mobility of Alkibiades' family
or the power of his connections. More important to Socrates' point, one
cannot see his pride in his family. He might "look proud," but
others must determine the reason. It is difficult to act proud of one's
looks, family and wealth while completely abstaining from the use of
language. It has thus become significant to their relationship that
Socrates was also able to observe Alkibiades' speech, for it is through
speech that pride in one's family can be made manifest. By listing these
features, Socrates simultaneously shows Alkibiades that he has given
considerable thought to the character of the youth. He is able to explain
the source of a condition of Alkibiades' psyche without having ever
spoken to Alkibiades. Only a special sort of observer, it seems, could
accomplish that. Alkibiades presumes he needs no human assistance
in any of his 68 affairs; beginning with the body and ending
with the soul, he believes his assets make him self-sufficient. As all
can see, Alkibiades is not 69 in error believing his
beauty and stature to be of the highest quality. Secondly, his family is
one of the mightiest in the city and his city the greatest in Greece. He
has numerous friends and relatives through his father and equally through
his mother, who are among the best of men. Stronger than the advantages
of all those kinsmen, however, is the power he envisions coming to him
from Perikles, the guardian of Alkibiades and his brother. Perikles can
do what he likes in Greece and even in barbarian countries. That kind of
power - the power to do as one likes - Alkibiades is seeking (cf. 134e-135b).
The last item Socrates includes in the list is the one Alkibiades least
relies on for his self-esteem, namely his wealth. Socrates
places the greatest emphasis on Alkibiades' descent and the advantages
that accrue therefrom. This is curious for he was purportedly supplying
Alkibiades' reasons for feeling self-sufficient; if this is a true list,
he has done the contrary, indicating Alkibiades to be quite dependent
upon his family. Even so, the amount of stress on the family appears to
exceed that necessary for showing Alkibiades not to be self-sufficient.
As has already been observed, this is accomplished by paying close
attention to the words at the start of the dialogue. At this point,
Alkibiades' father's relations and friends, his mother's relations and
friends, his political connections through his kinsmen and his uncle's great
power are mentioned as well as the position of his family in the city and
of his city in the Hellenic world. Relative to the other resources
mentioned, Socrates goes into considerable depth with regards to
Alkibiades' descent. It is literally the central element in the set of
features that Socrates wanted to be permitted to name as the cause of
Alkibiades' self-esteem. Quite likely then, the notion of descent and its
connections to human nature (as Alkibiades' descent is connected, by
Socrates' implication, to qualities of his nature) are more important to
the understanding of the dialogue than appears at the surface. This
discussion will be renewed later at the opening of the longest speech in
the First Alkibiades . At that point both participants claim divine
ancestry immediately after agreeing that better natures come from
well-born families (120d-121a). That will afford the reader an
opportunity to examine why they might both think their descent significant. Socrates
has offered this account of Alkibiades' high-mindedness suggesting they
are Alkibiades' resources "beginning with the body and ending with
the soul." In fact, after mentioning the excellence of his physical
person, Socrates talks of Alkibiades' parents, polis, kinsmen, guardian,
and wealth. Unless the reader is to understand a man's soul to be made by
his family (and that is not said explicitly), these things do not even
appear to lead toward a consideration of the qualities of his soul, but
lead in a different direction. One might expect a treatment of such
things as Alkibiades' great desires, passions, virtues and thoughts, not
of his kinsfolk and wealth. Perhaps the reader is not yet close enough to
an understanding of the human soul. At this point he may not be prepared
to discern the qualities of soul in Alkibiades which would properly be
styled "great." Socrates and Alkibiades may provide instruction
for the reader in the dialogue, so that by the end of his study he will
be better able to make such a judgement were he to venture one now, it
might be based on conventional opinions of greatness. By not explicitly
stating Alkibiades' qualities of soul at this point, the reader is
granted the opportunity to return again, later, and supply them himself.
The psyche is more difficult to perceive than the body, and as is
discussed in the First Alkibiades (129a-135e), this significantly compounds the
problems of attaining knowledge of either. If this is what Socrates is
indicating by apparently neglecting the qualities of Alkibiades' soul, he
debunks Alkibiades' assets as he lists them. The features more
difficult to discern, if discerned, would be of a higher rank. Fewer
men would understand them. Socrates, however, lists features of Alkibiades
that are plain for all to see. The qualities that even the vulgar can
appreciate, when said to be such are not what the superior youth would most
pride himself upon. The many are no very serious judges of a man's
qualities. In view of these advantages, Alkibiades has elevated
himself and overpowered his lovers, and according to Socrates, Alkibiades
is well aware of how it happened that they fled, feeling inferior to his
might. Precisely on account of this Socrates can claim to be certain
that Alkibiades is wondering about him. Socrates says that he "knows
well" that Alkibiades must be wondering why he has not gotten rid of
his eros . What he could possibly be hoping for, now that the rest have
fled is a mystery. Socrates, by remaining despite the experience of the
rest, has made himself intriguing. This is especially the case given his
analysis of Alkibiades. How could Socrates possible hope to compete
with Alkibiades in terms of the sort of criteria important to
Alkibiades? He is ugly, has no famous family, and is poor. Yet
Socrates had not been overpowered; he does not feel inferior. Here is
indeed a strange case, or so it must seem to the arrogant young man.
Socrates has managed to flatter Alkibiades by making him out to be
obviously superior to any of his (other) lovers - but he also places
himself above Alkibiades, despite the flattery. In his first
speech to Alkibiades, Socrates has praised him and yet undercut some of
his superiority. He has aroused Alkibiades' interest both in Socrates and
in Socrates' understanding of him. It is conceivable that no other
admirer of Alkibiades has been so frank, and it is likely that none have
been so strange - to the point of alluding to daimons. Yet something
about Socrates and Socrates' peculiar erotic attraction to Alkibiades
makes Alkibiades interested in hearing more from the man. It is
clear that he cannot want to listen merely because he enjoys being
flattered and gratified, for Socrates' speech is ironic in its praise. He
takes even as he gives. Philosophically, this op ening speech
contains a reference to most of the themes a careful reader will
recognize as being treated in the dialogue. Some of these should be
listed to give an indication of the depths of the speech that
remain to be plumbed. The reader is invited to examine the nature of
power - what it is essentially and through what it affects human action.
As conventionally understood, and as it is attractive to Alkibiades,
power is the ability to do what one wants. According to such an account,
it seems Perikies has power. This notion of power is complicated by the
non-human power referred to by Socrates which stops one from doing what
one wants. Power is also shown to be connected to speech. Another closely
related theme is knowledge. All of these are connected explicitly in that
the daimonic power knew when to allow speech . In the opening speech by
Socrates, he claims to know something, and the reader is introduced to a
consideration of observation and speech as sources of knowledge. He is
also promised a look at what distinguishes one's perception of oneself
from other's opinions of one, through Socrates' innuendo that his
perception of Alkibiades may not be what Alkibiades perceives himself to
be. There is also reference to a difference in ability to perceive
people's natures - namely the many's ability is contrasted with
Socrates', as is the ability of the high- minded suitors. The dialogue
will deal with this theme in great depth. Should it turn out that this
ability is of essential importance to a man's fulfillment, the reader is
hereby being invited to examine what are the essentially different
natures of men. Needless to say, the reader of the dialogue should return
again and again to this speech, to the initial treatment of these
fundamental questions. The relationship of body to soul, as well as
the role of 'family' and ' polis ' in the account of man's nature, are
introduced here in the opening words. They indicate the vastness of the
problem of understanding the nature of man. Socrates and Alkibiades seem
superior to everyone else, but they too are separate. Socrates is shown
to be unique in some sense and he cites especially strange causes of his
actions. There is no mention of philosophy or philosopher in this
dialogue, but the reader is introduced to a strange man whose eros is
different from other men, including some regarded as quite excellent, and who
is motivated by an as yet unexplained daimonic power. On
another level, the form of the speech and the delivery itself attest to
some of the thought behind the appropriateness or inappropriateness of saying
certain things in certain situations. Even the mechanics or logistics of
the discussion prove illuminating to the problem. In addition, the very
fact that they are conversing tog ether and not depicted as
fighting together in battle, or even debating with each other in the
public assembly, renders it possible that speech - and perhaps even a
certain kind of speech (e.g., private, dialectical) - is essential to the
relation between the two superior men said to begin in the First
Alkibiades . Finally (though not to suggest that the catalogue of
themes is complete), one must be awakened to the significance of the
silence being finally broken. With Socrates' first words, the dialogue
has begun to take place. Socrates and Alkibiades have commenced their
verbal relationship. There is plenty of concern in the dialogue about
language: what is to be said and not said, and when and how it is to be
said. The first speech by Socrates in the First Alkibiades has alerted the
reader to this. Alkibiades addresses Socrates for the first
time. Though already cognizant of his name, Alkibiades does not appear to
know anything else about him. To Socrates' rather strange introduction he
responds that he was ready to speak with reference to the same issue;
Socrates has just slightly beat him. Alkibiades seems to have been
irritated by Socrates' constant presence and was on the brink of asking
him why he kept bothering him. Socrates' opening remarks have probably
mitigated his annoyance somewhat and allowed him to express himself in
terms of curiosity instead. He admits, indeed he emphatically affirms
(104d), that he is wondering about Socrates' motives and suggests he
would be glad to be informed. Alkibiades thus expresses the reader's own
curiosity; one wonders in a variety of respects about what Socrates'
objective might be. Alkibiades might perceive different possibilities
than the reader since he seems thoroughly unfamiliar with Socrates. A
reader might wonder if Socrates wanted to influence Alkibiades, and to
what end. Did Socrates want to make Alkibiades a philosopher; what kind
of attraction did he feel for Alkibiades; why did he continue to
associate with him? These questions and more inevitably confront the
reader of the First Alkibiades even though they might at first appear to
be outside the immediate bonds of the dialogue. For these sorts of
questions are carried to a reading of the dialogue, as it were; and given
the notoriety of Alkibiades and of Socrates, it is quite possible that
they were intended to be in the background of the reader's thoughts.
Perhaps the dialogue will provide at least partial answers.
If Alkibiades is as eager to hear as he claims, Socrates can assume that
he will pay attention to the whole story. Socrates will not then have to
expend effort in keeping Alkibiades' attention, for Alkibiades has
assured him he is interested. Alkibiades answers that he certainly shall
listen. Socrates, not quite ready to begin, insists that Alkibiades
be prepared for perhaps quite a lengthy talk. He says it would be
no wonder if the stopping would be as difficult as the starting
was. One does not expect twenty years of non-stop talk from
Socrates, naturally, and so one is left to wonder - despite (or
perhaps because of) his claim that 70 there is no cause
for wonder - why he is making such a point about this beginning and the
indeterminacy of the ending. The implication is that there remains some
acceptable and evident relation between beginnings and endings for the
reader to discern. In an effort to uncover what he is, paradoxically, not
to wonder about, the careful reader will keep track of the various things
that are begun and ended and how they are begun and ended in the First
Alkibiades . Although innocuous here, Alkibiades' response "speak
good man, I will listen," gives the reader a foreshadowing of his
turning around at the end of the dialogue. There it is suggested that
Alkibiades will silently listen to Socrates. Until the time of the
dialogue the good man has been silent, listening and observing while any
talking has been done by Alkibiades or his suitors. Assured
of a listener, Socrates begins. He is convinced that he must speak.
However difficult it is for a lover to talk to a man who disdains lovers,
Socrates must be daring enough to speak his mind. This is the first
explicit indication the reader is given concerning certain qualities of
soul requisite for speaking, not only for acting. It also suggests some
more or less urgent, but undisclosed, necessity for Socrates to speak at
this time. Should Alkibiades seem content with the above mentioned
possessions, Socrates is confident that he would be released from his love for
Alkibiades - or so he has persuaded himself. Socrates is attracted to the
unlimited ambition Alkibiades possesses. The caveat introduced by Socrates
(about his having so persuaded himself) draws attention to the difference
between passions and reason as guides to action, and perhaps also a
difference between Socrates and other men. For the most part one cannot
simply put an end to passions on the basis of reason. One may be able to
substitute another passion or appetite, but it is not as easy to rid
oneself of it. However, instead of having to put away his love, Socrates
is going to lay Alkibiades' thought open to him. Socrates
intends to reveal to Alkibiades the youth's ambition. This can only be useful
in the event that he has never considered his goals under precisely the
same light that Socrates will shed on them. By doing this Socrates
will also accomplish his intention of proving to Alkibiades that he has
paid careful attention to the youth (105a). Alkibiades should be in a
position to recognize Socrates' concern by the end of this speech; this
suggests a capability on the part of both. Many cannot admit the motives
of their own actions, much less reveal to someone else that person's own
thoughts. Part of the significance of the following discussion,
therefore, is to indicate both Socrates' attentiveness to Alkibiades and
Alkibiades' perception of it. Should some (unnamed) god ask Alkibiades
if he would choose to die rather than be satisfied with the possessions
he has, he would choose to die. That is Socrates' belief. If Socrates is
right, it bespeaks a high ambition for Alkibiades, and it does so whether
or not Alkibiades thought of it before. His possessions, mentioned so
far, include beauty and stature, great kinsmen and noble family, and
great wealth (though the last is least important to him). In an obvious
sense, Alkibiades must remain content with some of what he has. He
cannot, for example, acquire a greater family. His ambition, then, as
Socrates indicates, is for something other than he possesses. The hopes
of Alkibiades' life are to stand before the Athenian ekklesia and prove
to them that he is more honorable than anyone, ever, including Perikles.
As one worthy of honor he should be given the greatest power, and
having the greatest power here, he would be the greatest among Greeks and
even among the barbarians of the continent. If the god should
further propose that Alkibiades could be the ruler of Europe on the
condition that he not pass into Asia, Socrates believes Alkibiades would
not choose to live. He desires to fill the world with his name and power.
Indeed Socrates believes that Alkibiades thinks no man who ever lived
worthy of discussion besides Kyros and Xerxes ( the Great Kings of
Persia). Of this Socrates claims to be sure, not merely supposing - those
are Alkibiades' hopes. There are a number of interesting features
about the pretense of Alkibiades responding to a god. Alkibiades might
not admit the extent of his ambition to the Athenian people who would
fear him, or even to his mother, who would fear for him; it therefore
would matter who is allegedly asking the question. It is a god, an
unidentified god whose likes and dislikes thus remain unknown. Alkibiades
cannot take into account the god's special province and adjust his answer
accordingly. The significance of the god is most importantly that
he is more powerful than Alkibiades can be. But why could not Socrates
have simply asked him, or, failing that, pretend to ask him as he does in
a moment? It is possible that speaking with an omniscient god would allow
Alkibiades to reveal his full desire; he would not be obliged to hid his
ambition from such a god as he would from most men in democratic Athens.
But it is also plausible that Socrates includes the god in the discussion
for the purpose of limiting Alkibiades' ambition (or perhaps as a
standard for power/knowledge). Not to suggest that Socrates means to
moderate what Alkibiades can do, he nevertheless must have realistic
bounds put upon his political ambition. Assume, for the moment, that more
questions naturally follow the proposal of limiting his rule to Europe.
If Alkibiades were talking to Socrates (instead of to a deity with
greater power), he might not stop at Asia. If he thought of it, he might
wish to control the entire world and its destiny. He would dream that
fate or chance would even be within the scope of his ambition. The
god in this example is presented as being in a position to determine
Alkibiades' fate; he can limit the alternatives open to Alkibiades and
can have him die. With Socrates' illustration, Alkibiades is confronting
a being which has a power over him that he cannot control. The young man
is at least forced to pretend to be in a situation in which he cannot
even decide which options are available. It is important for a political ruler
to realize the limits placed on him by fate. The notion that the
god is asking Alkibiades these questions makes it unlikely that
Alkibiades would answer that he should like to rule heaven and earth, or
even that he would like supreme control of earth (for that is likely to
be the god's own domain). Alkibiades probably won't suggest to a god that
he wants to rule Fate or the gods of the Iliad who hold the fate of humans
so much in hand. Chance cannot be controlled by humans, either
through persuasion or coersion. It can only have its effect reduced
by knowledge. Alkibiades' political ambitions have to be moderated
to fit what is within the domain of fate and chance and to be
educated about the limits of the politically possible. Socrates, by
pretending that a god asks the questions, can allow Alkibiades to admit
the full extent of his ambitions over humans, but it also serves to
keep him within the arena of human politics. If he would have
answered Socrates or a trusted friend in discussion, he might not
have easily accepted that limit. It is necessary for any
politically ambitious man, and doubly so if he is young, to
cultivate a respect for the limits of what can politically be
accomplished under one's full control. This may have helped Alkibiades
establish a political limit m his own mind. Another feature of the
response to the god which should be noted is that it marks the second of
three of Socrates' exaggerated claims to know aspects of Alkibiades'
soul. In the event that the reader should have missed the first one
wherein he claims to "know well" that Alkibiades wonders (104c),
Socrates here emphasizes it. He is not simply inferring or guessing, he
asserts; he knows this is Alkibiades' hope (105c). Shortly he will claim
to have observed Alkibiades during every moment the boy was out of doors,
and thus to know all that Alkibiades has learned (106e). Just
as it is impossible for Socrates to have watched Alkibiades at every
moment, so he cannot be certain of what thought is actually going through
Alkibiades' mind. Socrates' claim to knowledge has to be based on
something other than physical experience or being taught. Alkibiades has
not told anyone that these are his high hopes. Perhaps Socrates' knowledge
is grounded in some kind of experience He knows what state
Alkibiades' soul is in because he knows what Alkibiades must hope,
wonder and know. It may be that Socrates has an access to this
knowledge of Alkibiades' soul through his own soul. His soul may be
or may have been very like Alkibiades'. Since Socrates will later
argue that one cannot know another without knowing oneself perhaps one of
the reasons he knows Alkibiades' soul so well is that it matches his in
some way. It is not out of the question that their souls share essential
features and that those features perhaps are not shared by all other men.
Clearly not all other men have found knowledge of Alkibiades' soul as
accessible as has Socrates. And Socrates will be taking Alkibiades' soul
on a discussion beyond the bounds of Athenian politics and politicians.
He instructs Alkibiades that his soul cannot be patterned upon a
conventional model, just as Socrates is obviously not modelling himself
upon a standard model. These two men are somehow in a special position
for understanding each other, and their common sight beyond the normally
accepted standards may be what allows Socrates to make such apparently
outrageous claims. At this point, instead of waiting to see how Alkibiades
will respond, Socrates manufactures his own dialogue, saying that
Alkibiades would naturally ask what the point is. He is supposing that
Alkibiades recognizes the truth of what has gone before. Since it is
likely that Alkibiades would have enjoyed the speech to this point and
thought it good, Socrates must bring him back to the topic. By using this
device of a dialogue within a speech, Socrates is able to remind
Alkibiades (and the reader) - by pretending to have Alkibiades remind
Socrates - that they were supposed to learn not Alkibiades' ambitions,
but those of Socrates (supposing that they are indeed different).
Socrates responds (to his own question) that he conceives himself
to have so great a power ove r Alkibiades that the dear son
of Kleinias and Deinomakhe will not be able to achieve his hopes without
the philosopher's assistance (105d). Because of this power the god
prevented him from speaking with Alkibiades. Socrates hopes to win as
complete a power over Alkibiades as Alkibiades does over the polis . They
both wish to prove themselves invaluable, Socrates by showing himself
more worthy than Alkibiades' guardian or relatives in being able to
transmit to him the power for which he longs. The god prevented Socrates
from talking when Alkibiades was younger, that is, before he held such
great hopes. Now, since Alkibiades is prepared to listen, the god has set
him on. Alkibiades wants power but he does not know what it is,
essentially. Yet he must come to know in order not to err and harm
himself. Part of the relationship between philosophy and politics is
suggested here, and perhaps also some indication of why Socrates and
Alkibiades need each other. An understanding of the causes of their
coming together would be essential to an account of their relation, it
seems, and such understanding is rendered more problematic by the role of the
god. Socrates wants as complete power over Alkibiades as
Alkibiades does over the polis . If one supposes that the power is
essentially similar, this might imply that Socrates would actually have
the power over the polis . A complete power to make someone else do as
one wants (as power is conventionally understood) seems to be the same
over an individual as over a state. Socrates and Alkibiades hope to
prove themselves invaluable (105a). That is not the same as being worthy
of honor (105b); past performance is crucial to the question of
one's honor, whereas a possibility of special expertise in the future
is sufficient to indicate one is invaluable. If a teacher is able
to promise that his influence will make manifest to one the problems
with one's opinions, and will help to clarify them, the teacher has
indicated himself to be invaluable. Should one then, on the basis of the
teacher's influence change one's opinions, and thus one's advice and
actions, the teacher will, in effect, be the man with power over all that
is affected by one's advice and actions, over all over which one has
power. Socrates, in affecting politically-minded youths, has an
effect on the polity. To have power over the politically powerful is to
have power in politics. Socrates' daimon had not let Socrates approach
while Alkibiades' hopes for rule were too narrowly contained. His
ambitions had to become much greater. If for no other reason than to see
that over which Socrates expects or intends to have indirect power, one
should be eager to discover Alkibiades' ambition - to discover that end
which he has set for himself, or which Socrates will help to set for him.
The reader also has in mind the historical Alkibiades: to the extent to
which Alkibiades' designs in Europe and Asia did come to pass, was
Socrates responsible as Plato, here, has him claim to be? The reader
might also be curious about the reverse: what actions of the historical
Alkibiades make this dialogue (and Socrates' regard) credible?
Alkibiades is astounded, Socrates sounds even stranger than he
looks. But Alkibiades' interest is aroused, even if he is skeptical.
He doesn't admit to the ambitions that have been listed; however he
will concede them for the sake of finding out just how Socrates thinks of
himself as the sole means through whom Alkibiades can hope to realize
them. Perhaps he never had the opportunity to characterize his
ambitions that way - he may never have talked to a god. Socrates may only
have clarified those hopes for Alkibiades; but on the other hand,
the philosopher (partly, at least) may be responsible for imparting
them to the young man. At any rate, even if Socrates merely made
these goals obvious to the youth, one must wonder as to his
purpose. Alkibiades feels confident in claiming that no denial on
his part will persuade Socrates. He asks Socrates to speak
(106a). Socrates replies with a question which he answers himself.
He asks if Alkibiades expects him to speak in the way Alkibiades
normally hears people speak - in long speeches. Alkibiades'
background is thus indicated to some extent. He has
heard orators proclaim. Socrates points out that he will proceed in
a way that is unusual to Alkibiades - at least in so far as proving
claims. By suggesting there is more than one way to speak, Socrates
indicates that differences of style are significant in speech, and
he invites the reader to judge/consider which is appropriate to
which purposes. Socrates protests that his ability is not of that
sort (the orator's), but that he could prove his case to Alkibiades
if Alkibiades consents to do one bit of service. By soliciting
Alkibiades' efforts, Socrates may be intending to gain a deeper
commitment from the youth. If he is responsible somewhat for the
outcome he may be more sincere in 74 his answers. Alkibiades
will consent to do a service that is not difficult;
he is interested but not willing to go to a great deal of
trouble. At this stage of the discussion he has no reason to
believe 75 that fine things are hard. Upon Socrates'
query as to whether answering questions is considered difficult,
Alkibiades replies that it is not. Socrates tells him to a nswer
and Alkibiades tells Socrates to ask. His response suggests that
Alkibiades has never witnessed a true dialectical discuss
ion. He has just played question and answer games. Not many
who have experienced a dialogue, and even fewer who have spoken with
Socrates, would say it is not hard. Alkibiades, too, soon
experiences difficulty. Socrates asks him if he'll admit he has
these intentions but Alkibiades won't affirm or deny except toget
on with the conversation. Should Socrates want to believe it he
may; Alkibiades desires to know what is coming before he
acknowledges more. Accepting this, Socrates proceeds. Alkibiades,
he notes, intends shortly to present himself as an advisor to the
Athenians. If Socrates 76 were to take hold of him as
he was about to ascend the rostrum in front of the ekklesia and were to
ask him upon what subject they wanted advice such as he could give, and
if it was a subject about which Alkibiades knew better than they, what
would he answer? This is an example of a common Socratic device,
one of imagining that the circumstances are other than they are. Socrates
hereby employs I it for the third time in the dialogue,
and each provides a different effe ct. On the first occasion,
Socrates pretended a god was present to provide Alkibiades with an
important choice. Socrates did not speak in his own name. The second
example was when Socrates ventured that Alkibiades would ask a certain
question, and so answered it without waiting to see if he would indeed
have asked that question. In both of those, the physical setting of the
First Alkibi ades was appropriate to his intentions. This
time, however, Socrates supplies another setting - a very different
setting - for a part of the discussion. Speech is plastic in that
it enables Socrates to manufacture an almost limitless variety of
situations. By the sole use of human reason and imagination, people are
able to consider their actions in different lights. This is highly
desirable as it is often difficult to judge a decision from within the
context in which it was made. The malleability of circumstances that is
possible in speech allows one to examine thoughts and policies from other
perspectives. One may thus, for example, evaluate whether it is principle
or prejudice that influences one's decisions, or whether circumstance and
situation play a large or a small role in the rational outcome of the
deliberation. This rather natural feature of reason also permits some
consideration of consequences without having to effect those
consequences, and this may result in the aversion of disastrous
results. The plastic character of speech is crucial to philosophic
discourse as well, providing the essential material upon which dialectics
is worked. In discussion, the truly important features of a problem may
be more clearly separated from the merely incidental, through the careful
construction of examples, situations and counterexamples. If not for the
ability to consider circumstances different from the one in which one finds
oneself, thinking and conversing about many things would be impossible.
And this is only one aspect of the plasticity of speech which proves
important to philosophic discussion. Good dialogic partners exhibit this
ability, since they require speech for much more than proficiency in
logical deduction. Speech and human imagination must work upon each
other. Participants in philosophical argument must recognize connections
between various subjects and different circumstances. To a large extent, the
level of thought is determined by the thinker's ability to 'notice'
factors of importance to the inquiry at hand. The importance of 'noticing'
to philosophic argument will be considered with reference to two levels of
participation in the First Alkibiades, both of which clearly focus on the
prominence of the above mentioned unique properties of speech as opposed
to action. 'Noticing' is important to dialectics in that it
describes how, typically, Socrates' arguments work. An interlocutor
will suggest, say, a solution to a problem, and upon reflection, Socrates
- or another interlocutor (e.g., as per llOe) - will notice, for example, that
the solution apparently doesn't work in all situations (i.e., a
counter-example occurs to him), or that not all aspects of the solution
are satisfactory, and so on. The ability of the participants to recognize
what is truly important to the discussion, and to notice those features in a
variety of other situations and concerns, is wha t
lends depth to the analysis. As this has no doubt been experienced by
anyone who has engaged in serious arguments, it presumably need not be
further elaborated. The other aspect in which 'noticing' is
important to philosophy and how it influences, and is in turn influenced
by, rational discourse is in terms of how one ought to read a philosophic
work. As hopefully will be shown in this commentary on the First
Alkibiades, a reader's ability to notice dramatic details of the
dialogue, a nd his persistence in carefully examining what he
notices, importantly affects the benefit he derives from the study of the
dialogue. Frequently, evidence to this effect can be gathered through
reflective consideration of Socrates' apparently off-hand examples, which
turn out upon examination to be neither offhand in terms of their
relation to significant aspects of the immediate topic, nor isolated in
terms of bringing the various topics in the dialogue into focus. As shall
become more apparent as the analysis proceeds, the examples of ships and
doctors, say, are of exceedingly more philosophic importance than their
surface suggests. Not only do they metaphorically provide a depth to the
argument (perhaps unwitnessed by any participant in the dialogue besides
the reader) but through their repeated use, they also help the
reader to discern essential philosophic connections between various parts
of the subject under discussion. The importance of 'recognition'
and 'noticing' to dialectics (and the importance of the malleability of
subject matter afforded by speech) may be partly explained by the
understanding of the role of metaphor in human reason. Dialectics
involves the meticulous division of what has been properly collected
(c.f., for example Phaidros 266b). Time and time again, evidence is
surveyed by capable partners and connections are drawn
between relevantly similar matters before careful distinctions are outlined.
The ability to recognize similarities, to notice connections, seems
similar to the mind's ability to grasp metaphor. Metaphor relies to an
important extent on the language user's readiness to 'collect' similar
features from various subjects familiar to him, a procedure the reader of
the First Alkibiades has observed to be crucial to the philosophic
enterprise. Socrates often refrains from directly asking a
question, prefacing it by "supposing someone were to ask" or even
"supposing I were to ask." The circumstances of the encounters
need to be examined in order to understand his strategy. What might be
the relevance of Socrates asking Alkibiades to imagine he was about to
ascend the platform, instead of, for example, in the market place, in another
city, near a group of young men, or in the privacy of his own home? And
why could not the setting be left precisely the same as the setting of
the dialogue? The situation at the base of the platform in front of the ekklesia
is, needless to say, quite a bit different from the situation they are in
now. Alkibiades is not likely to give the same answer if his honor and
his entire political career are at stake, as they might be in such a
profoundly public setting. Socrates' device, on this occasion helps serve
to indicate that what counts as politic, or polite, speech varies in
different circumstances. As Socrates has constructed the example,
the Athenians proposed to take advice on a subject and Alkibiades
presumed to give them advice. This might severely limit the subjects on
which Alkibiades or another politician could address them. Were the
ekklesia about to take counsel on something, it would be a m atter
they felt was settled by special knowledge, and a subject on which there
were some people with recognizable expertise. The kinds of questions they
believe are settled by uncommon knowledge or expertise may be rather
limited. It is not likely that they would ask for advice on matters of
justice. Most people feel they are competent to decide that (i.e., that
the knowledge relevant to deciding is generally available, or common).
Expertise is acknowledged in strategy and tactics, but knowledgeability
about politics in general is less likely to be conceded than ability in
matters of efficacy. All of these sentiments limit the kinds of advice
which can be given to the ekklesia, and the councillor's problems are
compounded by such considerations as what things can be
persuasively addressed in public speeches to a mixed
audience, and what will be effective in pleasing and attracting the
sympathy of the audience to the speaker. To be rhetorically effective one must
work with the beliefs/opinions/prejudices people confidently and
selfishly hold. Alkibiades agrees with Socrates that he would answer that it
was a subject about which he had better knowledge. He would have to.
If Alkibiades wishes to be taken seriously by them, he should so answer
in front of the people. Even if he would be fully aware of his
ignorance, he might have motives which demand an insistence on expertise.
He couldn't admit to several purposes for which he might want to
influence the votes of the citizenry. Not all of those reasons can be
made known to them; not all of those reasons can be voiced from the
platform at the ekklesia . Sometimes politicians have to make decisions
without certain knowledge, but must nevertheless pretend confidence.
These considerations indicate again the importance of the role of speech
to the themes of this dialogue. There is a difference between public and
private speech. Some things simply cannot be said in front of a crowd of
people, and other things which would not be claimed in private
conversation with trusted friends would have to be affirmed in front of
the ekklesia . Just as a speaker may take advantage of the fact
that crowds can be aroused and swept along by rhetoric that would not so
successfully move an individual (e.g., patriotic speeches inciting
citizens to war, and on the darker side, lynch mobs and riots), so he
understands that he could never admit to a crowd things he might disclose
to a trusted friend (e.g., criticizing re ligious or political
authorities). Socrates suggests that Alkibiades believes he is a
good advisor on that which he knows, and those would be things which he
learned from others or through his own discovery. Alkibiades agrees that
there don't seem to be any other alternatives. Socrates further asks if
he would have learned or discovered anything if he hadn't been willing to
learn or inquire into it and whether one would ask about or learn what
one thought one knew. Alkibiades readily agrees that there must have
been a period in his life when he might have admitted to ignorance to
which he doesn't admit now. Socrates suggests that one learns only what
one is willing to learn and discovers only what one is willing to
inquire into . The asymmetry of this may indicate the general problems of
the argument as the difference in phrasing (underlined) alerts the reader
to examine it more closely. Discoveries, of course, usually
involve a large measure of accident or chance. And if they are the result
of an inquiry, the inquiry often has a different or more general object.
Columbus didn't set out to discover the New World; he wanted to establish
a shorter trading route to the Far East. Darwin did not set out to
discover evolution; he sought to explain why species were different.
Earlier he did not set out to discover that species were different; he
observed the animal kingdom. Not only may one stumble upon something by
accident, but by looking for one thing one may come to know something
else. For example, someone might not be motivated by a recognition of
ignorance but may be trying to prove a claim to knowledge. In the search
for proof he may find the truth. Or, alternatively, in the pursuit of
something altogether different, such as entertainment through reading a
story, one may discover that another way of life is better. The argument thus appears
to be flawed in that it is not true that one discovers only what one is
willing to inquire into. Thus Alkibiades may have discovered what he now
claims to know without ever having sought it as a result of recognizing
his ignorance. Socrates has been able to pass this argument by Alkibiades
because of the asymmetry of the statement. Had he said "one
discovers only what one is willing to discover," Alkibiades
might have objected. Another difficulty with the argument is that one is
simply not always willing to learn what others teach and one nevertheless
may learn. One might actually be unwilling, but more often one is
simply neutral, or oblivious to the fact that one is learning. In the
case of the former (learning despite being unwilling), one need only
remember that denying what one hears does not keep one from hearing it.
Propaganda can be successful even when it is known to be propaganda.
However, by far the most common counter-example to Socrates'
argument is the learning that occurs in everyday life. Many things are
not learned as the result of setting out to learn. Such knowledge is
acquired in other ways. Men come to have a common sense understanding of
cause and effect by simply doing and watching. One learns one's name and
who one's mother is long before choosing to learn, being willing to
study, or coming to recognize one's ignorance. Language is learned with
almost no conscious effort, and one is nurtured into conventions without
setting out to learn them. Notions of virtues are gleaned from stories
and from shades of meaning in the language, or even as a result of
learning a language. And, in an obvious sense, whenever anything is
heard, something is learned - even if only that such a person said it.
One cannot help observing; one does not selectively see when one one's
eyes are open, and one cannot even close one's ears to avoid
hearing. The above are, briefly, two problems with the part of
Socrates' argument that suggests people learn or discover only what they
are willing to learn or inquire into. The other parts of the argument
may be flawed as well. Socrates has pointed to the reader's discovery
of some flaws by a subtle asymmetry in his question. It is up to
the reader to examine the rest (in this case - to be willing to inquire
into it). For example, there may be difficulties with the first
suggestion that one knows only what one has learned or discovered. It is
possible that there are innate objects of knowledge and that they are
important to later development. Infants, for example, have an ability to
sense comfort and discomfort which is later transferred into feeling a
wide variety of pleasures and pains. They neither learn this, nor
discover it (in any ordinary sense of "discovery"). The sense
of pleasure and pain quite naturally is tied to and helps to shape a
child's sense of justice (110b), and may thus be significant to the
argument about Alkibiades' knowledge or opinions about justice. In any
event, closer examination of Socrates' argument has shown the reader that
the problem of knowing is sufficiently complex to warrant his further
attention. The rest of the dialogue furnishes the careful reader with
many examples and problems to consider in his attempt to understand how
he comes to know and what it means to know. Socrates knows
quite well what things Alkibiades has learned, and if he should omit
anything in the relating, Alkibiades must correct him. Socrates
recollects that he learned writing, harping and wrestling - and refused
to learn fluting. Those are the things Alkibiades knows then, unless he
was learning something when he was unobserved - but that, Socrates
declares, is unlikely since he was watching whenever Alkibiades stepped
out of doors, by day or by night. The reader will grant that the
last claim is an exaggeration. Socrates could not have observed every
outdoor activity of the boy for so many years. Yet Socrates persists in
declaring that he knows what Alkibiades learned out of doors. As suggested
earlier, Socrates may be indicating that he knows Alkibiades through his
own soul. In that event one must try to understand why Socrates couldn't
likewise claim to know what went on indoors, or why Socrates doesn't
announce to Alkibiades an assumption that what goes on indoors is pretty
much the same everywhere. The reader may find what Alkibiades may have
learned "indoors" much more mysterious, and he may consider it
odd that Socrates does not have access to that- What occurs indoors (and
perhaps to fully understand one would need to acknowledge a metaphoric
dimension to "indoor") that would account for Socrates drawing
attention to his knowledge of the outdoor activities of Alkibiades?
Even if one confines one's attention to the literal meaning, there
is much of importance in one's nurture that happens inside the home.
Suffice it to notice two things. The first is that the domestic scene in
general, and household management in particular, are of crucial importance to
politics. The second is that the teachers inside the home are typically
the womenfolk. These are of significance both to this dialogue and
(not unrelated) to an understanding of politics. Attention is directed,
for example, toward the maternal side of the two participants in
this dialogue. In addition, as has already been mentioned, the
womenfolk in this dialogue are the only ones who wonder, besides
Alkibiades. The women are within (cf. Symposium 176e); they have quite an
effect on the early nurture of children (cf. Republic 377b-c and
context). Perhaps the women teach something indoors that Socrates could
not see, or would not know regardless of how closely akin he was to
Alkibiades by nature. If that is so, the political significance of
early education, of that education which is left largely to women,
assumes a great importance. Women> it is implied, are able to do
something to sons that men cannot and perhaps even something which men cannot
fully appreciate. An absolutely crucial question arises: How is it proper
for women to influence sons? Socrates proceeds to find out which of
the areas of Alkibiades' expertise is the one he will use in the assembly
when giving advice. In response to Socrates' query whether it is when the
Athenians take advice on writing or on lyre playing that Alkibiades will
rise to address them, the young man swears by Zeus that he will not
counsel them on these matters. (The possibility is left open that someone
else would advise the Athenians on these matters at the assembly). And,
Socrates adds, they aren't accustomed to deliberating about wrestling in
the ekklesia. For some reason, Socrates has distinguished wrestling from the
other two subjects. Alkibiades will not advise the Athenians on any of
the three; he will not talk about writing or lyre-playing even if the
subject would come up; he will not speak about wrestling because the
subject won't come up. Regardless of the reader's suspicion that the
first two subjects are also rarely deliberated in the assembly, he should
note the distinction Socrates draws between the musical and the gymnastic
arts. The attentive reader will also have observed that the e
ducation a boy receives in school does not prepare him for advising
men in important political matters; it does not provide him with the
kinds of knowledge requisite to a citizen's participation in the ekklesia
. But then on what will Alkibiades advise the Athenians? It
won't be about buildings or divination, for a builder will serve better
(107a- b). Regardless of whether he is short, tall, handsome, ugly,
well-born or base-born, the advice comes from the one who knows, not the
wealthy; the reader might notice that this undercuts all previously
mentioned bases of Alkibiades' self-esteem. According to Socrates, the
Athenians want a physician to advise them when they deliberate on the
health of the city; they aren't concerned if he's rich or poor, Socrates
suggests, as if being a successful physician was in no way indicated by
financial status. There are a number of problems with this
portion of the argument. Firstly, the advisor's rhetorical power (and not
necessarily his knowledge) is of enhanced significance when that of which
he speaks is something most people do not see to be clearly a matter of
technical expertise, or even of truth or falsity instead of taste. This
refers especially to those things that are the subject of political
debate. Unlike in the case of medicine, people do not acknowledge any
clear set of criteria for political expertise, besides perhaps 'success'
for one's polity, a thing not universally agreed upon. Most people have
confidence in their knowledge of the good and just alternatives available
(cf. llOc-d). Policy decisions about what are commonly termed
’value judgements' are rarely decided solely on the basis of reason.
Especially in democracies, where mere whims may become commands, an
appeal to irrational elements in men's souls is often more effective.
Men's fears too, especially their fear of enslavement, can be manipulated
for various ends. Emotional appeals to national pride, love of family and
fraternity, and the possibility of accumulating wealth are what move men,
for it is these to which men are attracted. Rational speech is only
all-powerful if men are all-rational. Secondly, it is not
clear that a man's nobility or ignobility should be of no account in the
ekklesia. At least two reasons might be adduced for this
consideration. There is no necessary connection between knowing and giving
good advice. Malevolence as well as ignorance may- cause it. A bad man
who knows might give worse advice than an ignorant man of good will who
happens to have right opinions. Unless the knower is a noble person there
is no guarantee that he will tender his best advice. An ignoble man may provide
advice that serves a perverse interest, and he might even do it on the
basis of his expert knowledge. Another reason for considering nobility
important in advisors is that it might be the best the citizens can do.
Most Athenians would not believe that there are experts in knowledge
about justice as there are in the crafts. If they won't grant that
expertise (and there are several reasons why it would be dangerous to
give them the power to judge men on that score), then it is probably best
that they take their advice from a gentleman, a nobleman, or even a man
whose concern for his family's honor will help to prevent his
corruption. Thirdly, since cities obviously do not succumb to
fevers and 79 bodily diseases, one must in this case treat
the "physician of the diseased city" metaphorically. It is not
certain that the Athenians would recognize the diseased condition of a
city. To the extent to which they do, they tend to regard political
health in economic terms (as one speaks of a "healthy
economy"). In that case, whether a man was rich or poor would make a
great deal of difference to them. They wouldn't be likely to take advice
on how to increase the wealth (the health) of a city from someone who
could not prove his competence in that matter in his private life. In
addition, since most people are importantly motivated by wealth, they will
respect the opinions of one who is recognizably better at what they are
themselves doing - getting wealthy. It seems to be generally the case
that people will attend to the speech of a wealthy man more than to a
poorer but perhaps more virtuous man. In other words, then,
it is not clear that what Socrates has said about the Athenian choice of
advisors is true (107b-c). Moreover, it is not clear that it should be
true. Factors such as conventional nobility probably should play a part
in the choice of councillors, even if it is basically understood in terms
of being well-born. People's inability to evaluate the physicians of the
city, and people's emphasis on wealth also are evidence against Socrates'
claims. Socrates wants to know what they'll be considering when
Alkibiades stands forth to the Athenians. It has been established
that he won't advise on writing, harping, wrestling, building or
divination. Alkibiades figures he will advise them when they are
considering their own affairs. Socrates, in seeming perversity,
continues by asking if he means their affairs concerning ship-building and
what sorts of ships they should 80 have. Since that is of
course not what Alkibiades means, Socrates proposes that the reason and
the only reason is that the young man doesn't understand the art of
ship-building. Alkibiades agrees, but the reader need not. Socrates, by
emphasizing the exclusivity of expertise through the use of so many
examples, has alerted the reader, should he otherwise have missed the
point, that there are many reasons for not advising about something
besides ignorance. In some matters, for example, it is hard to
prove knowledge and it may not always be best to go to the effort of
establishing one's claim to expertise. If the knowledgeable can perceive,
say, that no harm will come the way things are proceeding, there might
not be any point to claiming knowledge. Another reason for perhaps
keeping silent is that the correct view has been presented. There are thus
other things with which to occupy one's time. Perhaps a major reason for
keeping silent about advising on some matters is simply indifference;
petty politics can be left to others. In fact there are, it would seem,
quite a number of reasons for keeping silent besides ignorance. And, on
the other hand, it is unlikely that someone with a keen interest would
acknowledge ignorance as a sufficient condition for their silence. Many
who voice their opinions on public matters do not thereby mean to
implicitly claim their expertise, but only to express their
interestedness. Socrates' ship-building example has a few other
interesting features. Firstly, in a strict sense what Socrates and
Alkibiades agree to is wrong: knowledge of shipbuilding is not the
exclusive basis for determining which ships to build. Depending on
whether it is a private or public ship-building program, the passenger,
pilot or politician decides. Triremes or pleasure-craft, or some other
specific vessels are demanded. The ship-builder then builds it as best he
can. But his building is dictated by his customers, if he is free, or his
owners, if he is a slave. The prominence of Plato's famous
"ship-of-state" analogy ( Republic 488a-489c) allows the reader
to look metaphorically at the example of 'ship-building,' and the
question of what sort of 'ships' ought to get built. In terms of the analogy,
then, Socrates is asking Alkibiades if he will be giving advice on
statebuilding and what kind of polis ought to be constructed. This is, it
seems, the very thing upon which Alkibiades wants to advise the
Athenians. He wants very much to build Athens into a super Empire. The
recognition of the ship-of-state analogy brings to the surface a most
fundamental political question which lurks behind much of the discussion
of the dialogue: which sort of regime ought to be constructed? The
importance of the question of the best regime to political philosophy is
indicated and reinforced by the very test of the importance of the
question in the analogy. The consideration of what sort of ship ought to be
built stands behind the whole activity of ship-building, and yet is one
that is not answered by the technical expert. The user
(passenger/citizen) and the ruler (pilot/ statesman) are the ones that
make the decision. On the basis of an example that has already been shown
to be suspect, namely Socrates' mention of ship-building, the reader of
the First Alkibiades is provided with the opportunity to consider the
intricasies of the analogy and a question of central importance to the
political man. Alkibiades must gain t he ability to advise the
Athenians as to what ships they ought to build. For the
moment, however, Socrates asks on what affairs Alkibiades means to
give advice, and the young man answers those of war or peace or
other affairs of the polis . Socrates asks for clarification on whether
Alkibiades means they'll be deliberating about the manner of peace
and war; will they be considering questions of on whom, how, when
and how long it is better to make war. But if the Athenians were to
ask these sorts of questions about wrestling, Socrates remarks,
they'd call not on Alkibiades but on the wrestling master, and he
would answer in light of what was better. Similarly, when singing and
accompanying lyre-playing and dancing, some ways and times are better.
Alkibiades agrees.The word 'better' was used both in the case of harping
to accom- 82 pany singing and in the case of wrestling
(108a-b). For wrestling the standard of the better is provided by gymnastics;
what supplies it in the case of harping? Alkibiades doesn't
understand and Socrates suggests that he imitate him, for Socrates'
pattern could be generalized to yield a correct answer in all cases.
Correctness comes into being by the art, and the art in the case of
wrestling is fairly ( kalos) said to be gymnastics (108c). If Alkibiades
is to copy Socrates, he should copy him in fair conversation, as well,
and answer in his turn what the art of harping, singing and dancing is.
But Alkibiades still cannot tell him the name of the art (108c). Socrates
attempts another tact and deviates slightly from the pattern he had
suggested Alkibiades imitate. Presumably Alkibiades will be able to
answer the questions once Socrates asks the right one. He doesn't assume
that Alkibiades is ignorant of the answer, so he takes care in choosing
the appropriate questions. Perhaps his next attempt will solicit the
desired response. The goddesses of the art are the Muses. Alkibiades can
now acknowledge that if the art is named after them, it is called
'Music.' The musical mode, as with the earlier pattern of gymnastics,
will be correct when it follows the musical art. Now Socrates wants
Alkibiades to say what the 'better' is in the case of making war and
peace, but Alkibiades is unable. There are a number of reasons why
he would be unable on the basis of the pattern Socrates has supplied. One
of these has to do with the pattern itself. It is not clear there is an
art ( techne), per se, of making war and peace. The closest one could
come to recognizing such an art would be to suggest it is the art of
politics, but even if that is properly an art (i.e., strictly a matter of
technical expertise) knowing only its name would not provide a clear
standard of 'better.' The term 'political' does not of its own designate
a better way to wage war and peace. Despite the possibility that the art in
this case is of a higher order than music or gymnastics, it remains
unclear that Alkibiades can use the same solution as Socrates suggested
in the case of music. Who are the gods or goddesses who give their name
to the art of war and peace? Perhaps one way to understand this curious
feature of the discussion is to consider that Socrates might be
suggesting that there is a divine standard for politics as well as for
music. According to Socrates, Alkibiades' inability to answer about
the standard or politics is disgraceful (108e). Were Alkibiades an
advisor on food, even without expert knowledge (i.e., even if he wasn't
a physician), he could still say that the 'better' was the more
wholesome. In this case, where he claims to have knowledge and
intends to advise as though he had knowledge (notice the two are not the
same), he should be ashamed to be unable to answer questions on it.
At this point the reader must pause. If Socrates simply wanted to
make this point and proceed with the argument, he has chosen an unfortunate
example in discussing the advisor on food. There are a number of features
of his use of this example that, if transferred, have quite important
repercussions for the discussion of the political advisor. Firstly, it
may be remarked that Socrates has admitted that the ability to say what
the 'better' is, is not always necessarily contingent upon technical
knowledge. Secondly, someone who answers "more wholesome" as
the better in food has already implicitly or explicitly accepted a
hierarchy of values. He has architectonically structured the arts that
have anything to do with food in such a manner as to place health at the
apex. Someone who had not conceded such a rank-ordering might have said "cheapest,"
"most flavorful," or even "sweetest." Thus this
example clearly indicates the centrality of understanding the
architectonic nature of politics. Thirdly, and perhaps least importantly,
Socrates has more clearly indicated a distinction that was suggested in
the previous example. It is a different matter to know that
'wholesome' food is better for one than it is to know which foods are
wholesome. Socrates had, prior to this, been attempting to get Alkibiades
to name the art which provides the standard of the good in peace and war.
Even if Alkibiades had been able to name that art, there would have been
no indication of his substantive knowledge of the art. Conversely it
might be possible that he would have substantive knowledge of something
without being able to refer to it as a named art. One might
account for Alkibiades' inability to n ame the art of political
advice by reference to something other than his knowledge and ignorance.
Perhaps the very subject matter would render such a statement difficult.
For instance, if politics is the 'art' which structures all others, it
would be with a view to politics that the respective 'betters' in the
other arts would be named. The referent of politics would be of an
entirely different order however. Perhaps its 'better,' the comprehensive
'better,' would be simply 'the good.' At any rate, it is a question of a
different order, a different kind of question, insofar as the
instrumentally good is different from the good simply. This suggestion is
at least partly sustained by the observation that Socrates uses a
different method to discover the answer in this case than in the previous
'patterns' supplied by wrestling and harping. Alkibiades agrees
that it does indeed seem disgraceful, but even after further consideration
he cannot say what the 'better' (the aim or good providing a standard of
better) is with respect to peace and war. As Socrates' question about the
goddesses of harping deviated from the example of wrestling, so Socrates'
attempt here is a deviation. He asks Alkibiades what people say they
suffer in war and what they call it. The reader might note peace
has been omitted from consideration. Alkibiades says that what is
suffered is deceit, force and robbery (109b), and that such are suffered
in either a just or an unjust way. Now it is clearer why 'peace'
was not mentioned. It might be more difficult to argue in parallel fashion that
the most important distinction in peace was between just peace and unjust
peace. Socrates asks if it is upon the just or the unjust that
Alkibiades will advise the Athenians to make war. Alkibiades
immediately recognizes at least one difficulty. If for some reason it
would be necessary to go to war with those who are just, the advisor
would not say so. That is the case not only because it is considered
unlawful, but, as Alkibiades adds, it is not considered noble
either. Socrates assumes Alkibiades will appeal to these things when
addressing the ekklesia . Alkibiades here proves he understands the
need for speaking differently to the public, or at least for
remaining prudently silent about certain matters. Within the bounds
of the argument to this point, wealth and prestige (not to mention
dire necessity) may be 'betters' in wars as readily as justice. One may
only confidently infer two things from Alkibiades' admissions. The people
listening to the advice cannot be told that those warred upon are just;
and to tell them so would be unlawful and ignoble. One might be curious as to
the proper relation between lawfulness, nobility and justice, and the
reader of the dialogue, in sorting out these considerations, might
examine the argument surrounding this statement of their relation. The
next few discussions in the First Alkibiades seem to focus on establishing
Alkibiades' claim to knowledge about justice. Either Alkibiades has not
noticed his own ignorance in this matter or Socrates has not observed his
learning and taking lessons on justice. Socrates would like to know, and
he swears by the god of friendship that he is not joking, who the man.was
who taught Alkibiades about justice. Alkibiades wants to know
whether he couldn't have learned it another way. Socrates answers that
Alkibiades could have learned it through his own discovery. Alkibiades,
in a dazzling display of quick answers, responds that he might have
discovered it if he'd inquired, and he might have inquired if there was a
time when he thought he did not know. Socrates says that Aliibiades has
spoken well, but he wants to know when that time was. Socrates seems to
acknowledge Alkibiades' skill in speaking. These formally sharp answers
would probably be the kind praised in question and answer games.
Socrates says Alkibiades has spoken well, but immediately instructs
Alkibiades about how to speak in response to the next question.
Alkibiades is to speak the truth; the dialogue would be futile if he
didn't answer truly. So here it is acknowledged that truth (at least for
the sake of useful dialogue) is the standard for speaking well. He
quickly follows the insincere praise with an indication of the real
criteria for determining if something was well-spoken. Socrates is not
destroying Alkibiades' notion of his ability to achieve ideals, he is
instead destroying the ideals. He acknowledged Alkibiades' skill and then
suggests it is not a good skill to have. Socrates, in effect, tells
Alkibiades to forget the clever answers and to speak the truth. One of
the themes of Socrates' instruction of the youth seems to be the teaching
of proper goals or standards. Alkibiades admits that a year
ago he thought he knew justice and injustice, and two, three and four
years ago as well. Socrates remarks that before that Alkibiades was a child
and Socrates knows well enough that even then the precocious child
thought he knew. The philosopher had often heard Alkibiades as a boy
claim that a playmate cheated during a game, and so labelled him unjust
with perfect confidence (110b). Alkibiades concedes that Socrates speaks
the truth but asks what else should he have done when someone cheated
him? Socrates points out that this very question indicates Alkibiades'
belief that he knows the answer. If he recognized his ignorance, Socrates
responds, he would not ask what else he should have done as though there
was no alternative. Alkibiades swears that he must not have been
ignorant because he clearly perceived that he was wronged. If this
implies that, as a child, he thought he knew justice and injustice, then
so he must. And he admits he couldn't have discovered it while he thought
he knew it (110c). Socrates suggests to Alkibiades that he won't be able
to cite a time when he thought he didn't know, and Alkibiades swears
again that he cannot. Apparently, then, he must conclude that he cannot know
the just on the basis of discovery (llOd). This argument
appears to depend on the premise that one begins at a loss, completely
ignorant, and then one subsequently discovers what justice is. But such
an assumption is surely unwarranted. The discovery could be a slow,
gradual process of continual refinement of a child's understanding of
justice. Often one's opinions are changed because one discovers something
that doesn't square with previous beliefs. If one is sufficiently
confident of the new factor, one's beliefs may change. During the course
of the succeeding dialogue, the reader may see a number of ways in which
this procedure might take place in a person's life. Socrates
draws to Alkibiades' attention that if he doesn't know justice by
his own discovery, and didn't learn it from others, how could he
know it. Alkibiades suggests that perhaps he said the wrong thing
before and that he did in fact learn it, in the same way as
everyone else. It is not clear that this is a sincere move on
Alkibiades' part (though it proves later in the dialogue to have
support as being the actual account of the origin of most people's
views of justice). Perhaps in order to win the argument he is
willing to simply change the premises. Unfortunately, his changing
of this one entirely removes the need for the argument. Socrates
doesn't bother to point out to Alkibiades that if everybody knows
it, and in the same way, then Alkibiades has no claim to special
expertise, and so no basis for presuming to advise the Athenians.
Alkibiades' abilities in speaking have been demonstrated, a care
and willingness to learn from dialogue 86 have yet to
be instilled. As is presently indicated to Alkibiades, his answer
brings about a return to the same problem - from whom did he learn
it? To his reply that the many taught him (llOe), Socrates responds
that they are not 87 worthy teachers in whom he is
taking refuge. They are not competent 88 to teach how
to play and how not to play draughts and since that is insignificant
compared to justice, how can they teach the more serious matter?
Alkibiades perceptively counters this by pointing out that they can teach
things more worthy than draughts; it was they and no single master
who taught Alkibiades to speak Greek. Alkibiades by this point proves that
he is capable of quick and independent thought. He doesn't merely follow
Socrates' lead in answering but in fact points out an important example to the
contrary. The Greek language is taught by the many quite capably even
though they cannot teach the less important draughts nor many other peculiar
skills. A number of issues important to the discussion are brought
to the surface by this example. First, one should notice that language
is another thing Alkibiades has learned which Socrates didn't
mention. Language is necessary for learning most other subjects, and one
can learn quite a lot by just listening to people speaking. A common
language is the precondition of the conversation depicted in the First
Alkibiades, as is some general agreement, however superficial, between
Socrates and Alkibiades as to what they mean when they say 'justice.' In
order to have an argument over whether or not one of them is indeed
knowledgeable about justice and injustice, they must have some notion of
what 'justice' conventionally means. They are not talking about the
height of the sky, the price of gold, or the climate on mountaintops.
Justice ( dikaios) is a word in the Greek language. Most people share
sufficient agreement about its meaning so as to be able to teach people
how the word should be used. This conventional notion of justice thus
informs a child's sense of justice, and as is shown by the strategy of
the Republic as well as of the First Alkibiades, the conventional
opinions about justice must be dealt with and accounted for in any more
philosophic treatment. One must assume that conventional opinions
about justice have some connection, however tenuous, with the truth about
it. This exemplifies the peculiar nature of 'agreement' as a criterion of
knowledge. That experts agree about their subject matter is not altogether
beside the point, but too much emphasis should not be placed upon it.
There are innumerable examples of "sectarian" agreements, none
of which by that fact have any claim to truth. There is also considerable
agreement in conventional opinions and the "world-views" of
various communities which must be accounted for but not necessarily
accepted. Socrates admits to Alkibiades (whom he chooses to
address, at this moment, as "well-born," perhaps in order to
remind him that he distinguishes himself from the many) that the people can be
justly praised for teaching such things as language, for they are
properly equipped (and actually the many do not teach one how to use
language well). To teach, one ought to know, and an indication of their
knowing is that they agree among each other on the language. If they
disagreed they couldn't be said to know and wouldn't be able to teach.
One might parenthetically point to some other important things that the
many teach. Children learn the laws from the many, including the
laws/rules of games. To call someone a cheater (110b) does not mean someone
knows justice; they simply must know the rules of the game and be able to
recognize when such rules have been violated. Rules of games are strictly
conventional. They gain their force from an agreement, implicit or
explicit, between the players. One might wonder if justice is,
correspondingly, the rules of a super- game, or if it is something
standing behind all rule-obeying. The many agree on what stone and
wood are. If one were to say "stone" or "wood," they
could all reach for the same thing. That is what Alkibiades must mean by
saying that all his fellow citizens have knowledge of Greek. And they are
good teachers in as much as they agree on these terms in public and
private. Poleis also agree among each other (cf. Lakhes 186d). Anyone who
wanted to learn what stone and wood were would be rightly sent to the
many. The fact that Greeks agree with each other when they name
objects hardly accounts for their knowledge of the language, much less
their ability to teach it. Naming is far from being the bulk of
speaking a, 89 language, (Hobbes and Scripture to the contrary
notwithstanding ). Not only is it improper to consider many parts
of speech as having the function of designating things, but even
descriptive reference to the sensible world is only a partial
aspect of the use of language. To mention only a few everyday
aspects of language that do not obviously conform, consider the
varied use of commands, metaphors, fables, poetry and exclamation.
To suggest that what constitutes one's knowledge of a language is
to point to objects and use nouns to name them, would be completely
inadequate. It would be so radically insufficient, in fact, that it
could not even account for its own articulation. Language consists
of much more than statements which correspond to observables in the
actual world. But even were one to restrict one's examination of language
to understanding what words mean, or refer to, one would immediately run
into difficulties. All sorts of words are used in everyday language which
demand some measure of evaluation on the part of the user and the
listener. A dog may be pointed to and called "dog." A more
involved judgement is required in calling it a "wild dog," or
"wolf," not to say a "bad dog." Agreement or disagreement
on the use of such terms does not depend on knowledge of the language as
much as on the character of the thing in question. There are
problems even with Socrates' account of naming. One cannot be certain
that the essence of a thing has been focussed upon by those giving the
name to the thing. One might fasten upon the material, or the form, or yet some
other feature of the object. For example, a piece of petrified wood, or a
stone carving of a tree would significantly complicate Socrates' simple
example. It is not at all clear that the same thing would be pointed to
if someone said "stone." The reader may remember that the
prisoners in the cave of the Republic spend quite a bit of their time
naming the shadows on the wall of the cave ( Republic 515b, 516c). The
close connection between this discussion and that of the Republic is
indicated also by the fact that the objects which cast the shadows in the
cave are made of stone and wood ( Republic). People in the cave don't
even look at the objects when they name things. According to the analogy
of the cave they would be the people teaching Alkibiades to speak Greek;
they are the people in actual cities. And what they call
"stone" and "wood" are only an aspect of stone and
wood, the shadowy representations of stone and wood. If the essences of
stone and wood, comparatively simple things, are not denoted by language,
one can imagine in what the agreement might consist in the popular use of
words like "City" and "Man." The question of the relation
of a name to the essential aspect of the thing adds a significant
dimension to the philosophic understanding of the human use of
language. Alkibiades and Socrates seem to be content with this
analysis of naming, however, and Socrates readily proceeds to the next
point in the argument. If one wanted to know not only what a man or a
horse (note the significance of the change from stone and wood) was, but
which was a good runner, the many would not be able to teach that - proof
of which is their disagreement among themselves. Apparently finding this
example insufficient, Socrates adds that should one want to know which
men were healthy and which were diseased, the many would also not be able
to teach that, for they disagree (llle). Notice two features
of these examples that may be of philosophic interest. To begin
with, the respective experts are, first the gymnastics trainer and second,
the physician. In this dialogue, both the gymnastics expert and the
doctor have arguments advanced on their behalf, supporting their claim to
be the proper controllers of, or experts about, the whole body (126a-b,
128c). As supreme rulers of the technae of the body they have different
aspects of the good condition in mind and consequently might give
different advice (for example on matters of diet). Thereupon one is
confronted with the standard problem of trying to maintain two or more
supreme authorities: which one is really the proper ruler in the event of
conflict. There is yet another aspect of the same problem that is
of some concern to the reader of the First Alkibiades . One might say
that the relation of the body to the soul is a very persuasive issue in
this dialogue, and the suggestion that there are two leaders in matters
of the body causes one to wonder whether there is a corresponding
dual leadership in the soul. Secondly, the reader notices
that the composition of "the many" shifts on the basis of what
is being taught. On the one hand, the doctor fits into "the
many" as being unable to tell the good runner; on the other hand,
when the focus is on health, all but the doctor appear to constitute
"the many." The question of how to understand the make-up
of the many points to a very large issue area in philosophy, namely that
which is popularly termed the 'holism vs. individualism debate,' or more
generally, the question of the composition and character of
groups. What essentially characterizes groups - in particular that politically
indispensible group, "the many?" This issue is not superfluous
to this dialogue, nor to this portion of this dialogue. By placing the
doctor alone against the many (in the second example), one unwittingly
contradicts oneself. Alkibiades and Socrates fall among the ranks of the
Many as well as the Few. Perhaps the most obvious problem
connected with determining the composition of the group, "the
many," is brought into focus when one tries to discover how one
"goes to the many" to learn (llld). There are quite a few
possibilities. Does the opinion of "the many" become the
average (mean) opinion of all the different views prevalent in a city?
Or is it the opinion held by the majority? One might go to each
individual, to each of a variety of representative individuals, or even
to 51% of the individuals in a given place, and then statistically
evaluate their opinions, arriving at one or another form of majority
consensus. Or, one might determine conventional opinion by asking
various indi- 91 viduals what they believe everyone
else believes. There seem to be countless ways of understanding "the
many," each of which allows for quite different outcomes. The
problems for the student of political affairs, as well as for the
aspiring politician, are compounded because the many do not appear to
hold a single view unanimously or unambiguously on many of the important
questions. Regardless of which is the appropriate understanding of
"the many, the reader must at all events remember that "the
many" and "the few" are a perennial political division.
There are, likewise, several ways in which "the few" are
conceived. Some consider them to be the men of wealth, the men of
virtue, the men of intelligence, and so on. Reference to "the
few," however, is rarely so vague as reference to the many, since
people who speak of "the few" are usually aware of which
criteria form the bases of the distinction. Despite the lack of clarity
concerning the division between "the many" and "the few,"
it is appealed to, in most regimes as being a fundamental schizm. Most
regimes, it may be ventured, are in fact based either upon the
distinction, or upon trying to remove the distinction, and they appeal to
this division, however vague, to legitimate themselves. At
this point in the discussion of the First Alkibiades (llle), Alkibiades
and Socrates are considering whether the many are capable teachers of
justice. They appear to be making their judgement solely on the basis of
the criterion of agreement. One might stop to consider not only whether
agreement is sufficient to indicate knowledge, but indeed whether it is
even necessary. One cannot simply deny the possibility that one might be able
to gain knowledge because of disagreements. Profound differences of
opinion might indicate the best way of learning the truth, as, for
example the disagreements among philosophers about justice teaches at the
very least what the important considerations might be. Socrates
continues. Since disagreement among the many indicates that they are not
able to teach (though lack of ability rarely prevents them from trying
anyway, cf. Apology 24c-25a; Gorgias 461c), Socrates asks Alkibiades
whether the many agree about justice and injustice, or if indeed they
don't differ most on those very concerns. People do not 92
fight and kill in battle because they disagree on questions of
health, but when justice is in dispute, Alkibiades has seen the battles.
And if he hasn't seen them (Socrates should know this, after all,
cf. 106e) he has heard of the fights from many, particularly from Homer,
because he's heard the Odyssey and Iliad. Alkibiades' familiarity with
Homer is of great significance. It, along with his knoweldge of Greek,
are probably the two most crucial "oversights" in Socrates'
list of what Alkibiades learned. In fact, they are of such importance
that they overshadow the subjects in which he did take lessons, in terms
of their effect on his character development, his common-sense
understanding, and on his suitability for political office. Homer is an
important source of knowledge and of opinion, and is responsible for there
being considerable consensus of belief among the Greeks in many matters.
He provides the authoritative interpretation of the gods as well as of
the qualities and actions of great men. If Alkibiades knows Homer and if
he knows that Homer is about justice, then he has learned much more about
justice than one would surmise on the basis of his formal
schooling. Alkibiades agrees with Socrates' remark that the Iliad
and Odyssey are about disagreements about justice and injustice. He also
accepts the interpretation that a difference of opinion about the just
and the unjust caused the battles and deaths of the Akhaians and Trojans;
the dispute between Odysseus and Penelope's suitors; and the deaths and
fights of the Athenians, Spartans and Boiotians at Tanagra and Koroneia.
(One notes that Socrates has blended the fabulous with the actual, and
has chosen, as his non-mythic example, probably the one over which it
is most difficult for Alkibiades to be non-partisan - the battle in
which his father died. This also raises his heritage to the level of
the epic.) The reader need not agree with this interpretation on a
number of counts. Firstly, the central case is noteworthy in that
Socrates interprets Odysseus' strife with the men of Ithaka to be over a
woman, and not primarily the kingdom and palace. It is not at all clear,
moreover, that what caused the altercation between Odysseus and the suitors
was a difference of opinion about justice. They might have all wanted the
same thing, but the reaction of the suitors at Odysseus' return
indicates that they didn't feel they were in the right - they
admitted 93 gurlt. Secondly, what is noticeable in Homer is
that only one aspect of the epic is about the dispute about justice (and
also, both Homeric examples involve a conflict between eros and justice,
represented by Helen and Penelope). In the epics the disagreement among
the many refers not to the many of one polis but of various poleis
against each other. Indeed the many of each polis in the Trojan war
agree. These observations foreshadow the discussion that will
presently come to the fore in the dialogue under somewhat different
circumstances. The problem of the difference between the just and the
expedient is a key one in political philosophy, and it is introduced by
the reflection that in a number of instances disagreement does not focus
on what the just solution is, but on who should be the victor, who will
control the thing over which the sides are disputing. Both sides agree
that it would be good to control one thing. More shall be said about this
later in the context of the discussion. Socrates inquires of
Alkibiades whether the people involved in those wars could be said to
understand these questions if they could disagree so strongly as to take
extreme measures. Though he must admit that teachers of that
sort are ignorant, Alkibiades had nevertheless referred Socrates to them.
Alkibiades is quite unaware of the nature of justice and injustice and he
also cannot point to a teacher or say when he discovered them. It
thus seems hard to say he has knowledge of them. Alkibiades agrees that
according to what Socrates has said it is not likely that he knows
(112d). Socrates takes this opportunity to teach Alkibiades a most
important lesson. Though apparently a digression, it will mark a pivotal
point in the turning around of Alkibiades that occurs by the middle of
the discussion. Socrates says that Alkibiades' last remark was not
fair ( kalos) because he claimed Socrates said that Alkibiades was
ignorant, whereas actually Alkibiades did. Alkibiades is astounded. Did
he_ say it? Socrates is teaching Alkibiades that the words spoken
in an argument ought indeed to have an effect on one's life, that the
outcomes of arguments are impersonal yet must be taken seriously, and that
responsibility for what is said rests with both partners in dialogue. The
results of rational speech are to be trusted; reason is a kind of power
necessarily determining things. Alkibiades cannot agree in speech and
then decide, if it is convenient, to dismiss conclusions on the grounds
that it was someone else who said it. Arguments attain much more significance
when they are recognized as one's own. One must learn they are not
merely playthings (cf. Republic 539b). Accepting responsibility for them
and their conclusions is essential. It is important politically
with reference to speech, as well as in the more generally recognized
sense of assuming responsibility for one's actions. To cite an instance
of special importance to this dialogue, who is responsible for Alkibiades
- Perikles? Athens? Socrates? Alkibiades himself? One can often
place responsibility for one's actions on one's society, one's
immediate environment, or one's teachers. Perhaps it is not so easy to
shun responsibility for conclusions of arguments. Most men desire
consistency and at least feel uneasy when they are shown to be
involved in contradictions. In this discussion of who must accept
responsibility for the conclusions of rational discourse, Alkibiades
learns yet another lesson about the power of speech. He has, by his own
tongue, convicted himself of ignorance. Socrates demonstrates to
Alkibiades that if he asks whether one or two is the larger number, and
Alkibiades answers that two is greater by one, it was Alkibiades who said
that two was greater than one. Socrates had asked and Alkibiades had
answered; the answer was the speaker. Similarly, if Socrates should ask
which letters are in "Socrates" and Alkibiades answered,
Alkibiades would be the speaker. On the basis of this the young man
agrees that, as a principle, whenever there is a questioner and an
answerer, the speaker is the answerer. Since so far Socrates had been the
questioner and Alkibiades the answerer, Alkibiades is responsible for
whatever has been uttered. What has been disclosed by now is that
Alkibiades, the noble son of Kleinias, intends to go to the ekklesia
to advise on that of which he knows nothing. Socrates quotes
Euripides - Alkibiades "hear it from [himself]
not me." Socrates doesn't pull any punches. Not only does he refer
to an almost incestuous woman to speak of Alkibiades' condition, but he
follows with what must seem a painfully sarcastic form of address (since
it is actually ironic) which the young man would probably wish to hear
from serious lips. Alkibiades, the "best of men,' is contemplating a
mad undertaking in teaching what he has not bothered to learn.
Alkibiades has been hit, but not hard enough for him to change his
mind instead of the topic. He thinks that Athenians and the other Greeks
don't, in fact, deliberate over the justice of a course of action - they
consider that to be more or less obvious - but about its
advantageousness. The just and the advantageous are not the same, for great
injustices have proven advantageous, and sometimes little advantage has
been gained from just action. Socrates announces that he will
challenge Alkibiades' knowledge of what is expedient, even if he should
grant that the just and the advantageous are ever so distinct.
Alkibiades perceives no hindrance to his claiming to know what is
advantageous unless Socrates is again about to ask from which teacher he
learned it or how he discovered it. Hereupon Socrates remarks that the
young man is treating arguments as though they were clothing which, once
worn, is dirtied. Socrates will ignore these notions of Alkibiades,
implying that they involve an incorrect understanding of philosophic
disputation. Alkibiades must be taught that what is ever correct
according to reason remains correct according to reason. Variety in
arguments is not a criterion affecting their rational consistency.
Socrates shall proceed by asking the same question, intending it to,
in effect, ask the whole argument. He claims to be certain that
Alkibiades will find himself in the same difficulty with this argument.
The reader will recognize that Alkibiades is not likely to encounter
precisely the same problems with this new argument. The nature of the
agreement and disagreement by individuals and states over the matter of
usefulness or advantageousness is different than that concerning justice. A man
may know it would be useful to have something, or expedient to do
something, and also know it to be unjust. States, too, may agree on
something's advantageousness, say controlling the Hellespont but they may
disagree on who should control it. The conflict in these cases is not the
result of a disagreement as to what is true (e.g., it is true that each
country's interests are better served by control of key sea routes), but
it is based precisely on their agreement about the truth regarding
expediency. When states and individuals are primarily concerned with
wealth, then knowing what is useful presents far fewer problems than
knowing what is just. Since Alkibiades is so squeamish as to
dislike the flavor of old arguments, Socrates will disregard his inability
to corroborate his claim to knowledge of the expedient. Instead he will
ask whether the just and the useful are the same or different. Alkibiades
can question Socrates as he had been questioned, or he can choose
whatever form of discourse he likes. As he feels incapable of convincing
Socrates, Alkibiades is invited to imagine Socrates to be the people of
the ekklesia ; even there, where the young man is eager to speak, he will
have to persuade each man singly (114b). A knowledgeable man can persuade
one alone and many together (114b-c). A writing master is able to
persuade either one or many about letters and likewise an arithmetician
influences one man or many about numbers. For quite a few reasons
the reader might object to Socrates' inference from these examples to the
arena of politics. Firstly, they are not the kinds of things discussed in
politics, and one might suspect that the "persuasion" involved
is not of the same variety. Proof of this might be offered in the form of
the observation that the inability to persuade in politics does not
necessarily imply the dull-wittedness of the audience. Strong passions
bar the way for reason in politics like they rarely do in numbers and
letters. This leads to the second objection. Not only is knowledge of
grammar and arithmetic fundamentally different than politics, but they
represent extreme examples in themselves. They correspond to two very diverse
criteria of knowledge both of which have been previously introduced in the
dialogue. The subject matter of letters is decided upon almost
exclusively by agreement; that of numbers is learned most importantly
through discovery, and this does not depend on people's agreement (cf.
112e-113a, 126c; and 106e reminds one that Alkibiades has taken lessons
only in one of these). Presumably, however, if the arithmetician
and grammarian can, then Alkibiades also will be able to persuade one man
or many about that which he knows. Apparently the only difference between
the rhetorician in front of a crowd and a man engaged in dialogue is that
the rhetorician persuades everyone at once, the latter one at a time.
Given that the same man persuades either a multitude or an individual, Socrates
invites Alkibiades to practice on him to show that the just is not the
expedient. (Ironically, there may be no one Alkibiades ever meets who is
further from the multitude). If it weren't for his earlier
statement (109c) where he indicated his recognition of the difference between
private and public speech, it would appear that Alkibiades had quite a
lot to learn before he confronted the ekklesia . One might readily
propose that there is indeed very little similarity between persuading
one and persuading the multitude. In a dialogue one man can ask questions
that reveal the other's ignorance; Socrates does this to Alkibiades
in this dialogue, he might not in public. In a dialogue, there needn't always
be public pressure with which to contend (an important exception being
courtroom dialogue); a public speech, especially one addressing the
ekklesia must yield to or otherwise take into account the strength of the
many. Often when addressing a crowd one only has to address the
influential. At other times one need only appeal to the least common
denominator. There are factors at work in crowds which affect
reactions to a speaker, factors which do not seem to be present in
one-to-one dialogue. When addressing a multitude, a speaker must be aware
of the general feelings and sentiments of the group, and address himself
to them. When in dialogue he can tailor his comments to one man's
specific interests. To convince the individual, however, he will have to
be precisely right in his deduction of the individual's sentiments - in a crowd
a more general understanding is usually sufficient. Mere hints at a
subject will be successful; when addressing a multitude with regard to a
policy, a rhetorician will not be taken to task for every claim he makes.
If his general policy is pleasing to the many, it is unlikely that they
will critically examine all of his reasons for proposing the policy. Also, when
speaking to a crowd, one is not expected to prove one's technical
expertise. An individual may be able to discover the limits of one's
knowledge; a crowd will rarely ask. This whola analysis, however, is
rendered questionable by the ambiguity of the composition of "the
many," discussed above. One could, for example, come across a very
knowledgeable crowd, or a stupid individual and many of the above observations
would not hold. However, the situations most directly relevant to the
dialogue involve rhetoric toward a crowd such as that of the ekklesia,
and thoughtful dialogue between individuals such as Alkibiades and
Socrates. If Alkibiades ever intends to set forth a plan of action
to the Athenians, the adoption of his proposal will depend on his
convincing them in the ekklesia . The ability to persuade the multitude
attains great political significance; and especially in democracies, a
man's ability in speaking is often the foundation of his power.
Once recognized, this power is susceptible to cultivation. Rhetoric, the
art of persuasive speech, is the art which provides the knowledge
requisite to gain effective power over an audience. All political
men are aware of rhetoric; their rhetorical ability to a large
extent determines their success or failure. Of course, there
are at least two important qualifications or limits on the power of even
the most persuasive speech. The first limit is knowledge. A man who
knows grammar and arithmetic will not be swayed wrongly about numbers,
when they are used in any of the conventional ways. That an able
rhetorician escape detection in a lie is a necessity if he is to be
successful among those knowledgeable in the topic he addresses.
Presumably those who possess only beliefs about the matter would be more
readily seduced to embrace a false opinion. The second limit
is more troubling. It is the problem of those who simply are not
convinced by argument. They distrust the spoken word. These seem to
fall into three categories. The first is exemplified in the
character of Kallikles in the Gorgias . It primarily includes those
who are unwilling to connect the conclusions of arguments to their
own lives. They may agree to something in argument and, moments
later, do something quite contrary to their conclusions. This
characteristic is well- displayed in Kallikles who, when driven to
a contradiction doesn't even care. He holds two conflicting
opinions and holds them so strongly that he doesn't even care that they
support conclusions that are contrary to reason and yield contrary
results. Kallikles is unwilling to continue discussing with Socrates (
Gorgias); he does not want to learn from rational speech. He remains
unconvinced by Socrates' argument and by his rhetoric ( Gorgias). If
Socrates is to rule Kallikles, he will need more than reason and wisdom
and beautiful speech ( Gorgias 523a-527e); he will need some kind of
coercive power. Secondly, almost all people have some experience of
those who inconsistently maintain in speech what they do not uphold in deed.
This is the most immediate level on which to recognize the problem of the
relation of theory to practice. Alkibiades seems to have this opinion of
speech at the beginning of the dialogue, for he can admit almost anything
in speech (106c.2). Two things, however, show that he is far above it.
He implicitly recognizes that the realm of speech is the realm
within which he must confront Socrates, and he has a desire for
consistency. Kallikles is too dogmatic to even recognize his
inconsistency. But when Socrates forces Alkibiades to take responsibility
for all the conclusions they have reached to that point, he realizes he
must have made an error either in his premises or his argument. This
marks the first and major turning around of Alkibiades. He recognizes
that he has said he is ignorant. A third type of person who
is not convinced by rhetoricians is the one who distrusts argument
because he recognizes the skill involved in speaking. Not because he is
indifferent to the compulsion of reason but precisely because he wants to
act according to reason, he desires to be certain of not being tricked.
(Most people are also familiar with the feeling that something vaguely
suspicious is going on in a discussion.) He is convinced that there
are men - e.g., sophists - who are skilled at the game of question and
answer and can make anyone look like a fool. And so what? He is not
at all moved by their victory in speech. Something other than rational speech
is needed to convince him. Indeed, this is one of the most difficult
challenges Socrates meets in the Republic, and indicates a higher
level of the theory/practice relationship. Adeimantos is not convinced by
mere words. He has to be shown that philosophy is useful to the city,
among other things ( Republic 487b.1-d.5; 498c.5 ff; 367d.9-e.5; 367b.3;
389a.10). Although he is distrustful of mere speech, he learns to respect
it as a medium through which to understand the political. He has the example of
Socrates whose life matches, or is even guided by, his speech. Socrates'
difficulty lies in making the case in speech to this man who does not put
full stock in the conclusions of speech. One must wonder, moreover, what kinds
of deeds will suffice for those others who cannot even view Socrates.
This is the problem faced by all writers who want to reach this sort of
person. Perhaps one might consider very clever speakers like Plato
to be performing the deed of making the words of a Socrates appear like the
deeds of Socrates, in the speech of the Dialogues. Almost paradoxically,
they must convince through speech that speech isn't "mere talk."
Alkibiades charges Socrates with hybris and Socrates acknowledges
it for the time being, for he intends to prove to Alkibiades the opposite
view, namely that the just is the expedient (114d). Socrates doesn't deny
the charge, or even, as one might expect, playfully redirect it as might
be appropriate; the accusation is made by a man who, not much later, will
be considered hybristic by almost the entire Athenian public. It is not
clear precisely what is hybristic about Socrates' last remarks. Hybris is
a pride or ambition or insolence inappropriate to men. Perhaps both men
are hybristic as charged; in this instance it is not imperative that they
defend themselves for they are alone. Possibly anyone who seeks total
power as does Alkibiades, or wisdom like Socrates, is too ambitious and
too haughty. They would be vying with the gods to the extent that they
challenge civic piety and the supremacy of the deities of the polis . One
wants to rule the universe like a god, the other to know it like a god.
The charge of hybris has been introduced in the context of
persuading through speech. Allegedly the person who knows will have the
power to persuade through speech. This is itself rather a problematic
claim as it implies all failure to persuade is an indication of ignorance.
However questionable the assertion, though, the connection it recalls
between these three important aspects of man's life - knowledge, power
and language - is too thoroughly elaborated to be mere coincidence. It is
very likely that the reader's understanding of these two exceptional men
and the appropriateness of the charge of hybris will have something to do
with language's relation to knowledge and power. Alkibiades asks Socrates
to speak, if he intends to demonstrate to Alkibiades that the just is not
distinct from the advantageous. Not inclined to answer any questions (cf.
106b), Alkibiades wishes Socrates to speak alone. Socrates, pretending
incredulity, asks if indeed Alkibiades doesn't desire most of all to be
persuaded and Alkibiades, playing along, agrees that he certainly does.
Socrates suggests that the surest indication of persuasion is freely
assenting, and if Alkibiades responds to the questions asked of him, he
will most assuredly hear himself affirm that the just is indeed the
advantageous. Socrates goes so far as to promise Alkibiades that if he
doesn't say it, he never need trust anybody's speech again.
This astonishingly extravagant declaration by Socrates bespeaks
certain knowledge on his part. Socrates implies he is confident of one of
two things. Perhaps he knows that the just is advantageous, or the true
relationship between the two, and thus argues for the proof of the claim
that anyone who knows can persuade. (The immense difficulties with this
have already been suggested.) What is more likely, however, is that he
does not think the just is identical to the advantageous, but he knows he
can win the argument with Alkibiades and drive him to assert whatever
conclusion he wants (that he could in effect make the weaker argument
appear the stronger). If the latter is true, the reader is reminded of
the power of speech and the possible dangers that can arise from its use.
He will also wonder if Socrates is quite right in his proposal that
Alkibiades need never trust anyone's speech if he cannot be made to
agree. It seems to be more indicative of the untrustworthiness of speech
if Alkibiades should agree, not that he refuse to agree. However, the
reader has been placed in the enviable position of being able to judge
for himself, through a careful review of the argument. His personal
participation, to the limit of his ability, is after all the only means
through which he can be certain that he isn't being duped into believing
something instead of knowing it. Alkibiades doubts he will admit
the point, but agrees to comply, confident that no harm will attend his
answers. Whereupon Socrates claims that Alkibiades speaks like a diviner,
and proceeds, presuming to be articulating Alkibiades' actual
opinion. Some just things are advantageous and some are not.
Some just things are noble and some are not. Nothing can be both base
and just, so all just things are noble. Some noble things might be evil
and some base things may be good, for a rescue is invested with nobility
on account of courage, and with evil because of the deaths and
wounds. However, since courage and death are distinct, it is with respect
to separate aspects that the rescue can be said to be both noble and
evil. Insofar as it is noble it is good, and it is noble because of
courage. Cowardice is an evil on par with (or worse than, 115d) death.
Courage ranks among the best things and death among the worst. The rescue
is deemed noble because it is the working of good by courage, and
evil because it is the working of evil by death. Things are evil because
of the evil produced and good on account of the good that results. In as
much as a thing is good it is noble and base inasmuch as it is evil.
To designate the rescue as noble but evil is thus to term it good
but evil (116a). In so far as something is noble it is not evil, and
neither is anything good in so far as it is base. Whoever does nobly does
well and whoever does well is happy. People are made happy through
the acquisition of good things. They obtain good things by doing well and
nobly. Accordingly, doing well is good and faring well is noble.
The noble and good are the same. By this argument all that is noble
is good. Good things are expedient (116c) and as has already been
admitted, those who do just things do noble things (115a); those who do
noble things do good things (116a). If good things are expedient then
just things are expedient. As Socrates points out, it is
apparently Alkibiades who has asserted all of this. Since he argues that
the just and the expedient are the same, he could hardly do other than
ridicule anyone who rose up to advise the Athenians or the Peparathians
believing he knew the just and the unjust and claiming that just things
are sometimes evil. Before proceeding, the reader must pause and attempt
to determine the significance of the problem of the just versus the
expedient. No intimate familiarity with the tradition of political
philosophy is required in order to observe that the issue is dominant
throughout the tradition/ perhaps most notably among the moderns in the
writings of Machiavelli and Hobbes who linked the question of justice and
expediency to the distinction between serving another's interest and
serving one's own interest. They, and subsequent moderns, in the spirit
of the "Enlightenment," then proceed with the intention of
eradicating the distinction. Self-interest, properly understood, is right and
is the proper basis for all human actions. Not only is there a widespread
connection between the issue, the traditional treatment of the issue, and
human action - but the reader might recall that the ancient philosophers,
too, considered it fundamental. One need only realize that the
philosophic work par excellence, Plato's Republic, receives its impetus
from this consideration. The discussion of the best regime (perhaps the
topic of political philosophy) arises because of Glaukon's challenging
reformulation of Thrasymakhos' opinion that justice is the advantage of the
stronger. Recognition of this fact sufficiently corroborates the view
that this issue warrants careful scrutiny by serious students of
political philosophy. Socrates has chosen this topic as the one on which
to demonstrate the internal conflicts in Alkibiades' soul. Perhaps
that is a subtle indication to the reader as to where he might focus when
he begins the search for self-knowledge, the inevitable prerequisite
for his improvement. Alkibiades swears by all the gods. He is
overwhelmed. Alkibiades protests that he isn't sure he knows even what he
is saying; he continually changes his views under Socrates' questioning.
Socrates points out to him that he must be unaware of what such a
condition of perplexity signifies. If someone were to ask him whether he
had two or three eyes, or two or four hands, he would probably respond
consistently because he knows the answer. If he voluntarily gives
contradictory replies, they must concern things about which he is
ignorant. Alkibiades admits it is likely; but there are probably other
reasons why one might give contradictory answers, just as one might
intentionally appear to err - in speech speech. Alkibiades'
ignorance with regard to justice, injustice, noble, base, evil and good
is the cause of his confusion about them. Whenever a man does not know a
thing, his soul is confused about that thing. By Zeus (fittingly),
Alkibiades concedes he is ignorant of how to rise into heaven. There is
no confusion in his opinion about that simply because he is aware that he
doesn't know. Alkibiades must take his part in discerning Socrates'
meaning. He knows he is ignorant about fancy cookery, so he doesn't get
confused, but entrusts it to a cook. Similarly when aboard ship he
knows he is ignorant of how to steer, and leaves it to the pilot.
Mistakes are made when one thinks one knows though one doesn't. Otherwise
people would leave the job to those who do know. The ignorant person who
knows he is ignorant doesn't make mistakes (117e). Those who make
mistakes are those who think they know when they don't; those who know
act rightly; those who don't, leave it to others. All this is
not precisely true for a number of reasons. Chance or fortune always
plays a part and something unexpected could interfere in otherwise
correctly laid plans. Also, as any honest politician or general would
have to say, sometimes courses of action must be decided and acted upon, even
when one is fully cognizant of one's partial ignorance. The
worst sort of stupidity, Socrates testifies is the stupidity conjoined
with confidence. It is a cause of evils and the most pernicious evils
occur through its involvement with great matters like the just, the
noble, the good and the advantageous. Alkibiades' bewilderment regarding
these momentous matters, coupled with his ignorance of his very
ignorance, imputes to him a rather sorry condition. Alkibiades admits he
is afraid so. Socrates at this point makes clear to Alkibiades the
nature of his predicament. He utters an exclamation at the plight of the
young man and deigns to give it a name only because they are alone.
Alkibiades, according to his own confession, is attached to the most
shameful kind of stupidity. Perhaps to contrast Alkibiades' actual
condition with what he could be, Socrates chooses precisely this moment
to refer to Alkibiades as "best of men" (cf. also 113c). With
such apparent sarcasm still reverberating in the background, Socrates
intimates that because of this kind of ignorance he is eager to enter
politics before learning of it. Alkibiades, far from being alone, shares
this lot with most politicians except, perhaps, his guardian Perikies,
and a few others. Already recognized to be obviously a salient
feature of the action of the dialogue, the fact that the two are alone,
engaged in a private conversation, is further stressed here as the reader
approaches the central teaching of the First Alkibiades . Alkibiades has
been turned around and now faces Socrates. They can confide in each other
even to the extent of criticizing all or nearly all of Athens'
politicians. They shall, in the next while, be saying things that
most people should not hear. And at this moment it seems to be for the
purpose of naming Alkibiades' condition that Socrates reminds the reader
of their privacy. A number of possible reasons for the emphasis on
privacy in this regard come to mind. Socrates likely would not choose to call
Alkibiades stupid in front of a crowd. In the first place,
his having just recognized his ignorance makes him far less stupid than
the crowd and it would be inappropriate to have them feel they are better
than he. Alkibiades is by nature a cut above the many, and it would be a
sign of contempt to expose him to ridicule in front of the many. Though
he may be in a sorry condition, he is being compared to another standard
than the populace. Secondly, to expose and make Alkibiades
sensitive to public censure is probably not in his best interests. A
cultivation in most noble youths of the appropriate source of their honor
and dishonor is important. Socrates, by not making Alkibiades feel
mortified in front of the many, is heightening his respect for the
censure of men like Socrates. Without this alternative, the man who seeks
glory is confronted with a paradox of sorts. He wants the love/adoration
of the many, and yet he despises the things they love or adore.
Alkibiades is being shown that the praise of few (and if the principle is
pushed to its limit, eventually the praise of one - oneself, i.e. pride)
is more to be prized. Thirdly, as Socrates explains to Meletus in his
trial ( Apology 26a), when someone does something unintentionally, it is
correct to instruct him privately and not to summon the attention of the
public. Alkibiades is not ignorant on purpose; Socrates should privately
instruct him. It is also probable that Alkibiades will only accept
private criticism which doesn't threaten his status. And
perhaps fourthly, if Socrates were to insult Alkibiades in public the
many would conclude that there was a schizm between them. Because they
are men whose natures are akin, and because of their (symbolic)
representation of politics and philosophy, or power and knowledge, any
differences they have must remain private. It is in their best interest
as well as the interest of the public, that everyone perceive the two as being
indivisible. And as was observed earlier, even the wisest politicians
must appear perfectly confident of their knowledge and plans. This is
best done if they conceal their private doubts and display complete trust
in their advisors, providing a united front when facing the many.
When Socrates suggests Perikles is a possible exception, Alkibiades
names some of the wise men with whom Perikles conversed to obtain his
wisdom. Those whom he names are conventionally held to be wise;
Alkibiades might not refer to the same people by the end of this
conversation with Socrates. In any event, upon Alkibiades' mention of the
wise men, Socrates insinuates that Perikles' wisdom may be in
doubt. Anybody who is wise in some subject is able to make another wise
in it, just as Alkibiades' writing teacher taught Alkibiades, and
whomever else he wishes, about letters. The person who learns is also
then able to enlighten another man. The same holds true of the harper and the
trainer (but apparently not the flute player, cf. 106e). The ability to
point to one's student and to show his capability is a fine proof of
knowing anything. If Perikles didn't make either of his sons wise, or
Alkibiades' brother (Kleinias the madman),why is Alkibiades in his sorry
condition? Alkibiades confesses that he is at fault for not paying
attention to Perikles. Still, he swears by the king of gods that there
isn't any Athenian or stranger or slave or foreman who is said to have
become wise through conversation with Perikles, as various students of
sophists have been said to have become wise and erudite through lessons.
Socrates doesn't need to explicate the conclusion. Instead, he asks
Alkibiades what he intends to do. The conclusion of the
argument is never uttered. It is obviously meant to question Perikles'
wisdom, but rather than spell it out, the topic is abruptly changed. If
Perikles were dead, not alive and in power, piety would not admit of even
this much criticism to be levied. Alkibiades would be expected to defend
his uncle against those outside the family; and all Athenians to defend
him against critics from other poleis . In addition, if this was a public
discussion, civic propriety would demand silence in front of the many
concerning one's doubts about the country's leaders. But since they are
indeed alone, and need not worry about the effects on others of their
discussion of Perikles' wisdom, they might have concluded the argument.
The curious reader will likely examine various reasons for not finishing
it. Three possibilities appear to be somewhat supported by the discussion
to this point. One notices, to begin with, that it would be
adequate for the argument, if a person could be found who was reputed to
have gained wisdom from Perikles. Given that a reputation among the many
has not been highly regarded previously in the dialogue, there seems
little need to press this point in the argument. If a man was said to
have been made wise by Perikles, the criteria by which that judgment
would be made seem much less reliable than the criteria whereby the many
evaluate a man's skill in letters. There is no proof of Perikles' ability
to make another wise in finding someone who is reputed to be wise.
Conversely, Perikles may well have made someone wise who did not also
achieve the reputation for wisdom. A second point in
connection with the argument is that the three subjects mentioned are
those in which Alkibiades has had lessons. Alkibiades has ability in them, yet
cannot point to people whom he has made wise in letters, harping or
wrestling. That does not seem sufficient proof that he is ignorant (thus
that his master was ignorant and so on) . It is also not clear that
Alkibiades' teachers could have made any student whomsoever they wished,
wise in these subjects; Perikles 1 sons must have achieved their
reputation as simpletons (118e) from failing at something. Knowledge
cannot require, for proof, that one has successfully taught someone else.
Not all people try to teach what they know. There must be other proofs of
competence, such as winning at wrestling, or pleasing an audience through
harping. Similarly, not having taught someone may not prove one's
ignorance; it may just indicate unwilling and incapable students.
Alkibiades, for example, didn't learn to play the flute. There is no
indication that his teacher was incapable - either of playing or of
teaching. Alkibiades is said to have refused to learn it becaus e of
considerations of his own. It might also be suggested that pointing to
students doesn't solve the major problem of proving someone's knowledge.
Is it any easier to recognize knowledge in a student than in a teacher?
A third closely connected point is that some knowledge may be of
such significance that the wise man properly spends his time
actively using it (e.g., by ruling) and not teaching it. Perikles,
through ruling, may have made the Athenians as a whole better off, and
perhaps even increased their knowledge somewhat. Had his son and heirs to
his power observed his example while he was in office, they too might
have become wiser. Adding further endorsement to this notion is the
quite reasonable supposition that some of the things a wise politician
knows cannot be taught through speech but only through example, just as
some kinds of knowledge must be gained by experience. He may communicate
his teaching through his example, or even less obviously, through
whatever institutions or customs he has established or revised.
Some subjects should probably also be kept secret for
the state, and some types of prudential judgement are acquired only
be guided experience. Perikles's very silence, indeed, may be a
testimony to his political wisdom. In response to Socrates'
question as to what Alkibiades will do, the young man suggests that they
put their heads together (119b). This marks the completion of Alkibiades'
turning around. Alkibiades, who began the discussion annoyed and haughty
has requested Socrates' assistance in escaping his predicament. He is ready to
accept Socrates' advice. This locution (of putting their heads together)
will be echoed later by Socrates and will mark another stage of their
journey together. The central portion of the dialogue, the portion
between the two joinings of their heads, is what shall be taken up
next. Since most of the men who do the work of the polis are uneducated,
Alkibiades presumes he is assured of gaining an easy victory over them on
the basis of his natural qualities. If they were educated, he would have
to take some care with his learning, just as much training is required to
compete with athletes. But they are ignorant amateurs and should be no
challenge. Socrates launches into an exclamatory derision of this
"best of men." What he has just said is unworthy of the looks
and other resources of his. Alkibiades doesn't know what Socrates means
by this and Socrates responds that he is vexed for Alkibiades and for his
love. Alkibiades shouldn't expect this contest to be with these men here.
When Alkibiades inquires with whom his contest is to be, Socrates asks if
that is a question worthy of a man who considers himself superior.
Alkibiades wants to ascertain if Socrates is suggesting that his contest
is not with these men, the politicians of the polis . This
passage is central to the First Alkibiades . The answer implicit in Socrates'
response I deem to be far more profound than it might seem to the casual
observer. Hopefully the analysis here will support this judgement and
show as well, that this question of the contest (agon) is a paramount
question in Alkibiades' life, in the lives of all superior men, and in
the quest for the good as characterized by political philosophy. If
Alkibiades' ambition is really unworthy of him, if he thinks he ought to
strive only be be as competent as the Athenians, then Socrates is vexed
for his love. Earlier (104e) the reader was informed that Socrates would
have had to put aside his love for Alkibiades if Alkibiades proved not to
have such a high ambition. Thus Socrates was attracted to Alkibiades'
striving nature. He followed the youth about for so long because
Alkibiades' desires for power were growing. What thus differentiates Alkibiades
from other youths (such as several of those with whom Socrates is shown
in the dialogues, to have spent time) is that he has more exalted
ambitions than they. Should Socrates come to the conclusion that Alkibiades
does not in fact have this surpassing will for power, the philosopher
would be forced to put away his love for Alkibiades. Now, after some
discussion, it seems there is a possibility that Alkibiades wants only to
be as great as other politicians. Many boys wish this; Alkibiades' eros
would not be outstanding. Were this true, it would indeed be no wonder if
Socrates were vexed for his love. However, it appears that this is
just something Alkibiades has said (119c.3, 9). Socrates' love is not
released, so Alkibiades passes this, the test of Socrates' love. It is at
this point in the dialogue that one can finally discern the character of
the test. The question, really, is what constitutes a high enough
ambition. An athlete must try to find out with whom to train and fight,
for how long, how closely, and at what time (119b; 107d-108b). He
determines all of this himself; he determines, in other words, the extent
of his ambition to improve and care for himself in terms of his contest.
That with whom he fights determines how he prepares himself. The contest
is thus a standard against which to judge his achievement.
The next step appears to be obvious: for the athlete of the soul as
well as the athlete of the body, the question is with whom ought he
contest. Socrates suggests shortly that should Alkibiades' ambition be to
rule Athens, then his contest would rightly be with other rulers, namely
the Spartan kings and the Great King of Persia. Since Socrates apparently
proceeds to compare in some detail the Spartan and Persian princes'
preparations for the contest, the surface impression is that Alkibiades
really must presume his contest to be with the Persians and Spartans. The
reader remembers, however, that Alkibiades would rather die than be
limited to ruling Athens (105b-c). What is the proper contest for someone
who desires to rule the known, civilized world and to have his rule
endure beyond his own lifetime; what is the preparation requisite for
truly great politics? At this point the question of the contest assumes
an added significance. The reference cannot be any actual ruler; the
inquiry has encountered another dimension of complexity. The larger
significance is, it is suspected, connected to the earlier, discussion
about the role of the very concept of the superior man in political
philosophy, particularly in understanding the nature of man. The very
idea that a contest for which one ought to prepare oneself is with
something not actualized by men of the world (at least not in an obvious
sense since it cannot be any actual ruler) poses problems for some views
of human nature. For example, in the opinion of those who believe that
man's "nature" is simply what he actually is, or what is
"out there"; the actual men of the world and their demonstrated
range of possibilities are what indicate the nature of man. On this
view, man's nature, typically is understood to be some kind of
statistical norm. These people will agree that politics is limited by man
and thought about political things is thus limited by man's nature, but
they will not concede the necessity of looking toward the best man.
The argument to counter this position is importantly epistemological. It
is almost a surety that any specific individual will deviate from the
norm to some degree, and the difference can only be described as tending
to be higher or lower than, or more or less than, the norm. This
deviation, which is to one side or other of the norm, makes the
individual either better or worse than the norm. Thus individuals, it may
be said, can be arranged hierarchically based on their position relative
to the norm and the better. Whenever one tries to account for an
individual's hierarchical position vis a vis the norm, it is done in
terms of circumstances which limit or fail to limit his realization of
his potential. Since no one is satisfied with an explanation of a
deviation such as "that is understandable, 25% of the cases are higher
than normal," some explanation of why this individual stopped short,
or proceeded further than average is called for. 100 The implicit
understanding of the potential, or of the proper/ideal proportions, then,
is what allows for comparison between individuals. By extension, this
understanding of the potential, whether or not it is actualized, is what
provides the ability to judge between regimes or societies. The amount a
polity varies (or its best men, or its average men) from the potential is
the measure of its quality relative to other polities. The explanation of
this variation (geographic location, form of regime, economic dependency, or
other standard reasons) will be in terms of factors which limit it from
nearing, or allow it to approach nearer the goal. As it is
not uniformly better to have more and not less the normal of any
characteristic, any consistent judgement of deviation from the norm must
be made in light of the best. Indeed, it usually is, either explicitly or
implicitly. This teleological basis of comparison is the common-sensical
one, the prescientific basis of judgement. When someone is heard to
remark "what a man," one most certainly does not understand him
to be suggesting that the man in question has precisely normal
characteristics. Evaluating education provides a clear and fitting
example of how the potential, not the norm, serves as the standard for
judging. A teacher does not attempt to teach his students to conform to
the norm in literary, or mathematical ability. It would be ludicrous for
him to stop teaching mid-year, say, because the normal number of his
students reached the norm of literacy for their age. Indeed, education
itself can be seen as an attempt to exceed the norm (in the direction of
excellence) and thereby to raise it. That can only be done if there is a
standard other than the norm from which to judge the norm itself. The
superior man understands this. He competes with the best, not the norm.
As a youth he comes to know that a question central to his ambition,
or will for power is that of his proper contest. The
theoretical question of how one knows with whom to compete is very
difficult although it may (for a long time) have a straightforward
practical solution. It is at the interface between the normally accepted
solution and the search for the real answer that Alkibiades and Socrates
find themselves, here in the middle of their conversation. For most
people during part of their lives, and for many people all of their life,
the next step in one's striving, the next contestant one must face, is
relatively easy to establish. Just as a wrestler proceeds naturally from local
victory through stages toward world championship, so too does political
ambition have ready referents - up to a point. It is at that point that
Alkibiades finds himself now, no doubt partly with the help of Socrates
prodding his ambitions (e.g., 105b. ff, 105e). What had made it
relatively easy to know his contestant before were the pictures of the
best men as Alkibiades understood them, namely politically successful
men, Kyros and Xerxes (much as an ambitious wrestler usually knows that a
world championship title is held by someone in particular). Alkibiades' path
had been guided. Socrates has chosen to address Alkibiades now, perhaps
because Alkibiades' ambition is high enough that the conventional models
no longer suffice. Alkibiades is at the stage wherein he must discover
what the truly best man is, actual examples have run out. He recognizes
that he needs Socrates' help (119b); no one else has indicated that
Alkibiades' contest might take place beyond the regular sphere of
politics, with contestants other than the actual rulers of the world. But
how is he to discover the best man in order that he may compete?
This is the theoretical question of most significance to man, and
could possibly be solved in a number of ways. Within the confines of the
dialogue, however, this analysis will not move further than to
recognize both the question/ and its centrality to political philosophy.
101 To note in passing, however, there may be many other questions behind
that of the best man. There may, for example, be more than one kind of
best man, and a decision between them may involve looking at a more prior
notion of "best." At any rate, it has been shown that it is
apparently no accident that the central question in a dialogue on the
nature of man is a question by a superior youth as to his proper contest.
What is not yet understood is why a philosophic man's eros is devoted to
a youth whose erotic ambition is for great politics, a will to power over
the whole world. By means of a thinly veiled reference to Athen's
Imperial Navy, over which Alkibiades would later have full powers as
commander, Socrates attempts to illustrate to the youth the importance of
choosing and recognizing the proper contestants. Supposing, for example,
Alkibiades were intending to pilot a trireme into a sea battle, he would
view being as capable as his fellows merely a necessary qualification. If
he means to act nobly ( kalos ) for himself and his city, he would want
to so far surpass his fellows as to make them feel only worthy enough to fight
under him, not against him. It doesn't seem fitting for a leader to be
satisfied with being better than his soldiers while neglecting the
scheming and drilling necessary if his focus is the enemy's leaders.
Alkibiades asks to whom Socrates is referring and Socrates responds with
another question. Is Alkibiades unaware that their city often wars with
Sparta and the Great King? If he intends to lead their polis, he'd
correctly suppose his contest was with the Spartan and Persian
kings. His contest is not with the likes of Meidias who retain a slavish
nature and try to run the polis by flattering, not ruling it. If he looks
to that sort for his goal, then indeed he needn't learn what's required
for the greatest contest, or perform what needs exercising, or prepare
himself adequately for a political career. Alkibiades, the best of
men, has to consider the implications of believing that the Spartan
generals and the Persian kings are like all others (i.e., no better than
normal). 103 Firstly, one takes more care of oneself if one thinks the
opponents worthy, and no harm is done taking care of oneself. Assuredly
that sufficiently establishes that it is bad to hold the opinion
that they are no better than anyone else. Almost as a second
thought, Socrates turns to another criterion which might indicate
why having a certain opinion is bad - truth (cf. Republic 386c).
There is another reason, he continues, namely that the opinion is
probably false. It is likely that better natures come from
well-born families where they will in the end become virtuous in the
event they are well brought up. The Spartan and Persian kings,
descended from Perseus, the son of Zeus, are to be compared with
Socrates' and Alkibiades' ancestral lines to see if they are inferior.
100 Alkibiades is quick to point out that his goes back to Zeus as well,
and Socrates adds that he comes from Zeus through Daidalos and
Hephaistos, son of Zeus. Since ancestral origin in Zeus won't
qualitatively differentiate the families, Socrates points out that in
both cases - Sparta and Persia - every step in the line was a king,
whereas both Socrates and Alkibiades (and their fathers) are private men.
The royal families seem to win the first round. The homelands of the
various families could be next compared, but it is likely that Alkibiades'
her itage, which Socrates is able to describe in detail,
would arouse laughter. In ancestry and in birth and breeding, those
people are superior, for, as Alkibiades should have observed, Spartan
kings have their wives guarded so that no one outside the line could
corrupt the queen, and the Persians have such awe for the king that no
one would dare, including the queen. With the conclusion of
Socrates' and Alkibiades' examination of the various ancestries of the
men, and before proceeding to the discussions of their births and nurtures, a
brief pause is called for to look at the general problem of descent and
the philosophic significance to have in this dialogue. References to
familial descent are diffused throughout the First Alkibiades . It begins
by calling attention to Alkibiades' ancestry and five times in the
dialogue is he referred to as the son of Kleinias. On two occasions he is even
addressed as the son of Deinomakhe. If that weren't enough, this
dialogue marks one of only two occasions on which Socrates' mother, the
midwife Phainarete, is named (cf. Theaitetos 149a). The central of the things
on which Socrates said Alkibiades prides himself is his family, and
Socrates scrutinizes it at the greatest length. The sons of Perikles are
mentioned, as are other familial relations such as the brother of
Alkibiades. The lineages of the Persian kings, of the Spartan kings, of
Alkibiades and Socrates are probed, and Socrates reveals that he has
bothered to learn and to repeat the details. The mothers of the Persian
kings and Spartan kings are given an important role in the dialogue, and
in general the question of ancestry is noticeably dominant, warranting
the reader's exploration. As already discussed in the beginning,
the reference to Alkibiades' descent might have philosophic significance
in the dialogue. Here again, the context of the concern about descent is
explicitly the consideration of the natures of men. Better natures usually
come from better ancestors (as long as they also have good nurtures). At
the time of birth, an individual's ancestry is almost the only indication
of his nature, the most important exception being, of course, his sex.
But, as suggested by Socrates' inclusion of the proviso that they be well
brought up (120e), a final account of man's nature must look to ends not
only origins, and to his nurture, not only descent. Nurture ( paideia) is
intended to mean a comprehensive sense of education, including much more
than formal schooling; indeed, it suggests virtually everything that affects
one's upbringing. The importance of this facet in the development of a
man's nature becomes more obvious when one remembers the different
characteristics of offspring of the same family (e.g., Kleinias and
Alkibiades, both sons of Kleinias and Deinomakhe, or the sons of Ariston
participating in the Republic ). These suggestions, added to the already
remarked upon importance of nurture in a man's life, mutually support the
contention that nature is to be understood in terms of a fulfilled end
providing a standard for nurture. The nature of man, if it is to be
understood in terms of a telos, his fulfilled potential, must be more
than that which he is born as. An individual's nature, then, is a
function of his descent and his nurture. Often they are supplementary, at
least superficially; better families being better educated, they are that much
more aware and concerned with the nurture of their offspring. 'Human
nature' would be distinguished from any individual's nature in so far as
it obviously does not undergo nurture; but if properly understood, it
provides the standard for the nurture of individuals. To the point of
birth, then, ancestry is the decisive feature in a man's nature, and thus
sets limits on his nature. When his life begins, that turns around,
and education and practice become the key foci for a man's
development. After birth a man cannot alter his ancestry, and nurture
assumes its role in shaping his being, his nature. The
issue is addressed in a rather puzzling way by Socrates' claim that
his ancestry goes through Daidalos to Hephaistos, the son of Zeus.
This serves to establish (as authoritatively as in the case of the
others) that he is well-born. It does nothing to counter Alkibiades'
claim that he, like the Persian and Spartan kings, is descended
from Zeus (all of them claiming descent from the king of the
Olympians); in other words, it does not appear to serve a purpose
in the explicit argument and the reader is drawn to wonder why he
says it. Upon examination one discovers that this is not the
regular story. Normally in accounts of the myths, the paternal heritage of
Hephaistos is ambiguous at best . Hesiod relates that Hephaistos
was born from Hera 109 with no consort. Hera did not
mate with a man; Haphaistos had no father. 1 '*’ 0 Socrates thus
descends from a line begun by a woman - the queen of the heavens, the
goddess of marriage and childbirth (cf. Theaitetos; Statesman). By
mentioning Hephaistos as an ancestor, Socrates is drawing attention to
the feminine aspect of his lineage. An understanding of the feminine is
crucial to an account of human nature. The male/female division is the
most fundamental one for mankind, rendering humans into two groups (cf.
Symposium 190d-192d). The sexes and their attraction to each other
provide the most basic illustration of eros, perhaps man's most powerful
(as well as his most problematic) drive or passion. Other considerations
include the female role in the early nurture of children (Republic 450c)
and thus the certain, if indirect effect of sex on the polls (it is not
even necessary to add the suspicions about a more subtle part for
femininity reserved in the natures of some superior men, the
philosophers). Given this, it is quite possible that Socrates is suggesting the
importance of the male/female division in his employment of 'descent' as
an extended philosophic metaphor for human nature. A brief
digression concerning Hephaistos and Daidalos may be useful at this point.
Daidalos was a legendary ingenious craftsman, inventor and sculptor (famous for
his animate sculptures). He is said to have slain an apprentice who
showed enough promise to threaten Daidalos' supremacy, and he fled to
Krete. In Krete he devised a hollow wooden cow which allowed the queen to
mate with a bull. The offspring was the Minotaur. Daidalos constructed
the famous labyrinth into which select Athenian youths were led annually,
eventually to be devoured by the Minotaur. ^ Daidalos, however, was
suspected of supplying the youth Theseus (soon to become a great
political founder) with a means to exit from the maze and was jailed with
his son Ikaros. A well known legend tells of their flight. Minos, the
Kretan king was eventually killed in his pursuit of Daidalos.
Hephaistos was the divine and remarkably gifted craftsman of the
Olympians, himself one of the twelve major gods. Cast from the heavens as
an infant, Hephaistos remained crippled. He was, as far as can be told,
the only Olympian deity who was not of surpassingly beautiful physical
form. It is interesting that Socrates would claim descent from him.
Hephaistos was noted as a master craftsman and manufactured many wondrous
things for the gods and heroes. His most remarkable work might have been
that of constructing the articles for the defence of the noted warrior,
Akhilleus, the most famous of which was the shield (Homer, Iliad).
The next topic discussed in this, the longest speech in
the dialogue, is the nurture of the Persian youths. Subsequently
Socrates discourses about Spartan and Persian wealth and he
considers various possible reactions to Alkibiades' contest with
the young leaders of both countries. The account Socrates presents
raises questions as to his possible intentions. It is quite likely
that Socrates and Xenaphon, who also gives an account of the
nurture of the Persian prince, have more in mind than mere
interesting description. Their interpretations and presentations of
the subject differ too markedly for their purposes to have been simply to
report the way of life in another country. Thus, rather than worry
over matters of historical accuracy, the more curious features of
Socrates' account will be considered, such as the relative emphasis on
wealth over qualities of soul, and the rather lengthy speculation about
the queens', not the kings', regard for their sons. In pointed
contrast to the Athenians, of whose births the neighbors do not even
hear, when the heir to the Persian throne is born the first festivities
take place within the palace and from then on all of Asia celebrates his
birthday. The young child is cared for by the best of the king's eunuchs,
instead of an insignificant nurse, and he is highly honored for shaping
the limbs of the body. Until the boy is perhaps seven years old, then,
his attendant is not a woman who would provide a motherly kind of care,
nor a man who would provide an example of masculinity and manliness, but
a neutered person. The manly Alkibiades, as well as the reader, might
well wonder as to the effect this would have on the boy, and whether it
is the intended effect. At the age of seven the boys learn to ride
horses and commence to hunt. This physical activity, it seems, continues
until the age of fourteen when four of the most esteemed Persians become the
boys' tutors. They represent four of the virtues, being severally
wise, just, temperate, and courageous. The teaching of piety is conducted
by the wisest tutor of the four (which certainly allows for a number of
interesting possibilities) . He instructs the youth in the religion of
Zoroaster, or in the worship of the gods, and he teaches the boy that
which pertains to a king - certainly an impressive task. The just tutor
teaches him to be completely truthful (122a); the temperate tutor to be
king and free man overall of the pleasures and not to be a slave to
anyone, and the brave tutor trains him to be unafraid, for fear is
slavery. Alkibiades had instead an old (and therefore otherwise
domestically useless) servant to be his tutor. Socrates
suspends discussion of the nurture of Alkibiades' competitors. It would
promise to be a long description and too much of a task (122b). He
professes that what he has already reported should suggest what follows.
Thereby Socrates challenges the reader to examine the manner in which
this seemingly too brief description of nurture at least indicates what a
complete account might entail. This appears to be the point in the
dialogue which provides the most fitting opportunity to explicitly and
comprehensively consider nurture. It has become clear to Socrates and
Alkibiades that the correct nurture is essential to the greatest contest,
and Socrates leaves Alkibiades (and the reader) with the impression that
he regards the Persian nurture to be appropriate. One might thus presume
that an examination of Persian practices would make apparent the more
important philosophical questions about nurture. Socrates had been
specific in noticing the subjects of instruction received by Alkibiades
(106e), and the reader might follow likewise in observing the lessons of
the Persian princes. On the face of it, Socrates provides more detail
regarding this aspect of their nurture than others, so it might be
prudent to begin by reflecting upon the teaching of religion and kingly
things, of truth-telling, of mastering pleasures, and of mastering fears.
Perhaps the Persian system indicates how these virtues are properly seen
as one, or how they are arranged together, for one suspects that conflicts
might normally arise in their transmission. These subjects are being
taught by separate masters. A consistent nurture demands that they are
all compatible, or that they can agree upon some way of deciding
differences. If the four tutors can all recognize that one of them ought
to command, this would seem to imply that wisdom somehow encompasses all other
virtues. In that case, the attendance of the one wise man would appear to
be the most desirable in the education of a young man. The wise man's
possession of the gamut of virtues would supply the prince with a model
of how they properly fit together. Without a recognized hierarchy, there might
be conflicts between the virtues. Indeed, as the reader has had occasion
to observe in an earlier context of the dialogue, two of the substantive
things taught by two different tutors may conflict strongly. There are
times when a king ought not to be honest. The teacher of justice then
would be suggesting things at odds with that which pertains to a king.
How would the boys know which advice to choose, independently of any
other instruction? In addition, Socrates suggests that the bravest
Persian (literally the 'manliest') tells or teaches the youth to fear
nothing, for any fear is slavery. But surely the expertise of the
tutor of courage would seem to consist in his knowing what to fear and what not
to fear. Otherwise the youth would not become courageous but reckless.
Not all fears indicate that one is a slave: any good man should run out
of the way of a herd of stampeding cattle, an experienced mountain
climber is properly wary of crumbling rock, and even brave swimmers ought
to remain well clear of whirlpools. For this to be taught it appears that
the courageous tutor would have to be in agreement with the tutor of
wisdom. These sorts of difficulties seem to be perennial, and a system of
nurture which can overcome them would provide a fine model, it seems, for
education into virtues. If the Persian tutors could indeed show the
virtues to be harmonious, it would be of considerable benefit to
Alkibiades to understand precisely how it is accomplished. The
question of what is to be taught leads readily to a consideration of how to
determine who is to teach. The problem of ascertaining the competence of
teachers seems to be a continuing one (as the reader of this dialogue has
several occasions to observe - e.g., llOe, ff.). But besides their public
reputation there is no indication of the criteria employed in the
selection of the Persian tutors. To this point in the dialogue, two
criteria have been acknowledged as establishing qualification for teaching (or
for the knowledge requisite for teaching). Agreement between teachers on their
subject matter (lllb-c) is important for determining who is a proper
instructor, as is a man's ability to refer to knowledgeable students
(118d). As has already been indicated, both of these present interesting
difficulties. Neither, however, is clearly or obviously applicable to the
Persian situation. The present king might prove to be the only student to
whom they can point (in which case they may be as old as Zopyros) and he
might well be the only one in a position to agree with them. It is
conceivable that some kinds of knowledge are of such difficulty that one
cannot expect too many people to agree. If the Persians have indeed
solved the problems of choosing tutors, and of reconciling public
reputation for virtue with actual possession of virtue, they have
overcome what appears to be a most persistent difficulty regarding human
nurture. Another issue which surfaces in Socrates' short account of
the Persian educational system is that of the correct age to begin
such nurture. Education to manhood begins at about the age of puberty
for the prince. If the virtues are not already quite entrenched in
his habits or thoughts (in which latter case he would have needed
another source of instruction besides the tutors - as perhaps one might
say the Iliad and Odyssey provide for Athenian youths such as
Alkibiades), it is doubtful that they could be inculcated at the age of
fourteen. Socrates is completely silent about the Persians' prior
education to virtue, disclosing only that they began riding horses and
participating in "the hunt." Since both of those activities
demand some presence of mind, one may presume that early Persian
education was not neglected. This earliest phase of education is of the
utmost importance, however, for if the boy had been a coward for fourteen
years, one might suspect tutoring by a man at that point would not likely
make him manly. And to make temperate a lad accustomed to indulgence
would be exceedingly difficult. Forcibly restricting his consumption
would not have a lasting effect unless there were some thing to draw upon within
the understanding of the boy, but Socrates supplies Alkibiades with no
hint as to what that might be. Presently the young man will be reminded
of Aesop's fables and the various stories that children hear. If, in
order to qualify as proper nurturing, such activities as children
participate in - e.g., music and gymnastics - ought to be carried out in
a certain mode or with certain rules (cf. Republic), Socrates gives no
indication of their manner here. Unless stories and activities build a
respect for piety and justice, and the like, it is not obvious that the
respect will be developed when someone is in his mid-teens. It would seem
difficult, if not impossible, to erase years of improper musical and
gymnastic education. Socrates remains distressingly silent about so very
much of the Persian (or proper) method of preparing young men for the
great contest. The only one who would care about Alkibiades 1
birth, nurture or education, would be some chance lover he happened to
have, Socrates says in reference to his seemingly unique interest in
Alkibiades' nature. He concludes what was presumably the account of the
education of the Persian princes, intimating that Alkibiades would be
shamed by a comparison of the wealth, luxury, robes and various
refinements of the Persians. It is odd that he would mention such items
in the context immediately following the list of subjects the tutors were
to teach in the education of the soul of the king - including the
complete mastery of all pleasure. It is even more curious that he would
deign to mention these in the context of making Alkibiades sensitive to
what was required for his preparation for his proper contest. The
historical Alkibiades, it seems, would not be so insensitive to these
luxuries as to need reminding of them, and the dialogue to this point has not
given any indication that these things of the body are important to the
training Alkibiades needs by way of preparing for politics. The fact that
Socrates expressly asserts that Alkibiades would be ashamed at having
less of those things corroborates the suggestion that more is going on in
this long speech than is obvious at the surface. Briefly, and
in a manner that doesn't appear to make qualities of soul too appealing,
Socrates lists eleven excellences of the Spartans: temperance,
orderliness, readiness, easily contented, great-mindedness,
well-orderedness, manliness, patient endurance, labor loving, contest
loving and honor loving. Socrates neither described these glowingly, nor
explains how the Spartans come to possess them. He merely lists them.
Then, interestingly, he remarks that Alkibiades in comparison is a child
. He does not say that Alkibiades would be ashamed, or that he would
lose, but that he had somehow not yet attained them. Like some children
presumably, he may have the potential to grow into them if they are part
of the best nature. There is no implication, then, that Alkibiades'
nature is fundamentally lacking in any of these virtues, and this is of
special interest to the reader given the more or less general agreement,
even during his lifetime, as to his wantonness. Socrates here suggests
that Alkibiades is like a child with respect to the best
nature. This part of Socrates' speech reveals two possible
alternatives to the Persian education, alternatives compatible with the
acquisition of virtue. A Spartan nurture was successful in giving
Spartans the set of virtues Socrates listed. Since Alkibiades obviously
cannot regain the innocence necessary to benefit from early disciplined
habituation, and since Socrates nevertheless understands him to be able
to grow into virtue in some sense, there must be another way open to him.
This twenty year old "child" has had some early exposure to
virtue, at least through poetry, and perhaps it is through this youthful
persuasion that Socrates will aid him in his education. Indeed Socrates
appeals often to his sense of the honorable and noble - which is related
to virtue even if improperly understood by Alkibiades. As the dialogue
proceeds from this point/ Socrates appears to be importantly concerned
with making Alkibiades virtuous through philosophy. He is trying to
persuade Alkibiades to let his reason rule him in his life, most
importantly in his desire to know himself. Perhaps, on this account, one
might acquire virtue in two ways, a Spartan nurture, for example, and
through philosophy. Again, however, Socrates stops before he has
said everything he might have said, and turns to the subject of wealth.
In fact, Scorates claims that he must not keep silent with regard to
riches if Alkibiades thinks about them at all. Thus, according to
Socrates, not only is it not strange to turn from the soul to wealth, but
it is even appropriate. Socrates must attest to the riches of Spartans,
who in land and slaves and horses and herds far outdo any estate in
Athens, and he most especially needs to report on the wealth of gold and
silver privately held in Lakedaimon. As proof for this assertion, which
certainly runs counter to almost anyone's notion of Spartan life,
Socrates uses a fable within this fabulous story. Socrates
assumes Alkibiades has learned Aesop's fables - somehow - for without
supplying any other details he simply mentions that there are many tracks
of wealth going into Sparta and none coming out. In order to explain
Socrates' otherwise cryptic remarks, the children's fable will be
recounted. Aesop's story concerns an old lion who must eat by his wits
because he can no longer hunt or fight. He lies in a cave pretending to
be ill and when any animals visit him he devours them. A fox eventually
happens by, but seeing through the ruse he remains outside the cave.
When ths lion asks why he doesn't come in, the fox responds that he sees
too many tracks entering the cave and none leaving it. The
lion and the fox represent the classic confrontation between power and
knowledge. 114 One notices that in the fable the animals generally
believe an opinion that proves to be a fatal mistake. The fox doesn't. He
avoids the error. The implication is that Socrates and Alkibiades have
avoided an important mistake that the rest of the Greeks have made. One
can only speculate on what it is precisely. They seem to be the only ones
aware of one of Sparta's qualities, a quality which, oddly, is in some
sense essential to Alkibiades' contest. Perhaps Socrates' use of the
fable merely suggests that erroneous opinions about the nature of one's
true contestant may prove fatal, but there may be more to it than that.
This fable fittingly appears in the broad context of nurture; myths
and fables are generally recognized for their pedagogic value. Any
metaphoric connection this fable brings to mind with the more famous
Allegory of the Cave in Plato's Republic will necessarily be
speculative. But they are not altogether out of place. The cave, in a
sense, represents the condition of most people's nurtures and thus
represents a fitting setting for a fable related in this dialogue. Given
Socrates' fears of what will happen to Alkibiades (132a, 135e) and
Alkibiades' own concern for the demos, the suggested image of people
(otherwise fit enough to be outside) being enticed into the cave and
unable to leave it might be appropriate. At any rate, in
terms of the argument for Sparta's wealth, this evidence does nothing to
show that the wealth is privately held. It is apparent, after all, that
the evidence indicates gold is pouring into Spsi’ts. from all over
Greece, but not coining' out of the country, whereas Socrates seems to
interpret this as private, not public wealth. Perhaps the reader may
infer from this that a difference between city and man is being subtly
implied. Socrates is suggesting that wealth is an important part of the
contest, and yet he includes himself in the contest at a number of
points. This rather inconclusive and ambiguous reference to the wealth of
Sparta and the Spartans might suggest that the difference between the
city and man regarding riches, may be that great wealth is good for a
city (for example, as Thucydides observes, wealth facilitates warmaking),
and is thus something a ruler should know how to acquire - but not so
good for an individual. Socrates' next statement supports this
interpretation. A king's being wealthy might not mean that he uses it
privately. Socrates informs Alkibiades that the king possesses the most
wealth of any Spartans for there is a special tribute to him (123a- b) .
In any case, however great the Spartan fortunes appear compared with the
fortunes of other Greeks, they are a mere pittance next to the Persian
king's treasures. Socrates was told this himself by a trustworthy person
who gathered his information by travelling and finding out what the local
inhabitants said. Socrates treats this as valuable information, yet
which, given his chosen way of life, he couldn't have acquired
firsthand. Large tracts of land are reserved for adorning the
Persian queen with clothes, individual items having land specially set
aside for them. There were fertile regions known as the "king's
wife's girdle," veil, etc.Certainly an indication of wealth, it also
seems to suggest a wanton luxury, especially on the part of women (and
which men flatter with gifts). Returning to the supposed
contest between Alkibiades and the Spartan and the Persian kings, Socrates
adopts a very curious framework for the bulk of the remainder of this
discourse. He continues in terms of the thoughts of the mother of the
king and proceeds as though she were, in part, in a dialogue with
Alkibiades 1 mother, Deinomakhe. If she found out that the son of
Deinomakhe was challenging her son, the king's mother, Amestris, would
wonder on what Alkibiades could be trusting. The manner in which Socrates
has the challenge introduced to Amestris does not reveal either of the
men's names. Only their mothers are referred to - and the cost of the
mothers' apparel seems to be as important to the challenge or contest as
the size of the sons' estates. Only after he is told that the barbarian
queen is wondering does the reader find out that her son's name is
Artaxerxes and that she is aware that it is Alkibiades who is
challenging her son. She might well have been completely ignorant of the
existence of Deinomakhe's family, or she may have thought it was
Kleinias, the madman (118e), who was the son involved. Since there is no
contest with regards to wealth - either in land or clothing - Alkibiades
must be relying on his industry and wisdom - the only thing the Greeks
have of any worth. Perhaps because she is a barbarian, or because
of some inability on her part, or maybe some subtlety of the Greeks, she
doesn't recognize the Greeks' speaking ability as one of their greatest
accomplishments. Indeed, both in the dialogue and historically, it was
his speaking ability on which Alkibiades was to concentrate much of his
effort, and through which he achieved many of his triumphs. Greeks in
general and Athenians in particular spent much time cultivating the art
of speaking. Sophists and rhetoricians abounded. Rhapsodists and actors
took part in the many dramatic festivals at Athens. Orators and
politicians addressed crowds of people almost daily Cor so it
seems). Socrates continues. If she were to be informed (with
reference to Alkibiades' wisdom and industriousness) that he was not yet
twenty, and was utterly uneducated, and further, was quite satisfied with
himself and refused his lover's suggestion to learn, take care of himself and
exercise his habits before he entered a contest with the king, she would
again be full of wonder. She would ask to what the youth could appeal and
would conclude Socrates and Alkibiades (and Deinomakhe) were mad if they
thought he could contend with her son in beauty ( kalos ), stature,
birth, wealth, and the nature of his soul (123e). The last quality, the
nature of the soul, has the most direct bearing on the theme of the
dialogue, and as the reader remembers, is the promised but not previously
included part of the list of reasons for Alkibiades' high opinion of
himself (104a. ff.). Since it is also the most difficult to evaluate, one
might reasonably wonder what authority Amestris' judgement commands. It
is feasible for the reader to suspect that this is simply Socrates'
reminder that a mother generally favors her own son. But perhaps her
position and experience as wife and mother to kings enables her in some
sense to judge souls. Lampido, another woman, the daughter,
wife and mother of three different kings, would also wonder, Socrates
proposes, at Alkibiades' desire to contest with her son, despite his
comparatively ignoble ( kakos ) upbringing. Socrates closes the
discussion with the mothers of kings by asking Alkibiades if it is not
shameful that the mothers and wives (literally, "the women belonging
to the kings ) of their enemies have a better notion than they of the
qualities necessary for a person who wants to contend with
them. The problem of understanding human nature includes centrally
the problem of understanding sex and the differences between men and
women. Thus political philosophy necessarily addresses these matters.
Half of a polity is made up of women and the correct ordering of a polity
requires that women, as well as men, do what is appropriate. However,
discovering the truth about the sexes is not simple in any event, partly
at least because of one's exclusion from personal knowledge about the
other sex; and it has become an arduous task to gather honest opinions from
which to begin reflecting. The discussion of women in this central
portion of the dialogue is invested with political significance by what
is explored later regarding the respective tasks of men and women (e.g.,
126e-127b). Before proceeding to study the rest of this long speech, it
may be useful to briefly sketch two problem areas. Firstly the outline of
some of the range of philosophic alternatives presented by mankind's
division into two sexes will be roughly traced out. This will foreshadow
the later discussion of the work appropriate to the sexes. Secondly, a
suggestion shall be ventured as to one aspect of how 'wonder' and
philosophy may be properly understood to have a feminine element - an
aspect that is connected to a very important theme of this dialogue.
Thus, in order to dispel some of the confusion before returning to
the dialogue, the division of the sexes may imply, in terms of an
understanding of human nature, that there is either one ideal that both
sexes strive towards, or there is more than one. If there is one goal or
end, it might be either the 'feminine,' the 'masculine, a combination of the
traits of both sexes, or a transcendent "humanness" that rises
above sexuality. The first may be dismissed unless one is willing to posit
that everything is "out-of-whack" in nature and all the wrong
people have been doing great human deeds. Traditionally, the
dominant opinion has implicitly been that the characteristics of 'human'
are for the most part those called 'masculine', or that males typically
embody these characteristics to a greater extent. Should this be correct,
then one may be warranted in considering nature simply "unfair"
in making half of the people significantly weaker and less able to attain
those characteristics. Should the single ideal for both sexes be a combination
of the characteristics of both sexes, still other difficulties arise. A
normal understanding of masculine and feminine refers to traits that are
quite distinct; those who most combine the traits, or strike a mean,
appear to be those who are most sexually confused. The other
possibility mentioned was that there be two (or more) sets of
characteristics - one for man and one for woman. The difficulty with this
alternative is unlike the difficulties encountered in the one- model
proposal. One problem with having an ideal for each sex, or even with
identifying some human characteristics more with one sex than the other,
is that all of the philosophic questions regarding the fitting place of
each sex still remain to be considered. Some version of this latter
alternative seems to be endorsed later in the First Alkibiades. There it
is agreed £md agreement frequently is the most easily met of the
suggested possible criteria of knowledge mentioned in the dialogue) that
there are separate jobs for men and women. Accordingly, men and women are
said to be rightly unable to understand each other's jobs and thus cannot
agree on matters surrounding those jobs. One of the implications of
this, however, unmentioned by either Socrates or Alkibiades, is that women
therefore ought not to nurture young sons. A woman does not and cannot
grasp what it is to be a man and to have manly virtue. Thus they cannot
raise manly boys. However, this is contrary to common sense. One would
think that if there was any task for which a woman should be suited (even
if it demands more care than is often believed) it would be motherhood.
Because of this a mother would have to learn a man's business if she
would bear great sons. At this point the problems of the surface account
of the First Alkibiades become apparent to even the least reflective
reader. If it is the same task, or if the same body of knowledge
(or opinion) is necessary for being a great man as for raising a great
man, then at least in one case the subjects of study for men and women
are not exclusive. Women dominate the young lives of children. They must
be able to turn a boy's ambitions and desires in the proper direction
until the menfolk take over. Since it would pose practical problems for
her to attempt to do so in deed, she must proceed primarily through
speech, including judicious praise and blame, and that is why the fables and
myths women relate ought to be of great concern to the men (cf. for
example. Republic). If, on the other hand, it requires completely
different knowledge to raise great sons than it does to be great men, then
men, by the argument of the dialogue should not expect to know women's
work. If this is the proper philosophic conclusion the reader is to
reach, then it is not so obviously disgraceful for the womenfolk to know
better than Socrates and Alkibiades what it takes to enter the contest
(124a). The disgrace, it seems, would consist in being unable to see the
contradictions in the surface account of the First Alkibiades, and thus
not being in a position to accept its invitation to delve deeper into
the problem of human nature. At this point a speculation may
be ventured as to why, in this dialogue, wonder takes on a feminine
expression, and why elsewhere. Philosophy herself is described as
feiminine Ce.g., Republic 495-b-c, 536c, 495e; Gorgias 482a; cf.
also Letter VII 328e, Republic 499c-d, 548b-c, 607b). One might say
that a woman's secretiveness enhances her seductiveness. Women are
concerned with appearance (cf. 123c; the very apparel of the
mothers of great sons is catalogued) . Philosophy and women may be more
alluring when disclosure ("disclothesure") of their innermost
selves requires a certain persistence on the part of their suitors.
Philosophy in its most beguiling expression is woman-like. When
subtle and hidden, its mystery enhances its attractiveness. Perhaps it
will be suggested - perhaps for great men to be drawn to philosophy she
must adopt a feminine mode of expression, in addition to the promise of a
greater power; if viewed as a goddess she must be veiled, not wholly
naked. To further explore the analogue in terms of expression, one
notices that women are cautious of themselves and protective of their own.
They are aware, and often pass this awareness on to men that in some
circles they must be addressed or adorned in a certain manner in order to
avoid ridicule and appear respectable. As well, a woman's protection of
her young is expected. Philosophy, properly expressed, should be careful
to avoid harming the innocent; and a truly political philosopher should
be protective of those who will not benefit from knowing the truth. If
the truth is disruptive to the community, for example, he should be most
reluctant to announce it publicly. The liberal notion that every truth is
to be shared by all might be seen to defeminize philosophy. Women, too in
speech will lie and dissemble to protect their own; in deed, they are
more courageous in retreat, able to bear the loss of much in order to
ensure the integrity of that of which they are certain is of most
importance. Political philosophy is not only philosophy about politics; it
is doing (or at least expressing) all of one's philosophizing in a
politic way. Its expression would be "feminine." This
suggestion at least appears to square with the role of women in the
dialogue. It accounts for the mothers' lively concern over the welfare
and status of the powerful; it provides a possible understanding of how the
'masculine' and 'feminine' may have complementary tasks; it connects the
female to 'wonder'; it lets the reader see the enormous significance of
speech to politics; it reminds one of the power of eros as a factor in
philosophy, in politics, in Socrates' attraction to Alkibiades, and in
man's attraction to philosophy; it helps to explain why both lines of
descent, the maternal as well as the paternal, are emphasized in the
cases of the man coveting power and the man seeking knowledge. Through
the very expression of either, politics and philosophy become
interconnected. Socrates addresses Alkibiades as a blessed man and
tells him to attend him and the Delphic inscription, "know
thyself." These people (presumably Socrates is referring to the enemy,
with whose wives they were speaking; however, the analysis has indicated
why the referent is left ambiguous: there is a deeper sense of 'contest'
here than war with Persians and Spartans) are Socrates' and Alkibiades'
competitors, not those whom Alkibiades thinks. Only industriousness and
techne will give them ascendancy over their real competitors. Alkibiades
will fail in achieving a reputation among Greeks and barbarians if he
lacks those qualities. And Socrates can see that Alkibiades desires that
reputation more than anyone else ever loved anything. The
reader may have noticed that the two qualities Socrates mentions are very
similar to the qualities of the Greeks mentioned by the barbarian queen
above. Socrates is implicitly raising the Greeks above the barbarians by
making the Greek qualities the most important, and he diminishes the
significance of their victory in terms of wealth and land. He thus
simultaneously indicts them on two counts. They do not recognize that
Alkibiades is their big challenge, sothey are in the disgraceful
condition of which Alkibiades was accused, namely not having an eye to
their enemies but to their fellows. By raising the Greek virtues
above the barbarian qualities, Socrates throws yet more doubt on the view
that they are indeed the proper contestants for Alkibiades. It is
interesting that the barbarian queen knew or believed these were the
Greek's qualities but she did not correctly estimate their importance.
Another wonderful feature of this longest speech in the First
Alkibiades is the last line: "I believe you are more desirous of it
than anyone else is of anything," (124b). Socrates ascribes to
Alkibiades an extreme eros . It may even be a stranger erotic attraction
or will to power than that marked by Socrates' eros for Alkibiades. But
the philosopher wants to help and is able to see Alkibiades' will.
Socrates even includes himself in the contest. Socrates is indeed a
curious man. So ends the longest speech in the dialogue.
Alkibiades agrees. He wants that. Socrates' speech seems very true.
Alkibiades has been impressed with Socrates' big thoughts about politics,
for Socrates had indicated that he is familiar enough with the greatest
foreign political powers to make plausible/credible his implicit is* orf or
explicit criticism of them. Socrates has also tacitly approved of
Alkibiades 1 ambitions to rule not only Athens, but an empire over the
known world. Alkibiades must be impressed with this sentiment in
democratic Athens. In addition to all this, Socrates has hinted to the
youth that there is something yet bigger. Alkibiades requests Socrates'
assistance and will do whatever Socrates wants. He begs to know what is
the proper care he must take of himself. Socrates echoes
Alkibiades' sentiment that they must put their heads together
(124c; cf. 119b). This is an off-quoted line from Homer's Iliad. In the
Iliad the decision had been made- that information must be attained
from and about the Trojans by spying on their camp. The brave warrior,
Diomedes, volunteered to go, and asked the wily Odysseus to accompany
him. Two heads were better than one and the best wits of all the Greek
heroes were the wits of Odysseus. Diomedes recognized this and suggested
they put their heads together as they proceed to trail the enemy to their
camp, enter it and hunt for information necessary to an Akhaian
victory. Needless to say, the parallels between the Homeric
account, the situation between Alkibiades and Socrates, and the Aesopian
fable, are intriguing. When Alkibiades uttered these lines previously, it
was appropriate in that he requested the philosopher (the cunning man) to
go with him. Alkibiades and Socrates, like Diomedes and Odysseus,
must enter the camp of the enemy to see what they were up against in
this contest of contests, so to speak. Alkibiades, assuming the role
of Diomedes, in a sense initiated the foray although an older, wiser man
had supplied the occasion for it. Alkibiades had to be made to
request Socrates' assistance. The part of the dialogue following
Alkibiades's quoting of Homer was a discussion of the contest of the superior
man and ostensibly an examination of the elements of the contest. They
thoroughly examined the enemy in an attempt to understand the very nature
of this most important challenge. This time, however, the
wilier one (Socrates/Odysseus) is asking Alkibiades/Diomedes to join
heads with him. The first use of the quote served to establish the
importance of its link to power and knowledge. The second mention
of the quote is perhaps intended to point to a consideration of the
interconnectedness of power and knowledge. In what way do power and
knowledge need each other? What draws Socrates and Alkibiades together?
The modern reader, unlike the Athenian reader, might find an
example from Plato more helpful than one from Homer. Some of the
elements of the relationship are vividly displayed in the drama of
the opening passages of the Republic . The messenger boy runs
between the many strong and the few 120 ... wise. His role is
similar to that of the auxiliary class of the dialogue but is
substantively reversed. Although he is the go-between who carries the
orders of one group to the other and has the ability to use physical
means to execute those orders (he causes Socrates literally to "turn
around," and he takes hold of Socrates' cloak), he is carrying
orders from those fit to be ruled to those fit to rule. What is especially
interesting is the significance of these opening lines for the themes of
the First Alkibiades . The first speaker in the Republic provides the
connection between the powerful and the wise . And he speaks to effect
their halt. There has to be a compromise between those who know but are
fewer in number, and those who are stronger and more numer ous but are
unwise. The slave introduces the problem of the competing claims to rule
despite the fact that he has been conventionally stripped of his.
Polemarkhos, on behalf of the many (which includes a son of
Ariston) uses number and strength as his claims over the actions of
Socrates and Glaukon. Socrates suggests that speech opens up one other
possibility. Perhaps the Few could persuade the Many. He does not suggest that
the many use speech to persuade the few to remain (although this is what
in fact happens when Adeimantos appeals to the novelty of a torch race).
Polemarkhos asks "could you really persuade if we don't
listen?" and by that he indicates a limit to the power of speech.
Later in the dialogue it is interesting that the two potential rulers
of the evening's discussion, Thrasymakhos and Socrates, seem to fight it
out with words or at least have a contest. The general problem of the
proper relation between strength and wisdom might be helpfully
illuminated by close examination of examples such as those drawn from the
Republic, the Iliad and Aesop's fable. In any event, Socrates
and Alkibiades must again join heads. Presumably, the reader may infer, the
examination of the Spartans and Persians was insufficient. (That was
suspected from the outset because Alkibiades would rather die than be
limited to Athens. Sparta and Persia would be the proper contestants for
someone intending only to rule Europe.) Perhaps they will now set out to
discover the real enemy, the true contestant. The remainder of the
dialogue, in a sense, is a discussion of how to combat ignorance of oneself.
One might suggest that this is, in a crucial sense, the enemy of which Alkibiades
is as yet not fully aware. Socrates, by switching his position with
Alkibiades vis-a-vis the guote, reminds the reader that Odysseus was no
slouch at courage and that Diomedes was no fool. It also foreshadows the
switch in their roles made explicit at the end of the dialogue. But even
more importantly, Socrates tells Alkibiades that he is in the same
position as Alkibiades. He needs to take proper care of himself too, and
requires education. His case is identical to Alkibiades' except in one
respect. Alkibiades' guardian Perikles is not as good as Socrates'
guardian god, who until now guarded Socrates against talking with
Alkibiades. Trusting his guardian, Socrates is led to say that Alkibiades
will not be able to achieve his ambitions except through Socrates.
This rather enigmatic passage of the First Alkibiades (124c) seems
to reveal yet another aspect of the relation between knowledge and power.
If language is central to understanding knowledge and power, it is thus
instructive about the essential difference, if there is one, between men
who want power and men who want knowledge. Socrates says that his
guardian (presumably the daimon or god, 103a-b, 105e), who would not let
him waste words (105e) is essentially what makes his case different than
that of Alkibiades. In response to Alkibiades' question, Socrates only
emphasizes that his guardian is better than Perikles, Alkibiades'
guardian, possibly because it kept him silent until this day. Is Socrates
perhaps essentially different from Alkibiades because he knows when to be
silent? The reader is aware that according to most people, Socrates and
Alkibiades would seem to differ on all important grounds. Their looks,
family, wealth and various other features of their lives are in marked
contrast. Socrates, however, disregards them totally, and fastens his
attention on his guardian. And the only thing the reader knows about his
guardian is that it affects Socrates' speech. Socrates claims that
because he trusts in the god he is able to say (he does not sense
opposition to his saying) that Alkibiades needs Socrates. To this
Alkibiades retorts that Socrates is jesting or playing like a
child. Not only may one wonder what is being referred to as a 121
jest, but one notices that Socrates surprisingly acknowledges that
maybe he is. He asserts, at any rate, he is speaking truly when he
remarks that they need to take care of themselves - all men do, but they
in particular must. Socrates thereby firmly situates himself and
Alkibiades above the common lot of men. He also implies that the higher,
not the lower, is deserving of extra care. Needless to say, the notion
that more effort is to be spent on making the best men even better is
quite at odds with modern liberal views. Alkibiades agrees,
recognizing the need on his part, and Socrates joins in fearing he also
requires care. The answer for the comrades demands that there be no
giving up or softening on their part. It would not befit them to relinquish
any determination. They desire to become as accomplished as possible in
the virtue that is the aim of men who are good in managing affairs. Were
one concerned with affairs of horsemanship, one would apply to horsemen, just
as if one should mean nautical affairs one would address a seaman. With
which men's business are they concerned, queries Socrates. Alkibiades
responds assured that it is the affairs of the gentlemen ( kalos kai
agathos) to whom they must attend, and these are clearly the intelligent
rather than the unintelligent. Everyone is good only in that of
which he has intelligence (125a). While the shoemaker is good at the
manufacture of shoes, he is bad at the making of clothing. However, on
that account the same man is both bad and good and one cannot uphold that
the good man is at the same time bad (but cf. 116a). Alkibiades must
clarify whom he means by the good man. By altering the emphasis of the
discussion to specific intelligence or skills, Socrates has effectively
prevented Alkibiades from answering "gentlemen" again, even if he
would think that the affairs of gentlemen in democracies are the affairs
with which a good ruler should be concerned. Given his purported
ambitions, it is understandable that Alkibiades thinks good men are those
with the power to rule in a polis (125b). Since there are a variety of
subjects over which to rule, or hold power, Socrates wants to clarify
that it is men and not, for example, horses, to which Alkibiades refers.
Socrates undoubtedly knew that Alkibiades meant men instead of horses;
the pestiness of the question attracts the attention of the reader and he
is reminded of the famous analogy of the city made by Socrates in the
Apology . Therein, the city is likened to a great horse ( Apology 30e).
It would thus not be wholly inappropriate to interpret this bizarre
question in a manner which, though not apparent to Alkibiades, would
provide a perhaps more meaningful analysis. Socrates might be asking Alkibiades
if he intends to rule a city or to rule men (in a city). It is not altogether
out of place to adopt the analogy here; corroborating support is given by
the very subtle philosophic distinctions involved later in distinguishing
ruling cities from ruling men (cf. 133e). For example, cities are not
erotic, whereas men are; cities can attain self-sufficiency, whereas men
cannot. It does not demand excessive reflection to see how erotic
striving and the interdependency of men affects the issues of ruling
them. What is good for a man, too, may differ from what is good for a city
(as mentioned above with reference to wealth), and in some cases may even
be incompatible with it. These are all issues which demand the
consideration of rulers and political thinkers. Additional endorsement
for the suitability of the analogy between city and man for interpreting
this passage, is provided by Socrates in his very next statement. He asks
if Alkibiades means ruling over sick men (125b). Earlier (107b-c) the two
had been discussing what qualified someone to give advice about a sick city.
Alkibiades doesn't mean good rule to be ruling men at sea or while
they are harvesting (though generalship and farming, or defence and
agriculture, are essential to a city). He also doesn't conclude that good
rule is useful for men who are doing nothing (as Polemarkhos is driven to
conclude that justice is useful for things that are not in use - Republic
333c-e). In a sense Alkibiades is right. Rulers rule men when they are
doing things such as transacting business, and making use of each other and
whatever makes up a political life. But rule in a precise, but inclusive,
sense is also rule over men when they are inactive. The thoughts and very
dreams are ruled by the true rulers, who have controlled or understood all the
influences upon men. Socrates fastens onto one of these and tries
to find out what kind of rule Alkibiades means by ruling over men
who make use of men. Alkibiades does not mean the pilot's virtue of
ruling over mariners who make use of rowers, nor does he mean the
chorus teacher who rules flute players who lead singers and employ
dancers; Alkibiades means ruling men who share life as fellow citizens
and conduct business. Socrates inquires as to which techne gives that ability
as the pilot's techne gives the ability to rule fellow sailors, and the
chorus teacher's ability to rule fellow singers. At this point the
attentive reader notices that Socrates has slightly altered the example.
He has introduced an element of equality. When the consideration of the
polis was made explicit, the pilot and chorus teacher became
"fellows" -"fellow sailors" and
"fellow singers." This serves at least to suggest that
citizenship in the polis is an equalizing element in political life. To
consider oneself a fellow citizen with another implies a kind of
fraternity and equality that draws people together. Despite, say, the
existence of differences within the city, people who are fellow citizens
often are closer to each other than they are to outsiders who may
otherwise be more similar. There is another sense in which
Socrates' shift to calling each expert a "fellow" illuminates
something about the city. This is discovered when one wonders why Socrates
employed two examples - the chorus teacher and the pilot. One
reason for using more than a single example is that there is more than
one point to illustrate. It is then up to the reader to scrutinize the
examples to see how they importantly differ. The onus is on the reader,
and this is a tactic used often in the dialogues. Someone is much more
likely to reflect upon something he discovered than something that is unearthed
for him. One important distinction between these two technae is that a
pilot is a "fellow sailor" in a way that the chorus teacher is
not a "fellow singer." Even in the event a pilot shares in none
of the work of the crew rules (as the chorus teacher need not actually
sing), if the ship sinks, he sinks with it. So too does the ruler of a
city fall when his city falls. This is merely one aspect of the analogy
of the ship-of-state, but it suffices to remind one that the ruler of a
polity must identify with the polity, perhaps even to the extent that he sees
the fate of the polity as his fate (cf. Republic 412d). Perhaps
more importantly, there is a distinction between the chorus master and
the pilot which significantly illuminates the task of political rule. A
pilot directs sailors doing a variety of tasks that make sailing possible#
whereas the chorus master directed singers performing in unison . Perhaps
political rule is properly understood as involving both. Alkibiades
suggests that the techne of the ruler (the fellow- citizen) is good
counsel# but as the pilot gives good not evil counsel for the
preservation of his passengers, Socrates tries to find out what end the
good counsel of the ruler serves. Alkibiades proposed that the good
counsel is for the better management and preservation of the polis.
In the next stage of the discussion Socrates makes a number of
moves that affect the outcome of the argument but he doesn't make a point
of explicating them to Alkibiades. Socrates asks what it is that becomes
present or absent with better management and preservation . He suggests
that if Alkibiades were to ask him the same question with respect to the
body, Socrates would reply that health became present and disease absent.
That is not sufficient. He pretends Alkibiades would ask what happened in
a better condition of the eyes# and he would reply that sight came and
blindness went. So too deafness and hearing are absent and present when
ears are improved and getting better treatment . Socrates would like
Alkibiades# now# to answer as to what happens when a state is improved
and has better treatment and management . Alkibiades thinks that friendship
will be present and hatred and faction will be absent. From the
simple preservation of the passangers of a ship# Socrates has moved to
preservation and better management# to improved and getting better treatment#
to improvement, better treatment and management. Simple preservation# of
course# is only good (and the goal of an appropriate techne) when the
condition of a thing is pronounced to be satisfactory, such that any
change would be for the worse. In a ship the pilot only has to preserve
the lives of his passengers by his techne, he does not have to either
make lives or improve them. In so far as a city is involved with more than mere
life, but is aiming at the good life, mere preservation of the citizens
is not sufficient. Socrates' subtle transformation indicates the treatment
necessary in politics. Another point that Socrates has implicitly
raised is the hierarchy of technae . This may be quite important to an
understanding of politics and what it can properly order within its
domain. Socrates employs the examples of the body and the eyes. The eyes
are, however, a part of the body. The body cannot be said to be healthy
unless its parts, including the eyes, are healthy; the eyes will not see
well in a generally diseased body. The two do interrelate, but have
essentially different virtues. The virtue of the eyes and thus the techne
attached to that virtue, are under/within the domain of the body and its
virtue, health. The doctor, then, has an art of a different order
than the optometrist. (The doctor and his techne may have competition for
the care of the body; the gymnastics expert has already been met and he
certainly has things to say about the management of the body - cf. 128c
but the principle there would be a comprehensive techne .) Given the
example of the relation of the parts to the whole, perhaps Socrates is
suggesting that there is an analogue in the city: the health of the whole
city and the sight of a part of the city. The reader is curious if the
same relation would hold as to which techne had the natural priority over
the other. Would the interests of the whole rule the interests of a part
of the city? Socrates' examples of the body and the part of the
body could, in yet another manner, lead toward contemplation of the
political. There is a possible connection between all three. The doctor
might well have to decide to sacrifice the sight of an eye in the
interests of the whole body. Perhaps the ruler (the man possessing the
political techne) would have to decide to sacrifice the health (or even
life) of individuals (maybe even ones as important as the "eyes" of
the city) for the well-being of the polis . Thus, analogously# the
political art properly rules the various technae of the body.
Earlier the reader had occasion to be introduced to a system of
hierarchies (108c-e). Therein he found that harping was ruled by music
and wrestling by gymnastics. Gymnastics, as the techne of the body, is,
it is suggested, ruled by politics. Perhaps music should also be ruled
by politics. In the Republic, gymnastics is to the body roughly what
music is to the soul. Both, however, are directed by politics and are a
major concern of political men. It is fortunate for Alkibiades that he
is familiar with harping and gymnastics (106e), so that as a politician
he will be able to advise on their proper performance. One already has
reason to suspect that the other subject in which Alkibiades took lessons
is properly under the domain of politics. Alkibiades believes
that the better management of a state will bring friendship into it and
remove hatred and faction. Socrates inquires if he means agreement or
disagreement by friendship. Alkibiades replies that agreement is meant,
but one must notice that this significantly reduces the area of concern to
which Alkibiades had given voice. He had mentioned two kinds of strife,
and one needn t think long and hard to notice that friendship normally
connotes much more than agreement. Socrates next asks which techne causes
states to agree about numbers; does the same art, arithmetic, cause
individuals to agree among each other and with themselves. In addition to
whatever suspicion one entertains that this is not the kind of agreement
Alkibiades meant when he thought friendship would be brought into a city
with better management/ one must keep in mind the similarity between this
and an earlier argument (111c). In almost the same words, people agreed
"with others or by themselves" and states agreed, with regard to
speaking Greek, or more precisely, with naming. There are two features of this
argument which should be explored. Firstly, one might reflect upon
whether agreement between states is always essentially similar to
agreement between people, or agreement with oneself. People can fool
themselves and they can possess their own "language." Separate
states may have separate weights and measures, say, but individuals
within a state must agree. Secondly, there may be more than one kind of agreement
with which the reader should be concerned in this dialogue. This might be
most apparent were there different factors which compelled different
people, in different circumstances, to agree. Men sometimes arrive at the same
conclusions through different reasons. The first two examples
employed by Socrates illuminate both of these points. Arithmetic and
mensuration are about as far apart as it is possible to be in terms of
the nature of the agreement. Mensuration is simply convention or
agreement, and yet its entire existence depends on people's knowing the
standards agreed upon. Numbers, on the contrary, need absolutely no
agreement (except linguistically in the names given to numbers) and no
amount of agreement can change what they are and their relation to each other.
The third example represents the type of agreement much closer to
that with which it is believed conventional politics is permeated. It is
the example of the scales — long symbolic of justice. Agreement with
people and states about weights on scales depends on a number of factors,
as does judgement about politics. There is something empirical to
observe, namely the action as well as the various weights; there is a
constant possibility of cheating (on one side or another) against which
they must take guard; there is a judgement to be made which is often
close, difficult and of crucial importance, and there is the general
problem of which side of the scale/polity is to receive the goods, and
what is the standard against which the goods are measured. To spell out
only one politically important aspect of this last factor, consider the
difference between deciding that a certain standard of life is to provide the
measure for the distribution of goods, and deciding that a certain set of
goods are to be distributed evenly without such a standard. In one case
the well off would receive no goods, they being the standard; in the
other case all would supposedly have an equal chance of receiving goods.
Other political factors are involved in determining what should be
weighed, what its value is, who should preside over the weighing, and
what kind of scale is to be used. The third example, the scales, surely
appears to be more pertinent to Socrates and Alkibiades than either of
the other two, although one notices that both arithmetic and mensuration
are involved in weighing. Alkibiades is requested to make a
spirited effort to tell Socrates what the agreement is, the art which
achieves it, and whether all parties agree the same way. Alkibiades
supposes it is the friendship of father and mother to child, brother to
brother and woman to man (126e). A good ruler would be able to make the
people feel like a family - their fellow citizens like fellow kin. This
seems to be a sound opinion of Alkibiades; many actual cities are
structured around families or clans or based on legends of common
ancestry (cf. Republic 414c-415d) . There is a complication, however,
which is not addressed by either participant in the dialogue. Socrates
had suggested three parts to the analysis of agreement - its nature, the
art that achieves it, and whether all agree in the same way. Alkibiades
in his response suggests three types of friendship which may differ
dramatically in all of the respects Socrates had mentioned. And the
political significance of the three kinds of friendship also has
different and very far-reaching effects. Consider the different ties, and
feelings that characterize man-woman relationships. And imagine the different
character of a regime that is patterned not on the parent-child relation,
but instead characterized by male-female attraction! In a
dialogue on the nature of man in which there is already support for the
notion that "descent" and "family" figure prominently
in the analysis of man's nature, it seems likely that the three kinds
of familial (or potentially familial) relationships mentioned here would
be worthy of close and serious reflection. Socrates, however, does not
take Alkibiades to task on this, but turns to an examination of the
notion that friendship is agreement, and the question of whether or not
they can exist in a polis . Socrates had himself suggested that
Alkibiades meant agreement by friendship (126c), and in this argument that
restricted sense of friendship plays a significant role in their arriving
at the unpalatable conclusion. The argument leads to the assertion that
friendship and agreement cannot arise in a state where each person does
his own business. asks Alkibiades if a man can agree with a woman
about wool—working when he doesn't have knowledge of it and she does.
And further, does he have any need to agree, since it is a woman's accomplishment?
A woman, too, could not come to agreement with a man about soldiering if
she didn't learn it - and it is a business for men. There are some parts
of knowledge appropriate to women and some to men on this account and in
those skills there is no agreement between men and women and hence no
friendship - if friendship is agreement. Thus men and women are not
befriended by each other so far as they are performing their own jobs, and
polities are not well-ordered if each person does his own business. This
conclusion is unacceptable to Alkibiades; he thinks a well-ordered polity
is one abounding in friendship, but also that it is precisely each party doing
his own business that brings such friendship into being. Socrates points
out that this goes against the argument. He asks if Alkibiades means
friendship can occur without agreement, or that agreement in something
may arise when some have knowledge while others do not. These are
presumably the steps in the argument which are susceptible to attack.
Socrates incidentally provides another opening in the argument that could
show the conclusion to be wrong. He points out that justice is the doing
of one's own work and that justice and friendship are tied together. But
Alkibiades, perhaps remembering his shame (109b-116d), does not pursue this
angle, having learned that the topic of justice is difficult. In order
to determine what, if anything, was wrongly said, various stages of
the argument will now be examined. By beginning with the
consideration of why anyone would suppose a state was well-ordered when
each person did his own business, one observes that otherwise every
individual would argue about everything done by everybody. The reader may
well share Alkibiades suspicion that what makes a state well-ordered is
that each does what he is capable of and trusts the others to do the same.
This indicates, perhaps, the major problems with the discussion between
Socrates and Alkibiades. Firstly, there are many ways that friendship
depends less upon agreement than on the lack of serious disagreement.
Secondly, agreement can occur, or be taken for granted, in a number of
ways other than by both parties having knowledge. As revealed
earlier in the dialogue, Alkibiades would readily trust an expert in
steering a ship as well as in fancy cooking (117c-d). Regardless of
whether it was a man's or a woman’s task, he would agree with the expert
because of his skill. In these instances he agreed precisely because he
had no knowledge and they did. Of course, faith in expertise may be
misplaced, or experts may lose perspective in understanding the position of
their techne relative to others. But though concord and well-ordered
polities do not necessarily arise when people trust in expertise,
friendship and agreement can come about through each man's doing his own
business. Agreement between people, thus, may come about when one
recognizes his ignorance. It may also arise through their holding similar
opinion on the issue, or when one holds an opinion compatible with
knowledge possessed by another. For example, a woman may merely have
opinions about soldiering, but those opinions may allow for agreement
with men, who alone can have knowledge. Soldiering is a man's work, but while
men are at war the women may wonder about what they are doing, or
read stories about the war, or form opinions from talking to other
soldiers' wives, or have confidence in what their soldier—husbands tell
them. There is also a sense in which, if war is business for men,
women don't even need opinions about how it is conducted for they are not
on the battlefield. They need only agree on its importance and they need
not even necessarily agree on why it is important (unless they are
raising sons). Women will often agree with men about waging war on
grounds other than the men's. For example, glory isn't a prime motivator
for most women's complying with their husbands' desires to wage war. It
has been suggested that agreement may arise on the basis of opinion and
not knowledge, and further that opinions need not be similar, merely
compatible. As long as the war is agreed to by both sexes, friendship
will be in evidence regardless of their respective views of the motives
of war. Apathy or some other type of disregard for certain kinds of
work may also eliminate disagreement and discord, provided that it isn't
a result of lack of respect for the person's profession. For example,
a man and a woman might never disagree about wool-working He may not
care how a spindle operates and would not think of interfering. And
he certainly wouldn't have to be skilled at the techne of wool-working
to agree with his wife whenever she voiced her views - his agreement
with her would rest on his approval of the resulting coat.
Socrates has not obtained from Alkibiades' speech the power to
learn what the nature of the friendship is that good men must have.
Alkibiades, invoking all the gods (he cannot be sure who has dominion
over the branch of knowledge he is trying to identify), fears that he
doesn't even know what he says, and has for some time been in a very
disgraceful condition. But Socrates reminds him that this is the correct time
for Alkibiades to perceive his condition, not at the age of fifty, for
then it would be difficult to take the proper care. In answering Alkibiades'
question as to what he should do now that he is aware of his condition,
Socrates replies he need only answer the questions Socrates puts to him.
With the favor of the god (if they can trust in Socrates' divination)
both of them shall be improved. What Socrates may have just implied
is that while Alkibiades' speech is unable to supply the power to even
name the qualities of a good man, Socratic speech in itself has the power
to actually make them better. All Alkibiades must do is respond to the
questions Socrates asks. The proper use of language, it is suggested, has
the power to make good men. One may object that speech cannot have that
effect upon a listener who is not in a condition of recognizing his
ignorance, but one must also recognize that speech has the power to bring men
to that realization. Almost half of the First Alkibiades is overtly
devoted to this task. Indeed it seems unlikely that people perceive their
plight except through some form of the human use of language except when
they are visually able to compare themselves to others. It would be difficult
to physically coerce men into perceiving their condition. An emotional
attempt to draw a person's awarness - such as a mother's tears at her
son's plight - needs speech to direct it; the son must learn what has
upset her. Speech is also necessary to point to an example of a person
who has come to a realization of his ignorance. Socrates or someone like
him, might discern his condition by himself, but even he surely spent a
great deal of time conversing with others to see that their confidence in
their opinions was unfounded. In any event, what is important for the
understanding of the First Alkibiades is that Socrates has succeeded in
convincing Alkibiades that thoughtful dialogue is more imperative for him
at this point than Athenian politics. Together they set out to
discover (cf. 109e) what is required to take proper care of oneself; in the
event that they have never previously done so, they will assume complete
ignorance. For example, perhaps one takes care of oneself while taking
care of one's things (128a). They are not sure but Socrates will agree
with Alkibiades at the end of the argument that taking proper care of one's
belongings is an art different from care of oneself (128d). But perhaps
one should survey the entire argument before commenting upon it.
Alkibiades doesn't understand the first question as to whether a
man takes care of feet when he takes care of what belongs to his feet, so
Socrates explains by pointing out that there are things which belong to
the hand. A ring, for example, belongs to nothing but a finger. So too a
shoe belongs to a foot and clothes to the body. Alkibiades still doesn't
understand what it means to say that taking care of shoes is taking care
of feet, so Socrates employs another fact. One may speak of taking
correct care of this or that thing, and taking proper care makes
something better. The art of shoemaking makes shoes better and it is by
that art that we take care of shoes. But it is by the art of making feet
better, not by shoemaking, that we improve feet. That art is the same art
whereby the whole body is improved, namely gymnastic. Gymnastic
takes care of the foot; shoemaking takes care of what belongs to the
foot. Gymnastic takes care of the hand; ring engraving takes care of what
belongs to the hand. Gymnastic takes care of the body; weaving and other
crafts take care of what belongs to the body. Thus taking care of a
thing and taking care of its belongings involve separate arts. Socrates
repeats this conclusion after suggesting that care of one's
belongings does not mean one takes care of oneself. Further support
is here recognized, in this dialogue, for a hierarchical arrangement of
the technae, but that simultaneously somewhat qualifies the conclusion of
the argument. Gymnastic is the art of taking care of the body and
it thus must weave into a pattern all of the arts of taking care of
the belongings of the body and of its parts. Its very control over
those arts, however, indicates that they are of some importance to
the body. Because they have a common superior goal, the taking care
of the body, they are not as separate as the argument would
suggest. Just as shoes in bad repair can harm feet, shoes well made
may improve feet (cf. 121d, for shaping the body). They are often
made in view of the health or beauty of the body as are clothes and
rings. Because things which surround one affect one, as one's
activities and one's reliance on some sorts of possessions affect
one, proper care for the belongings of the body may improve one's body.
Socrates continues. Even if one cannot yet ascertain which art
takes care of oneself, one can say that it is not an art concerned with
improving one's belongings, but one that makes one better. Further, just
as one couldn't have known the art that improves shoes or rings if one
didn't know a shoe or a ring, so it is impossible that one should know
the techna that makes one better if one doesn't know oneself (124a).
Socrates asks if it is easy to know oneself and that therefore the writer
at Delphi was not profound, or if it is a difficult thing and not for
everybody. Alkibiades replies that it seems sometimes easy and sometimes
hard. Thereupon Socrates suggests that regardless of its ease or
difficulty, knowledge of oneself is necessary in order to know what the
proper care of oneself is. It may be inferred from this that most people
do not know themselves and are not in a position to know what the proper
care of themselves is. They might be better off should they adopt the
opinions of those who know, or be cared for by those who know more. In
order to understand themselves, the two men must find out how,
generally, the 'self' of a thing can be seen (129b), Alkibiades
figures Socrates has spoken correctly about the way to proceed, but
instead of 124 thus proceeding, Socrates interrupts in
the name of Zeus and asks whether Alkibiades is talking to Socrates and
Socrates to Alkibiades. Indeed they are. Thus Socrates says, he is the
talker and Alkibiades the hearer. This is a thoroughly baffling
interruption, for not only is its purpose unclear, but it is
contradictory. They have just agreed that both were
talking. Socrates pushes onward. Socrates uses speech in talking
(one suspects that most people do). Talking and using speech are the
same thing, but the user and the thing he uses are not the same thing.
A shoemaker who cuts uses tools, but is himself quite different from
a tool; so also is a harper not the same as what he uses when
harping. The shoemaker uses not only tools but his hands and his
eyes, so, if the user and the thing used are different, then the shoemaker
and harper are different from the hands and eyes they use. So too,
since man uses his whole body, he must be different from his body. Man
must be the user of the body, and it is the soul which uses and rules the
body. No one, he claims, can disagree with the remark that man is one of
three things. Alkibiades may or may not disagree, but he needs a bit
of clarification. Man must be soul, or body, or both as one whole.
Already admitted is the proposition that it is man that rules the body, and
the argument has shown that the body is ruled by something else, so the
body deesn't rule itself. What remains is the soul. The unlikeliest
thing in the world is the combination of both, gQQj-^-(- 0 g suggests
(130b), for if one of the combined ones was said not to share in the rule,
then the two obviously could not rule. It is not necessary to point out
to the reader that the possibility of a body's share in the rule was
never denied, nor to indicate that what Socrates ostensibly
regards as the unlikeliest thing of all, is what it seems most reasonable
to suspect to be very like the truth. Emotions and appetites, so closely
connected with the body, are a dominant and dominating part of one's
life. They account for a major part of people's lives, and even to a
large extent influence their reason (a faculty which most agree is not
tied to the body in the same way). The soul might be seen to be at least
partly ruled by the body if it is appetites and emotions which affect
whether or not reason is used and influence what kind of decisions will
be rationally determined. Anyhow, according to Socrates, if it is
not the body, or the combined body and soul, then man must either be nothing at
all, or he must be the soul (130c). But the reader is aware that only on
the briefest of glances does this square with "the statement that no
one could dissent to," (cf. 130a). Man cannot be 'nothing' according
to that statement any more than he can be anything else whatsoever, such
as 'dog,' 'gold,' 'dream,' etc. 'Nothing' was not one of the
alternatives. Alkibiades swears that he needs no clearer proof that
the soul is man, and ruler of the body, but Socrates, overruling the
authority of Alkibiades' oath, responds that the proof is merely
tolerable, sufficing only until they discover that which they have just
passed by because of its complexity. Unaware that anything had been
by-passed (Socrates had interrupted that part of the discussion with his
first conventional oath - 129b), the puzzled Alkibiades asks Socrates. He
receives the reply that they haven't been considering what generally
makes the self of a thing discoverable, but have been looking at
particular cases. Perhaps that will suffice, for the soul surely must be said
to have a more absolute possession of us than anything else.
So, whenever Alkibiades and Socrates converse with each other, it
is soul conversing with soul; the souls using words (130d.l). Socrates,
when he uses speech, talks with Alkibiades' soul, not his face. Socratic
speech is thus essentially different from the speech of the crowds of
suitors who conversed with Alkibiades (103a, cf. also 106b). If Socrates'
soul talks with Alkibiades' soul and if Alkibiades is truly listening,
then it is Alkibiades' soul, not one of his belongings that hears
Socrates (cf. 129b-c). Someone who says "know thyself" means "know thy soul";
knowing the things that belong to the body means knowing what is his, but
not what he is. The reader will note how the last two steps of the
argument subtly, yet definitely, indicate the ambiguous nature of the
body's position in this analysis. Someone who knows only the belongings
of the body will not know the man. According to the argument proper,
someone who knew the body, too, would still only know a man's
possessions, not his being. Socrates continues, pressing the
argument to show that no doctor or trainer, insofar as he is a doctor or
a trainer, knows himself. Farmers and tradesmen are still more
remote, for their arts teach only what belongs to the body (which is
itself only a possession of the man) and not the man. Indeed, most people
recognize a man by his body, not by his soul, which reveals his true
nature. gocrates pauses briefly to introduce consideration of a
virtue. Seemingly out of the blue, he remarks that "if knowing
oneself is temperance" then no craftsman is temperate by his te c h
ne (131b). Because of this the good man disdains to learn the technae .
This sudden introduction of the virtue/ defining temperance as self-knowledge/
will assume importance later in the dialogue. Returning to
the argument, Socrates proposes that one who cares for the body cares for
his possessions. One who cares for his money cares not for himself, nor
for his possessions, but for something yet more remote. He has ceased to
do his own business. Those who love Alkibiades' body don't love
Alkibiades but his possessions. The real lover is the one who loves
his soul. The one who loves the body would depart when the body's
bloom is over, whereas the lover of the soul remains as long as it still
tends to the better. Socrates is the one that remained; the others left
when the bloom of the body was over. Silently accepting this insult to
his looks, one of his possessions, Alkibiades recognizes the compliment
paid to himself. The account of the cause of Socrates' remaining and the
others' departure, however, has changed somewhat from the beginning
CIO3b, 104c). Then the lovers left because a quality of Alkibiades' soul
was too much for them (but not for Socrates) to handle. Now it is a decline
in a quality of the body that apparently caused them to depart, but it is
still an appreciation of the soul that retains Socrates' interest.
Perhaps the significance of this basic shift is to indicate to
Alkibiades the true justification for his self-esteem. His highmindedness was
based on his physical qualities and their possessions, not on his soul.
Socrates may be insulting the other lovers, but he is at the same time
making it difficult for Alkibiades to lose his pride in the things of the
body. Thus Socrates' reinterpretation of the reasons for the lovers'
departure reinforces the point of the argument, namely that one's soul is
more worthy of attention and consideration than one's body.
Alkibiades is glad that Socrates has stayed and wants him to remain. He
shall, at Socrates' request, endeavour to remain as handsome as he
can. So Alkibiades, the son of Kleinias, "has only one lover and
128 that a cherished one," Socrates, son of Sophroniskos
and Phainarite. Now Alkibiades knows why Socrates alone did not
depart. He loves Alkibiades, not merely what belongs to Alkibiades.
Socrates will never forsake Alkibiades as long as he (his soul) is
not deformed by the Athenian people. In fact that is what especially
concerns Socrates. His greatest fear is that Alkibiades will be damaged
through becoming a lover of the demos - it has happened to many good
Athenians. The face (not the soul?) of the "people of great-hearted
Erekhtheos" is fair, but to see the demos stripped is another thing.
As the dialogue approaches its end, Socrates becomes poetic in his
utterances. On this occasion he prophetically quotes Homer ( Iliad II,
547). When listing the participants on the Akhaian side of the Trojan
War, Homer describes the leader of the Athenians, the "people of the
greathearted Erekhtheos," as one like no other born on earth for the
arrangement and ordering of horses and fighters. Alkibiades would become
famous for his attempts to order poleis and his arranging of naval
military forces. In the Gorgias, Scorates relates a myth about the
final judgement of men, and one of the interesting features of the story
is that the judges and those to be judged are stripped of clothes and
bodies ( Gorgias 523a-527e). 129 All that is judged is the soul. This
allows the judges to perceive the reality beneath the appearance that a
body and its belongings provide. Flatterers (120b) would not be as able to get
to the Blessed Isles/ although actually, in political regimes, living
judges are often fooled by appearances. Judges too are stripped so that
they could see soul to soul (133b; cf. Gorgias 523d), and would be less
likely to be moved by rhetoric, poetry, physical beauty or any other of
the elements that are tied to the body through, for example, the emotions
and appetites. It seems thus good advice for anyone who desires to enter
politics that he get a stripped view of the demos . In addition, those
familiar with the myth in the Gorgias might recognize the importance of
Alkibiades stripping himself, and coming to know his own soul, before he
enters politics. Socrates is advising Alkibiades to take the proper
precautions. He is to exercise seriously, learning all that must be known
prior to an entry into politics (132b). Presumably this knowledge will
counteract the charm of the people. Alkibiades wants to know what the
proper exercises are, and Socrates says they have established one important
thing and that is knowing what to take care of. They will not
inadvertently be caring for something else, such as, for example,
something that only belongs to them. The next step, now that they know upon
what to exercise, is to care for the soul and leave the care of the body
and its possessions to others. If they could discover how to
obtain knowledge of the soul, they would truly "know
themselves." For the third time Socrates refers to the Delphic
inscription and he claims he has discovered another interpretation of it
which he can illustrate only by the example of sight. Should someone say
"see thyself" to one's eye, the eye would have to look at
something, like a mirror, or the thing in the eye that is like a mirror
(132d-e). The pupil of the eye reflects the face of the person looking
into it like a mirror. Looking at anything else (except mirrors, water,
polished shields, etc.) won't reflect it. Just as the eye must look into
another eye to see itself, so must a soul look into another soul. In
addition it must look to that very part of the soul which houses the
virtue of a soul - wisdom - and any part like wisdom. The part of the
soul containing knowledge and thought is the most divine, and since it
thus resembles god, whoever sees it will recognize all that is divine and
will get the greatest knowledge of himself. In order to see
one's own soul properly, then, Socrates suggests that it is necessary to
look into another's soul. Alkibiades must look into someone's soul to
obtain knowledge of himself, and he must possess knowledge of himself in
order to be able to rule himself. This last is a prerequisite for ruling
others. Since it lacks a 'pupil,' the soul doesn't have a readily
available window/mirror for observing another's soul, as the eye does for
observing oneself through another's eye. Such vision of souls can only be
had through speech. Through honest dialogue with trusted friends and
reflection upon what was said and done, one may gain a glimpse of their
soul. The souls must be "stripped" so that words are spoken and
heard truly. Socrates, by being the only lover who remained, and, having
shown his value to Alkibiades, will continue to speak (104e, 105e). He is
offering Alkibiades a look at his soul. This is in keeping, it
appears, with the advice that Alkibiades look to the rational part of the
soul. Socrates is the picture of the rational man; through his speech the
reader is also offered the opportunity to try to see into Socrates' soul to
better understand his own. Again, as discussed above, a man's nature can
be understood by looking to the example of the best, even if it is only an
imitation of the best in Dialogues. Socrates now recalls the
earlier mention of temperance as though they had come to some conclusion
regarding the nature of the virtue. They had supposedly agreed that
self-knowledge was temperance (133c; cf. 131b). Lacking self-knowledge or
temperance, one could not know one's belongings, whether they be good or
evil. Without knowing Alkibiades one could not know if his belongings are
his. Ignorance of one's belongings prohibits familiarity with the belongings of
belongings. Socrates reminds Alkibiades that they have been incorrect in
admitting people could know their belongings if they didn't know
themselves. This latter argument raises at least two difficulties.
Firstly, it renders problematic the suggestion that one should leave
one's body and belongings in another's care. These others, it seems,
would be doctors and gymnastics trainers - the only experts of the body
explicitly recognized in the dialogue. Remembering that neither doctor or
trainer knows himself, one might wonder how he can know Socrates' and
Alkibiades' belongings. He cannot, according to the argument here
(133c-d) know his own belongings without knowing himself and he cannot be
familiar with others' belongings while ignorant of his own. The
argument, secondly, creates a problem with the understanding heretofore
suggested about how men generally conduct their lives. Most people do not
know themselves and do not properly care for themselves. The argument
of the dialogue has intimated that they in fact care for their
belongings. Thus it would seem that, in some sense, they do know their
belongings, just as Alkibiades' lovers, ignorant of Alkibiades and
probably ignorant of themselves, still know that Alkibiades' body belonged
to Alkibiades. And they knew, like he knew C104a-c) that his looks and
his wealth belong to his body. The reader might conclude from this that
the precise knowledge they do not have is knowledge either of what the
belongings should be like, or what their true importance and proper role
in a man's life should be. Knowledge of one's soul would consist, partly,
in knowing how to properly handle one's belongings. That allows one
to do what is right, and not merely do what one likes. It is the
task of one man and one techne (the chief techne in the hierarchy) to
grasp himself, his belongings, and their belongings. Someone who doesn't know
his belongings won't know other mens'. And if he doesn't know theirs, he
won't know those of the polity. This last remark raises the consideration
of what constitutes the belongings of a polity. And that immediately
involves one in reflection upon whether the city has a body, and a soul.
What is the essence of the city? The reader is invited to explore the
analogy to the man, but even more, it is suggested that he is to reflect
upon how to establish the priority of one over the other. This invitation
is indicated by the discussion of the one techne that presides over all the
bodies and belongings. The relation of the city to the individual man has been
of perennial concern to political thinkers, and a most difficult aspect
of the problem terrain involves the very understanding of the City and
Man (cf. 125b). The question is multiplied threefold with the
possibility that an adequate understanding of the city requires an
account of its soul, its body and its body's belongings. An account of
man, it has been suggested in this dialogue, demands knowing his soul,
body, possessions, and the relation and ordering of each. It is quite
possible that what is proper best for a man will conflict
with what is best for a city. The city might be considered best off if it
promotes an average well-being. Having its norm, or median,
slightly higher than the norm of the next city would indicate it was
better off. It is also possible that the circumstances within which each and
every man thrives would not necessarily bring harmony to a city.
The problem of priority is further complicated by the introduction
of the notion that the welfare of each citizen is not equally important
to the city. Perhaps what is best for a city is to have one class of its
members excel, or to have it produce one great man. What is to be understood as
the good of the city's very soul? Furthermore, even if the welfare
of the whole city is to be identified with the maximum welfare of each
citizen, it might still be the case that the policies of the city need to
increase the welfare of a few people. For example, in time of war the
welfare of the whole polity depends on the welfare of a few men, the
armed forces. As long as war is a threat, the good of the city Cits body,
soul, or possessions) could depend on the exceptional treatment of one
class of its men. Knowledge of the true nature of the polity is
essential for political philosophy and so for proper political
decision-making. Men ignorant of the polity, the citizens, or themselves
cannot be statesmen or economists (133e; cf. Statesman 258e). Such a man,
ignorant of his and others' affairs will not know what he is doing,
therefore making mistakes and doing ill in private and for the demos . He
and they will be wretched. Temperance and goodness are
necessary for well-being, so it is bad men who are wretched. Those who
attain temperance not those who become wealthy, are released from this
misery. ^ Similarly, cities need virtue for their well-being, not
walls, triremes, arsenals, numbers or size (134b; The full impact
of this will be felt if one remembers that this dialogue is taking
place immediately prior to the outbreak of the war with Sparta.
Athens is in full flurry of preparation, for she has seen the war
coming for a number of years) . Proper management of the polis by
Alkibiades would be to impart virtue to the citizens and he could not
impart it without having it (134c). A good governor has to acquire
the virtue first. Alkibiades shouldn't be looking for power as it is
conventionally understood - the ability to do whatever one pleases - but
he should be looking for justice and temperance. If he and the state
acted in accordance with those two virtues, they would please god; their
eyes focussed on the divine, they will see and know themselves and their
good. If Alkibiades would act this way, Socrates would be ready to
guarantee his well-being (134e). But if he acts with a focus on the godless and
dark, through ignorance of humself his acts will go godless and
dark. Alkibiades has received the Socratic advice to forget about
power as he understands it, in the interest of having real power over at
least himself. Conventionally understood, and in most applications of
it, power is the ability to do what one thinks fit ( Gorgias 469d) .
Various technae give to the skilled the power to do what they think fit
to the material on which they are working. The technae, however, are
hierarchically arranged, some ruling others. That is, some are
archetectonic with respect to others. What is actually fit for each
techne is dictated by a logically prior techne . The techne with the most
power is the one that dictates to the other techne what is fit and what
is not. This understanding seems to disclose two elements of
power: the ability to do what one thinks is fit, and knowing what is
fit. If a man can do what he wants but is lacking in intelligence,
the result is likely to be disastrous (135a; Republic 339a-e,
Gorgias 469b, 470a). If a man with tyrannical power were sick and
he couldn't even be talked to, his health would be destroyed. If he
knew nothing about navigation, a man exercising tyrannical power as
a ship's pilot may well cause all on board to perish. Similarly in a state
a power without excellence or virtue will fare badly.
It is not tyrannical power that Alkibiades should seek but virtue,
if he would fare well, and until the time he has virtue, it is better,
more noble and appropriate for a man, as for a child, to be governed by a
better than to try to govern; part of being 'better' includes knowledge
that right rule is in the subject's interest. It is appropriate for a
bad man to be a slave; vice befits a slave, virtue a free man (135c;
it seems strange that vice should be appropriate for anyone, slave
or free, perhaps, rather, it defines a slave). One should most certainly
avoid all slavery and if one can perceive where one stands, it may not
at present be on the side of the free (135c). Socrates must indicate
to Alkibiades the importance of a clearer understanding of both what
he desires, power, and what this freedom is. In a conventional, and
ambiguous sense, the man with the most freedom is the king or tyrant who
is not sub ject to anyone. Socrates must educate Alkibiades. The man
who wants power like the man who seeks freedom, doesn't know
substantively what he is looking for; the only power worth having comes
with wisdom, which alone can make one free. Socrates confides
to Alkibiades that his condition ought not to be named since he is a
noble ( kalos) man (cf. 118b - is this another condition which will remain
unnamed despite their solitude?). Alkibiades must endeavour to escape it.
If Socrates will it, Alkibiades replies, he will try. To this Socrates
responds that it is only noble to say "if god wills it." This
appears to be Socrates' pious defence to a higher power. However, since
he has drawn attention to the phrase himself, a reminder may be permitted
to the effect that it is not necessarily quite the conventional piety to
which he refers: a strange parade of deities has been presented for the
reader's review in this dialogue. Alkibiades is eager to agree and
wants, fervently, to trade places with Socrates (135d). From now on
Alkibiades will be attending Socrates. Alkibiades, this time, will follow
and observe Socrates in silence. For twenty years Socrates has been
silent toward Alkibiades, and now, thinking it appropriate to trade
places, Alkibiades recognizes that silence on his part will help fill his
true, newly found needs. In the noise-filled atmosphere of today,
it is especially difficult to appreciate (and thus to find an audience
that appreciates) the importance of the final aspect of language that will be
discussed in connection with knowledge and power - silence. The use of
silence for emphasis is apparently known to few. But note how a moment of
silence on the television draws one's attention, whether or not the
program was being followed. And an indication of a residual respect for
the power of silence is that one important manner of honoring political
actors and heroes is to observe a moment of silence. Think, too, how
judicious use of silence can make someone ill at ease, or cause them to
re-examine their speech. The words "ominous" and
"heavy" may often be appropriately used to describe silence.
Silence can convey knowledge as well as power, and as the above examplss
may serve to show, it may have a significant role in each. When one begins
to examine the role of silence in the lives of the wise and the powerful,
one begins to see some of the problems of a loud society. To start
with, the reader acquaints himself with the role of silence in political
power. As witnessed in the dialogue, and, as well, in modern regimes,
there are many facets of this. Politicians must be silent about much.
Until recently, national defence was an acceptable excuse for silence on
the part of the leaders of a country. The existence of a professional
"news" gathering establishment necessitates that this silence
be total, and not only merely with respect to external powers, for some
things that the enemy must not know must be kept from the citizens as
well (cf. 109c, 124a). Politicians are typically silent about some
things in order to attain office, and about even more things in order to
retain it. Dissenters prudently keep quiet in order to remain undetained or
even alive. Common sense indeed dictates that one observe a politic
silence on a wide variety of occasions. Men in the public eye may conceal
their disbelief in religious authority in the interests of those in the
community who depend on religious conviction for their good conduct. Most
consider lying in the face of the enemy to be in the interests of the
polity, and all admire man who keeps silent even in the face of severe
enemy torture. Parents often keep silent to protect their children,
either when concerned about outsiders or about the more general
vulnerability of those unable to reason. One important political use
of silence is in terms of the myths and fables related to children. Inestimable
damage may be done when the "noble lie" that idealistically
structures the citizen's understanding of his regime is repudiated in
various respects by the liberal desire to expose all to the public in the
interests of enlightenment. At the point where children are shown that
the great men they look up to are "merely human," one most
clearly sees the harm that may be done by breaking silence. Everybody
becomes really equal, despite appearances to the contrary, since everyone -
even the heroes - acts from deep, irrational motives, appetites, fears,
etc. High ideals and motives for action are debunked. Since
many of the political uses of silence mentioned above concern appropriate
silence about things known, the next brief discussion will focus on silence
and knowledge. The primary aspect of the general concern for silence in
the life devoted to the pursuit of knowledge is a function of the twin
features of political awareness and political concern. Though closely tied to
the aforementioned appropriate uses of silence, this is concerned less
with the disclosure of unsalutary facts about the life and times of men
than with questions and truths of a higher order. For example, if it
could be discerned that man's condition was abysmal, that he would
inevitably become decadent, it would not be politically propitious to
announce the fact on the eight-o'clock newscast There seem to be at least
two situations in which such facts are revealed A politically unaware man
might not realize it; a politically aware but somehow unconcerned man
might not care about the well-being of the community as a whole.
There are at least two additional respects in which silence is important
to the life of knowledge. Both play a part in Alkibiades' education in the
First Alkibiades and contribute to his desire to trade places with
Socrates. Firstly one must be silent to learn what others have to say. On
the face of it, this seems a trivial and fairly obvious thing to say.
However when one appreciates the importance of trust and friendship in philosophic
discourse, one perceives that the notion of silence important to this
aspect of learning is much broader than the mere logistics of taking
turns speaking. To mention only a single example, one has to prove one's
ability to "keep one's mouth shut" in order to develop the kind
of trust essential to frank discussion among dialogic partners.
Secondly, silence enhances mystery if there is reason to suspect
that the silent know more than they have revealed. This attraction to the
mysterious accounts for many things, including to mention only one
example, the great appeal of detective stories. If both witnesses and the
author did not know more than they let on in the beginning, if the
reader/detective did not have to take great care in extracting the truth
from muddled accounts, it is not likely that the genre would have the
enduring readership it now enjoys. Both of these might be tied
directly to Socrates' initial silence toward Alkibiades. Socrates had
kept quiet until Alkibiades had reached a certain stage in the
development of his ambition. His prolonged silence, and then his repeated
reminders of it, as he begins to speak, increases Alkibiades' curiosity.
As it becomes more and more apparent to Alkibiades that Socrates knows
what he is talking about, Alkibiades becomes increasingly desirous of
learning. He wants Socrates to reveal the truth to him, the truth he
suspects Socrates is keeping to himself. Throughout the discussion the men
discuss ever more important subjects and it is readily apparent that
their mutual trust grows at least partly because of their recognition of
what is appropriately kept silent. In addition, at yet another level, it has
been frequently observed that Socrates' silence ragarding a part of the truth,
or the necessity of an example, or a segment of the argument, indicates
to the careful reader a greater depth to the issues. Recognition of
this silence increases the philosophic curiosity of the readers as he
attempts to discover both the subject of, and the reason for, the
silence. Alkibiades has suggested that he shall switch
"places" with Socrates. Socrates has attended on him for all
this time and now Alkibiades wants to follow Socrates. This is only one
of a number of "switches" that occur in the turning around of
Alkibiades, witnessed only by Socrates and the careful reader.
In the beginning Socrates says that the lovers of Alkibiades left
because his qualities of soul were too overpowering. He is flattering
Alkibiades in order, perhaps, to entice Alkibiades to begin listening. In
the end he suggests they ceased pursuing the youth because the bloom of
his beauty (the appearance of his body) has departed from him. At first
glance this is not complimentary at all. Nevertheless it is now that
Alkibiades claims to want very much to remain and listen. He will even
bear insults silently. At the start Alkibiades is haughty, superior
and self-sufficient. In the end he wishes to please Socrates,
recognizing his need for the power of speech in his coming to know
himself. At first he believes he already knows, and arguments seem
extraneous. By the end he wants to talk over the proper care of his soul
at length with Socrates. Probably the most notable turning around
in the dialogue is the lover—beloved switch between the beginning and the
end (cf. also Symposium 217d). But a number of puzzling features come to
the fore when one attempts to draw out the implications of the change. In
what way is their attraction switched? Socrates is attracted to
Alkibiades' unquenchable eros . Perhaps a mark of its great will for power is
that it is now directed toward Socrates. However, what does that suggest
about Socrates' eros in turn, either in terms of its strength or its
direction? What kind of eros is attracted to a most powerful eros which
in turn is directed back to it? Do Socrates and Alkibiades both have the
same intensity of desires and are their ambitions not directed toward the
same ends? Perhaps Socrates' answer will suffice. He is pleased
with the well-born man. His eros is like a stork - he has hatched a
winged eros and it returned to care for him. (This is the first
indication that Socrates assumes responsibility for the form of
Alkibiades' desires; it also indicates another whole series of problems
regarding how Alkibiades will "care for" Socrates). They are
kindred souls (or at least have kindred eros), and their relationship is
now one of mutual aid. Socrates will look into Alkibiades' soul to find
his own and Alkibiades will peer into Socrates' soul in attempting to
discern his. The reader is implicitly invited to look too; he has the privilege
starting again and examining the souls more closely each time he returns
to the beginning. Alkibiades agrees that that is the situation in
which they find themselves and he will immediately begin to be concerned
with justice. Socrates wishes he'll continue, but expresses a great fear.
In an ironic premonition of both their fates, he says he doesn't distrust
Alkibiades' nature, but, being able to see the might of the state (cf.
132a), he fears that both of them will be overpowered.There is always an
irony involved in concluding an essay on a Platonic dialogue. The
most fitting ending, it seems, would be to whet one's appetite for
more. This I shall attempt to do by pointing out an intriguing
feature about the dialogue in general. If one were to look at the
Platonic corpus as a kind of testament to Socrates, a story by
Plato of a Socrates made young and beautiful regardless of their
historical accuracy. For example, the Theaitetos, Sophist and
Statesman all take place at approximately the same time, shortly
before Socrates' trial. Similarly, the Euthyphro and Apology occur
about then. The Crito and Phaido follow shortly thereafter, and so
on. The First Alkibiades has its own special place. The First
Alkibiades may well be the dialogue in which Socrates makes his earliest
appearance. The Platonic tradition has presented us with this as
our introduction to Socrates, to philosophy. Why? This dialogue
marks the first Socratic experience with philosophy that we may
witness. Why? The fateful first meeting between Socrates and
Alkibiades is also our first meeting with Socrates. Why? The
reader's introduction to the philosopher and to philosophizing is in
a conversation about a contest for the best man. Why? One must
assume that, for some reason, Plato thought this fitting. Plato,
Republic 377a.9-10. The dialogue is known as the First Alkibiades,
Alkibiades I and Alkibiades Major . Its title in Greek is simply
Alkibiades but the conventional titles enable us to distinguish it from
the other dialogue called Alkibiades . Stephanus pagination in the text
of this thesis refers to the First Alkibiades of Plato. The Loeb text
(translated by W. Lamb, 1927) formed the core of the reading. However,
whenever a significant difference was noted between the Lamb translation
and that of Thomas Sydenham ( circa 1800), my own translation forms the
basis of the commentary. Unless otherwise noted, all other works referred
to are by Plato. 2. The major sources for Alkibiades' life are
Thucydides, Xenophon, Plutarch and Plato. It seems to be the case that no
history can be "objective." Since one cannot record everything,
a historian must choose what to write about. Their choice is made on the
basis of their opinion of what is important and therein vanishes the
"objectivity" so sought after but always kept from modern
historians. The superiority of the accounts of the men referred to above
lies partially in that they do not pretend to that
"value-neutral" goal, even though their perspective may
nonetheless be impartial. I wish to take this opportunity to
emphasize the limited importance of the addition of this sketch of the
historical Alkibiades. Were it suggested that such a familiarity were
essential to the understanding of the dialogue, it would be implied that
the dialogue as it stands is insufficient, and that I was in a position to
remedy that inadequacy. As a rule of thumb in interpretation one should
not begin with such presuppositions. However, there are a number of ways in
which the reading of the dialogue is enriched by knowing the career of
Alkibiades. For example, the reader who doesn't know that Alkibiades'
intrigues with (and illegitimate son by) the Spartan queen was a cause of
his fleeing from Sparta and a possible motive for his assassination,
would not have a full appreciation of the comment by Socrates on the
security placed around the Spartan queens (121b-c). At all events,
extreme caution is necessary so that extra historical baggage will not be
imported into the dialogue. It might be quite easy to prematurely
evaluate the historical Alkibiades, and thereby misunderstand the
dialogue. We are also told she had dresses worth fifty
minae. Plutarch, Life of Alkibiades, 1.1 (henceforth referred to
simply as Plutarch); Plato, Alkibiades I, 112c, 124c, 118d—e. Plutarch,
II. 4-6. 6. Diodoros Siculus, Diodoros of Sicily, XII. 38. iii-iv
(henceforth Diodoros). 7. This is the Anytos who was Socrates'
accuser. He was also notorious in Athens for being the first man to bribe
a jury (composed of 500 men)! He had been charged with impiety. Some
suspect that Alkibiades' preference for Socrates caused Anytos to be
jealous and that this was a motive for his accusation of Socrates.
8. Plutarch The historical accuracy of the representation is impossible
to determine and, so far as we need be concerned, philosophically
irrelevant. 10. Actually Alkibiades admits this in a dialogue which
Plato wrote (cf. Symposium 212c-223b, esp. 215a, ff.). Plutarch. Plato,
Symposium 219e-220e; Plutarch. Plato, Symposium 220e-221c; Plutarch VII. 4;
Diadoros cf. Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War. Thucydudes, Cf.
also Plutarch, Plutarch, XIV. 6-9; Thucydides Plutarch, XIII. 3-5. Cf.
Aristotle's discussion in his Politics, Thucydides, Diodoros, Thucydides,
Thucydides, Plutarch, XVIII. 1-2; Thucydides.The Hermai were religious statues,
commonly positioned by the front entrance of a dwelling. Hermes was the
god of travelling and of property. Cf. Thucydides, Thucydides,
Plutarch, Thucydides, Thucydides, VI. 48-50. Thucydides,
Thucydides, Plutarch, Diodoros,
Thucydides, Plutarch, Thucydides, Plutarch, Thucydides, Thucydides,
Plutarch; cf. also Plato, Alkibiades, where Plato's mention might provide some
support for a claim that the motive was other than lust. 35.
Thucydides, Plutarch, Plutarch, Thucydides, Diodoros, XIII. 41. iv-42iii;
Plutarch, Thucydides Thucydides, Thucydides, VIII. 97. For an excellent and
beautiful examination of this in Thucydides, read Leo Strauss,
"Preliminary Observations of the Gods in Thucydides' Work."
INTERPRETATION, Nijhoff, The Hague,
Netherlands. Plutarch, Xenophon, Hellenika, Diodoros Xenophon,
Hellenika, I, i, 9-10; Plutarch, Xenophon, Hellenika,
Xenophon, Hellenika, I, iv, 8-17; Plutarch, Xenophon,
Hellenika, I, iv, 20-21; Plutarch,Plutarch, Diodoros, Plutarch, Xenophon,
Hellenika I, v, 11-16; Plutarch, Plutarch, Diodoros, Plutarch. There are
various accounts, the similar feature being the Spartan instigation. It
is not likely that it was a personal assassination (because of the
queen), but it was probably not purely due to political motives, either.
54. Aristophanes, Frogs; cf. Aristophanes, Clouds, Plato, Symposium,Aristophanes,
Clouds, 217 ff. 56. Politically speaking, however, this is not to
be thoroughly disregarded, for in their numbers they can trample even the
best of men. Cf. for example: Plato, Gorgias 500c, Aristotle,
Politics 1324a24 ff., Rousseau, Social Contract, Marx, Theses on
Feuerbach, Hobbes, Leviathan, edited by C. B. MacPherson, Pelican Books,
Middlesex It is interesting that Socrates uses the promise of power to
entice Alkibiades to listen so that he can persuade him that he doesn't
know what power is. It is very important for the understanding of the
dialogue that the reader remember that Socrates has characterized
Alkibiades' desire for honor (105b) as a desire for power. This is of
crucial significance throughout the dialogue, and in particular in connection
with Socrates' attempts to teach Alkibiades from whom to desire honor,
and in what real power consists. The reader is advised to keep both in
mind throughout the dialogue. Perhaps at the end he may be in a position
to judge in what the difference consists. 60. The most notorious
example, perhaps, is Martin Heidegger, although he was surely not the
only important man implicated with fascism. 61. Cf. Aiskhylos,
Agamemnon 715-735, and Aristophanes, Frogs, for the metaphor. The latter is a
reference to Alkibiades himself, the former a statement of the general
problem. (f. also Republic 589b; Laws 707a; Kharmides 155d; and
Alkibiades I 123a). 62. The fully developed model resulting from
this effort should probably only be made explicit to the educators. The
entire picture (including the hero's thoughts about the cosmos, etc.)
would be baffling to children and most adults, and would thus detract
from their ability to identify with the model. Perhaps a less
thoroughly-developed example would suffice for youths. However, the
entire conception of the best man that the youths are to emulate should
be made explicit. The task is difficult but worth the effort, since the
consistency of two or more features of the model can only be positively
ascertained if he is fully developed. An obvious example of where
conflicts might arise should this not be done is where, say, a very
hybristic, superior and self- confident young man is the leader of the
radical democratic faction of a city. Some kind of conflict is inevitable
there, and those tensions are much more obvious though not necessarily
more penetrating than those caused by incompatible metaphysical
views. 63. For example, Lakhes, Kharmides, Republic, Euthyphro
. 64. These questions are not the same, for in many dialogues
the person named does not have the longest, or even a seemingly major
speaking part; e.g., Gorgias, Phaedo, Minos, Hipparkhos .Protagoras, 336d. Here
Alkibiades is familiar with Socrates, for he recognizes his "little
joke" about his failing memory. However, Socrates was not yet
notorious throughout Athens, for the eunuch guarding the door did not
recognize him ( Protagoras 314d). Much of this speculation as to the date
depends on there not being anachronisms between (as opposed to within)
Platonic dialogues. We have no priori reason to believe there are no
anachronisms. However, it might prove to be useful to compare what is
said about the participants in other dialogues. The problem of
anachronisms within dialogues is a different one than we are referring to
in our discussion of the dramatic date. Plato, for a variety of
philosophic purposes, employs anachronisms within dialogues, including
perhaps, that of indicating that the teaching is not time-bound. This is
obviously related to teleology, a way of accounting for things that
concentrates on the fulfilled product, the end or teleos of the thing and
not on its origin, as the most essential for understanding the thing. The
prescientific, or common-sensical, understanding of things is a
teleological one. The superior/ideal/proper characteristic of things somehow
inform the ordinary man's understanding of the normal. This prescientific
view is important to return to, for it is such an outlook, conjoined with
curiosity, that gives rise to philosophic wonder. For this
kind of detailed information, I found the Word Index to Plato,
by Brandwood, an invaluable guide. 68. The challenge to
self-sufficiency is important to every dialogue, to all men. It is
something we all, implicitly or explicitly, strive towards, a key
question about all men's goals. Even these days, one thing that will
still make a man feel ashamed is to have it suggested that he depends on
someone (especially his spouse). The first step toward
self-improvement has to be some degree of self-contempt, and that might
be sparked if Alkibiades realizes his dependency. 69.
Socrates might be saying this to make the youth open up. It isn't purely
complimentary; he doesn't say you are right. (Cf. also Kharmides). I am
indebted for this observation to Proclus whose Commentary on the First
Alkibiades, is quite useful and interesting. In order to claim that
something is or is not a cause for wonder, one apparently would have to
employ some kind of criteria. Such criteria would refer to some larger
whole which would render the thing in question either evident or
worthy of wonder or trivial. None of these has been explicitly suggested
in the dialogue with reference either to difficulty of stopping speech or
beginning to talk. 71. It may be important to note that this
discussion refers to political limits, political ambitions. Perhaps a higher
ambition (perhaps indeed the one Socrates is suggesting to Alkibiades) can be
understood as an attempt to tyrannize nature herself, to rule (by knowing
the truth about) even the realm of possibility and not to be confined by
it. One notices that this, by implication, is a claim by Socrates to
know himself, not exactly a modest claim. 73. Interestingly, he
does not consider what Alkibiades heard in such speeches to be part of
his education, "comprehensively" listed at 106e.
74. This appears similar to Socrates' strategy with Glaukon. Cf. Craig,
L.H., An Introduction to Plato's Republic, pp. 138-202; especially pp.
163-4; Bloom, A., "Interpretive Essay," in The Republic of Plato. Cf.
Republic. Cf. Republic, 327b, 449b; Kharmides, 153b; Parmenides, 126a.While
imagined contexts may influence one's thinking and speaking in certain
ways, one is not naively assuming that then one will speak and act the
same as one would if the imagined were actualized. Many things
might prevent one from doing as well as one imagined. An example familair
to the readers of Plato might be the construction of the good city in
speech. Cf. 105d, 131e, 123c, and 121a. One might be curious as to
the difference between Phainarete's indoor teaching of Socrates and
Deinomakhe's indoor teaching of Alkibiades. Also perhaps noteworthy is
that Alkibiades was taught indoors by his actual mother: the masculine
side of his nurture was not provided by his natural father. Except see
Hobbes, Leviathan, chapter 29; Plato, Republic, 372e. And one must
remember that when the plague strikes, the city is dramatically
affected. 80. Thucydides. Note two things: (1) Athenians don't
debate about this at the ekklesia ; (2) Alkibiades, as well as the
wrestling master, would be qualified (118c-d). Socrates drops
dancing here; perhaps it is similar enough to wrestling to need no separate
mention/ and to provide no additional material for consideration. But if
that were so one might wonder why it was mentioned in the first
place. 83. Perhaps "all cases" should be qualified to
"all cases which are ruled by an art." The general ambiguity
surrounding this remark invites the reader's reflection on the extent to which
Socrates' suggestion could be seen to be a much more general kind of
advice. Perhaps Alkibiades would be better off imitating Socrates -
period. Or perhaps something else about Socrates' pattern (of life) could
be said to provide "the correct answer in all cases," - he is
after all a very rational man. The referent here is unclear in the
dialogue. It could be 'lawfulness' and 'nobility' just as readily as the
'justice' which Socrates chooses to consider; that choice significantly
shapes the course of the dialogue. Note: Socrates brought up 'lawful'
(even though there probably is no law in Athens commanding advisors to
lie to the demos in the event they war on just people); whereas
Alkibiades' concern was nobility. 85. This would be
especially true if considerations of justice legitimately stop at the
city's walls. Cf. also Thucydides, I. 75, and compare the relative
importance of these motives in I. 76. This conclusion may not be fair to
Alkibiades, for he is clearly not similar to Kallikles (see below) since
he is convinced that he must speak with Socrates to get to the truth. He
wants to keep talking. But he is still haughty. He has just completed a
short display of skill that wasn't sufficiently appreciated by Socrates, and,
most importantly, there will be an unmistakeable point in the dialogue at
which Alkibiades does become serious about learning. Alkibiades will
confess ignorance and that will mark a most important change in his
attitude. His attention here isn't focussed on the premises but on
the conclusion of the argument. There are a number of possibilities
here for speculation as to the cause of his taking refuge - from shame?
from the truth? from the argument? 88. Draughts is a table
game with counters, presumably comparable to chess. Draughts is a
Socratic metaphor for philosophy or dialectics. The example arises in
connection with language, and seem to indicate the reader's participation
in the dialogue. First, of course, Plato must have us in mind, for
Alkibiades cannot know that draughts are Socrates' metaphor for
philosophical dialectics. Second, the metaphor itself demands reflecting upon.
How not to play is a strange thing to insert. Though proceeding through
negation is often the only way to progress in philosophy, one doesn't set
out to learn how not to play. The many indeed cannot teach one to
philosophize, but the question of how not to philosophize often has to be
answered in light of the many, as does the question of how not to
"argue." The philosopher must show caution both because of the
many's potential strength over himself, and through his consideration of
their irenic co-existence; he must not rock the boat, so to
speak. Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan, p. 100; Genesis 2:19-20. 90. It
is interesting that with reference to "running" (the province
of the gymnastics expert or horseman) Socrates mentions both horses and
men. In the example of "health" he mentions only men. Presumably he
is indicating that there is some distinction to be made between men and
horses that is relevant to the two technae . Quite likely this
distinction shall prove to be a significant aid in the analysis of the
metaphors of 'physician 1 and 'gymnast' that so pervade this dialogue.
Borrowing the analogy of 'horses' from the Apology (30e), wherein cities
are said to be like horses, one might begin by examining in what way a
gymnastics expert pertains more to the city than does a doctor, or why
"running" and not "disease" is a subject for consideration
in the city, while both are important for men. Perhaps a good way to
begin would be by understanding how, when man's body becomes the focus
for his concerns, the tensions arise between the public and private
realm, between city and man. 91. The practical political
problem, of course, is not simply solved either when the philosophic determination
of 'the many' is made, or when empirical observation yields the results
confirming what 'the many' believe. The opinions must still be both
evaluated and accounted for. However, when it is an extreme question
of health - e.g., starvation, a plague - a question of life or death,
they do. The condition of the body does induce people to fight and the
condition of the body seems to be the major concern of most people and is
thus probably a real, though background, cause of most wars and
battles. Homer, Odyssey; In Euripides' play, Hippolytos, Phaedra, the wife
of Theseus, is in love with her stepson Hippolytos, and though unwilling
to admit, she is unable to conceal, her love from her old nurse. She
describes him so the nurse has to know, and then says she heard it from
herself, not Phaedra. 95. It is undoubtedly some such feature
of power as this that Alkibiades expects Socrates to mention as that
power which only he can give Alkibiades. It may be that Socrates' power
is closely tied to speech - we are not able to make that judgement yet -
but Alkibiades is certainly not prepared for what he gets.
The reader is cautioned to remember that Socrates is assuming power
to be the vehicle for Alkibiades' honor. At least one sense in which this
is necessary to Socrates' designs has come to light. Alkibiades
could be convinced that he should look for honor in a narrower group of
people once he thought they were the people with the secret to power. It
is not as likely that he would come to respect that group (especially not
for being the real keys to power) if he hadn't already had his sense of
honor reformed. Cf. Gorgias, beginning at 499b and continuing through the
end. He certainly doesn't seem to care, although it may be a bluff or a
pose. 97. Such as, perhaps, a dagger only partially concealed under
his sleeve - Gorgias. This, of course, is from the perspective of
the city. Very powerful arguments have been made to the contrary. The
city may not be the primary concern of the wisest men. Perhaps it
should be pointed out, though, that men who devote themselves to public
affairs frequently neglect their family - again the tension between
public and private is brought to our attention (cf. Meno, 93a-94e). The
fact that oaks grow stunted in the desert does not mean that the stunted
oak of the desert is natural. The only thing we could argue is natural is
that 'natural' science could explain why the acorn was unable to fulfill
its potential, just as 'natural' science can explain how there can be
two-headed, gelded, or feverish horses. In any explanation of this sort
the reference is to a more ideal tree or horse. And any examination of an
existing tree or horse will involve a reference to an even more perfect
idea of a tree or a horse. 101. It may be of no small significance
that Socrates uses the word ' ideas ' in this central passage. It is the
only time in this dialogue that the word is used and it seems at first
innocuous. 'Ideas' is another form of ' eidos ' - 'the looks' so famous
in the central epistemological books of the Republic. What is so
exceptional about the use here is that it occurs precisely where the
question of the proper contest, the question of the best man, is raised.
Socrates says, "My, my, best of men, what a thing to say! How
unworthy of the looks and other advantages of yours." We are perhaps
being told it is unworthy of 'the looks,' 'the ideas, 1 that Alkibiades
does not pose a high enough ambition. The translators (who never noted
this) are not in complete error. Their error is one of imprecision. The
modifier "your" ( soi) is an enclitic and would have been
understood (by Alkibiades) to refer to "looks" as well as to
his other advantages. However, as an enclitic, it is used as a subtle
kind of emphasis, and it is clearly the "other advantages" that
are emphasized. The 'soi' would normally appear in front of the first of
a list of articles. It doesn't here, and the careful reader of the Greek
text would certainly be first impressed with it as " the
looks." The reference to Alkibiades' looks would be a second
thought. And only in someone not familiar with the Republic or with the
epistemological problem of the best man, would the "second-
thought" be weighty anough to drown the first impression.
Incidentally, it is indeed interesting that the word for the
highest metaphysical reality in Plato's works is a word so closely tied
to everyday appearance. Once again there is support for the dialectical
method of questioning and answering, to slowly and carefully refine the
world of common opinion and find truth or the reality behind appearance. Whether
the war justly or unjustly is not mentioned. I believe that the referent to
"others" is left ambiguous. Note also that here (120c) Socrates
speaks of the Spartan generals ( strategoi ), a subtle change from 'king'
(120a) a moment earlier. Perhaps he is implying a difference between power and
actual military capability. This is/ of course/ generally good advice.
Cf. Thucydides I 84: one shouldn't act as though the enemy were
ill-advised. One must build on one's foresight, not on the enemy's
oversight. The important provision of nurture is added to nature.
Cf. 103a and the discussion of the opening words of the dialogue.
106. Socrates has included himself in the deliberation explicitly
at this point, serving as a reminder to the reader that both of these
superior men should be considered in the various discussions, not just
one. A comparison of them and what they represent will prove fruitful to
the student of the dialogue. 107. Plato, another son of Ariston, is
perhaps smiling here; we recall why it is suspected that Alkibiades left
Sparta and perhaps why he was killed. Two more facets of this
passage are, firstly, that this might be seen as another challenge by
Socrates (in which case we should wonder as to its purpose). Secondly, it
implies that Alkibiades' line may have been corrupted, or is at least not
as secure as a Spartan or Persian one. Alkibiades cannot be positive that
his acknowledged family and kin are truly his. There is a very
important exception and one significant to this dialogue as well as to
political thinking in general. One may change one's ancestry by
mythologizing it (or lying) as Socrates and Alkibiades have both done.
This may serve an ulterior purpose; recall, for example, the claims of
many monarchies to divine right. 109. Hesiod Theogony 928; cf. also
Homer, Iliad, The opposite of Athena, Aphrodite ( Symposium 180d), and
Orpheus ( Republic – citata da H. P. Grice, “Philosophical eschatology and
Plato’s Republic”). A number of Athenians may have thought this was much
the same effect as Socrates had. He led promising youths into a maze
from which it was difficult to escape. This discussion should be
compared in detail with the education outlined in the Republic . Such a
comparison provides even more material for reflection about the
connection between a man's nurture and his nature. (One significant
contrast: the Persians lack a musical education). Compare, for
example, the difference concerning horseback riding: Plato,
Alkibiades I, 121e; and Xenophon, Kyropaideia, I, iii, 3. Cf., for example,
Machiavelli, The Prince, chapters 18, 19. The only other fox in the
Platonic corpus (besides its being the name of Socrates' deme - Gorgias)
is in the Republic where the fox is the wily and subtle deceiver in the
facade of justice which is what Adeimantos, in his elaboration of
Glaukon's challenge, suggests is all one needs. The reader of the
dialogue has already been reminded of the Allegory of the Cave, also in
the context of nurture. Sydenham, Works of Plato, points out that
Herodotos tells us that this is not exclusively a Persian custom.
Egyptians, too, used all the revenue from some sections of land for the
shoes and other apparel of the queen. Cf. Herodotos, Histories, II, 97.
117. Cf. Pamela Jensen, "Nietzsche and Liberation: The Prelude
to a Philosophy of the Future," Interpretation: "[Nietzsche]
does not suppose truth to be God, but a woman, who has good reasons to
hide herself from man: her seductiveness depends upon her secretiveness. This
greatly compounds the problems of understanding the two men and their
eros . What has heretofore been interpreted by Socrates as Alkibiades'
ambition for power is now explicitly stated to be an ambition for
reputation. Are we to understand them as more than importantly connected,
but essentially similar? And what are we to make of Socrates' inclusion
of himself at precisely this point? Does he want power too? Reputation?
Perhaps we are to see both men (and maybe even all erotic attraction
whatsoever) as willing to have power. Socrates sees power as coming
through knowledge. Alkibiades sees it as arising from reputation. Is Socrates
in this dialogue engaged in teaching Alkibiades to respect wisdom over
glory in the interests of some notion of power? The philosopher and the
timocrat come out of (or begin as) the same class of men in the Republic.
The reader should examine what differences relevant to the
gold/philosophic class, if any, are displayed by Socrates and Alkibiades.
Perhaps Socrates' education of Alkibiades could be seen as a project in
alchemy - transforming silver into gold. Homer, Iliad. Cf. Protagoras;
Symposium, 174d; Alkibiades II, 140a; as well as Alkibiades. This is not
intended to challenge Prof. Bloom's interpretation ( The Republic of Plato, p.
311). As far as I am capable of understanding it and the text, his is the
correct reading. However, with respect to this point I believe the
dialogue substantiates reading the group of men with Polemarkhos as the
many with power, and Socrates and Glaukon as the few wise. This is
left quite ambiguous. The jest could refer to: a) Socrates' claim
to believe in the gods b) Socrates' reason as to why his guardian
is better c) Socrates' claim that he is uniquely capable of
providing Alkibiades with power. In the Republic, inodes and rules
of music are considered of paramount political importance. Cf. Republic [citato
da H. P. Grice] Cf. however. Symposium, 174a, 213b. At this stage of the
argument Socrates does not distinguish between the body and the self.
124. This is the only time Socrates swears by an Olympian god.
He has referred to his own god, the god Alkibiades "talked" to,
a general monotheistic god, and he has sworn upon the "common god of
friendship" -- Gorgias, Euthyphro --, as well as using milder
oaths such as 1 Babai 1. It would probably be very interesting to
find out how Socrates swears throughout the dialogues and reflect on
their connection to his talk of piety, and of course, his eventual charge
and trial. Strictly speaking that is the remark on which there won't
be disagreement, not the one following it. "Man is one of three
things," is something no one can disagree with. (He is what he
is and any two more things may be added to make a set of three.) Why does
Socrates choose to say it this way? And why three? Are there three
essential elements in man's nature? As we shall presently see, he does
assume a fourth which is not mentioned at this time. Though first on
the list of Spartan virtues, temperance ( sophrosyne ), a virtue so
relevant to the problem of Alkibiades, does not receive much treatment in
this dialogue. One might also ask: if temperance is knowing oneself, is
there a quasi-virtue, a quasitemperance based on right opinion?
127. This is what Socrates' anonymous companion at the beginning of
Protagoras suggests to Socrates with respect to Alkibiades. Homer, Odyssey,
II. 364. Odysseus' son, Telemakhos, is called the "only and cherished
son" by his nurse when he reveals to her his plan of setting out on
a voyage to discover news about his father. His voyage too
(permitting the application of the metaphor of descent and human nature)
is guarded by a divine being. Alkibiades/Telemakhos is setting out on a
voyage to discover his nature. 129. For other references to
"stripping" in the dialogues, see Gorgias 523e, 524d; cf. also
Republic 601b, 612a, 359d, 361c, 577b, 474a, 452a-d, 457b; Ion 535d;
Kharmides 154d, 154e; Theaitetos; Laws 772a, 833c, 854d, 873b,
925a; Kratylos 403b; Phaidros; Menexenos; Statesman;
Sophist. This word for release, apallattetai, has only been used for
the release of eros to this point in the dialogue. Parenthetically, regarding
this last passage, we note also that the roles of wealth and goodness in
well-being have not been thoroughly 0 xplored. Perhaps he is suggesting a
connection between becoming rich and not becoming temperate. One
might interject here that perhaps the virtues resulting from, say, a
Spartan nurture, do not depend on the virtues of the governors. Perhaps
they depend on the virtue or right opinion of the lawgiver, but maybe not
even that. There might be other counterbalancing factors, as, for
example, Alexander Solzhenitsyn suggests about Russians today - (Harvard
Commencement Address, 1978, e.g., paragraph 22). 132. As was
mentioned with respect to their other occurrences in the dialogue, the
metaphors of the diseased city, physician of the city, doctor of the
body, pilot of ship, ship-of-state and passenger are all worth
investigating more thoroughly, and in relation to each other. There is a
dialogue, the Parmenides, in which the "Young Socrates" speaks.
We do not know what to make of this, but the fact that he is called the
"Young" Socrates somehow distinguishes his role in this, from
the other dialogues. He is not called "Young Socrates" in the
Alkibiades I, nor is he referred to as "Middle-aged Socrates" in
the Republic, nor is he named "Old Socrates" in the Apology.
Having come this far, the reader might want to judge for himself some
recent Platonic scholarship pertaining to the First Alkibiades. In
comparatively recent times the major source of interest in the dialogue
has been the popular dispute about its authenticity. Robert S.
Brumbaugh, in Plato for the Modern Age, (p. 192-3) concludes:
But the argument of the dialogue is clumsy, its dialectic
constantly refers us to God for philosophic answers, and its central
point of method - tediously made - is simply the difficulty of getting
the young respondent to make a generalization. There is almost none of
the interplay of concrete situation and abstract argument that marks the
indisputably authentic early dialogues of Plato. Further, the First
Alkibiades includes an almost textbook summary of the ideas that are
central in the authentic dialogues of Plato's middle period; so
markedly that it was in fact used as an introductory textbook for
freshman Platonists by the Neo-Platonic heads of the Academy it would be
surprising if this thin illustration of the tediousness of
induction were ever Plato's own exclusive philosophic theme: he had
too many other ideas to explore and offer. Jowett, translator of the dialogue
and thus familiar with the writings, says in his introduction to the
translation: we have difficulty in supposing that the same writer,
who has given so profound and complex a notion of the characters both of
Alkibiades and Socrates in the Symposium should have treated them in so
thin and superficial a manner as in the Alkibiades, or that he
would have ascribed to the ironical Socrates the rather unmeaning boast
that Alkibiades could not attain the objects of his ambition without his
help; or that he should have imagined that a mighty nature like his could
have been reformed by a few not very conclusive words of Socrates...
There is none of the undoubted dialogues of Plato in which there is
so little dramatic verisimilitude.Schleiermacher, originator of the charge of
spuriousness, analyzed the dialogue. It is to him that we owe the
current dispute. Saving the best for last: there is nothing in it too
difficult or too profound and obscure for even the least prepared
tyro. This work appears to us but very insignificant and poor and genuinely
Platonic passages may be found sparingly dispersed and floating in a mass
of worthless matter and we must not imagine for a moment that in
these speeches some philosophic secrets or other are intended to be
contained. On the contrary, though many genuine Platonic doctrines are
very closely connected with what is here said, not even the
slightest trace of them is to be met with and in short, however we may
consider it, the Alkibiades, is in this respect either a
contradiction of all other Platonic dialogues, or else Plato's own
dialogues are so with reference to the rest. And whoever does not feel
this, we cannot indeed afford him any advice, but only congratulate him
that his notions of Plato can be so cheaply satisfied... In any
event, much could be said about whether anything important to the
philosophic enterprise would hinge upon the authorship. My comments
concerning the issue will be few. Firstly there is no evidence that could
positively establish the authorship. Even should Plato rise from the dead
to hold a press conference, we are familiar enough with his irony to
doubt the straightforwardness of such a statement. Secondly, many of the
arguments are based on rather presumptuous beliefs that their proponents
have a thorough understanding of the corpus and how it fits together. I
will not comment further on such self- satisfaction. Thirdly,
there are a number of arguments based on stylistic analyses. If only for
the reason that these implicitly recognize that the dialogue itself must
provide the answer, they will be addressed. Two things must be
said. First, style changes can be willed, so to suggest anything
conclusive about them is to presume to understand the author better than
he understood himself. Second, style is only one of the many facets of a
dialogue, all of which must be taken into account to make a final
judgement. As is surely obvious by now, that takes careful study. And
perhaps all that is required of a dialogue is that it prove a fertile
ground for such study. Aristophanes. The Eleven Comedies . New York:
Liveright, The King James BIBLE. Nashville, U.S.A.: Kedeka,Bloedow, E. F.
Alcibiades Reexamined . Weisbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1973.
Bloom, Allan D. The Republic of Plato . Translated, with Notes and
an Interpretive Essay, by Allan Bloom. New York: Basic Books, Brandwood,
Leonard. A Word Index to Plato . Leeds: W. S. Maney and Son, Ltd., .
Brumbaugh, R. S. Plato for the Modern Age . U.S.A.: Crowell Collier
Press, Churchill, Winston. Great Contemporaries . London: Macmillan; Craig,
Leon H. An Introduction to Plato's Republic . Edmonton: printed and bound
by the University of Alberta, de Romilly, Jacqueline. Thucydides and
Athenian Imperialism . Translated by Philip Thody. Oxford: Basil
Blackwell, Diodorus Siculus. Diodorus of Sicily . Tr. Oldfather; Loeb
Classical Library, London: Heinemann, Friedlander, Plato, New York:
Bollingen Series, 1958. Grene, David; and Richmond Lattimore,
eds. The Complete Greek Tragedies . Aeschylus I, tr. Lattimore; Euripides
I, translated by Lattimore. Chicago, Grote. Plat o and the Other
Companions of Sokrates . London: John Murray, 1885. Hamilton and
Cairns. Plato: The Collected Dialogues . Princeton, Bollingen Series, Hammond and
Scullard, The Oxford Classical Dictionary, Clarendon, Herodotus. The
Histories . Tr. Powell; Oxford, Hesiod. Hesiod . Tr. Lattimore. Ann Arbor:
Michigan; Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan . Ed. Macpherson. Middlesex, England:
Pelican, Homer. Iliad . Translated by Richmond Lattimore. New York: Harper
and Row, Homer. Odyssey . Translated by Richard Lattimore. New York:
Harper and Row, Jensen, Nietzsche and Liberation: The Prelude to a
Philosophy of the Future," Interpretation . 6:2. The Hague:
Nijhoff, Jowett, B., ed. The Dialogues of Plato Translated by Jowett.
Oxford: Oxford University Press, Clarendon Press, MACHIAVELLO MACHIAVELLI (si
veda), The Prince . Tr. and ed. by Musa. New York: St. Martin's.
Marx, Theses on Feuerbach," The Marx-Engels Reader . Ed. Tucker. New
Tork: Norton, McKeon, Richard, ed. The Basic Works of Aristotle . New York:
Random House, Olympiodorus. Commentary on the First Alkibiades of Plato.
Critical texts and Indices by L. G. Wes ter ink'. Amsterdam:‘
North-Holland,O'Neill, William. Proclus: Alkibiades I A Translation and
Commentary. The Hague: Nijhoff, Paulys-Wissowa. Real-Encyclopoedie der
Classischen Altertumswissenschaft . Stuttgart: Metzler Buchhandlung, Plato.
Plato in Twelve Volumes . Loeb Classical Library; translated by R. G.
Bury, H. N. Fowler, W. Lamb, P. Shorey; London: Heinemann, Plutarch.
Lives . Loeb Classical Library, tr. Perrin.
London: Heinemann, Rousseau, J.-J. The Social Contract . Translated and
edited by R. Masters and J. Masters. New York: St. Martin's, RYLE (citato
da H. P. Grice), Plato's Progress. Cambridge, Schleiermacher. Introduction to
the Dialogues of Plato . Translated by W. Dobson. Cambridge: J. et j. j.
Deighton, Shorey, Paul. What Plato Said . Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1933. Solzhenitsyn, A. "Harvard Commencement
Address." Harvard, Strauss, Leo. "Preliminary Observations of the
Gods in Thucydides Work," Interpretation, The Hague z Martinus
Nijhoff, 1974. Sydenham, Floyer, transl. The Works of Plato . Vol.
I. Edited by Thomas Taylor. London: R. Wilks, Taylor, A. E. Plato: The
Man and His Work . New York: Meridian, Thucydides. History of the Peloponnesian
War . Translated by Rex Warner; Introduction and Notes by M. I. Finley.
Middlesex, England: Penguin, 1954. Westlake, H. D.
Individuals in Thucydides . Cambridge. Nome compiuto: Ennio Carando.
Keywords: l’amore platonico, l’amore socratico, l’implicatura di Socrate, filosofo
socratico, Socrate, Alcibiade. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco di H.
P. Grice, “Grice e Carando,” The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Speranza,
Liguria, Italia.
Luigi Speranza -- Grice e Carapelle:
la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale – linguaggio e
metafilosofia – linguaggio oggetto – meta-linguaggio – Peano – Tarski 1944 – bootstrapping
– scula di Napoli – filosofia napoletana – filosofia campanese -- filosofia
italiana – Luigi Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco di H. P. Grice, The
Swimming-Pool Library (Napoli). Filosofo
napoletano. Filosofia campanese. Filosofo italiano. Napoli, Campania. Grice: “I
like Carcano; I cannot say he is an ultra-original philosopher, but I may – My
favourite is actually a tract on him, on ‘meta-philosophy,’ or rather ‘language
and metaphilosophy,’ which is what I’m all about! How philosophers misuse
‘believe,’ say – but Carcano has also philosophised on issues that seem very
strange to Italians, like ‘logica e analisi,’ ‘semantica’ and ‘filosofia del
linguaggio’ – brilliantly!” Quarto Duca di Montaltino, Nobile dei
Marchesi di C.. Noto per i suoi studi di fenomenologia, semantica, filosofia
del linguaggio e più in generale di filosofia analitica. Studia a Napoli,
durante i quali si formò alla scuola di Aliotta e si dedica allo studio delle
scienze. Studia a Napoli e Roma. Sulla scia teoretica del suo tutore volle
approfondire le problematiche poste dalla filosofia e riesaminare attentamente
il linguaggio in uso. La sua tesi centrale è che correnti come il pragmatismo,
il positivismo, la fenomenologia, l'esistenzialismo e la psicoanalisi, fossero
il portato dell'esigenza teoretica di una maggiore chiarezza – la chiarezza non
e sufficiente -- delle varie questioni che emergevano da una crisi culturale,
vitale ed esistenziale. Al centro di tale crisi giganteggia la polemica fra
senza senso metafisico e senso anti-metafisica, soprattutto a causa del vigore
critico del positivismo logico, contro il quale a sua volta lui -- che ritiene
necessaria una sostanziale alleanza o quantomeno un aperto dialogo fra la
metafisica e la scienza -- pone diversi rilievi critici, principale dei quali è
quello di minare alla base l'unità dell'esperienza, alla Oakeshott -- che senza
una cornice o una struttura metafisica in cui inserirsi rimarrebbe
indefinitamente frammentata in percezioni fra loro irrelate. A questo
inconveniente si può rimediare temperando il positivismo con lo
sperimentalismo, ovvero accompagnando alla piena accettazione del metodo una
piena apertura all’esperienza così come “esperienza” è stata intesa, ad
esempio, nella fenomenologia intenzionalista intersoggetiva di Husserl. In
questo senso si può procedere a mantenere una costante tensione sui problemi
posti dalla filosofia, in opposizione a ogni dogma di sistema, e al contempo
non cadere nell'angoscia a cui conduce lo scetticismo radicale che tutto
rifiuta, compresa l'esperienza. Non si tratterebbe dunque per la filosofia di
definire verità immutabili ma di sincronizzarsi col ritmo del metodo basato
sull’esperienza fenomenologico, sussumendo i risultati sperimentali e
integrandoli nel continuum di una struttura metafisica mediante il ponte
dell'esperienza. Altre opere: “Filosofia e civiltà” (Perrella, Roma); Filosofia
(Foro Italiano, Roma); Il problema filosofico. Fratelli Bocca, Roma); La
semantica, Fratelli Bocca, Roma – cf. Grice, “Semantics and Metaphysics”)
Metodologia filosofica, una rivoluzione filosofica minore. Libreria scientifica
editrice, Napoli. Esistenza ed alienazione” (MILANI, Padova); Scienza
unificata, Unita della scienza (Sansoni, Firenze); Analisi e forma logica (MILANI,
Padova); Il concetto di informativita, MILANI, Padova); La filosofia
linguistica, Bulzoni Editore, Roma. Dizionario biografico degli italiani, Roma.
Ben altrimenti articolato e puntuale ci sembra l'intervento operato sulla
fenomenologia da C., ed allievo di Aliotta a Napoli e pur fedele estensore
delle sue teorie, sulle quali, per questo mo tivo, ci siamo nell'ultima parte
dilungati sorvolando sullo scarso ruolo t-he gioca in esse l'opera di Husserl.
L'iter formativo di C. interseca
situazioni ed esperienze riscontrabili, come ve dremo, anche in altri giovani
filosofi della stessa generazione. Di più, nel.suo caso, c'è una singolare e
probabilmente indotta analogia con la vicenda teoretica del primo Husserl. In
realtà, scrive l'autore in un brano autobiografico io non posso dire di essere
venuto alla filosofia in maniera diretta, per un'intima voca zione alla
speculazione o per un normale maturarsi dei miei studi e della mia men talità
giovanile, ma questa era soprattutto caratterizzata da un'intensa passione
pèrle scienze e da una viva disposizione per la matematica. Questo germinale
orientamento, unito a una sensibilità religiosa che non tarderà a manifestarsi,
ebbe come primo e scontato effetto di allontanare C. dall'area neo-idealistica,
il cui radicale immanentismo, la esclusione dei concetti di peccato e di grazia
e l'avversione per ogni for- C., il
ruolo della metodologia nel rinnovamento della filo sofia contemporanea, La
filosofia contemporanea in Italia. Invito al dialogo, Asti, Arethusa. ma
di naturalismo, non potevano in alcun modo essere accettati. Di qui un
sentimento di estraneità e di insoddisfazione subito denunciati fin dai primi scritti,
l'intima perplessità e la difficoltà di orientarsi in una temperie culturale
già decisa e fissata nelle sue grandi linee da altri. E, d'altro canto, un
naturale rivolgersi al problema metodologico, come pre liminare assunzione di
consapevolezza circa i percorsi teoretici che con veniva seguire per ottenere
uno scopo valido, senza tuttavia ancora nul la presumere circa la necessità di
quei percorsi o la natura di questo sco po. In tal senso, l'elaborazione di
una qualsivoglia metodologia doveva prevedere come esito programmatico, da un
lato, una sorta di epochizza- zione delle grandi tematiche metafisiche e della
tradizionale formulazione dèi problemi, dall'altro lato, un lungo e paziente
lavoro di analisi, con fronto, chiarificazióne e comprensione che consentisse
di recuperare, di quelle tematiche e di quei problemi, il contenuto più
autentico. Ma più lo sguardo critico del giovane filòsofo andrà maturando fino
ad abbracciare nel suo complesso il controverso panorama culturale del tempo,
più quel programma iniziale perderà la sua connotazione prope deutica per
trasformarsi in compito destinale, in una ' fighi for clarity* che assumeva i
termini di un radicale esame di coscienza nei confronti della filosofia. Scrive
Filiasi Carcano: Confesserò che varie volte ho avuto ed ho l'impressione di non
aver abba stanza compreso, e per questo alla mia spontanea insoddisfazione (al
tempo stesso scientifica e religiosa) si mescola un senso di incomprensione.
Questo stato d'animo spiega bene il mio atteggiamento che non è propriamente di
critica, ma ha piut tosto il carattere di un prescindere, di una sospensione
del giudizio, di una messa in parentesi, in attesa di una più matura
riflessione 56. Al fondo dei dualismi e delle vuote polemiche che, nella
comunità filoso- fica italiana degli anni Trenta, sembravano prevaricare sulle
più urgenti esigenze scientifiche e di sviluppo, Filiasi Carcano coglie i
sintomi dì un conflitto epocale, di una inquietudine psicologica e di
un'incertezza morale che andranno a comporsi in una vera e propria
fenomenologia della crisi. ' Crisi della civiltà ', anzitutto, come recita il
titolo della sua opera prima, dove al desiderio di fuggire l'alternativa del
dogmatismo fa da 55 Per questi punti mi sono riferito a Gavazzo, C.,.
«Filosofia oggi»; * P; Filiasi Carcano, // ruolo della metodologia, Cfr. C., Crisi della civiltà e orientamenti della
filosofia contraltare l'eterno dissidio tra ragione e fede. Crisi
esistenziale, di con seguenza, dovuta al prevalere delle tendenze scettiche e
antimetafisiche su quelle spirituali e religiose. Crisi della filosofia,
infine, fondata sulla raggiunta consapevolezza del suo carattere problematico,
sull'incapacità di realizzare interamente la pienezza del suo concetto. Come
moto di reazione immediata occorreva allora, oltreché circoscrivere le proprie
pre tese conoscitive ponendosi su un piano risolutamente pragmatico, assur
gere ad una più compiuta presa di coscienza storica e conciliare la filoso fia
con una mentalità scientificamente educata. Solo, cioè, il confronto con una
seria problematica scientifica (la quale C. vede realizzata nell'ottica
positivista dello sperimentalismo aliottiano) avreb be potuto segnare per la
filosofia l'avvento di una più matura riflessione intorno alle proprie
dinamiche interne e ai propri genuini compiti critici. E a questo scopo parve a
Filiasi Carcano, fin dai suoi studi d'esor dio, singolarmente soccorrevole
proprio l'opera d’Husserl. Scri ve Angiolo Maros Dell'Oro: A un certo punto si
intromise Husserl. C. pensa, o spera, che là fenomenologia sarebbe stata la
scienza delle scienze – REGINA SCIENTIARVM – Grice --, capace di indicargli la
via zu den Sachen selbsf, per dirla con le parole del suo fondatore. Da allora
è stata invece per lui l'enzima patologico di una problematica acuta. Sùbito
rifiutata, in realtà, come idealismo metafisico, quale eira frettolo samente
spacciata in certe grossolane versioni del tempo (non esclusa, lo abbiamo
visto,.quella del suo, maestro), la fenomenologia viene aggredita alla radice
dal giovane studioso, con una cura e un rigore filologico i quali pure riscontreremo in altri suoi
coetanei — giustificabili solo con l'urgenza di una richiesta culturale cui
l'ambiente nostrano non poteva evidentemente soddisfare. Non è un caso che C.
insista, fin dal suo primo articolo dedicato ad Husserl, sul valore della
fenomeno logia, ad un tempo, emblematico, nel quadro d'insieme della filosofia
contemporanea, e liberatorio rispetto al giogo dei tradizionali dogmi
idealistici che i giovani, soprattutto in Italia, si sentivano gravare sulle
spalle. contemporanea, pref. d’Aliotta, Roma, Perrella, Cf. Il pensiero scientifico ìtt Italia
'Creiriòria, Màngiarotti; Cfr. Cartario/ Da Carierò'ad H«w&f/,:« Ricerche
filosofìche. In piena coscienza, scrive il
filosofo se abbiamo voluto scio gliere l'esperienza da una necessaria
interpretazione idealistica, non è stato per forzarla nuovamente nei quadri di
una metafisica esistenziale, ma per ridare ad essa, secondo lo schietto spirito
della fenomenologia, tutta la sua libertà. Tale schiettezza, corroborata da un
carattere decisamente antisistema tico e dal recupero di una vitale esigenza
descrittiva, avrebbe consentito lo schiudersi di un nuovo, vastissimo
territorio di indagine, sospeso tra constatazione positivistica e
determinazione metafisica, ma capace, al tem po stesso, di metter capo ad un
positivismo di grado superiore e ad un più autentico pensare metafisico. Si
trattava, in sostanza, non tanto di dedurre i caratteri di una nuova positività
oppure di rifondare una me- tafisica, quanto piuttosto di guadagnare un più
saldo punto d'osserva zione dal quale far spaziare sul multiverso
esperienziale il proprio sguar do fenomenologicamente addestrato. È in questo
punto che la fenome nologia, riabilitando l'intuizione in quanto fonte
originaria di autorità (Rechtsquelle), operando in base al principio
dell'assenza di presupposti e offrendo i quadri noetico-noematici per la
sistemazione effettiva del suo programma di ricerca, veniva ad innestarsi sul
tronco dello sperimenta lismo di stampo aliottiano, che FC. aveva assimilato a
Napoli negli anni del suo apprendistato filosofia). Il ritorno alle cose stesse
predetto dalla fenomenologia non solo manteneva intatta la coscienza cri tica
rimanendo al di qua di ogni soglia metafisica, ma anche e più che mai serviva a
ribadire il carattere scientifico e descrittivo della filosofia. In un passo si
possono scorrere, a modo di riscontro, i punti di un vero e proprio manifesto
sperimentalista: Descrivere la nostra esperienza nel mondo con l'aiuto della
critica più raffi nata; cercare di raccordarne i vari aspetti in sintesi
sempre più vaste e più com prensive, esprimenti, per cosi dire, gradi diversi
della nostra conoscenza del mon do; non perdere mai il senso profondo della
problematicità continuamente svol- gentesi dal corso stesso della nostra
riflessione; infine stare in guardia contro tutte le astrazioni che rischiano
di alterare e disperdere il ritmo spontaneo della vita: sono questi i
principali motivi dello sperimentalismo e al tempo stesso, i modi mediante i
quali esso va incontro alle più attuali esigenze logiche e metodologiche del
pensiero contemporaneo. D'altro canto, si diceva, non è neppure precluso a
questo program- C., Crisi della civiltà; C., Anti-metafisica e sperimentalismo,
Roma, Perrella ma un esito trascendente, e a fenderlo possibile sarà ancora una
volta, in virtù della sua cruciale natura teoretica, proprio l'atteggiamento
feno menologico. Scrive C. In realtà, il dilemma tra una scienza che escluda
l'intuizione e una intui zione che escluda la scienza, non c'è che su di un
piano realistico ma non su di un piano fenomenologicamente ridotto: su questo
piano scienza e intuizione tornano ad accordarsi, accogliendo una pluralità di
esperienze, tutte in un certo senso le gittime e primitive, ma tutte viste in
un particolare atteggiamento di spirito che sospende ogni giudizio metafisico.
È questo, com'io l'intendo, il modo particola rissimo con cui la filosofia può
tornare oggi ad occuparsi di metafisica. Certo, nella prospettiva husserliana,
il problema del trascendens puro e semplice, che farà da sfondo a tutto il
percorso speculativo di Filiasi Carcano, sembrava rimanere ingiudicato o,
almeno, intenzionalmente rin viato in una sorta di ' al di là ' conoscitivo,
Ma in ordine alla missione spirituale che l'uomo deve poter esplicare nel mondo
storico, il metodo fenomenologico conserva tutta la sua efficacia. Esso nota C.
nelle ultime pagine del suo Antimetafisica e spe rimentalismo — certo
difficilmente può condurre a risultati, ma compie per lo meno analisi e
descrizioni interessanti, e tanto più notevoli in quanto tende a sollevare il
velo dell'abitudine per farci ritrovare le primitive intuizioni della vita
religiosa. Dato questo suo carattere peculiare e l'orizzonte significativo nel
quale viene assunta fin dal principio, la fenomenologia continuerà a va lere
per Filiasi Carcano come referente teoretico di prim'ordine, accom pagnandolo,
con la tensione e la profondità tipiche delle esperienze fon damentali, in
tutti i futuri sviluppi della sua speculazione. La terza grande area di
interesse per il pensiero hussèrliano negli anni Trenta in Italia, fa capo all'Università.di
Torino e si costituisce prin cipalmente intorno all'attività 4i tre studiosi:
il primo, già incontrato e che, in qualche modo, fa da ponte fra questa e la
neoscolastica mila nese è Mazzantini; il secondo è Annibale Pastore ne
parleremo ora che teneva nell'ateneo
torinese la cattedra di filosofia teoretica; C.,. Crisi.della civiltà,:; C., Anti-metafisica
e sperimentalismo. Apparently, Hilbert is the first to use the prefix meta (from
the Greek over) in the sense we use it in meta-language, meta-theory, and now
meta-system. Hilbert introduces the term meta-mathematics to denote a
mathematical theory of mathematical proof. In terms of our control scheme,
Hilbert's MST has a non-trivial representation: a mapping of proofs in the form
of usual mathematical texts (in a natural language with formulas) on the set of
texts in a formal logical language which makes it possible to treat proofs as
precisely defined mathematical objects. This done, the rest is as usual: the
controlled system is a mathematician who proves theorems; the controlling
person is a metamathematician who translates texts into the formal logical
language and controls the work of the mathematician by checking the validity of
his proofs and, possibly mechanically generating proofs in a computer. The
emergence of the metamathematician is an MST. Since we have agreed not to
employ semantically closed languages, we have to use two different languages in
discussing the problem of the definition of truth and, more generally, any
problems in the field of semantics. The first of these languages is the
language which is "talked about" and which is the subject- matter of
the whole discussion; the definition of truth which we are seeking applies
to the sentences of this language. The second is the language in which we
"talk about" the first language, and in terms of which we wish, in
particular, to construct the definition of truth for the first language. We
shall refer to the first language as "the object-language,"and to the
second as "the meta-language." It should be noticed that these terms
"object-language" and "meta- language" have only a relative
sense. If, for instance, we become inter- ested in the notion of truth applying
to sentences, not of our original object-language, but of its meta-language,
the latter becomes automatically the object-language of our discussion; and in
order to define truth for this language, we have to go to a new
meta-language-so to speak, to a meta- language of a higher level. In this way
we arrive at a whole hierarchy of languages. The vocabulary of the
meta-language is to a large extent determined by previously stated conditions
under which a definition of truth will be considered materially adequate. This
definition, as we recall, has to imply all equivalences of the form (T): (T) X
is true if, and only if, p. The definition itself and all the equivalences
implied by it are to be formulated in the meta-language. On the other hand, the
symbol 'p' in (T) stands for an arbitrary sentence of our
object-language. Let “A(p)** mean “I assert p between 5.29 and 5.31’*.
Then q is “there is a proposition p such that A(p) and p is fake”. The
contradiction emerges from the supposition that q is the proposition p in
question. But if there is a hierarchy of meanings of the word “false**
corresponding to a hierarchy of propositions, we shall have to substitute
for q something more definite, i.e. “there is a proposition p of order «,
such that k{p) and p has falsehood of order n*\ Here n may be any
integer: but whatever integer it is, q will be of order « + i? and will not be
capable of truth or falsehood of order n. Since I make no assertion of
order n, q is false, The hierarchy must extend upwards
indefinitely, but not downwards, since, if it did, language could never
get started. There must, therefore, be a language of lowest type. I
shall define one such language, not the only possible one.* I shall
call this sometimes the “object-language”, sometimes the “primary
language”. My purpose, in the present chapter, is to define and describe
this basic lai^age. The languages which follow in the hierarchy I shall
call secondary, tertiary, and so on; it is to be understood that each language
contains all its predecessors. The primary language, we shall find,
can be defined both logically and psychologically; but before attempting
formal definitions it will be well to make a preliminary informal
explora- tion. It is clear, from Tarski’s argument, that the
words “true” and “false” cannot occur in the primary language; for
these words, as applied to sentences in the language, belong to the
(« -t- language. This does not mean that sentences in the primary
language are neither true nor false, but that, if “/>” is a sentence
in this language, the two sentences “p is true” and “p is false” belong
to the secondary language. This is, indeed, obvious apart from Tarski’s
argument. For, if there is a primary language, its words must not be such
as presuppose the existence of a language. Now “true” and “false” are
words applicable to sentences, and thus presuppose the existence of
language. (I do not mean to deny that a memory consisting of images,
not words, may be “true” or “false”; but this is in a somewhat
different sense, which need not concern us at present.) In the primary
language, therefore, though we can make assertions, we cannot say that
our own assertions or those of others are either true or false.
When I say that we make assertions in the primary language, I must
guard against a misunderstanding, for the word “assertion” and,
since q is not a possible value of p, the argument that q is also true
collapses. The man who says ‘T am telling a lie of order n” is telling a
He, but of order n 4 - I. Other ways of evading the paradox have been
suggested, e.g. by Ramsey, “Foundations of Mathematics.” My liierarchy of
languages is not identical with Carnap's or Tarski's. Proceeding
psychologically, I construct a language (not the language) fulfilling the
logical conditions for the language of lowest type; I call this the
“object-language” or the “primary language”. In this language, every word
“denotes” or “means” a sensible object or set of such objects, and,
when used alone, asserts the sensible presence of the object, or of one
of AN INQUIRY INTO MEANING AND TRUTH the set of objects, which
it denotes or means. In defining this language, it is necessary to define
“denoting” or “meaning” as applied to object-words, i.e., to the words of
this language. Nome compiuto: Paolo Filiasi Carcano di Montaltino di
Carapelle. Paolo Filiasi Carcano di Montaltino de Carapelle, quarto duca di
Montaltino. Paolo Filiasi Carcano. Paolo Carcano. Montaltino. Keywords: linguaggio
e metafilosofia, semantica, quarto duca di montaltino, semantica ed esperienza,
semantica e fenomenologia, filiasi carcano, montaltino, carapelle. Refs.: Luigi
Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco di H. P. Grice, “Grice e Carapelle,” The
Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Speranza, Liguria, Italia.
Luigi
Speranza -- Grice e Carbonara – l’implicatura conversazionale -- filosofia
italiana – Luigi Speranza. Carbonara
Avant, do lutter pour la libertà de penser et pour l'indépendance de sa
patrie, il avaiti pour s'assurer le pain du jour, endnré toutes les
rigueurs matórielles et sociales; et de tant d’èpreuves diverses, il était
sorti plus vigoureux, plus courageux, plus convaiucu de ce que peut et vaut la
noblesse d’àme. Ausai ne saurait-ou contempler, sans ètre à la foia touchó
et fortifié, le tableau de ses souffrauces et de ses victoires, na'ivemeut et
inodesteraeut trace dans cette Vie et correspondance, qu’a publiée lo
lils qui porte si eonvenablemeut son illustre nom. con tutti i suoi difetti, i
suoi errori e, diciamolo pure, la sua oscurità — un vero
sistema. In esso trovi subito un’idea che l’ha generato tutto
quanto, che ne è il centro, l’anima e ne fa l’unità: idea ovunque
presente e ovunque feconda, da cui nascono il metodo, le divisioni, gli
svolgimenti, le applicazioni, e da cui germogliano in ogni direzione soluzioni,
buone o cattive, a tutti i problemi teoretici e pratici. Carbonara. Refs.:
Luigi Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco di H. P. Grice, “Grice e Carbonara,” The
Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Speranza, Liguria, Italia.
Luigi Speranza -- Grice e Carbonara:
la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale l’esperienza e la
prassi – Cicerone e il pratico – scuola di Potenza – filosofia basilicatese -- filosofia
italiana – Luigi Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco di H. P. Grice, The
Swimming-Pool Library (Potenza). Filosofo
basilicatese. Filosofo italiano. Potenza, Basilicata. Grice: “I like Carbonara;
my favourite of his tracts are one on ‘del bello,’ – another one on ‘dissegno
per una filosofia critica dell’esperienza pura: immediatezza e reflessione’ –
but mostly his ‘esperienza e prassi,’ which fits nicely with my functionalist
method in philosophical psychology: there is input (esperienza), but there is
‘prassi,’ the behavioural output --; I would prefer this to the tract on the
‘filossofia critica’ since I’m not sure we need ‘reflexion’ to explain, say,
communication – not at least in the way Carbonara does use ‘reflessione,’ alla
Husserl. Conseguito il
diploma liceale, si trasferì a Napoli, frequentando la facoltà di filosofia.
Ottenuta la laurea sotto Aliotta, collabora per “Logos”. Insegna a Campobasso, Nocera
Inferiore, Cagliari, Catania, e Napoli.
Con “Disegno d'una filosofia critica dell'esperienza pura”, rifacendosi
alla filosofia kantiana e riprendendo il discorso idealistico ne mette in
rilievo il tentativo fallito di Gentile di dare concretezza all’astratto.
Nell'attualismo, il ritorno all’atto, al fatto, si risolve infatti nell'atto
sempre uguale e sempre diverso del pensare, unica realtà e verità del pensiero
e della storia: «vera storia non è quella che si dispiega nel tempo, ma quella
che si raccoglie nell'eterno atto del pensare».. Il problema secondo C.
anda esaminato riportandolo alla sua origine, cioè al problema del rapporto tra
esperienza e concetto, tra realtà e concetto così come era stato affrontato
dalla filosofia kantiana e che Gentile crede di risolvere stabilendo un rapporto
dialettico tra il concetto e il suo negativo all'interno del concetto stesso.
La soluzione invece era in nuce secondo C. nella sintesi a priori kantiana dove
convivono forma (segnante) e contenuto (segnato) per cui la coscienza è per un
verso forma, contenitore (segnante) di un contenuto (segnato) storico e per un
altro *coincide* col suo contenuto (segnato) in quanto il contenuto (segnato)
non avrebbe realtà al di fuori della forma della coscienza segnante. La
successiva questione si pone considerando oltre il rapporto del pensiero – il
segnante -- con la materia quella collegata all'origine del pensiero stesso.
Ancora una volta Kant intravede la soluzione nella teoria dell' “io penso” che
però va ora intesa non come la struttura logico-metafisica della realtà
storica, ma come la sua struttura psicologica ma *trascendentale* o
"esistenziale", secondo una concezione della "filosofia
dell'esperienza pura" nel senso che l'esperienza coincide col divenire
della vita dello spirito e deve restare indifferente al problema, ch'è
propriamente di natura ontologica, circa la sua dipendenza o indipendenza da
una realtà diversa dal mio spirito. Il rapporto tra pensiero e materia porta C.
ad indagare quello tra filosofia e scienza con “Scienza e filosofia” in
Galilei, in cui sostiene che mentre da un punto di vista filosofico non si può
andare oltre l'ambito dell'autocoscienza (il mio spirito – Il “I am hearing a
noise” di Grice) del cogito cartesiano, al contrario la scienza si basa sulla
necessità di fondarsi sul mondo esterno (nel spirito dell’altro –
intersoggetivita). Forse la soluzione di questa antinomia, sostiene Carbonara,
va ricercata nell'insoddisfazione dello stesso idealismo verso se stesso non potendo rinunciare a se stesso ma neppure
al suo opposto -- nec tecum nec sine te -- solus ipse. Si interessa anche
della filosofia rinascimentale a Firenze. Nota come in quel periodo si fosse
realizzata una fusione tra il cristianesimo e il neo-platonismo così come ad
esempio in Ficino prete cattolico che visse la sua fede come teologia razionale
dando una base filosofica, trascurando la stessa rivelazione, alla sua
spiritualità religiosa: In Ficino, il platonismo si congiunge al
cristianesimo non soltanto sul fondamento di una religiosità profonda da cui il
primo appare permeato, ma anche per una tradizione storica ininterrotta, per
cui l'antichissima saggezza, ripensata da Platone e dai neoplatonici, si
ritrova trasfigurata ma tuttavia persistente nei Padri della Chiesa e nei
dottori della Scolastica. Come apprendiamo dall'Epistolario di Ficino, la
sapienza e intesa come un dono divino e come mezzo per cui l'uomo può elevarsi
fino a Dio. Tale principio fu poi appreso da Pitagora, Eraclito, Platone,
Aristotele, i neoplatonici. Riemerse nella speculazione filosofica ispirata
dalla Rivelazione cristiana e si ritrovò quindi in Agostino. Lo stesso Cicerone
figura nella catena dei platonici romani. Riallacciandosi a quella
tradizione e meditando sui testi platonici, Ficino concepí il disegno, portato
a termine di ricostruire su fondamento platonico la teologia il platonismo vi è
considerato come il nucleo essenziale di una teologia razionale i cui princípi
coincidono con quelli della rivelazione. Tale coincidenza è il principale
argomento con cui si riesce a dimostrare l'eccellenza del cristianesimo
rispetto alle altre religioni positive. Del resto Ficino è disposto ad
ammettere che qualsiasi culto, purché esercitato con animo puro, reca onore e
gradimento a Dio. Altre saggi: “L'individuo, i dividui, e la storia; Scienza e
filosofia in Galilei; Esperienza; Umanesimo e Rinascimento (Catania) Del Bello;
Introduzione alla Filosofia (Napoli; Materialismo storico e idealismo critico; Sviluppo
e problemi dell'estetica crociana; I presocratici; Esperienza ed umanesimo
(Napoli) La filosofia di Plotino; “Persona e libertà”; Ricerche di un'estetica
del contenuto”; Esperienza e prassi; Discorso empirico delle arti, Il
platonismo nel Rinascimento. In un momento diverso dalla storica ora presente
offrire in veste italiana alla coltura filosofica del nostro paese il sistema
di dottrina morale secondo i principi della dottrina della scienza di Fichte
sarebbe stata opera già esaurientemente giustificata e dalla grandezza di
quel genio speculativo, e dal vivo crescente interesse del nostro tempo per il
suo originale sistema idealistico-romantico, e dalla capitale importanza che
nella struttura del sistema stesso ha la dottrina morale, e dall’opportunità,
quindi, di agevolare la diretta conoscenza di questa a quanti tra noi non
fossero in grado di leggerla e gustarla nè nella classica (nonostante i
suoi difetti) edizione tedesca dovuta alla pietà filiale di Fichte — divenuta
oggi assai rara, ma di recente lori. Fichte, Das System der Sittenlehre
nach leu Prinzipletl (lev Wìsseuschaftslehre, Jena und Leipzig, Gabler V. il
voi. IV delle Opere complete (Sitmmtliche 1 Werke) di Fichte, edite con assai
utili prefazioni da Eli. Ehm. Fichte (Berlin, Veit e C.), dopo altri tre
volumi di Opere postume (Nachgelasseiie Werlce) apparsi per cura dello
stesso editore a Bonn, ma aggiunti come ultimi agli precedenti. I
difetti, che sono stati rim- fedelmente riprodotta (con tatti i suoi
difetti) da Fritz Me- proverati all’edizione di Fichte figlio, consistono,
tra gl’altri a parte le critiche riguardanti l’ordinamento generale degli
scritti paterni (sulle quali v. Ravà, Le opere di Fichte, Rivista di Filosofia)
in errori di stampa, lacune casuali o soppressioni arbitrarie di una o più
parole, aggiunte o trasposizioni di vocaboli, deposizione dei capoversi e
punteggiatura non sempre quali si avrebbe ragione di aspettarsi, ecc. ;
donde non poche nè lievi difficolta per intendere bene e rendere esattamente in
altra lingua il pensiero dell’autore. La qual cosa ci preme far rilevare, anche
perchè non sembri esagerazione, se diciamo che fu lavoro di non poca
lena, sostenuta soltanto dall’interesse per l’opera fiehtiana, quello da
noi compiuto attorno a una traduzione che ci proponemmo eseguire
con la più 'scrupolosa fedeltà al testo originale, ma, in pari tempo,
curando il più possibile la chiarezza del contenuto e l’italianità della
forma. Al quale duplice fine ci parve opportuno di riportare tra parentesi
curve le espressioni genuine e più caratteristiche dell’autore, quando il
nostro idioma non si prestava a riprodurle se non inadeguatamente ovvero
assumendo un certo aspetto di stranezza, e di chiudere tra parentesi
quadre [ J le espressioni aggiunte dal traduttore con intento interpretativo o
dilucidativo. Il lettore, in tal modo, è sempre messo sull’avviso circa i
punti in cui il linguaggio dell’autore è meno trasparente e può giudicare
se talvolta al traduttore — secondo il noto bisticcio - non sia accaduto di
essere involontariamente il traditore del pensiero tichtiano. TI quale pensiero
riesce tanto più difficile a restituire nella sua forma genuina, in
quanto che esso non solo fu iu continua evoluzione e trasformazione, ma
ebbe dal Fichte, più oratore elio scrittore, le mutevoli formulazioni
occasionali adatte alla predicazione, all’insegnamento e alla polemica, anziché
la stabile struttura definitiva di un’opera d’arte destinata a tramandare ai
posteri il documento autentico di un sistema compiuto; e la Dottrina
inorale, di cui ci occupiamo qui, risente anch’essa, nello stile, del
carattere proprio a quella gran parte delle opere del Fichte, che sono o
riproduzioni o preparazioni, ampiamente elaborate in iscritto, di lezioni
e corsi accademici. Si aggiunga a ciò che la Sit- tenlehre, e nel
contenuto e uella forma, è la continuazione c l’applicazione di quella
Wissetischaflslehre che il Medicus, in una sua monografia dedicata al
Fichte, uou esita a chiamare “ il libro, torse, più difficile che esista
in tutta la letteratura filosofica (sie ist vielleicht das schiiieriijste
Rudi in der yesmnten philósophischen Lucratile) „ (cfr. Grosse Denker,
editi a Lipsia, Verlag
Quelle dicus —, uè nella libera e, proprio nei punti ove H
testo è meno chiaro, monca versione inglese fattane dal Kroeger; (in
francese o in altra lingua non ci risulta sia stata mai tradotta, il che
non ha certo contribuito ad accrescerle et Meyer, senza «lata, <la E.
vou Aster) della Dottrina della Scienza abbiamo iu italiano la traduzione
fattane da A. Tilouer (Bari, Laterza) — j si noti, inline, che il Fichte
figlio sconsigliava il Bouillier dal tradurre in altra lingua quelle, tra le
opere del padre, che non avessero un contenuto popolare e fossero
scritte in una rigorosa forma scientifico-filosofica — ecco le sue parole.
Te conseille de ne pas traduire les oeuvres
scientifiques proprement dites, «:t d’ uno forme philosophique
rigoureuse. 11 est à peu près impossi- ble de les traduire «lana votre
luugne; il faudrait les transformer et eu changer l’exposition. Uue
traduction littérale mirait le doublé iu- convénient de taire violence à
votre 1 angue, et de ne pas reproduire le veritable esprit du système. „ (cfr.
MéUiode pour arrivar à la tir bica heureuse par Udite, traditit par M.
Bouillier, aver, uno Introdaction par Fichte le File, Paris, Ladrango): e
si sarà, speriamo, meglio disposti a giudicare con qualche indulgenza le
manchevolezze anche da noi sentite, ma che non riuscimmo ad evitare, so
pur erano evitabili, iu questa nostra traduzione, in cui la lettera doveva
più che mai venir suggerita e giustificata dallo spirito della dot- liiua
tradotta, onde ci s imponeva di continuo la necessità di ripen- norr e,
per quanto ci fu possibile, di rivivere il pensiero del Fichte. 11 Jmc
Gotti*. Fichte, IVerke, Auswahl in sechs Btinden (mit nielli ci en
Bildnisxen Fichtes ), edizione e introduzione di FimtzMediCUS, Leipzig.
Non intendiamo detrarre nulla alle lodi giustamente! tributate d’ ogni
parte a questa nuova edizione delle principali opere del Fichte, condotta
di recente a termine e salutata nel mondo fìlosofico come un importante e lieto
avvenimento, soprattutto per il contributo che porterà alla diffusione e alla
conoscenza della dottrina lichtiana; dobbiamo soltanto osservare che,
almeno per quanto concerne .1 System der Sittenlehre, di cui diamo qui la
traduzione, la collazione del testo nelfediz. del Medicus non presenta
assolutamenta nulla di diverso e nulla di migliorato, rispetto a quella
curata da Lm. Era. Fichte ; se mai, anzi, qualche errore di stampa in più
; onde essa non ci è stata di nessun aiuto. Tanto per la verità. The Science of Etìlica as based on thè Science
of knowledge by Ioh. Gotti. Fichte, tradnz. di A. E. Kroeoeh. edita da
Harris (London, Kegau Paul, Treucli, Trubner et Co., Ltd.). il numero
dei lettovi). Dorante, poi, l’attuale immane cataclisma bellico che sì
inaspettatamente ha tutta Europa sconvolto e le nostre coscienze profondamente
turbato, in questa tragica ora chè tigne il mondo di sanguigno, perchè
proprio nella terra classica dell’idealismo filosofico, sfrenatasi l'ebbrezza
mistica di una supposta superiorità di razza e di coltura, prevalso un
malinteso spirito di egemonia mondiale, straripata la prepotenza del
militarismo, scatenatisi gli istinti e le cupidigie più basse, la civiltà
sembra inabissata nel buio e la scienza si è trasformata, con scempio di
ogni leggo umana e divina, in strumento di barbarie, rinnegando quel carattere
umano che della scienza è e deve essere la vera, sovrana, immortale
bellezza, in questa immensa mina di tutta la scala dei valori, due forti
ragioni di più — contrariamente a quanto potrebbe parere a prima
vista — c’inducono all’opera stessa: da un lato mostrare con quale
serenità, imparzialità e altezza di vedute noi italiani, che più volte nella
storia fummo maestri di civiltà, sappiamo riconoscere, pur quando gli
animi nostri siano agitati da moti sentimentali avversi, il possente
contributo di pensiero e di moralità che gli spiriti geniali, a qualunque
nazione appartengano, hanno recato alla coltura ; dal- 1’ altro fornire,
con la divulgazione delle dottrine morali di un filosofo tedesco come il
Fichte — da cui più specialmente con grave errore si vorrebbe derivare il
pangermanismo una prova di più della radicale deviazione che le fiualità
della Germania odierna, rappresentata dai Nietzsche, dai Treitschke, dai
Bernhardi, dai Chamberlain, dai Woltmaun, segnano rispetto alle idealità
profondamente umane e universali rifulgenti in tutta la letteratura e
in tutta la filosofia della Germania classica, rappresentata da un
Leibniz, da un Lessing, da un Herder, da un Gboethé, da uno Schiller, da
un Kant e dallo stesso Fichte. Perchè anche il Fichte, al pari del suo
grande predecessoro Kant il filosofo della pace a cui Con esattozza soltanto
relativa egli fu contrapposito come il filosofo della guerra, aspirava,
pur con tutte le esagerazioni essenzialmente teutoniche del suo pensiero, al
regno della ragione, al Vemunftstaat, basato sul riconoscimento del valore
dello spirito quale unico, vero e assoluto valore, e costituito da personalità
autonome e responsabili che devono svolgersi soltanto entro le linee di
un ordinamento razionale del tutto. Che se la magnificazione e la
glorificazione della lingua e del popolo tedesco a cui il Fichte
assurge, a cominciare dai Caratteri fondamentali dell’età presente -- Revue
de Métaphysique et de Morale, l’importante articolo di. Basch, L’Allemagne
classique et le pangermanisme. V. inoltre Sante Ferra ni, Fra la guerra e
V Università (Seatri Ponente); in questo discorso inaugurale dell'anno accademico
all’università di Genova, l'A., dopo avere stigmatizzato con indignata parola “
la nuova sofìstica, più audace e più operativa dell'antica, die in
Germania per decenni lavorò a eccitare gli spiriti e a iriebbriarsi nel
sogno del dominio mondiale a qualunque patto,,, “ le iniquità senza pari,
corruttrici, vigliacche, brutali, e le violazioni dei patti più solenni
che quel popolo sostituisce al valore degli eroi pagani, alla
cavalleria del guerriero medievale „ e u la volontà sinistra che informò
i metodi alla subdola preparazione dell'immane delitto, invita a
distinguere in'quella nazione lo opere dei grandi avi e quelle dei uepoti : “
Quali e quante pagine troveremmo nei primi, atto a rintuz- i zare, a
riprovare, a distruggere le smodate ambizioni dell’ oggi ! e quanti
successori vedremmo rinnegati!, e, per antitesi, si ferma a illuminare
nella loro sublime purezza le figure del Kant e a» del
Fichte. Grundziige dea gegenviirtigen Zeilullers (Sanimi!. Werke).
Queste conferenze si direbbero quasi altrettanti aifreschi di filosofia
della storia, di cui lo Herder aveva dato il mo. sino ai Discorsi alla,
nazione tedesca (*), attraverso la serie di opuscoli politici intermedi,
hanno potuto giustamente apparire come la radice del pangermanismo, non
ne segue perciò che il Pielite stesso fosse un pangermanista. u Come
! esclama il Basoh, pangermanista quel Fichte che parla a Berlino,
ancora occupata dai francesi, dinanzi a spie francesi, dopo Auerstftdt e
Iena, dopo Eylau e Fried iand, dopo quel trattato di Tilsit di cui
sappiamo le stipulazioni draconiane ! Chi non vede che appunto perchè il
suo popolo era asservito, umiliato, esposto a essere cancellato dalla carta d
Europa con un tratto di penna del- l’onnipossente imperatore francese, e
appunto perchè la Germania era stata spezzettata, la Prussia smembrata,
egli ha, per legittima reazione e con sflflrzo ammirevole,
esaltato, idealizzato, divinizzato quel popolo, opponendo alla
realtà la visione magnifica di un avvenire che a lui stesso appare
problematico? Le Reden sono un’ utopia ; un’ utopia cento volte quel
Germano autoctono, quel Mutterland, quella lingua madre; e il Fichte lo
sapeva bene e 1’ ha dello, e in cui il Ciclite, con una miscela di
nazionalismo mistico o di cosmopolitismo umanitario, tratteggia a grandi
periodi l’evoluzione dei genere umano dalle sue più lontane origini sino
ai suoi più remoti destini futuri, passaudo attraverso le cinque età: ni
dell’ innocenze o ragiono istintiva, b) dell’ autorità o ragione coercitiva,
c) del peccato o ribellione contro la ragione sia istintiva sia
coercitiva, d) della giustizia o arte della ragione, e) della santità o scienza
della ragione. Reden an die deutsche Nailon (Summit.
Werke). Segnaliamo, tra gli altri, i Discorsi ai combattenti tedeschi all’inizio
della campagna (Reden an die deutschen Kricgev zu All funge des
Feldzuges) (Stillanti. 11 erke t VII) e i dialoghi patriottici, Il patriottismo
e il suo contrario (Dei Patriotismus und sein Gegentheil), (Sananti.
Werke, Nacliyel. Werke). det-.fo egli st.esso. Questa lingua, questo
popolo egli li póne non come già esistenti, ma come qualcosa che bisogna
creare, se si voleva salvare la nazione tedesca dalla rovina totale e
impedire che fosse radiata dal numero dei popoli \ilidipendenti. Questa
lingua e questo popolo non erano una realtà, ma un ideale -- o meglio un
imperativo. Del lèsto non abbiamo avuto anche noi, nella nostra
letteratura, un (fenomeno analogo ai Discorsi alia nazione tedesca,
in <\\i<\PRIMATO MORALE E VIRILE [SIC] DEGL’ITALIANI, in cui,
invertendo, il puuto di vista fichtiano, GIOBERTI costrue una filosofa
della storia non meno utopistica, ma che pur tanti petti sdpsse, taute
anime accese negli anni più belli del nostro riscatto? Che se poi il
saggio eloquente ed essenzialmente. opera di fede di Fichte sia inteso non alla
lettera ma nel suo profondo significato filosofico, spogliato dei suoi
particolari riferimenti spaziali e temporali e considerato sub specie
aeternitatis, allora non solo oltrepassa il valore di ubo scritto
d’occasione, ma si eleva all’altezza di un’ opera sublime, perennemente
suggestiva di nobili pensieri e di eroiche azioni. L’ autore, sempre
ispirandosi a quel suo idealismo immanente, che egli contrappone a [Li
il leit-motiv proprio di tutta la filosofia fichtiana porre il dover
essere ossia 1’idealo come condizione creatrice e ragione sufficiente e
spiegazione finale dell’ u essere ossia del reale. Se il Kant potè dirsi
il Copernico dolla filosofia, in quanto trasferì il punto di vista del
problema filosofico dall' oggetto al soggetto, dall'essere al conoscere, Fichte
può dirsi anch’egli il Copernico della filosofia, in quanto spostò di
nuovo quel punto di vista dal conoscere al fare, dall’essere al
dover-esserc: la vera realtà, il vero assoluto sta per lui nell’ideale,
nel dovere. Rivista di Filosofa. A. Faggi, Il “ Primato „ del Gioberti e i
“ Discorsi alla nazione tedesca „ del Fichte. qualsivoglia dogmatismo,
specialmente se materialistico, sostiene in sostanza che non c’è
possibilità di filosofia e di poesia, di religione e di educazione, di
libertà e di progresso, se non là dove lo spirito crei o trovi in sè, e
in nessun modo attinga dal di fuori, il principio propulsore e
direttivo di tutta l’esistenza. Questo idealismo immanent/ egli chiama
filosofia tedesca, ossia viva, di fronte a qualsiasi filosofia straniera,
ossia morta. E che intende egli, per tedesco ? Non occorre ricordare che secondo il Fichte
vi sono dué sistemi filosofici rigorosamente conseguenti, ciascuno dal
suo punto di vista: il dogmatismo, l’ idealismo. Ul^cio della filosofia è
spiegare l’esperienza, la quale è costituita dalle rappresentazioni delle cose.
Ora si può a) o far derivare la rappresentazione dalle cose, come fa il
dogmatismo, b) o far derivare la cosa dalla rappresentazione, cóme fa
l’idealismo. Lo scegliere l’una piuttosto che l’altra delle dué vie
possibili dipende dal carattere individuale. Un sistema filosofico basterebbero queste parole a mostrare quanta
fede pratica, quanta iniziativa personale ed energia spirituale Fichte mettesse
nella sua filosofia e quanta ne esigesse da chi questa filosofia voglia
comprendere non è uno strumento
inanimato che si possa a piacimento possedere o alienare : esso scaturisce dal
più profondo dell’anima umana: “ Iras far eine Philosophie man wàihle,
hangt... davon ab, was man far ein Mensch ist: demi ein philosophisclies
System ist nicht ein todter Hausrath, dea man ablegen oder abnehmen
honnte, irte es mis beliebte, sonderà es ist beseelt durch die Seele des
Menschen, der es ìiat. „ (Erste Ein leitung in die Wissensehaftsle'ire,
Scimmtl. IVerke). La scelta sarà diversa secondo che prevarrà in noi il
sentimento dell’indipendenza e dell’attività o il sentimento della dipendenza e
della passività; un carattere flaccido per natura, ovvero rilassato e
incurvato dalla schiavitù dello spirito, dal lusso raffinato o dalla
vanità, non s’innalzerà mai all’idealismo: 11 ein von Notar schiaffar
oder durch Geistesknechtschaft gelehrten Luxus and Eitelkeit erschla/fler
und gekrùmmler Chardhter toird sich nie zum Idealismus erheben. E ciò,
indipendentemente dalle ragioni teoretiche che anch’esse dànno
un’incontestabile superiorità di filosofia esaurientemente persuasiva
all’idealismo di fronte all’in9ufficiente e assurdo dogmatismo. Nel
settimo discorso, in cui si approfondisce il .concotto àe]Y originarie là, e
germanicità di un popolo l’autore stesso ha cura di far rilevar^ u con
chiarezza peretta „ ciò che in tutto il suo libro ha intesò per tedesco
(was uoir in unsrer bishcrigen Schilderung unter Deutschen verstanden haben). “
Il vero e proprio punto di divisione egli scrive sta in questo: o si crede che
nell’uomo ci sia qualcosa di assolutamente primo e originario, si crede
nella libertà, nell’infinito miglioramento e nell’eterno progresso della nostra
specie, oppure si nega tutto ciò e si crede di vedere e comprendere
chiaramente che è vero tutto il contrario. Coloro che vivono creando e
producendo il nuovo, coloro che, se non hanno questa sorte, almeno
abbandonano decisamente quel che non ha valore (das Nichtige) e vivono
aspettando che da qualche parte la corrente della vita originaria venga a
rapirli con sè, coloro che, non essendo neppure tanto avanti, almeno
presentono la verità, e non l’odiano o non la paventano, ma l’amano:
tutti costoro sono uomini originari e, considerati come popolo, sono un
popolo vergine (Urvolk), sono il popolo per eccellenza, sono tedeschi.
Coloro, invece, che si rassegnano a essere un che di secondo e derivato e
chiaramente concepiscono e riconoscono sè stessi come tali, tali sono in realtà,
e sempre più tali divengono in forza di questa loro credenza; essi sono
un’appendice della vita che una volta prima di loro o accanto a loro
viveva per impulso proprio, essi sono l’eco che la roccia rimanda
di [S’intitola: Noch tiefere Erfassung der Ursprunglichkeit utid
Deutscheit eines Volkes (Sammtl. Werke, nella trad. ita!. Burich,
Palermo, Sandron). una voce già spenta, e, considerati come popolo, non
sono un popolo vergine, anzi di fronte a questo sono stranieri ed
estranei (Fremete und Andando-) Ecco, dunque, che cosa significa:
tedesco! non già il tedesco considerato Ine et nune, ma il simbolo di un
tipo ideale, onde Fichte, continuando, aggiunge: u Chiunque crede nella
spiritualità, nella libertà e nel progresso di questa spiritualità
mediante la libertà, egli, dovunque sia nalo, qualunque lingua
parli (wo es auch geboren seg und in welcher Sprache cs reile) e
dei nostri, appartiene a noi, ci seguirà; chiunque, invece, crede nella
stasi generale, nella decadenza, nel ricorso circolare e pone a governo del
mondo una natura morta, egli, dovunque sia nato, qualunque^lingua parli,
è non-tedesco (undeutscll), è per noi uno straniero, ed è desiderabile
che quanto prima si stacchi completamente da noi. I Discorsi alla nazione
tedesca, dunque, soltanto occasionalmente si rivolgono al popolo germanico,
mentre nella loro profonda verità si rivolgono a tutti i popoli moderni,
a tutti gli uomini che hanno fede nella libera spiritualità, di
qualunque paese essi siano, additando a ciascuno la via sulla quale si
può servire alla propria patria particolare e insieme alla gran patria
comune, si può essere a un tempo nazionalista e cosmopolita, perchè gl’
interessi supremi ed essenziali dell’umanità sono sempre e dovunque gli
stessi. Ma a dimostrare in modo* 1 definitivo quanto l’autore
dei Discorsi sia alieno dal cosidetto pangermanismo sta il [ Reden an die
deutsche Nalioti (Stimmll. Werke), il nerette delle parole "
dovunque sia nato ecc. „ è nostro discorso decimoterzo, donde trae maggior luce
il significato di tutti gli altri. Si direbbe che i pangermanisti, ai
quali piace farsi forti dell’auLorità del uostro filosofo, si siano
di proposito arrestati dinanzi a questa sua arringa, che pure è il
punto culminante verso cui tendono le rimanenti e che può dirsi un vero
catechismo antimperialistico. Tutto ciò che all’imperialismo della
Germania odierna sembra l’ideale che essa sarebbe chiamata ad attuare: il
possesso di colonie, l’esclusiva libertà dei mari, il commercio e
l’industria mondiali, le guerre di aggressione e ili conquista, la
barbarie scientificamente organizzata, le vessazioni sui paesi
invasi, la visione di una monarchia universale, l’egemonia
assoluta, vi ò rappresentato come odioso e insensato. Ammettiamo pure che
il Fichte abbia combattuto questa criminosa megalomania perchè essa
s’incarna sotto i suoi occhi nella Francia napoleonica; non è men
vero, però, che l’ideale opposto, a lui caro, rispondeva in modo reciso a
tutta una concezione politica che fa di lui il figlio e il rappresentante
più genuino della rivoluzione francese. La sua vita, i suoi scritti di
filosofia pratica e di filosofia della storia nte sono prova ampia,
piena, sicura, e se anche subirono modificazioni, queste riguardano non il suo
pensiero e i suoi sentimenti, i quali in fondo rimasero sempre gli
stessi, ma le mutate circostanze esteriori, il mutato aspetto della
Francia, divenuta, da repubblicana e liberatrice, imperialistica e liberticida.
Nato popolo figlio di un povero tessitore, infatti, comincia la vita
avviandosi al mestiere paterno e guardando le oche, egli sempre po-
[Kedeii ecc. (Sàmmll. I Verke) polo è rimasto nel più profondo
dell’anima, per quanto ricca e forte sia divenuta poi la sua coltura, a
qualunque sommità della scienza, dell’eloquenza e della gloria
siasi inalzato il sùo genio. Già sin dagl’inizi della sua fama si
rivela un democratico ardente, giacobino quasi, irrecouciliabile avversario di
ogni pregiudizio religioso, politico e nazionalistico. Subito dopo la sua
Rivendicazione della libertà di pensiero dai principi d'Europa die /ino
allora l'acecano oppressa, egli, nei suoi Contributi alla rettifica
dei giudizi del pubblico sulla rivoluzione francese, plaude ai principi dell’89
col fervido entusiasmo d’un uomo la cui classe usciva redenta da quel
grande atto di liberazione sociale, e aterina la sua fede nella
rivoluzione stessa, proclama i diritti del popolo, frusta a sangue il
militarismo, maledice alle guerre mosse da interessi o da capricci
dinastici, e lancia contro principi e monarchie assolute i primi strali di
quell’eloquenza appassionata che fa di lui forse il più grande oratore
della Germania. Zuruckfarderung der Denkfreihe.it von den Filrsten
Europas, die eie bisher unterdriikten (Sdmmtl. If erkeI). Beitriige zar
Berichtigung der Urtheile des PubVcuins iiber die franzòsische Revolution
(Sananti. Werke). In queste sue prime opere politiche, elio per lungo
tempo furono messe all’indice in tutta la Germania, Fichte mostra che la
rivoluzione francese fu il prodotto necessario della libertà del
pensiero, che la persona morale ha il diritto di elevarsi contro lo
Stato, e che l’uomo uscito dalle mani della natura è autonomo, e che è
inalienabile il diritto dei cittadini di moditicare la costituzione, di uscire
da un’associazione politica per crearne una nuova, di fare ciò che
appunto si chiama una rivoluzione. Fine ultimo degli uomini ò la
coltura di tutti per la libertà, ma le monarchie, egli afferma, invece di
lavorare al perfezionamento dei sudditi, sono state centro di depravazione
morale. Come hanno inteso, infatti, i sovrani la coltura dei sudditi a
loro affidati? Sotto forma di educazione alla guerra; perchè, dicono
essi, la guerra coltiva. Qra, è vero che la guerra Il Fondamento del DIRITTO
NATURALE secondo i principi inalza le nostre anime a sentimenti e azioni
eroiche, al disprezzo del pericolo e della morte, alla noncuranza dei
beni continuamente esposti ni saccheggio, a una simpatia per tutto ciò
che ha aspetto umano, perchè i pericoli e i dolori sopportati in comune
stringono di più gli altri a noi. Ma non crediate di vedere in queste mie
parole un panegirico della vostra follia bellicosa, o fors’anco l’umile
preghiera che l’umanità dolente v’indirizzerebbe perchè non cessiate dal
decimarla con guerre sanguinose. La guerra non inalza all’eroismo se non
le anime già per natura eroiche; incita, invece, le anime poco nobili
alla ruberia e all'oppressione della debolezza priva di difesa. La guerra
crea a un tempo eroi e vili rapinatori, ma aitimi ’ delle due specie
quale in numero maggiore ? (Sàmmtl. Werke). Nel fondare e governare i
loro Stati i monarchi mirano a rafforzare la loro onnipotenza
all’interno, ad allargare le loro frontiere all’esterno: due fini,
questi, tutt’altro che favorevoli alla coltura dei loro sudditi. 1
monarchi pretendono di essere i custodi del necessario equilibrio delle
forze europee; ma questo fine, se è il loro, è perciò anche quello dei
loro popoli? “ Credete proprio egli domanda ai principi tedeschi che l'artista
o il contadino lorenese o alsaziano abbia molto a cuore di veder
menzionata la propria città o il proprio villaggio, nei manuali di
geografia, sotto la rubrica dell’impero germanico, e che por ottenere ciò
butti via lo scalpello o l’aratro? Il pericolo della guerra, ossia di ciò
che lede e ferisce a morte la coltura, ultimo fine dell’evoluzione umana,
deriva unicamente dalla monarchia assoluta, la (piale tende per necessità
alla monarchia universale. Sopprimete questa causa, e tutti i mali che ne
derivano scompariranno anch’essi, e le guerre terribili e i preparativi
della guerra, ancor più terribili, non saranno più necessari. Più oltre,
poi, troviamo Fichte antisemita e anti-militarista: antisemita contro quegl’ebrei che
sono refrattari ad assimilarsi alle nazioni in mezzo a cui pluvi vono anti-militarista
contro l’esercito del suo tempo che
mette il proprio onore nella propria umiliazione e trova nell’impunità per le
sue angherie contro i borghesi e i contadini un compenso ai pesi del
proprio stato. E continua. Il più
brutale semi-barbaro crede acquistare con la divisa militare una
superiorità sul contadino timido e spaventato, che sopporta le sue
prepotenze e i suoi insulti per non essere, per soprammercato, anche
bastonato.Il giovincello che può vantare più antenati, ma non certo più
coltura, considera la propria spada come un titolo sufficiente per
guardare dall’alto e con disprezzo il commerciante, l’uomo di scienza e
l’uomo di Stato. \Vilt della Dottrina della scienza e Lo Stato
commerciale chiuso contengono auch’essi una filosofia politica che, scaturita
interamente, oltreché dal pensiero kantiano, dai principi della rivoluzione
francese, supera quel pensiero e questi principi per le conseguenze
economiche che egli fu il primo a trarne, e approda aH’atfermazione di
un diritto dei popoli e di un diritto dei cittadini del mondo
(Volker- und Weltbnrgerrechl) e alla necessità di un’anione di popoli (
Vdlkerbund) ben diversa da uno Stato
di popoli (Volkerstaat) — che garantisca la giustizia e porti
gradatamele alla Pace perpetua (zUm ewigen Friede) Grundlage des Natnrrechte
nach Prinzipien dee ìVissenscliafls Pin e (Siimmil. Werhe, IH). Ber
geschlossene Handelsstaat (StillimiI. Werhe, III). Vediue- auclie la
traduz. ita!, di tì. B. P., Dell'intimo ordinamento di uno Stato ec<\,
Lugano, e l’altra (anonima) Lo Stato secondo ragione e lo Stato
commerciale chiuso, Torino, Bocca. Ecco, sommariamente, la dottrina
politico-economica del Fichte: La radice più profonda dell’Io è l’Io
pratico o la libera volontà; e poiché alla libera volontà di eiasenu
individuo si contrappone quella degli altri, nasce una libera azione
reciproca tra lo diverse volontà individuali, per regolare la quale gli
uomini'hanno concluso IL CONTRATO SOCIALE – “un mito” – H. P. Grice -- da cui è
uscito lo Stato. Nello Stato il potere legislativo appartiene alla comunità dei
cittadini; l’esecutivo può essere affidato sia all’elezione (democrazia), sia
alla cooptazione (aristocrazia), sia all’elezioue e alla cooptazione
insieme (aristodemocrazia). Tutte queste forme di governo sono egualmente
legittime, purché vi sia accanto a esse uu altro potere ìndipendente,
VSforato, il quale decida dei casi in cui il potere esecutivo, essendo
caduto in errori o colpe, deve risponderne dinanzi alla comunità. Oltre a
questo contratto sociale-politico, il Fichte, oltrepassando la prudenza
borghese di Kant, il quale ammetteva come legittima l’ineguaglianza
economica accanto all’eguaglianza politica, istituisce un contratto
sociale-economico (Eitjenthumverlrag) egli proclama originari in ciascun
uomo il diritto alla vita e il diritto al lavoro, e di fronte alla
proprietà privata (prodotti del suolo coltivato, bestiame, case, mobili, ecc.)
dichiara proprietà dello Stato ciò che la natura produce da sola e ciòcia' la
col- sino all’alt,imo anno della sua vita, nelle lezioni sulla
Z>n/- letti vitti produce meglio del
singolo individuo (miniere, foreste, grandi industrie, seryizì pubblici,
ecc.). Per l’elaborazione dei prodotti naturali richiede corporazioni di
competenza tecnica, e sulla qualità o quantità dei prodotti industriali
il diritto di sorveglianza Ha parte dello Stato. Donde segue la necessità
che da uu lato i cittadini ri- uuuzino alla libertà industriale, e
dall’altro si stabilisca uno scambio armonico tra i prodotti naturali e i
prodotti industriali, essendo reciprocamente gli uni indispensabili alla
produzione degli altri. Per questo scambio si è formata la classe
speciale dei commercianti. Per impedire ai produttori di elevare ad arbitrio i
prezzi dei prodotti, lo Stato accumula iu magazzini generali, mediaute
prestazioni in natura degli agricoltori e prestazioni d’opera degli
artigiani, i frutti della terra e gli strumenti del lavoro, si che i
prezzi veugouo livellati. Per obbligare i produttori a vendere, lo stato mette
iu circolazione la moneta, la quale rappresenta la somma di ricchezza che
può essere venduta, e rende possibile a uu produttore di cedere i suoi
prodotti anche in un momento iu cui non gli occorra ancora di prendere in
cambio altri prodotti. E atiinehè sia garantita la proprietà e regolata
la circolazione dei prodotti e mantenuto l’equilibrio tra agricoltori,
industriali e commercianti equilibrio che sarebbe turbato
dall’importazione di prodotti stranieri, dei quali i cittadini debbono
assolutamente poter fare a meno - è necessario che lo Stato vieti tutti
gli accessi ai commercianti di fuori e ai contrabbandieri di dentro, che
sia cioè uno Stato commerciale rigorosamente chiuso. Fichte si ripromette
le conseguenze più vantaggiose per la moralità del popolo fortunato elio adotti
la perfetta chiusura commerciale e viva soltanto di ciò che ò prodotto e
fabbricato dal paese, venduto e consumato nel paese (cfr. Der
geschlossene llandelsstaat, Sàmmll. ÌVerke), e conclude che di li innanzi sarà
la scienza il miglior legame intemazionale tra tutte le nazioni divenute Stati
chiusi : perché “ nessuno Stato della terra, dopoché il sistema
politico-economico dianzi descritto sia diventato universale, e siasi
fonduta pace perpetua tra i popoli, avrà il menomo interesse a celare ad altri
le proprie scoperte, giacché ogni Stato potrà servirsene soltanto
all’interno per il proprio sviluppo e non già per opprimere gli altri
Stati o acquistare una qualsivoglia preponderauza su di essi. Nulla, quindi,
impedirà la libera comunicazione tra i dotti e gli artisti di tutte le
nazioni: di 11 innanzi i giornali, invece di guerre e battaglie, trattati
di pace e di alleanza, conterranno soltanto notizie dei progressi della scienza,
delle nuove invenzioni, del perfezionamento della legislazione e
degli trina dello Sialo, tenute a Berlino, proprio quando la Prussia
si preparava a quella guerra d’indipendenza che egli tanto si era adoperato a
suscitare, si domanda ancora una volta quale sia la guerra
legittima (der Wahrhafte Krieg) e risponde: Una guerra è giusta
soltanto qualora la libertà e l’indipendenza nazionale di un popolo siano
attaccati; gli uomini, per compiere il loro destino, devono formare
società libere, e uno Stato non ha valore se non in quanto può
contribuire all’avvento del regno universale della libertà e della
ragione. A questa guerra veramente popolare vuole Fichte nelle sue
le- ordinamenti di governo; e. ogni Stato si affretterà ad arricchirsi
delle scoperte degli altri popoli.
Nè si ha a temere, del resto, dalla chiusura commerciate dei
singoli Stati il loro isolamento, perchè i rispettivi sudditi, iu quanto
cittadini del mondo (Weltbiirger), circolano liberamente da uno Stato
all’altro, portando seco i diritti inerenti alla persona e alla
proprietà; occorre anzi, per questo, una legislazione comune che
garantisca tali diritti e punisca l’ingiustizia commessa dal cittadino di uno
Stato a danno del cittadino di un altro Stato. I diversi Stati, inoltre,
fanno contratti, concludono trattati e sono rappresentati gli uni presso
gli altri da ambasciatori. Nel caso che uno degli Stati contraenti violi
il contratto, la guerra è 1’ unico mezzo per punirlo di questa
violazione. Ma ogni guerra è aleatoria, e se proprio lo Stato che violò
il contratto rimanesse vittorioso, in quanto più forte?! A evitare tale
ingiustizia bisogna che un’Unione distati, meglio ancora, un’unione di
popolim Vslkerbund, s'impegni a punire, viribus uniti, lo stato che,
appartenente o no all’unione, si rifiuti di riconoscere l’indipendenza
degli stati uniti o violi un contratto concluso con uno di essi, Orundlage
des Nata rrechts nach Prinsipien der Wissenscliaftslelire, Sa minti- Werke.
Quanto più questa unione si allarga, estendendosi a poco a poco su tutta
la terra, tanto meglio è assicurata la pace perpetua, der ewige Friede,
che è il solo rapporto legale tra gli stati. La guerra dev’essere soltanto
mezzo al fine supremo, che è la conservazione della pace; mai fine a sé stessa.
Die Slaalslehre oder uber das Verhaltniss des Urstaates zum Vernunftreiche
(Siimintl. Werke). zioni preparare gli uditori, perchè è questa la guerra
legittima, la guerra cioè in cui non si tratta di famiglie regnanti, ma
in cui il popolo si leva a difendere la propria vita, la propria individualità,
le proprie prerogative, la guerra a eui soltanto i vili vorrebbero
sottrarsi, e per cui invece i cittadini con esultanza daranno i
loro beni, il loro sangue, rifiutando ogni proposta di pace sino a
che non siano garantiti contro ogni minaccia ulteriore. L’oratore, è vero,
contrappone ancora una volta qui il carattere germanico al carattere
neolatino e specialmente al francese, per concluderne che non bisognava
aspettarsi certo da un Napoleone, strangolatore della nascente libertà della
Francia rivoluzionaria, l’attuazione del regno di giustizia che
l’architetto del mondo affidava invece al popolo tedesco; ma ciò attesta
anche come il filosofo patriota fosse sempre sotto la medesima
ispirazione che lo animava veut’anni prima nel suo entusiasmo per
la rivoluzione francese; e, malgrado tutte le apparenze in contrario, è
sempre la medesima ispirazione quella che traspare nel Disegno ili uno scritto
politico della prima cera, destinato a illustrare il proclama del re di PRUSSIA
“ Al mio popolo, quivi il Fichte, se, dinanzi al pericolo mortale che
minacciava la nazione tedesca, riconosce la necessità di porle a capo
come despota sovrano (Zwingherr) il re di PRUSSIA, uou perciò rimane meno
fedele al suo ideale democratico; per lui
ha dovuto riconoscerlo lo stesso [Veber den Begriff des wahrhaften
Krieges (Summit. Werke) «a dem Entwurfe zu etnei- politischen Schrift
ini FruhUnge (Stimma. Werke). Treifcscbke la Repubblica, senza re, senza
principe, senza signori, è sempre il vero Stato di ragione. Passato
il pericolo, il sovrano stesso dovrà adoperarsi con tutte le sue forze a
disabituare i suoi sudditi dalla soggezione, a Fichte nini die nationale
Idee, in Historische und politiseli Aufsalse, 4. ediz. Leipzig, Hirzel. Nodi
inumo- sehwebt ihm als hòchtes Zini vor Augeu eine “ Republik dei-
Deutschen oline FUrsten und Erbadel dodi er begreift, dosa diesea Zini
in weiter Ferne liege. Fui- jetzt gilt ee da* “ die Deutscbeu sioh
selbst mit Bewus 9 tsein maoheu „ ». Si, è vero, il Fichte colloca in
un tempo ancora assai lontano la vagheggiala attuazione del suo
ideale repubblicano, al punto che uno ilei frammenti di una sua opera
politica, scritta a Kònigsberg e rimasta incompiuta s’intitola: La repubblica
tedesca sotto il suo V." protettore (Die Republik der Deutschen su Anfani des
sirei- und zwanzigsten Jahrhunderls, un ter ihrem fiinften Reichsvogtei,
ina intanto quale coraggioso e severo linguaggio rivoluzionario egli
tiene contro i principi alemanni, cosi in questo frammento come altrove! Cou la
spietata crudeltà del chirurgo che, per guarire radicalmente una piaga
purulenta, affonda il bisturi nel pili vivo delle carni, egli mette a
nudo tutti i difetti e le turpitudini del suo tempo e del suo paese e
propone come rimedio una nuova costituzione, la quale dovrebbe stabilire
l’eguaglianza di tutti' i popoli teutonici e non ammettere altra disuguaglianza
tra gl’individui elio non sia quella del- p ingegno; una costituzione
adatta a una nazione come la germanica, la quale, die’egli, pressoché
incurante del giudizio dello altre nazioni, ha la caratteristica di
raccogliersi in se stessa e di min chiedere nulla più che di vivere
pacificamente secondo il proprio genio. Una nazione, la quale, còme la
tedesca, non mira che ad affermare e conservare per sé la propria torma
disesistenza (ibr eigentìiiimliches St'jti) e in nessun modo a imporla ad
altri (keinesweges anderen es aufzudringen), non senza intenzione é stata
collocata in mezzo a popoli, i quali, tosto che abbiano acquistato una mediocre
quantità di coltura, sentono il bisogno di diffonderla al di fuori;
nell’eterno disegno della storia umana essa è destinata a servire di diga a
questa intempestiva invadenza e a fornire non solo a sé stessa, ma a
tutti gli altri popoli d’Europa la garanzia di poter progredire, ciascuno
a suo modo, verso il fine comune (sie seg [die deutsche Natimi ],
im eteigen Entwurfe eines Menschengeschlechles jm Qanzen, bestimint,
als ein Damm dazustehen gegen jene unzeitige Zudringlichheit, und
uni renderli, in altri termini, capaci di fare a meno di lui.. u Se
cosi non dovesse avvenire nel futuro della Germania — esclama egli con
forza importerebbe poco che una
parte di essa fosse governata da un maresciallo francese come Bernadotte,
nel cui spirito almeno sono passate le visioni entusiasmanti della
libeità, piuttosto che da un signorotto tedesco, tronfio d’orgoglio,
immorale e di una brutalità e di un’arroganza sfrontate. Quando si
leggano queste parole contenute in quel medesimo Scritto politico della
primavera. ISIS, che non interamente a torto si è potuto considerare come il
luogo letterario in cui l’autore si è più inoltrato sulla via del
nazionalismo, e quando si ricordi il noto particolare della vita del
Fichte, ili avere cioè dopo la disastrosa campagna di Russia, impedito come un
orrendo delitto il macello a tradimento della guarnigione lfaucese
rimasta a Berlino, chi vorrà ancora vedere nel nostro filosofo un
pangermanista a cui si possa far risalire la responsabilità non solo
delle teorie insensate degli odierni teutomani, ma persino del cinismo
satanico con cui e per terra e per aria e per mare pretendono apnichf
tuie sich, sonderà nudi alien anderen europaischen Vblkern die Garantie
zu leisten, ilass sie auf dire eigene Weise laufen konnten zìi detti
gemeinsamen Siete) (Sdmmtl. Werke). Quale stridente contrasto tra
l'ufficio storico-politico che Pielite assegna alla nazione tedesca o quello
che la Germania odierna pretende arrogarsi ! Aus dem Enluourfe eie.
{Siimitili. ÌVerke). « Weun wir dahor nieht im Auge behielten, vvas
Deutschland zu werden hat, so 18ge an sich nicht so viel durun, ob ein
franzusischer Marscliall, wie Bernadotte, an dem weuigstens friiher
begeisternde Bilder der Freiheit voriibergegangen sind, oder ein
deutscher aufgehaseuer Edel- maun, ohne Sitten uud mit Rohlieit und
frechem Ueberrauthe, iiber eineu Theil von Deutschland gebiete. ] plicarle
i novelli barbari odierni, i rossi devastatori joiù veri e maggiori dello
stesso Attila flagellum Dei? Tanto più tempestivo, e tanto più salutare e
confortevole ci sembra, dunque, dinanzi alla mostruosa degenerazione del senso
morale di cui dà spettacolo l’odierna nazione tedesca, ostentando di non
riconoscere altro diritto all’infuori del despotismo e della forza bruta,
rievocare dalla letteratura classica di questa stessa nazione la dottrina
morale di uno dei più grandi assertori e della forza del diritto e del
diritto che individui e pispoli hanno alla giustizia, all’indipendenza,
alla libertà. Chi abbia seguito nella storia della filosofia le
vicende toccate alla dottrina di
Fichte ('), avrà notato come al grande entusiasmo e ai vivaci
dibattiti suscitati dal suo primo apparire succedesse per vari decenni un
immeritato oblio, dovuto al predominio delle 1 dottrine uscite dal
suo seno e specialmente dello hegelismo, i cui rappresentanti,
imponendo alla storia della filosofia un loro preconcetto di scuola,
quello cioè di non tener conto nella speculazione prehegeliana se non di
quanto avesse contribuito a preparare il sistema del loro maestro, avevano
abituato a vedere nel Fichte nulla più che il pensatore da cui era derivato
un deciso indirizzo idealist ico alla speculazione post kantiana. Vani furono
gli sforzi del figlio ilei Ficht.e, Ema- Ofr. in proposito A. Ravà,
Introduzione allo studi» tirila filosofia (li Fichte, Modena,
Formiggiui, V., per es., Karl Ludw. Michelet, Geschichte der lefzten
Sy- steme der Philosophie in Deutschland voli Kant bis Hegel (Berlin), in
cui alla prima filosofia del Fichte seno dedicate le miele Ermanno, per
mostrare il valore che la filosofia, paterna aveva per sè stessa. Soltanto col
risvegliarsi dello spirito nazionale germanico, risorse la fortuna del
grande rigeneratore della coscienza tedesca, del filosofo popolare,
dell’oratore eloquente, del fervido nazionalista, ilei supposto pangermanista;
ma, appunto per questa circostanza, l’attenzione fu rivolta di
preferenza alla sua filosofia politica, arbitrariamente o artificiosamente
interpretata, e il centenario della nascita del Fichte fu solennemente
celebrato da tutta la Germania ilei voi. I, e alla seconda filosofia; A.
Oli', avendo avuto il torto di prendere quest’opera come guida principale
per una conoscenza della filosofia tedesca postkantiana, fu trattò a
un’eccessiva reazione contro il Kant e contro lo hegelismo nel suo libro:
Hegel ri la philosophie allemande (Paris). Di Em. Ehm. Fichte, oltre le
Prefazioni (dianzi ricordate) a vari degli undici voli, delle Opere
complete di G. A. Pielite, vedi ancora: i Beitràge sur Charuk'teristik
dar ncueren Philosophie (Sulzbach) di cui la 2.“ ediz. può considerarsi
come un’opera nuova; il voi. Fichte ' s Lehen and litterarlscher
Briefwechsel (Sulzbach, ISSO), con cui, prima ancora che con la
pubblicazione delle opere, cercò richiamare l’attenzione sulla
personalità e sull’attività pratica del padre, affinchè nascesse cosi
gradatamente anche l’interesse per il suo pensiero; e infine V Introduci
ion (in frane.) alla Méthodc pour arriver à la vie blenheureuse par
Fichte (traduz. Bouillier) (Paris). V., per es.: t due voli, del Busse,
Fidile und sei ne Bezìehung zar Gegenwart des deutsehen Volkes (Halle),
la conferenza dello Zeli.eh, l'idi lo aìs Politiker (ristampata in
Zelleh, Vor- Irdgr und Abliandlinigen, Leipzig) e l’opuscolo del
Lassalle, Melile's poìilisches Vermdchtnis and die neuesle Gegenwart
(Hamburg, ristampato in Lassallk, Reden und Schriflen, Berlin). Bisogna,
invece, uscire dalla Germania per trovare un’esposizione prettamente storica e
serenamente obiettiva di tutta la filosofia del Fichte quale si ha nella solida
opera del Willm, Histoire de la Philosophie allemande drpttis Kant
jusqu’k Hegel (Paris), opera premiata, su relazione del de iléinusat,
dall'istituto di con significato più politico che filosofico; mia singolare fatalità, poi, (che
sembra un’ironia della storia a chi intenda il vero senso delle teorie
politiche del Fichte) ha voluto che il cèntenario della sua morte coincidesse
con l’irrompere improvviso della premeditata aggressione pangermanistica!
Francia e ancora utile e pregevole, nonostante la sua vetustà; la si può
leggere con profitto anche dopo le ampie ed eccellenti monografie posteriori
del Fischer (Fichles Leben,\Verke und Lehre, Heidelberg) e del Leon (La
philosophie de Fichte et ses rapportò uvee la conscience coti tempo
faine, Paris), il quale ultimo dedica al suo soggetto un lungo studio e un
grande amore. Questo carattere politico-nazionalistico degli scritti
usciti in occasione del centenario del Fichte fu ben rilevato da von
Rkichi.IN- Memusco nel suo articolo l)er hundertòte Geburistng ./. O. Fichtes (in Zeitschrift fiir Philosophie uud philos. Kritih,
Halle). Vedine
la lunga lista nell’UKBERWKO-HEiNZE. Grundriss der Geschiclite dcr
Philosophie, IV, Berlin; qui basti ricordare per tutti il discorso già citato
del Treitbchke, Fichte i ind die nutionale Idee. L’uso e l’abuso del
Fichte a scopi patriottici e imperialistici non cessa io Germania col
conseguimento dell'unità tedesca. Più di una volta le conferenze tenute nelle
università tedesche in occasione del natalizio dell’imperatore hanno avuto per
argomento preferito la personalità o qualche dottrina particolare di Fichte:
per es., all’università di Strasburgo, terra di conquista, Windelband fa
un’alta affermazione di germanismo parlando dell’idea dello stato tedesco
secondo Fichte; Windelband, Fiehte's Idee des dentschen Stante, Freiburg i.
Breisgau. All’università di Kiel, Martius inneggia al cinquantesimo anno
di Guglielmo II, ricordando la vita e l’opera d’un uomo, il quale
grandemente co-opera all’elevazione e all’emancipazione delle forze
morali della Germania, e della cui azione efficacissima, insieme e accanto
alla concezione politica dello Stein, ricorre oggi il centenario; d’un uomo,
a cui appunto ora la nazione tedosca si appresta a dimostrare la propria
gratitudine inalzandogli un monumento nella capitale [e il monumento è poi
sorto a Berlino], insomma, di Fichte, (Redc zur Feier des Geburtstages
seiner Majeshit des Deutschen Kaisers Kdttigs von Preiissen Wilhelm 11 von Golz
Martius, Kiel). Se tra molti scritta' rolli di occasione cominciò ad
apparire qualche studio serio di tutta l’opera fichtiaua, il suo aspetto,
per lo spostamento dell’attenzione dal lato politico ai fondamenti teoretici
del sistema, è non meno unilaterale di quello che continuarono a
presentare, in tempi più recenti, le dissertazioni te le monografie sulla
dottrina giuridico-sociale del [Ricordiamo, per es.: Lòwio, Die
Philosophie Fichte’s iiach (lini Gesaimntergehnisse ihrer EntuHchelung
und in ihrem Verhiiltnitise zìi Kant unii Spinosa, Stuttgart [l’Autore, seguace
del dualismo de[ Giintlior e perciò d’indirizzo radicalmente opposto
a tinello di Fichte, mira specialmente a mostrare la logica
coerenza in cui le due diverse forme assunte dal sistema fichtiauo
stanno al principio fondamentale del sistema stesso anche là dove, secondo lui,
si contraddicono, pei concluderne l’insufficienza del principio stesso]; il
L.\s- soN, .Fichte Un Verhaltniss zu Kirche und Slaat (Berlin)
[l’Autore, dominato, com’è, dall’ idea religiosa quale può rientrare
nella concezione hegelismi, considera fondamentale la seconda forma
della lilosolia lichtiana, quella in cui prevale il pensiero religioso,
pur giudicandola non riuscita e insoddisfaeeute] ; e sopra tutti il già
ricordato Fibciusr, Fichtes Leben, Werke und Lehre (Heidelberg, Geschichtc
der neueren Fhilosophic) opera veramente classica per la larghissima
e accuratissima esposizione di quasi tutte le opere del grande
idealista; in essa si sostiene la tesi che le due forme della filosofia fichtiana
non sarebbero che duo opposte direzioni assuute rispetto allo stesso
principio fondamentale del sistema: uel primo periodo il Fichte, partendo
dalla lilosolia teoretica, si sarebbe elevato alla filosofia del diritto, alla
lilosolia morale, alla filosofia religiosa, all'Assoluto; quivi, infatti,
il postulato di quell'ordiuamento morale del mondo, che per lui la tutt
uno con 1 In assoluto e con Dio (die lebendige unii loirkende moralische
Ordnung itti selbst Goti), è il punto di arrivo; noi secondo periodo,
invertito il cammino e trasformato quel postulato da punto di arrivo in
putito di partenza, il Fidilo avrebbe preceduto dall’Assoluto alla
religione, alla morale, al diritto e alla scienza. Più denigratore che
profoudo è stato giustamente giudicato, infine, il libro del NoàCK, J. G.
Fichte nach sei non Leben, Leliren und Wirken (Leipzig). filosofo
tedesco, inopportunamente staccata da tutto il resto deli’edifizio speculativo. Anche
nella maggior parte degli odierni studi storici sul Lichte divenuti più
che mai frequenti dopoché al moto neo-kantiano iniziatosi al grido:
ritorniamo al Kant! (zurìick zu Kant!) si associò, come orientamento
filosofico, un moto neo-fichtiano: ritorniamo al Fichte!j(zuriick zu
Fichte!) che è andato sempre più accentuandosi dagli ultimi decenni del
secolo scorso ai giorni nostrf è
\11 ritorno a Kant si suole farlo risalire alla celebre lezione dello
Zellar: Ueber die Bedeutung und Aufgabe der Er/ iJnntnistheorie
(Heidelberg); ma già il Weisse pronunziava a Lipsia un discorso: In
welchem Sitine sich die deutsche Philisopkie wieder a " Kanl zu
orientieren hai (Leipzig),. dal quale si rileva la sua avversione alla
dialettica hegeliana e il suo sforzo por contrapporre al panteismo
idealistico un teismo etico. n? V ' m P ro P oa ìto
I’Uebeuweg-Hbinzb, Grundtjss der Geschichle (ter p/iilosop/tie seit
Beginn des neunzehnten Jahrhundcrts (Berlin), Elnwìrkung Fichtes auf neuere
Lahren. Se ne ricava il largo é potente influsso che la filosofia
fichtiana, intesa sia come idealismo soggettivo, sia come idealismo
etico, sia come panpsichismo, ha esercitato e sopra le varie nuove dottrine
sorte in Germania e sopra menti speculative di altri paesi (Inghilterra,
Nord-America, ecc.). Per la recente e assai ricca letteratura intorno al nostro
filosofo vedi lo stesso voi. dell’Uebervveg-Heinze, Baldwin, Dictionary
of philosophy and psychology, London, e per quella recentissima, ancor yù
abbondante, cfr. i voli, editi da Rude,
Die P/iilosop/tie der Gegemoarl (Heidelberg) e contenenti pressoché tutta la
bibliografia filosofica. Nel centenario della morte del Fichte e scoppio
della guerra europea) la Bibliotheh fUr Philosop/tie, edita da Stein,
pubblica l’opuscolo di Stàhler, Fichte, ein deutscher Den/ter (conferenza
tenuta nel circolo tedesco di Charcow in Russia), in cui FA., movendo dal bisogno
spirituale oggi sempre più intensamente sentito di una nuova orientazione circa
la concezione del mondo, affermava essere appunto Fichte il più atto a fornire
una chiara risposta alla questione, una forse da rilevare una certa
esclusività d’interesse, corrispondente all’ interesse prevalentemente critico
e gnoseologico che ha animato siuo a ieri il pensiero contemporaneo; di guisa
che in questa rifioritura di studi fichtiani, mentre alla teoria
della conoscenza ò assegnato per lo più il posto d’onore, le altre parti
del sistema, in ispecie le più pratiche, vengono relativamente lasciate
nell’ombra. Il che nuoce alla dottrina e anche alla figura del nostro
filosofo, le quali così risultano monche e diminuite, e spesso oscurale e
falsate; quando invece Fichte reclamava sempre e vivamente che i futuri
critici non giudicassero la sua concezione se non nella sua totalità, se non
ponendosi cioè in quel punto di vista centrale, da cui si dominano e
s'illuminano tutti gli aspetti; tanto più, poi, che nessuu’altra concezione
come la sua aspirava a essere una rigorosa unità, organica, inscindibile,
completa, a rispecchiare, quasi, queiraltra rigorosa unità, altrettanto
massiccia quanto severa e semplice, che era la personalità stessa di
Fichte, il quale appartiene all’eletta schiera di spiriti eminenti che
nella storia deH’uinauità seppero unire in intima connessione la
speculazione filosofica con la vita vissuta, fondendo armonicamente pensiero e
azione, investendo del medesimo prorisposta che 11 non ha nè corna nè denti (die
u tceder Horner nodi Zàhne hai), ed essere sempre Fichte “ la stella
polare (der Leit- sternj verso la quale possiamo di nuovo orientare la
nostra vita e il nostro sapere „ (cfr. la prefazione). Peccato che
l’opuscolo dello Srahler uscisse accompagnato nello stesso anno da altri
due volumetti della stessa Biblioteca, riguardanti, sebbene con intento puramente
storico, figure filosofiche ben diverse dall’ideale figura del Fichte, e
di significato più sintomatico in quel nefasto anno, e cioè: il
Protagoras-Niclzsche-Stirner di B. Iachsiann e il Nietzsches Metaphysik-
limi ihr Verhdltniss zu Erkenntnialheorie u. Ethih di S. Flemming. fondo
interesse le più fredde concezioni astratte della ricerca teoretica e le
più ardenti questioni concrete dell’attività pratica, intensificando la
luce diffusa dalla loro opera in- stauratricè nel campo del sapere col
calore irradiantesi dalla loro missione riformatrice nel campo del dovere.
E invero non si può negare al sistema del nostro filosofo la sua
principale caratteristica : quella di essere cioè È veramente ammirevole in
Fichte che Zeller giustamente definiva anche per il carattere morale un
idealista nato il rapporto stretto
che uni sempre la sua vita alla sua dottrina. Jamais la manière d’agir et di sentir cosi scrive Bauthoi.mf.ss nella
sua Ili- gioire critique des doefriu^s religieuses de la philosophie
moderne (Paris) — jamais la conduite et l’àrae ne fu- rent séparées chez
lui de la manière de penser et de voir. Ce qu : il croyait était eu méme
temps le nerf de sa volonté, le soufflé et. l’inspiration de son existence
entière. Prenant au sérieux tous les mou- vements de son intelligence, il
vonlait vivre de ce qu' il coucevait, et taire vivre ce qu’ il savait, cornine
il ne vonlait savoir que ce qu’ il pouvait aimer, admirer et pratiquer.
Ce n’ótait pas lii l’héroique effet d’uu parti pris, c’était le propre de
sa naturo méme, où lo seu- timent de la valeur morale, de la diguité
personnelle, se confondait avec une telle hauteur de pensée, avec une
hardiesso de speculatimi si intrèpide, qu’ elle pouvait, semidei- la
rósolution d’nn caractère l'u- domptable. La ilestiuée, il est vrai,
avait surtout coutribué à Pac- croissemeut de nette énergie, de cette
trempe primitive. Fiofite avait eu longtemps à combattre, non seulement
des adversaires et des enne- mie, mais les soucis et la misère, le froid
ot la faim. Avant, do lutter pour la libertà de penser et pour P
indépendance de sa patrie, il avaiti pour s'assurer le pain dn jour,
endnré tout.es les rigueurs matórielles ot sociales; et de tant
d’èpreuves diverses, il était sorti plus vigoureux, plus courageux, plus
convaiucu de ce que peut et vaut la no- b lesse d’àme. Ausai ne
saurait-ou contempler, sans ètre à.la foia tou- chó et fortifié, le
tableau de ses souffrauces et de ses victoires, na'i- vemeut et
inodesteraeut trace dans cette Vie et correspondance, qu’ a publiée lo
lils qui porte si eonvenablemeut son illustre nom. con tutti i suoi difetti, i
suoi errori e, diciamolo pure, la sua oscurità un vero sistema. In esso
trovi subito un’idea che l’ha generato tutto quanto, che ne è il
centro, l’anima e ne fa l’unità : idea ovunque presente e ovunque
feconda, da cui nascono il metodo, le divisioni, gli svolgimenti, le
applicazioni, e da cui germogliano in ogni direzione soluzioni, buone o
cattive, a tutti i problemi teoretici e pratici. Esso è non solo uno nel suo
insieme e omogeneo nelle sue parti, ma universale: tutte le grandi questioni
intorno a Dio, all’uomo, alla natura, e ai loro rapporti, rientrano nel suo
quadro e vi si coordinano; vi si potranno notare lacune, rifacimenti,
mutevolezza di atteggiamenti e di espressioni, indefinitezza di disegno e
incompiutezza di linee, ma ciò va attribuito più alle contingenze
esteriori in mezzo a cui il sistema si svolse (‘), che non alla sua idea
ispiratrice, la quale, posta l’universalità della dottrina a cui dà vita,
non poteva non esercitare un influsso auch’esso universale sulla coltura del
tempo e delle età posteriori sino a noi, assicurando così al nome
dell’autore una fama imperitura nella storia dello spirito umano. Intorno itilo
svolgimento del pensiero fichtiano et'r. \V.Kaiutz, S ludi<’u z.
EnUoicklungsgeschichU der Fichteschen Wissemchaftslehre (Berlin) e nnolie
E. Focus, Vom Werden rlreier Denker: Fichte, Schelling, Schleiermachcr, Tiibingen.
cfr. anello IC. Voit LÀNDlSK, Geschichte der Philosophie, Leipzig, Schlegel
considera la Wissenschaftslehre di Fichte una delle “ tre maggiori
tendenze del secolo (circi griissten Tetidenzen iteti Jahrshunderts) „
accanto al Wilhelm Meister del Goethe e alla Rivoluzione francese. E
innegabile che il filosofo di Jena fu il filosofo per eccellenza della scuola
romantica, le cui idee, a giudizio concorde degli storici e in
particolare dello I-Iaym, che su ciò insiste ctm forza (cfr. Die
romantische Schuie), sono derivate in Quale questa idea ispiratrice? È
l’idea più alta e, pei la coscienza comune, la più paradossale che sia
sorta nella storia della filosofìa : la sintesi, cioè, di due termini in
apparenza così inconciliabili come l’io e il non-io, il conoscere e l’essere,
la libertà e la necessità, lo spirito e la natura, nel monismo superiore, nella
“ superiore filosofia (Jiohere Phihsophie) direbbe lo Schelling, della
libertà. Il sistema del Fichte consiste, intatti, in una * filosofia
della libertà e poiché il suo principio metafisico s’identifica con l’ideale
morale, giustamente fu chiamato un Idealismo elico. La vecchia metafisica
s’intitolava scienza dell’essere, ontologia, e nell’essere riponeva
l’assoluto, il reale, e dall’essere derivava ciò che dev’essere l’ideale.
Secondo Fichte, invece l’assoluto, il
principio ultimo e supremo da cui veniamo e a cui tendiamo non ù 1 essei e,
ma grandissima parte dalla Dottrina tirila scienza. E si spiega la
predi- lezione dei romantici per un sistema come il ttchtiano, il «piale
trasforma il kantismo ancora esitante in un idealismo assoluto, e a tutto
uscire, sotto il rispetto metafisico, da «piella stessa genialità dell’
lo, da cui i romantici tutto derivavano sotto il rispetto estetico. Fu
detto anche Idealismo soggettivo, ma tale definizione e ei- ronea, perchè
V Io che il Fichte pone al principio di tutto il suo sistema non è l’io
individuale, sì bene 1 ’/o collettivo, universale, che sta a fondamento
di tutti gl’individui, l’/o,assoluto, l’originaria incognita X, dalla cui
unità, ancora chiusa in sè stessa e incosciente, dovrà uscire, in virtù
di quel misterioso urto (Ansiosa), che è il t eus er m china di tutta la
metafisica Uchtiana, l’antitesi cosciente del soggettivo e
dell’oggettivo. Il mio lo assoluto - dice Fichte - non è l’individuo;
soltanto cortigiani offesi e filosofi irritati contro di me hanno cosi
male interpretato la mia filosofia, per attribuirmi l’infame dottrina
dell’egoismo pratico (mein absolutes Teh tst mcht das Individuili» ; so
haben beleidigte Hóflinge und drgerhchc Phiìo- sophm mich erklàrt, uni
mir die sehandliche Lehre des prahtischen Egoismus anzudichten. Cfr. G.
Ws ioi.lt. Zar GescMchte derneue reti Philosophie (Hamburg). il
dovere, è un ideale che non è, ma dev'essere. L’essere in quanto essere,
in quanto quid stabile e compiuto, in quanto cosa o materia inerte, a
rigore non esiste ; la fissità, l’immobilità di ciò che chiamiamo sostanza, sostrato,
materia, non è che apparenza. Agire, tendere, volere, ecco in che
consiste la realtà vera. L’universo è il fenomeno della Volontà pura, il
simbolo dell’ Idea morale, che è la vera cosa in se, il vero Assoluto.
Filosofare significa com vincersi che l'essere non è nulla, che il dovere
è tutto; significa riflettere sul proprio io empirico, individuale,
unica ultivilà libera che tende incessantemente ad attuare ciò che dev'
essere, ossia il Dovere, il Bene, /.’ Io assoluto, universale; significa
acquistare la coscienza di por- lare con sè la libertà che crea e
soggioga il mondo, appunto per attuare il Dovere, il Bene, l'Ideale
morale, l Io o la Libertà assoluta. Il Kant aveva bene
ammesso che il soggetto, ossia la ragione e la libertà, impone una forma
e una legge agli oggetti della conoscenza: dell’ Io egli aveva fatto, si,
il legislatore del mondo, ma non era giunto a farne addirittura il
creatore; poiché aveva lasciato sussistere ancora, ili fronte al
soggetto, uu oggetto, una cosa in sè, capace d’imporre un limite al
soggetto. Per il Fichte, invece, il quale dà all’ io empirico un
significato universale, questa pretesa cosa in sè, ultimo residuo del
dogmatismo, è una chimera che bisogna esorcizzare, perchè è
semplicemente la parte dell’ Io ancora incosciente che il progresso
della conoscenza trae a poco a poco alla luce della coscienza ;
sarebbe assurda, infatti, di fronte alla Libertà assoluta, alIo assoluto e
universale, una materia non creata da lui e a lui imposta dal di fuori. E
poi, questa misteriosa cosa in sè. supposta al ili là di ogni conoscenza,
questo essere senza intelligenza, a che si riduce, se non a un
contenuto mentale (Oeilankending ) e quasi a un fantasma, creato da
noi stessi a spiegarci le sensazioni e le rappresentazioni che in noi
sorgono, non per libera creazione nostra, ma prodotte dal di fuori. Se un
limite esiste all'attività del- ]> jo, gli è perchè l ’lo stesso lo
pone liberamente alla propria attività illimitata, con lo scopo di avere il
modo di sopprimerlo e di esentare cosi quella stessa attività propria e
di rivelare a si stesso la propria essenza, che è la libertà. La moralità
e la virtù, del resto, non suppongono lo sforzo e la lotta? bisogna,
dunque, per attuarle, crearsi perenue- mente ostacoli e superarli; onde V
Io nel primo momento della propria evoluzione “ pone sè stesso, tesi, nel
secondo momento u contrappone a sè il non-Io, antitesi, e nel terzo
momento si riconosce nel non-Io, sintesi. Tre aiti, questi, a cui corrispondono
i tre modi di esistenza, i tre oggetti del sapere, che sono l’io, il
mondo, il tu. Guai se l’7o desistesse un solo istante dali’esercizio
della propria libera attività! cesserebbe immantinente di esistere;
di qui il carattere titanico che il Fischer ammira nel- p Jo fichtiano,
destinato per natura sua a continuamente agire, produrre, volere. Per
approssimarsi in qualche modo al concetto dell lo iich- tiauo nel quale
va ricercato il fondamento di ogni esperienza, giova fare completamente
astrazione da qualsiasi contenuto rappresentalo della nostra coscienza
empirica. Dopo questa immensa sottrazione, si consideri la
rappresentazione più vuota che possa pensarsi, 1 unica affermazione che
non abbisogni di nessuna dimostrazione, il principio logico d’identità: A
è A, col quale uon si afferma nemmeno che zi esiste, ma soltanto che: se
A esiste, A dev’essere A. Orbene, quantunque con tale affermazione si formuli
soltanto una vuota venta e Un cosi intenso idealismo non era mai
sorto prima.del Pielite. Esso insegna che il variopinto e multisono
mondo sensibile, che si estende nello spazio e si svolge nel tempo,
non ha esistenza propria e indipendente : 1’ unico ch'e veramente esista è l’
lo. E lo stesso Io esiste solo in quanto agisce. Dal suo operare, dal suo
rifrangersi in In e non-lo, sorge per lui il mondo visibile, percepibile
e connesso da non i ponga
nessuna esistenza, si compie, tuttavia, un atto del pensiero, un giudizio, e un
giudizio d’incrollabile certezza, il quale porta direttamente a porre e a
riconoscere 1'esistenza reale dell’/o. Infatti, donde proviene il verbo “è”
con cui il primo A è messo in relazione col secondo A, il soggetto col
predicato? Il nesso tra i due termini del giudizio è beu soltanto nell’/o e per
opera dell’/o. Dunque, nellu precedente proposizioue: A è A, ebe è la più
evidente, per quanto la più vuota di contenuto, che si possa formulare,
si nasconde già l’ lo, si trova già l’attività certa di aè stessa;
perché, meutre per A non si ha il diritto di fare, oltre il giudizio
ipotetico: se A esiste, A è A, nnehe il giudizio categorico: A esiste, in
quantiche anatale affermazione richiederebbe un’ulteriore dimostrazione,
per V Io, invece, anello se non sappiamo assolutamente nulla più di
questo: che è A, possiamo dire non solo: se V Io esiste, l’ Io è l’/o, ma
altresì: l’ Io esiste (ciò elio ricorda l’agostiniano e il cartesiano:
Cogito ergo sum). Ma V Io è, per natura sua, essenzialmente attività, e,
prima ancora di acquistare coscienza dei propri prodotti, dei propri
atti, e di sè stesso, crea, con la sua immagiuazione produttrice, perenne
e inesauribile, le innumerevoli rappresentazioni, che poi lu riHeasioue
farà apparire alla sua intelligenza come oggetti, come non-lo;
perchè va sempre ricordato questo punto originale della dottrina del
Fichte - il non-lo, ossia il mondo esterno, è posto ilall’/o inconscio,
non già dall' Io cosciente; è un prodotto, quindi, anteriore a quella
relazione di antitesi e sintesi tra soggettivo e oggettivo che è la coscienza,
e quando la coscienza nasce, s’impone a essa come già dato. Così, grazie
a questa produzione inconscia dell’ immaginazione dell' lo — di
quell’immaginazione che già per il Descartes era il trait d’union tra l’anima e
il corpo, e per il Kant l’intermediaria tra le intuizioni pure della
sensibilità e le categorie dell’intelletto —, il non-lo apparisce all’
intelligenza come un limite dal di fuori senza essere perciò estraneo
all’/o, essendo sempre un prodotto dell’/o inconscio. leggi, il quale
perciò non è che il sistema delle nostre rappresentazioni, il rispecchiarsi
dell’ lo nell’/o. Ma anche questo rispecchiamento non ci rivela in modo puro e
immediato ]’ intima essenza del nostro spirito, perchè non uel
rappresentarsi è il nostro più alto operare, non nel rappresentarsi è
tutto il nostro Io. Noi operiamo veramente soltanto nel libero volere
morale; noi attuiamo completamente il nostro Io soltanto «piando, con
attività rinnovata al lume della coscienza, ci sforziamo di soggiogare il
mondo delle rappresentazioni scaturite dall’inesauribile fonte dell’ lo inconscio
il quale mondo non è che “ il materiale sensibilizzato del nostro
dovere (unsre Welt ist das versinnlichte Muterial unsrer Pjlicht) e ci
sforziamo di trasformarlo nel mondo della libertà, nel mondo
soprasensibile ed eternamente in fieri del Bene; poiché, esclama il Fichte,
essere liberi è nulla, divenir liberi è il cielo (frei se‘in ist nichts,
frei wenlen ist dei' Ilimmel)! La costruzione filosofica del Fichte può dirsi
monolitica, ed è tale da superare in semplicità persino quella eretta,
da un punto di vista e con centro «li gravita affatto opposti, dallo
Spinoza: al Jacobi il sistema del
filosofo tedesco appariva il rovescio del sistema del filosofo olaudese. E
qui sta il vantaggio della concezione fichtiana anche sulla kantiana; il
Kant non aveva tanto fornito un sistema, quanto, piuttosto, i germi e i
materiali per più sistemi; nella lotta contro il dogmatismo e contro lo
scetticismo egli aveva voluto inalzare alla scienza propriamente
detta, più che un tempio, una fortezza; e, per rendere questa
fortezza iuespuguabile da tutti i lati, ne aveva costruito -i bastioni
quasi in tempi diversi, quasi in stile diverso : onde nella sua filosofia
non solo rimane il dualismo inconciliabile tra l’essere e il conoscere, tra il
conoscere'e il lai e, ma nell ambito stesso del conoscere manca una
rigorosa unità tra i diversi poteri conoscitivi, tra la sensibilità con
lo sue intuizioni pure, l’intelletto con le sue categorie, la ragione con
le sue idee metafisiche. Il filosofa di Ko- nigsbei'g da una parte pareva
chiudere lo spirito umano tutto nel giro del proprio mondo interno, nel
fenomeno, dall altra gli lasciava intravedere, al di là di questo
mondo interno, un altro mondo, il noumeno, avvolto sempre da densa
nebbia e sempre refrattario alla conoscenza. Donde la domanda : questo
mondo esistente in sè è quello stesso che ci si i ivela nella voce della
coscienza, ed è possibile tiadui lo in atto con la pura e buona volontà?
La risposta di Kant, almeno nell’espressione datale dall’autore, se
non nello spirito dell’autore stesso, era stata cosi cauta, che
ognuno poteva trarne le conseguenze a suo proprio rischio. Iusomma, non
si poteva non riportare l’impressione che nella, dotti ina kantiana la
verità fosse svelata soltanto a mezzo, e che a essa mancasse, dal punto
di vista scientifico, cosi il fondamento come il coronamento. Fichte,
invece, da quel pensatore ben più ardito e deciso ch’egli eia e che si
era formato sullo stampo dello Spinoza, s’impossessò dei materiali kantiani, e
fece della Critico un sistema unitario: Tutto ciò che è, è per noi; tutto ciò
che è per noi, può essere soltanto per opera nostra; nell’attività dell’
lo è racchiuso il conoscere e l’essere, il sensibile e il soprasensibile,
il reale e 1’ ideale ; nell’autocoscienza (Selbstbeiousstsein) lo stesso Kant aveva già insinuato che
la misteriosa incognita nascosta sotto i fenomeni sensibili poteva
benissimo essere quella stessa che portiamo con noi è l’unità di tutti i
poteri dello spirito, l’unità delle forme cosi del fenomeno come della
cosa in sè che sta a fondamento del fenomeno, l’unità del sistema delle nostre
rappresentazioni e del sistema dei nostri doveri, l’unità della nostra
essenza teoretica e della nostra essenza pratica: 1’ unità, e con 1’
unità il fondamento e il coronamento di tutta la dottrina. Se il Reinhold
aveva cercato un principio superiore, come principio unico indispensabile
a dare forma sistematica di scienza alla dottrina della conoscenza, se
il Beck aveva interpretato lo spirito della filosofia kantiana nel
senso idealistico, se il Jacobi aveva reclamato l’eliminazione della cosa in sè
ecco nella filosofia di Fichte soddisfatti tutti insieme questi desideri,
e in pari tempo fornita ai risultati della CRITICA DELLA RAGIONE 1’evidenza
richiesta dallo Schulze. La filosofia di Kant, raccoglie, a dir cosi, in
un'unità vivente tutti i germi e principi motori del pensiero moderno, e
il sistema di Fichte non è che una delle direzioni che poteva prendere il
kantismo. La direzione fichtiana, quindi, scaturisce naturalmente
dalle premesse kantiane, ma non deve considerarsi perciò, come vuole
Leon, quasi l’unico e necessario completamento del kantismo. Altre
direzioni, assai divergenti dalla fichtiana, l'anno capo
legittimamente aneli’esse a Kant, dei cui discepoli può ripetersi ciò che
CICERONE (si veda) diceva dei diversi discepoli di Socrate: ALII ALIVII SVINPSENVIT.
Fichte è un kantiano — Grice un hardieiano -- all’incirca nel medesimo senso
che L’ACCADEMIA è socratica, e sta allo Spinoza come Platone a VELIA (si veda)e;
con Kaut afferma l’ideale morale, con Spinoza l’unità dei “ due
moudi onde la Bua filosofia, dicemmo già, è un’originale sintesi, forse
Unica nel suo genere ai tempi moderni, di ciò che sembra
assolutamente inconciliabile: il monismo e la libertà, il mondo delle
cause o il inondo dei fini. Anziché ritornare sui singoli problemi della
Critica della ragione, egli s’impadronisce del centro animatore di
quella Critica, e trae fuori dal pensiero fondamentale dell’ auto-attività
dello spirito, in quanto forza reale e fine a sé stesso, un uuovo quadro
del mondo di grandiosa arditezza, entro il quale l’idealismo, che nella
filosofia kautiana era latente sotto 1’ involucro di prudenti re- La
filosofia di Fichte, abbiamo detto, è una filosofia della libertà, poiché
ha per principio una realtà assoluta, intesa come Io pratico, come
Attività pura, come Auto-determinazione, ed è uno sforzo poderoso per dedurre
da questo principio oltreché le condizioni della vita etica, anche
le funzioni della ragione teorica, celebrando in tal modo quel
primato della ragione pratica che Kant già proclama, e facendo perciò della
ragione pura un organo della moralità. L’attività dell’ Io assoluto
alterna i suoi atti di produzione inconscia con i suoi atti di
riflessione cosciente, la sua direzione centrifuga ed espansiva che si
protende verso l’infinito, con la direzione centripeta e coustrizioni, viene
chiamato a potente vita, e ciò che di sublime il grande lilosofo dell’
imperativo categorica aveva insegnato intorno alla libertà morale di
fronte alla necessità naturale, viene tradotto dal linguaggio di un
moderato contegno in quello di un energico entusiasmo. li mondo può
comprendersi soltanto in base allo spirito e lo spirito soltanto in base
alla volontà. La dottrina di Fichte è tutta nel vivere e nel fare, tanto
vero che comincia non con la definizione di un concetto, ma con la
richiesta di un atto, Thathandlung, Poni te stesso, fai con coscienza ciò
che bui fatto inconsapevolmente ogni qual volta ti sei chiamato io,
analizza questo atto di autocoscienza e riconosci nei suoi elementi le
energie da cui scaturisce ogni realtà Questa intima vitalità del
principio lichtiaiio, che ricorda l'atto puro aristotelico e il perpetuo
divenire eracliteo, e in conseguenza della quale Dio, anziché una
sostanza assoluta già compiuta, sarebbo un ordino cosmico sempre
attenutesi, mai attuato, si ridette anche uell’opera filosòfica dell’autore, il
cui spirito, fiero e irrequieto, si svolse iu continua lotta non solo
nella pratica, ma anche nel pensiero. Nelle sue lezioni, come nei suoi
scritti, spesso egli riprende daccapo la serie delle sue deduzioni e
sempre iu modo diverso e quasi conversando coi suoi uditori e coi suoi lettori,
mai trascurando le possibili obiezioni da parte di questi; sicché il suo
filosofare sembra compiersi trattile che arresta la prima e respinge V Io
in sè stesso; pone a sè stessa l’urto (Anstoss) della sensazione, il
limite della rappresentazione, l’intoppo del non-Io ; è insomma
teoretica : soltanto al fine di diventare pratica. Tutto 1’ apparato
della conoscenza non serve che a darci la possibilità di compiere il nostro
dovere: quel dovere che è 1’ unica realtà vera, 1’ unico in-sè (An-sich)
del mondo fenomenico, perchè le cose sono in sè ciò che noi
dobbiamo farne; 1’io teoretico pone oggetti, affinchè 1’io pratico
trovi resistenze -- Gegenstand, oggetto, è qui preso come sinonimo di
Widerstund, resistenza. L’oggettività esiste soltanto per essere la materia
indispensabile all’azione, per ricevere da questa la forma che deve
elaborarla e inalzarla sì da rendere sempre più visibile alla
presenza d’interlocutori, è come un filosofare in comune e per più
rispetti richiama alla mente il dialogo platonico. Del resto al Fichte
sarebbe parsa vana una filosofia avulsa dal suo ambiente naturale, l’umanità,
ond'egli si faceva un dovere di agire e influire energicamente sui suoi
contemporanei e su quanti fossero in relazione con lui, e visse in continuo
coutatto col mondo e con la società; al contrario del Kant, tra la vita e la
speculazione del quale non appare certo Io stretto connubio che è nel
nostro filosofo ; infatti, i rapporti sociali e tutto il contegno esteriore del
grande solitario di Konigsberg furono, rispetto alla sua vita interiore e al
suo pensiero, cosi indifferenti come il guscio al gheriglio ma turo ;
mentre il Kant per molti e molti auui aveva portato entro di so,i suoi
gravi pensieri senza che alcuno sospettasse nemmeno che cosa
accadesse nell’ intimo di questo professore che senza differenza dagli
altri teneva i suoi corsi universitari, il Fichte, invece, impaziente di
ogni ritardo nella missione rigeneratrice, a cui con orgogliosa coscienza
di sè si sentiva chiamato, lasciava prorompere la manifestazione delle
sue idee, anche se non definitivamente elaborate, man mano che
scaturivano dal profondo della sua anima agile e trasmutabile e disposta
agli atteggiamenti più diversi secondo i campi a cui si applicava, secondo i
problemi ché affrontava, secondo i momenti in cui agiva. 1’ attività dell
lo. In conclusione, noi siamo Intelligenza Per poter essere Volontà. La
Dottrina della Scienza, quindi, nel sistema del Fichte, è tutta in
servigio della filosofia pratica, la quale, attraverso la dottrina del diritto,
va a culminare nella dottrina morale, e'mira ad attuare quel regno dei
fini che Kant contrapponeva al regno delle cause, e che jier il nostro
filosofo consiste nell’adempimento completo del Dovere, nel dominio
assoluto dell’ lo, nel trionfo supremo della Libertà. E invero,
mentre da un lato la Dottrina della Scienza ci apprende che il fondo,
l’essenza dello spirito umano non è l’intelligenza ma 1’ attività, non il
pensare ma il volere nella forma, almeno, in cui attività e volere
sono accessibili all’uomo, e che l’intelligenza — pur essendo
inseparabile dall’attività, da cui è condizionata e di cui e
condizione resta subordinata all’
attività come la forma al proprio contenuto, come la riflessione al
proprio oggetto, d’altra parte la Dottrina morale ci mostra il
procedimento con cui lo spirito umano si sforza — il che è preciso suo
dovere di prendere coscienza, mediante l’intelligenza, di quell’attività pura,
di quella volontà, di quella libertà infinita, che è appunto il fondo suo,
la sua essenza assoluta. Dal che risulta evidente lo stretto nesso
che avvince la Dottrina morale alla Dottrina della Scienza ; quella si
deduce direttamente dai principi di questa, in quanto la moralità,
secondo il Fichte, non è che uno dei momenti pii importanti, anzi il più
essenziale, dell’ attuazione di quell’ Io puro, di quella Libertà assoluta che
la Dottrina della Scienza pone al di là dei limiti di ogni
coscienza, e da cui l’io empirico deriva e a cui l’io empirico aspira. Il
passaggio dall’ Io puro, assoluto e infinito, per via di limiti e
determinazioni, all’ io empirico, relativo e finito, ossia dalla Libertà
all’Intelligenza, è il problema a cui pili specialmente si applica la dottrina
della scienza ; il passaggio dall’io empirico, relativo e finito, per via
di superamenti e liberazioni, all’Io puro, assoluto, infinito, è il
problema a cui più specialmente si applica la Dottrina morale. L’ un
problema è il reciproco dell’ altro, e la soluzione di entrambi dipende dalla
soluzione dell’antinomia tra la finitezza dell’Io-intelligenza, attività
oggettivante (che pone oggetti, limitazioni, resistenze), e
l’infinitezza dell’ Io-libertà, attività pura (= che ha per essenza l’assolutezza,
l’illimitatezza, l’autonomia). E come Fichte risolve tale antinomia con
quell’attività a un tempo finita e infinita che è lo sforzo (Streben) —
attività finita, perchè lo sforzo implica una limitazione, una
determinazione, che impedisce l’immediato compimento dell’atto nella sua
infinità; attività infinita, perchè questa determinazioue non ha nulla di
assoluto, di fisso, è un limite che l’attività fa indietreggiare
incessantemente per conseguire l’infinità, ne segue che l’idea dello
sforzo è, nella sua filosofia, il cardine fondamentale dell’ attività
teoretica non meno che dell’ attività pratica, dell’ Intelligenza non
meno che della Volontà, della Dottrina della Scienza non meno che
della Dottrina morale. Nella Dottrina morale, a oui ora è rivolta la
nostra attenzione, lo sforzo esprime la tendenza dell’Io a identificare
la sua attività oggettivante con la sua attività pura, e lo svolgimento
dell’ Io è tutto nel rapporto tra queste due attività : l’infinita Libertà
non può attuarsi se non at traverso la limitazione e l’Intelligenza, ma
non c’è limitazione uè Intelligenza se non rispetto all’infinita
Attività pura elle di continuo le sorpassa. Lo sforzo, quindi, può
definirsi un’attività in cui l’infinito è posto non come stato attuale,
ma come meta da raggiungere, un’attività in cui 1’ adeguazione del finito
e dell’ infinito non è, ma dev'essere, un’attività, insomma, che ha per
contenuto il Dovere e che del Dovere è a sua volta il contenuto.
Diamo, in breve, il disegno della Dottrina morale. La Dottrina morale si
apre I) con un’ Introduzione, in cui sono sinteticamente presentati i
presupposti filosofici dell’etica; e si svolge in tre Libri, dei quali
II) il primo trae da quei presupposti il principio della moralità) il
secondo deduce da essi la realtà e l’applicabilità di questo principio)
il terzo fa l’applicazione sistematica del principio stesso, ed espone quindi
la morale propriamente detta. I presupposti filosofici dell' etica,
contenuti nell’Introduzione e perfettamente conformi alla Dottrina della
Scienza, muovono dal principio che la vera filosofia soltanto allora è
possibile, quando si abbia un punto in cui il soggettivo e l’oggettivo,
l’essere in sè e la rappresentazione di esso non siano divisi, ma facciano
tutt’uno, e che un tal punto si trova nell’EGOITÀ o io puro,
nell’Intelligenza o Ragione. Senza questa assoluta identità del soggetto e
dell’oggetto nell’Io, la quale peraltro non si lascia cogliere
immediatamente come un dato della coscienza attuale, ma soltanto argomentare
per via di ragionamento, la filosofia non approda a nessun risultato.
Bisogna, dunque, ammettere un’Unità fondamentale e primitiva, la
quale, tosto che nasce una coscienza attuale o anche soltanto
l’autocoscienza, si scinde necessariamente in soggetto e oggetto, poiché “
solamente in quanto io, essere cosciente, mi distinguo da me, oggetto
della coscienza, divengo cosciente di me stesso. Bisogna ammettere, inoltre,
che l’oggettivo abbia causalità sul soggettivo, e viceversa il
soggettivo sull’oggettivo, per rendere concordi tra loro, e in generale
possibili, il pensiero e il pensato, la ragione e il suo dominio sulla
natura. E appunto perchè il legame causale tra soggetto e oggetto è
duplice — ognuna delle due parti è causa ed effetto dell’altra: il
soggettivo è effetto dell’oggettivo nel conoscere, Soggettivo è effetto
del soggettivo nell 'operare, la filosofia si divide in teoretica e
pratica. Senonchè, come avemmo già occasione di notare, l’Io
puro, ossia l’Unità soggettivo-oggettiva ancora indivisa, non è un fatto
(Thatsache ), ma un atto ( Thathand - tutiff), la sua natura originaria è
attività: è, dunque, pratica. Perciò il principio : “ Io mi trovo come operante
nel mondo sensibile è di capitale importanza per il nostro
conoscere. Da esso comincia ogni coscienza ; senza la coscienza della mia
attività non è possibile nessuna autocoscienza, senza l’autocoscienza nessuna
coscienza di un quid diverso da me. Infatti, la percezione della mia
attività suppone una resistenza al di fuori di noi; “ ovunque e in quanto
tu percepisci attività, tu percepisci necessariamente anche resistenza ;
altrimenti tu non percepisci attività (Ora la resistenza è affatto
indipendente dalla [Sittenlehre (Stimanti. Werke.) Cfr. pvec. Sittenlehre.
mia attività, è anzi il suq opposto; è qualcosa che esiste soltanto e in
nessun modo agisce, qualcosa di quieto e morto, die tende semplicemente a
rimanere quel che è, qualcosa che nel proprio campo contrasta
all’azione*della libertà, ma non può mai invadere il campo di questa.
Un qualcosa di simile, dunque, è pura oggettività, e si chiama.,
col suo proprio nome, materia. Senza la rappresentazione di una tale materia,
niente resistenza alla nostra attività, quindi niente attività, niente
autocoscienza, niente coscienza, niente essere. La rappresentazione
del puro oggettivo resta così dedotta necessariamente dalle leggi
stesse della coscienza. Con la medesima necessità con cui viene dedotto il
puro oggettivo, viene posto anche il suo contrario, il soggettivo, ossia
1’ attività propriamente detta, sotto la forma di un’ agilità (Agililàt)
o forza efficiente. Ma poiché nella coscienza, quasi come in un prisma,
ogni unità si rifrange in soggetto e oggetto, così in essa, avvenuto lo
sdoppiamento dell’Io puro in soggettivo e oggettivo, anche il soggettivo si
sdoppia a sua volta, e si ha da una parte 1’ attività propriamente detta,
veduta come una forza reale, come un oggettivo esistente in me,
dall’altra il soggettivo, fonie inesauribile di questa forza reale, fonte
originaria non derivante da nessun oggettivo, e dalle cui
profondità oscure e inaccessibili sgorga, con libero, spontaneo e
talora impetuoso moto interno, l’infinita varietà delle nostre
rappresentazioni, dei nostri concetti ; per conseguenza la mia attività
ossia il soggettivo ancora indiviso nella sua unità anteriore alla
coscienza —, quando sia veduta attraverso il tramite della coscienza, appare
come un oggettivo, che da un lato scaturisce da un soggettivo
perennemente rinascente a ogni estrinsecarsi dell’oggettivo, dall'altro
determina l’oggetti vita pura dianzi chiamata materia. Così si rivela
alla coscienza la nostra assoluta auto-attività, la cui essenza sta nel
produrre rappresentazioni, nel creare concetti, e la cui manifestazione
sensibile dicesi libertà. Ciascun concetto, riguardato come determinante
l’oggettivo in virtù della propria causalità, diventa un
concetto-line, e allora esso stesso appare un qualcosa di oggettivo e
si chiama uua volizione; e lo spirituale che in noi si considera come
principio immediato delle volizioni dicesi volontà. Spetta, dunque,
alla volontà agire sulla materia ed esercitare causalità nel mondo
sensibile ; ma ciò non le sarebbe possibile se non avesse uno strumento
che sia esso stesso materia, ossia quel corpo articolato che è il
nostro [Nel Leon trovasi ben descritta la natura dell’attività
spirituale nel senso fichtiano, attività clic è, a un tempo e
continuamente, produzione di sè e riflessione sopra di sè, oggettivazione e
soggettività, io reale e io ideale, attualità e potenzialità; chi voglia
intendere una tale attività, che ha la caratteristica di esistere e di essere
anteriore alla propria esistenza, devo ricordarsi che essa non va pensata
alla maniera delle cose, perché, contrariamoute alla natura di queste
ultime, la cui realtè si esaurisce tutta quanta nell'essere oggettivo,
l’attività spirituale può ripiegarsi su di sé, può riflettersi. E a ciò
si deve quel fenomeno meraviglioso e cosi lontano dal meccanismo
materiale, per cui 1’ esistenza ideale determina l’esistenza reale, l’idea ha
causalità, lo spirito è libertà. Onde si vede che la libertà è proprio
(come il Kant aveva ailermato, senza però dimostrarlo) il comiuciamento
assoluto d’uno stato, la creazione di un’ esistenza seuza rapporto di
dipendenza reale con un’ altra esistenza. E si vede altresì che solamente l’essere
ragionevole, dotato d’intelligenza e riflessione, è capace di libertà,
poiché in lui soltanto è possibile una causalità in forza di un
concetto. organismo. E invero u io, consideralo come un principio di
attività nel mondo dei corpi, sono un corpo articolato, e la
rappresentazione del mio corpo non è altro che la rappresentazione di me
stesso come causa nel inondo materiale 5 e perciò, mediatamente, non
altio che un ceito aspetto della mia attività assoluta. Volontà e
corpo sono quindi una medesima cosa, riguardata però da due lati
diversi: una medesima cosa, perchè soltanto fin dove si estende
l'immediata causalità della volontà sul corpo, si estende il corpo
articolato, necessario strumento della causalità sulla materia;
riguardata però da due lati diversi, perchè, in virtù dell’ azione sdoppiatrice
della coscienza, la volontà appare come il soggettivo che esercita la sua
causalità sul corpo, e il corpo come 1 ’oggettivo i cui mutamenti
coincidono con quelli di tutta l’oggettività o realtà corporea.
Similmente una medesima cosa, riguardata però anch’ essa da due lati diversi,
sono la natura che la mia causalità può cangiare, ossia la costituzione
e l’ordinamento della materia, e la natura non cangiabile, ossia la
materia pura : la natura mutevole è l’oggettivo considerato
soggettivamente e in connessione con 1’io, intelligenza attiva ; la natura
immutevolo è Soggettivo considerato oggettivamente e soltanto in
sè. Secondo il precedente ragionamento, i molteplici elementi che
l’analisi ritrova nella percezione della nostra causalità sensibile
vengono dedotti dalle leggi della coscienza e ridotti all' unità, all’ unico
assoluto su cui si tonda ogni coscienza e ogni essere, all 'attività pura.
Questa attività, in virtù della legge fondamentale della coscienza, Sittenlehre.
per cui 1 essere attivo non si comprende senza una resistenza su cui agisce,
non si comprende cioè se non come un Io-soggetto operante sopra un non-io-oggetto,
appare sotto forma di efficienza su qualcosa fuori dell'Io. Ma tutti
gli elementi contenuti in questa apparenza, a partire dal concetto-fine
propostomi assolutamente da me stesso, sino alla materia greggia del
mondo esterno su cui esercito la mia causalità, non sono che anelli
intermedi dell’apparenza totale, e perciò semplici apparenze anch’essi.
L’unico reale 1 vero è la mia auto-attività, la mia indipendenza,
la mia libertà. Da tali presupposti bisogna ora dedurre il
principio della moralità. L’ uomo trova in sè un’ obbligazione assoluta e categorica
a fare o non fare certe azioni indipendentemente da ogni fine esteriore,
la quale si accompagna immancabilmente con la natura umana e costituisce la
nostra caratteristica morale. Donde ha origine questa obbligazione o
Dovere, che vai quanto dire la leggo morale, ossia il' principio della
moralità? Secondo che esige la Dottrina della Scienza, tale origine non
va ricercata altrove che in noi stessi, nell’ Jo. Onde il primo
problema da risolvere a tal fine è:^ u Pensare sè stesso come puramente
sè stesso, ossia come distaccato da tutto ciò che non è io. La soluzione
di questo problema si ottiene così : Io non trovo me stesso se non nella
mia volontà, se non come volente ; e trovarsi volente significa
riconoscere in se una sostanza che vuole. L’intelligenza è la coscienza puramente
soggettiva; la coscienza del proprio io in quanto io non può nascere che
dalla volontà,. Ma la volontà non si concepisce se non supponendo
qualcosa di diverso dal1’ io, perchè ogni volontà reale è una determinata
volizione che ha un concetto-fine, che tende cioè ad attuare un oggetto
concepito come possibile, un oggetto che stia fuori di noi. Ne segue che,
per trovare me stesso e nuli’altro che me stesso, bisogna fare astrazione
da questo oggetto esterno della mia volontà: ciò che rimane allora sarà
il mio essere puro, la volontà assoluta, il principio della nostra filosofia.
Ne segue altresì che il carattere essenziale e distintivo dell’ io è una
tendenza ad agire di propria iniziativa e indipendentemente da ogni
impulso estraneo, a determinare sè stesso in modo incondizionato e autonomo, è,
in una parola, la libertà. Ora, appunto questa tendenza e questa
libertà costituisce l’io preso in sè, l’io considerato all’ infuori di
ogni relazione con checchessia di diverso da sè. Ma ogni essere non
è se non in quanto viene riferito a un’ intelligenza, la quale sa che
esso è ; in altri termini suppone una coscienza. L’io, quindi, non è se
non in quanto si pone, non è se non in forza della coscienza che ha
di sè; onde esso deve avere la coscienza di quella tendenza alla libera
auto-determinazione che dicemmo costituire la sua essenza. E invero l’io che,
mediante l’intelligenza, pone sè stesso come tendenza all’autonomia
assoluta o libertà, è un essere il cui principio si trova non in un
altro essere, ma in un quid di categoria diversa l’unico quid che possa concepirsi oltre
l’essere — e cioè nel pensiero, inteso non come qualcosa di sostanziale, sì
bene come attività pura, come movimento dell’intelligenza
senza restrizioni e senza fissità. Orbene, da questa intima fusione
dell’io in quanto tendenza all’attività assoluta o libertà e dell’io in
quanto intelligenza, dell’io in quanto essere e dell’ io in quanto
riflessione, è possibile dedurre il principio della moralità. Come?
L’io assoluto, non ancora rifratto dal prisma della coscienza, è
determinato, come abbiamo detto, dalla sua tendenza all’attività
assoluta, e questa determinazione diventa oggetto o contenuto dell’
intelligenza. Ma, siccome l’Io assoluto nella sua unità integrale, nella
sua semplicità e identità originaria non può essere mai oggetto della
coscienza, bisogna che questa si sforzi di apprenderlo, almeno per
approssimazione, attraverso la dualità dell’essere oggettivo e della
riflessione soggettiva, mediante quella specie di espediente che consiste
nel considerare il soggettivo e 1’oggettivo come determina»tisi
reciprocamente l’uno l’altro, come complementari, quindi come inseparabili
e impensabili l’uno senza l’altro. E allora, se si concepisce il soggettivo
come determinato dall’ oggettiv'o (nel qual caso nasce quella relazione
psicologica che si chiama sentimento), essendo l’oggetto, rispetto al
soggetto, qualcosa di per sè stante, di fisso .e permanente, si troverà
che il contenuto del pensiero è immutabile e necessario e che
l’intelligenza impone a sè stessa la legge di una attività propria e
assoluta. Se poi si concepisce l’oggettivo come determinato dal
soggettivo (nel qual caso nasce quell’altra relazione psicologica che si chiama
volontà), essendo il soggetto, rispetto all’ oggetto, qualcosa di mobile,
di attivo e indipendente, si troverà che l’io si pone come libero. Si
arriverà cosi combinando, i due risultati, la legge necessaria da una
parte e la libertà illimitata dal1’altra all’ idea di una legge che l’io
liberamente -impone a sè stesso: la legge ha per contenuto la libertà, e
la libertà è sottoposta alla legge. Legge e libertà, per tal modo, si
determinano reciprocamente : esse fanno insieme una sola e medesima
unità. Tra la libertà ( = attività incondizionata e illimitata) e l’autonomia (
= imposizione spontanea di una legge a sè stesso) non c’ è
incompatibilità; esse nascono entrambe da quello sdoppiamento che è
dovuto alla natura dell’ attività spirituale e che è a un tempo posizione
di sè e riliessione sopra di sè, oggetto e soggetto. In altri termini, si
ha qui l’intima fusione, nel- 1’ unità dell’ io, tra 1’ intelligenza, che
concepisce la nostra essenza come libertà, e la volontà, che è 1’
attuazione del1’autonomia, tra la libertà-concetto e la libertà-atto, e
il legame che unisce 1’ una all’ altra è di causalità non Inec-
canico-coercitiva ma psichico-imperativa, è di necessità non teorica ma
pratica, è il legame morale del dovere. La libertà-idea non può non
tradursi, dece tradursi in libertà- realtà; il Dovere, obbligazione per
eccellenza, sta nell’attuare l’essenza nostra, nel divenire, attraverso la
coscienza, quel ohe siamo in fondo al nostro essere assoluto
anteriore alla coscienza, nel renderci cioè liberi ; e in ciò
precisamente consiste il principio supremo di tutta la moralità, il quale
per tal guisa risulta dedotto, come ci proponevamo, dalla natura dell’
io. Posto l’io, è in pari tempo posta anche la tendenza all’assoluta
auto-attività, alla libertà; ma la libertà non acquista valore se non per
un’ intelligenza che ne faccia la legge determinante delle nostre azioni
; ne segue che l’io deve sottoporsi con coscienza e quindi con libertà
alla legge della propria natura, che è la legge della
libertà, senz’altro fine che la libertà, stessa. La moralità,
appunto perchè esprime direttamente l’essenza dell’io, la sua praticità
assoluta e la sua autonomia, è una perpetua legislazione dell’io imposta a sè
stesso, sotto un triplice rispetto : rispetto all’adozione stessa della
legge morale, adozione la quale non può essere che una libera
sottomissione, una spontanea adesione alla logge; rispetto
all’applicazione della legge a ciascun caso particolare, applicazione
nella quale il giudizio morale è sempre un atto di autonomia, un consenso di
noi con noi stessi ;rispetto al contenuto della legge, uel quale
contenuto è evidente che ogni determinazione della volontà da parte di
una causa estranea a sè stessa, che vai (pianto dire alla ragione,
costituirebbe un’eteronomia affatto contraria alla legge morale. Per tal modo
si può concludere che la vita morale tutta quanta non è altro che una
ininterrotta auto-legislazione dell’io, una perenne autonomia dell’essere
razionale; e dove questa autolegislazione cessa, ivi comincia l’
immoralità. IH- - Alla deduzione del . principio della moralità segue la
deduzione della realtà e dell’ applicabilità del principio stesso, senza
di che quest’ ultimo rimarrebbe un’ astrazione e la morale si ridurrebbe
a un formalismo vuoto e sterile. Invece la morale ha una realtà, la
legge morale ha efficacia nel mondo sensibile in cui viviamo ; onde
il principio della moralità è non solo vero, logica). A chiarire ancor meglio
la deduzione della legge morale dall’Io, ricollegandola con i principi e
le conseguenze della Dottrina della Scienza giova il seguente schema
fornito un mente possibile e giustificato dalla ragione, ma
altresì reale e applicabile : reale, perchè è un concetto che deve
attuarsi nel mondo sensibile ; applicabile, perchè il mondo sensibile è
tale, per origine e natura, da prestarsi come strumento all’attuazione di
quel principio. da Fischer (Geschichte der neuem Philosophie, Fichte
unti seine Vorgànger) e nel quale viene simboleggiato lo sdoppiarsi
dell’ Io nella coscienza teorica e il suo reintegrarsi nella legge
morale: Io Soggetto = Oggetto Coscienza (Divisione) Soggetto
Autoattività Causalità del
Concetto Libertà Oggetto Materia Causalità della Materia Necessità Libertà
= Necessità Legge della Libertà Libertà sotto la Legge della
Libertà (Assoluta Autonomia) Legge Morale. Come si vede, qui
la realtà del principio morale non è la realtà già attuata di ciò che
esiste nel mondo meccanico dei fatti naturali o nel mondo giuridico della
convivenza sociale, ma la realtà di ciò che deve esistere nel mondo
morale della volontà; le prime due specie di realtà sono sotto la
categoria della necessità (leggi naturali) o della coercizione (leggi
sociali), l’ultima, invece, di cui ora si tratta, è sotto la categoria della
contingenza, della libertà (legge morale). Infatti, il principio
della moralità dianzi dedotto è a un tempo un principio teorico, in
quanto l’io si determina da sè dinanzi a sè stesso come essere
assolutamente indipendente e libero — il che costituisce la materia della
legge morale —, e un principio pratico, in quanto l’io impone da sè a sè stesso
1’ attuazione della propria natura il che costituisce la forma (imperativa)
della legge morale. Ogni singolo io è libero, ecco il principio teorico ; Ovatterai
ogni singolo io come un essere libero, ecco il principio pratico
derivante, sotto forma di comando, da quel principio teorico. In sostanza
la legge pratica della libertà potrebbe formularsi così: Opera secondo la
conoscenza che hai della natura e del fine originario degli esseri Giusta i
principi della Dottrina della Scienza, le cose che abbiamo posto fuori di
noi non sono, in fondo, che le nostre idee ; di qui l’armonia tra la
determinazione teorica degli oggetti e gl’ imperativi morali che da
questa determinazione teorica scaturiscono rispetto agli oggetti stessi. La
spiegazione dell’ accordo dei fenomeni con la nostra volontà sta
nell’accordo della volontà con la natura, a cominciare dalla natura nostra :
noi non possiamo volere se non ciò a cui ci spinge 1’ impulso naturale ;
questo impulso non è la legge morale, ma^ legge morale non può
nulla comandare il cui oggetto non sia nella sfera di questo impulso.
L’essere ragionevole, il quale deve porre sè stesso come assolutamente
libero e indipendente, non può far ciò senza in pari tempo determinare
teoricamente il suo mondo mediante la rappresentazione ; e la sua
libertà, che è un principio pratico, esige che questa determinazione
teorica da parte del pensiero si mantenga e si completi mediante l’azione da
parte della volontà. L’azione della liberta dell’ io sul mondo determinato come
rappresentazione consiste nella modificazione di uno stato del mondo
stesso mercè il dominio di un concetto anteriormente posto ; è la
produzione di una realtà conformemente a un’idea data come suo principio
; significa, per conseguenza, proprio l’inverso della rappresentazione, la
quale è la determinazione di un concetto secondo una realtà anteriormente
posta. E come l’enigma della rappresentazione, ossia il rapporto
tra la cosa e l’idea, trovava la sua soluzione nell’identità originaria
dei due termini, essendo la cosa un prodotto inconscio dell’ io, similmente qui
il l’apporto tra il concetto e la realtà ha il suo fondamento nel fatto
che la produzione di questa realtà non è la produzione di una cosa in sè,
di una realtà assoluta, che sarebbe in qualche modo esteriore alla
coscienza, ma è sempre uno stato di coscienza, una determinazione dell’
io. E allora non è più questione di sapere come sia possibile nel mondo
una modificazione da parte della libertà, poiché, essendo il mondo esso
stesso un prodotto della libertà, un limite che l’io pone a sè
stesso, è questione di sapere come sia possibile, mediante la libertà, un
cangiamento nell’io, un’estensione dei suoi limiti ; e se si osserva che
1’ io, oggetto di questa modificazione, è l’io limitato., ossia l’io empirico,
e che la legge della libertà, sotto la quale si operano nell’ io
empirico queste modificazioni, esprime l’io puro, l’io assoluto, è
evidente che il problema circa la realtà del principio morale, circa
l’attuazione della libertà, si riduce, in fondo, alla questione già
esposta anteriormente circa i rapporti tra l’io empirico, naturale, e
l’io eterno, assoluto Sittenlehre. Per dedurre ora la realtà e la conseguente
applicabilità del principio dell’ etica, bisogna dedurne la materia e la
sfera d’ azioue, bisogna stabilire, cioè, anzitutto l'oggetto della nòstra
attività in generale, poi la causalità reale dell’essere ragionevole. Quanto
al primo punto si ha questo teorema. L’essere l'agionevole non può
attribuirsi nessun potere, senza pensare in pari tempo qualcosa fuori di
sè a cui quel potere sia diretto; egli, infatti, non può attribuirsi la
libertà, senza pensare più azioni reali e determinate come possibili per
opera della libertà, e non può pensare nessun’ azione come reale e
determinata, senza supporre all’ esterno qualcosa su cui quest’ azione sia
esercitata. Esiste, dunque, fuori di noi
e posta dal pensiero, una materia a cui la nostra attività si riferisce e
che può essere modificata all’ infinito. Quanto al secondo punto si
ha quest’altro teorema. L’essere ragionevole non può trovare in sè
nessun’applicazione della propria libertà, ossia nessun volere reale,
senza in pari tempo attribuire a sè stesso una reale causalità o
efficienza sul mondo esterno r, e non può attribuirsi una siffatta
causalità o.efficienza, senza determinarla in una certa maniera. Ora,
l’attività pura non può essere determinata in sè, altrimenti non sarebbe
più pura; essa non può essere 'determinata se non da ciò che le si
oppone, ossia dai suoi limiti. Questi limiti non possono essere percepiti se
non nell’esperienza sensibile e, inquanto oggetto d’intuizione sensibile,
consistono in una diversità o varietà di materia. Onde l’io, il quale non
sarebbe attivo se non si sentisse limitato, viene posto come un’ attività che
preme, per allargarli, sopra i limiti entro cui lo rinserra la diversa
materia che gli resiste, il nou-io che gli si oppone. L’essere
ragionevole, dunque, esercita una causalità reale nel mondo sensibile, e
tale causajit.à consiste non già nel creare o distruggere la materia su cui
si esercita tale materia è
condizione indispensabile per l’attività dell’essere ragionevole, ma
nell’introdurvi ulteriori determinazioni nuove ; u io ho causalità „
significa sempre: u io allargo i miei confini che vai quanto
dire: io attuo progressivamente il concetto di libertà secondo che mi è
imposto dalla legge morale, pur non giungendo mai a un’ attuazione completa. Di
guisa che la nostra esistenza, mentre uel mondo intelligibile è legge morale,
nel mondo sensibile è azione reale: il punto in cui le due esistenze si
riuniscono è la libertà intesa come facoltà assoluta di determinare
1’azione mediante la legge. Risulta da quanto precede che il principio della
moralità, ossia la libertà, non può attuarsi se non opponendo
all’attività pura dell’ io una limitazione o un sistema di limitazioni, e
imponendo alla medesima attività un progres [Abbiamo qui una delle
idee fondamentali del sistema ficbtiauo, cioè: l’impossibilità per noi
di separare il sensibile dall’intelligibile, la negazione del dualismo,
l’assurdità di concepire nell’ àmbito della coscienza un carattere noume-
nico radicalmente distinto dal carattere fenomenico. Secondo Fichte
scrive Léon il sensibile è la condizione per l’intelligibile; Benza il
sensibile, il quale determinandolo lo attua, il puro intelligibile
rimarrebbe allo stato di potenza indeterminata e vuota. Questa concezione
segua la rovina del misticismo, che pretende isolare lo spirito dal corpo
e relegarlo in una sfera chimerica ; l'Io fichtiano – cf. l’io griceino –
Fichte’s I, Grice’s I -- non è fatto di singoli pezzi separabili ad arbitrio;
esso forma in tutti i suoi elementi una gerarchia, un vero
organismo. sivo ampliameuto di
questa limitazione o sistema di limitazioni. Il che si verifica anche quando si
tratti non di un fine ultimo, come la libertà assoluta, ma di fini
intermedi. Il più spesso’ci accade di non poter attuare immediatamente un
determinato fine scelto dalla nostra volontà, e siamo costretti, per conseguirlo,
a servirci di certi mezzi già determinati in* antecedenza senza il nostro
intervento : non perveniamo al nostro fine se non attraverso una
serie di gradi interposti ; che equivale a dire : tra il sentimento
da cui sono partito con la volontà e il sentimento a cui mi sforzo di
giungere intercedono altri sentimenti, di cui ognuno è l’esponente dei
limiti che mi si oppongono, limiti che con la mia causalità, con la mia azione,
io fo indietreggiare ogni volta di più, estendendo cosi pi-ogressiva-
mente la mia attività reale. La mia causalità, dunque, appare come un’azione
continua e diversa, come una serie ininterrotta di sforzi e di sentimenti
svariati ; poiché essa è assolutamente una e identica in quanto attività,
ma presenta tuttavia infiniti aspetti multiformi a causa della multiforme
resistenza che incontra da parte degl’ infiniti oggetti esterni; esterni,
s’intende, e posti indipendentemente da noi, per chi non adotti o ignori il
punto di vista della filosofia trascendentale e rimanga al punto di
vista della coscienza comune. Intesa nel modo descritto, la causalità
dell’ essere ragionevole contiene in sé la sintesi assoluta della conoscenza e
dell’ attività, determinantisi reciprocamente nella concezione e nel
perseguimento di un medesimo fine. L’essere ragionevole, infatti, non ha una
conoscenza se non in seguito a una limitazione della propria attività, tesi; ma
d’altro canto non ha attività se non in seguito a una
conoscenza (antitesi) ; conoscenza e attività sono poste come identiche
nella volontà, sintesi. Come si ottiene questa sintesi? Basta pensare
all’ essenza originaria dell’ io oggettivamente considerato : sappiamo
che tale essenza è assoluta attività e nuli’altro che attività; e poiché
l’attività, oggettivamente presa, è impulso, e nell’io nulla esiste o
accade di cui egli non abbia coscienza, cosi, posto nell’ io oggettivo un
impulso, vien posto altresì iu esso un sentimento di questo impulso. Il
sentimento o coscienza primitiva dell’impulso è, dunque, l’anello sintetico
in cui con l’attività è posta la conoscenza e con la conoscenza
l’attività. Soltanto è da aggiungere che, se dal punto di
vista pratico la conoscenza e l’attività sono inseparabili, la coscienza
che accompagna qui l’impulso non è affatto la coscienza riflessa e iu nessun
grado una riflessione libera ; in essa non c’ è neppure quella specie di
libertà che caratterizza la rappresentazione e che ci permette di non
rappresentarci l’oggetto, di fare cioè astrazione da esso ; è una
coscienza tutta spontanea, che s’impone a noi con necessità, è un
sentimento di cui non siamo in nessun modo padroni. Il sistema d’impalisi
e di sentimenti di che s’intesse 1’io empirico oggettivo deve quindi
concepirsi come natura, come la nostra natura, come cioè qualcosa di
dato, di non prodotto da noi, d’ indipendente dalla libertà, ma su
cui la libertà può esercitarsi, e si esercita, allorché l’io-soggetto ne
fa oggetto di riflessione e consente o no a soddisfarlo ; e invero, tosto
che riflettiamo sui nostri impulsi originari, non siamo più dominati da
essi ; sono essi, invece, dominati da noi, perchè dipende da noi
assecondarli o no ; comincia allora il vero ufficio della nostra libertà
cosciente. Nasce così la differenza tra la facoltà appetitiva inferiore
del semplice impulso di natura e la facoltà appetitiva superiore del
medesimo impulso sottoposto alla riflessione e alla libertà. Giova
chiarire meglio la facoltà appetitiva inferiore, prima di passare alla
superiore. Abbiamo detto che essa costituisce ciò che in noi si chiama
natura; ma bisogna distinguere la natura nostra dalla natura delle cose
in cui regna il puro meccanismo. Nel mondo meccanico non c’è
attività propriamente detta, c’ è soltanto una trasmissione di urti
attraverso tutta la serie di cause ed effetti, senza che nessun anello
produca o modifichi la forza trasmessa. Nella natura nostra, al
contrario, c’è una vera spontaneità, la quale non è ancora la libera
causalità del pensiero, del concetto, perchè è una necessaria
determinazione dell’esistenza reale per opera di questa esistenza stessa, ma
sta tuttavia al disopra del puro meccanismo, perchè consiste in una
determinazione proveniente da una serie di cause ed effetti disposta non
più secondo un ordine lineare di successione, sì bene secondo un ordine
ricorrente di reciprocanza ; quivi, infatti, le singole parti sono a un tempo
effetti e cause del tutto, onde si ha quel che si dice un or- (Per essere
più chiari : l’impulso e il sentimento che l’accompagna mancano di
libertà; la volontà e la riflessione che ne è condizione hanno per
essenza la libertà; a parte, però, questa differenza di capitale importanza ma
soltanto formale, l’impulso e il sentimento, per quanto riguarda il loro
contenuto materiale, sono identici alla volontà e alla riflessione; l’oggetto a
cui tendono necessariamente i primi diventa l’oggetto liberamente accettato o
ripudiato dalle seconde. gallismo, ossia una costituzione, la
quale, lungi dal dipendere da un’azione esterna, Ira in sè stessa il principio
della propria determinazione, è dotata insomma di spontaneità,. La
reciprocanza di azione tra le parti di un tutto organico in natura si spiega
così: a ciascuna di esse le altre non lasciano che una certa quantità di
realtà, onde ciascuna parte per la rimanente realtà che le manca non ha
che una tendenza o impulso risultante dallo stato determinato delle altre parti
: ciascuna tende a formare il tutto, a integrarsi con la realtà delle
altre ; e cosi in un’ unità organica la realtà è in proporzione inversa
della tendenza (o impulso) derivante dalla mancanza di realtà; realtà e
tendenzfP (o impulso) si completano a vicenda ; ciascuna parte tende a
soddisfare il bisogno di tutte, e tutte a loro volta tendono a soddisfare
il bisogno di ciascuna ; ogni singola parte tende a combinare la propria
essenza e la propria azione con l’essenza e l’azione delle rimanenti, e
questa tendenza giustamente si dice impilino plastico (Bildungstrieb), cosi nel
senso attivo come nel senso passivo della parola, perchè è la facoltà a
un tempo così d’imprimere come di ricevere forme. Questa facoltà
organizzatrice è universale, essenziale, inerente a tutte le parti e a
tutti gli elementi, onde ciò che si chiama un tutto naturale, ossia un
tutto chiuso, può altresì chiamarsi un prodotto organico della natura, a
costituire il quale certi elementi della natura, in virtù della causalità
di cui questa è dotata, hanno riunito il loro essere e il loro operare
in un solo e medesimo essere, in un solo e medesimo operare. Ciò posto,
ecco quanto accade in quel tutto organico della natura che è l’io
individuale, empirico, a partire dai più bassi impulsi sino alle più alte
tendenze. Iu ciascun io individuale, appunto perchè esso è un
tutto organico della natura, l’essenza delle parti consiste in una
tendenza a conservare unite a sè altre determinate parti, e siffatta
tendenza, se attribuita al tutto, dicesi impulso all' autoconservazione ; alla
conservazione, s’intende, non dell’esistenza in generale, che è
un’astrazione, ma di un’esistenza determinata. L’impulso
all’autoconservazione, che è poi la tendenza a perseverare nel proprio
essere, porta 1’ essere organico a inferire a sè certi oggetti
della natura; di qui l’appetito o la brama verso questi oggetti,
appetito o brama dapprima vaghi e indeterminati, quasi COME IL PRIMO GRIDO
INARTICOLATO DELL’ORGANISMO ANCORA INFANTE, POI SEMPRE PIÙ DETERMINATI E
DIFFERENZIATI, COME IL LINGUAGGIO ARTICOLATO DELL’ORGANISMO ADULTO. E — si
noti bene — non già la diversità degli oggetti determina lo
specificarsi dei vari appetiti e desideri; al contrario, i diversi modi del
desiderio, mediante le proprie determinazioni, si creano i propri oggetti. La
coscienza o l’intelligenza* che ci rappresenta gli oggetti non è che il
riflesso dei nostri istinti,, inclinazioni, tendenze, della nostra
vita pratica in generale; non, dunque, gli oggetti suscitano, quasi
loro fine, gli appetiti, ma gli appetiti hanno il proprio fine in sè
stessi, nella propria soddisfazione, e noi non perseguiamo, attraverso gli
oggetti, altro che i nostri desideri esteriorizzati nelle cose. Ma se è
così, se ciò che ci sforziamo d’ottenere è non l’oggetto — il quale si riduce
a im simbolo, sì bene la soddisfazione della nostra tendenza, della nostra
brama, in altri termini, il nostro godimento, il nostro piacere, si comprende
come, tanto dal punto di vista della pura natura irriflessa, quanto da
quell» della riflessione sulla natura, sia il piacere il fine supremo
della nostra condotta ; di guisa che, nel primo passaggio immediato dallo
stato di pura natura allo stato di coscienza riflessa, la nostra azione cangia
di forma da necessaria e istintiva diventa libera e riflessa, e tale
cangiamento ne modifica radicalmente il carattere, ma il suo contenuto
rimane ancora il medesimo, è ancora il piacere: al punto da far sembrare
che l’uomo con la riflessione non si elevi al di sopra della natura, se
non per sottoporlesi meglio e perseguire con pili luce e sicurezza il fine
edonistico. Ora, finché è spinto al piacere e dipende dagli oggetti dei
suoi appetiti, ]' uomo rimane confinato nell’ esercizio della
facoltà appetiti va inferiore. Ma l’attività ragionevole in lui tende con
coscienza e riflessione a determinarsi assolutamente da sé, a rendersi
indipendente da ogni oggetto che non sia essa stessa, quindi anche e
soprattutto dal piacere; e allora la nostra azione si differenzia da
quella compiuta allo stato di pura natura, oltreché per la forma, anche
per il contenuto, essendo questo costituito non pili dal piacere —
comunque ricercato, per istinto cieco e necessario, ovvero per volontà,
cosciente e libera, ma dalla libertà stessa, che è l’es senza nostra e il
nostro vero fine supremo. L’ uomo si eleva cosi all’esercizio della
facoltà appetitiva superiore, di quella che appartiene non a lui prodotto
di natura, ma a lui spirito puro. Ciò non ostante, le due facoltà appetitive,
l’inferiore e la superiore, costituiscono un solo e medesimo impulso
originario dell’io, dell’io veduto da due lati diversi : nella facoltà
appetitiva inferiore, ossia nell’ impulso naturale, mi concepisco come oggetto,
uella facoltà appetitiva superiore, ossia nell’impulso spirituale, mi
concepisco come soggetto, mentre tutta la mia essenza si ritrova nell’
identità del soggetto e dell’oggetto, ò soggetto-oggetto. Dall’azione
reciproca dei due impulsi nascono tutti i fenomeni dell’ io ; ma entrambi
si fondono in un unico e medesimo io, onde debbono essere conciliati, unificati
; ed ecco in qual modo : l’impulso superiore rinunzia alla purezza della
propria attività — purezza che consiste nel non essere determinato da un
oggetto —, lasciandosi determinare da un oggetto, e l’impulso inferiore
rinunzia al piacere in quanto fine, al piacere per il piacere ; si ha
così per risultato della loro unione un’ attività oggettiva, il cui
oggetto e fine ultimo è un’ assolute libertà, un’assoluta indipendenza da
ogni natura;'un fine, questo, proiettato all’infinito e perciò irraggiungibile
raggiungerlo sarebbe porre termine in pari tempo all’attività e alla
natura che dell’attività è il limite correlativo, la condizione
indispensabile; un fine, tuttavia, a cui è possibile avvicinarsi sempre più,
facendo uso della libertà e della facoltà appetitiva superiore. Non si
obietti qui — dice il Fichte ( Sittenlehre) che un’approssimazione
all’infinito è contraddittoria, in quantoche un infinito a cui potessimo
avvicinarci cesserebbe d’essere un infinito e diverrebbe in certo qual
modo suscettivo di misura. L’infinito non è una cosa, un oggetto posto
come dato e verso il quale si avanzerebbe come verso un termine fissato
in precedenza, ma è igu ideale, ossia appunto ciò che si oppone alla
realtà del dato, ciò che nessun dato può esaurire ; Infatti, grazie alla
sintesi dianzi descritta, l’io svelle sè stesso da tutto ciò che sembra
trovarsi fuori di lui, entra in possesso di sè e si pone dinanzi a sè
come assolutamente indipendente, essendo l’io riflettente indipendente per sè
stesso, l’io riflettuto tutfc’ uno con l’io riflettente, ed entrambi uniti in
una sola inseparabile persona, alla quale il riflettuto dà la forza reale
e il riflettente la coscienza. La persona così costituita non può più agire
ormai se non secondo e mediante concetti, e poiché tutto ciò che ha
la propria ragion d’ essere in un concetto è un prodotto della libertà,
cosi d’ ora innanzi l’io non agirà più se non liberamente, anche quando
non faccia che assecondare l’impulso di natura, perchè anche in tal caso egli
non opera meccanicamente ma con coscienza, e in lui non più il
cieco impulso naturale, si bene la coscienza da lui acquistata di questo
impulso naturale è il primo fondamento del suo operare, il quale perciò è
libero come poco fa notammo — se non nel contenuto, almeno nella forma. Ma che
significa essere libero e agire liberamente? Prima di giungere alla
riflessione l’io è di natura sua e questo ideale clie portiamo in
noi stessi indietreggia dinanzi a noi man mano che ci eleviamo verso di
esso. Noi possiamo bene allargare i nostri limiti, inalzarci sempre più verso
la libertà, ma non possiamo mai sopprimere totalmente questi limiti, attuare
cioè la libertà; a qualunque grado di liberazione noi si giunga, la libertà
assoluta rimane sempre un ideale. Insomma, .con l’idea di un progress o
infinito il Fichte risolve la contraddizione tra la libertà e la natura :
la natura deve tendere alla libertà come a un fine infinito, e se
l’infinito potesse essere attuato, la natura s’identificherebbe con la libertà
; la realtà di questo progresso non è nel conseguimento impossibile di un fine fissato a un dato
punto, ma nel valore sempre più alto della nostra azione. (Cfr. Léon)] libero,
ma per un’ intelligenza fuori di lui, non già per sè stesso ; per essere
libero anche agli occhi propri egli deve porsi come tale, e come tale non
si pone se non allorché diventa cosciente del suo passaggio dallo stato
indeterminato a uno stato determinato. L’ io determinante e l’io
determinato scftio un solo e medesimo io, prodotto dalla sintesi del
inflettente e del riflettuto, dell’ io-soggetto e del1’io-oggetto. Per siffatta
sintesi la concezione di un fine diventa immediatamente azione e l’azione
diventa conoscenza della libertà. Senonchè l’indeterminatezza non è
soltanto uon-determinatezza (ossia zei'o), sì bene un deciso
librarsi tra più possibili determinazioni (ossia una grandezza negativa)
; altrimenti essa non potrebbe essere posta e sarebbe un nulla. Ora, finché non
intervenga la facoltà appetitiva superiore, non si vede in che modo la libertà
possa scegliere tra più determinazioni possibili; perchè: o si
trova in presenza del solo impulso naturale, e allora non ha nessuna
ragione per non seguirlo, anzi ha ogni ragione per seguirlo; ovvero si
trova in presenza di più impulsi la quale ipotesi non si comprende nel
caso di cui ora si tratta e allora
seguirà naturalmente il più forte ; nel- l’una e nell’altra ipotesi,
dunque, nessuna possibilità d’indeterminatezza. Siccome però l’essere
ragionevole non può esistere senza quella tra le condizioni della sua
ragionevolezza che si chiama sentimento morale e consapevolezza della
libertà, bisogna bene ammettere, nell’ impulso originario delirio, un impulso
ad acquistare la coscienza e della moralità e della libertà. Ma tale
coscienza, si è visto, ha per condizione uno stato indeterminato, e non
si produce se l’io obbedisce unicamente all'impulso naturale ; occorre,
dunque, che vi sia nell’io un impulso o tendenza a trarre dal
proprio seno, e non già dall’impulso naturale, il contenuto o
l’oggetto dell’azione; occorre, in altri termini, che vi sia una tendenza
alla libertà per sè stessa, e che alla libertà formale quella per cui lo
stesso risultato, che la natura avrebbe prodotto se avesse potuto ancora
agire, nasce invece da un nuovo principio, da una nuova forza, ossia
dalla coscienza libera si aggiunga la libertà materiale quella per cui si ha non solo un nuovo
principio operante, ma altresì una serie di effetti tutta nuova anche nel
contenuto, onde non solo è l’intelligenza la forza che opera, ma essa
intelligenza opera qualcosa di ben diverso da ciò che avrebbe operato la
natura. In virtù della libertà materiale io mi sento emancipato dall’
impulso di natura, gli oppongo resistenza, e tale resistenza, considerata come
essenziale all’ io, quindi come immanente, è essa stessa un impulso, l ’impulso
purodell’ io. L’impulso naturale si manifesta come iuclinazione e,
per il fatto che io posso dominare la sua forza e sottoporla alla
mia libertà, questa forza diventa qualcosa di cui non fo stima. L’impulso
puro, invece, in quanto mi eleva sopra la natura e mi pone in grado di
contrappormele con la più semplice risoluzione, si manifesta come tale da
ispirarmi stima e da investirmi di una dignità, la quale, essendo al disopra di
ogni natura, m’ impone rispetto verso me stesso; l’impulso puro, anziché
al piacere, porta al disprezzo del piacere ed esige l’affermazione e la
conservazione della mia assoluta indipendenza e libertà. L’adempimento di
questa esigenza e il suo contrario significano rispettivamente l’accordo
e il disaccordo tra l’ideale tendenza essenziale dell’ io puro all’assoluta
libertà e il reale stato accidentale dell’io empirico ; suscitano,
quindi, il mio interesse
m’interessa, infatti, ossia tocca direttamente il mio sentimento, tutto
ciò che lia immediata relazione col mio impulso fondamentale, si accompagnano,
dunque, a piacere o dolore; ma e questo è di capitale importanza si
tratta qui di stati affettivi che non hanno nulla a fare con
l’affettività comune, perchè consistono in una contentezza e in un
disgusto di sè la cui natura non si confonde mai con quella del piacere o
del dolore dei sensi. Il piacere sensibile che nasce dall’ accordo tra
l’impulso naturale e la realtà non dipende da me in quanto sono un io,
ossia in quanto sono libero ; esso è tale da strappare me a me, da
rendermi estraneo a me stesso e da farmi dimenticare in esso ; è, in una
parola, involontario, e questa qualità lo caratterizza nel modo più
esatto. Altrettanto vale del suo opposto, ossia del dolore sensibile. Il
piacere morale, al contrario, che nasce dall’accordo tra l’impulso puro e
la realtà, è qualcosa non di estraneo ma di dipendente dalla mia libertà,
qualcosa che potrei aspettarmi in conformità d’una regola, come non potrei
aspettarmi, invece, il piacere involontario ; esso, quindi, non mi
trasporta fuori di me, anzi mi fa rientrare in me stesso e, meno
tumultuario, ma più intimo del piacere sensibile, m’in- [Intorno al
concetto dell’ interesse Fichte fa una specie di digressione (
Sittenlehre) per meglio illuminare la sua trattazione sul sentimento morale e
sulla coscienza morale. fonde, in quanto soddisfazione e
auto-stima, nuovo coraggio' e nuova forza. Similmente il suo opposto,
ossia il dolore morale, appunto perchè dipende dalla libertà, è un
rimprovero interno, si associa a un sentimento di auto-disistima e
sarebbe insopportabile se il sentirci ancora capaci di provarlo non ci
risollevasse dinanzi a noi stessi, e non ravvivasse la coscienza della nostra
natura superiore e della nostra assoluta libertà, insomma la coscienza morale
fdas Oetoissen), vale a dire : la consapevolezza immediata dell’adempimento
del dovere, dell’accordo cioè tra l’azione (nel mondo della natura) e il
fine ideale (la libertà). Ora, la coscienza morale si connette strettamente
con l’impulso morale, il quale è di natura mista, perchè partecipa a un
tempo dell’impulso puro e dell’impulso naturale. Come? Ogni volizione
reale tende all’azione e ogni azione si porta sopra un oggetto : ogni
volizione reale, quindi, è empirica. E poiché non posso agire sugli oggetti se
non mediante una forza fisica, la quale non proviene che dall’impulso naturale,
cosi ogni fine concepito dall’intelligenza finisce per coincidere con 1^
soddisfazione di un IMPULSO NATURALE. Certo, chi vuole è l'io -intelligenza non
già la na- /M/'fl-iucoscieuza ; ma, quanto al contenuto, il mio
volere non può avere materia diversa da quella che la natura
vorrebbe anch’essa, se di volere fosse capace : non c’ è libertà circa la
materia delle azioni. E allora quale causalità rimane all’impulso puro,
che pur non può esserne destituito? Affinchè rimanga una causalità all’
impulso puro, bisogna che la materia dell’azione sia conforme a esso non
meno (Siltenlekre) che all’IMPULSO NATURALE. Tale duplice conformità si
comprende soltanto così: l’impulso puro nell'operare tende alla piena
emancipazione dalla natura ; ma i limiti che l’attività dell' io impone a
sè stessa costringono l’operare entro i confini dell’ impulso naturale ; onde
l’azione conforme a questo secondo impulso diventa conforme anche al
primo quando al pari di esso tenda alla piena emancipazione dalla natura,
si trovi cioè in una serie di sforzi, continuando la quale all’infinito,
l’io si approssima sempre più all’indipendenza assoluta. Deve esservi una
serie di tal genere, che muova dal punto in cui la persona si trova posta
per la propria natura e si prolunghi all’ infinito verso il .fine supremo
e ideale si badi bene a questo
appellativo che esclude ogni possibilità, di attuazione completa di ogni
attività, altrimenti uon sarebbe possibile una causalità dell’
impulso puro : questa serie si può chiamare la destinazione morale
dell’ essere ragionevole finito, e seguendola possiamo sapere in ogni
momento quale è il nostro dovere. Il principio della morale può, dunque,
formularsi cosi. Adempì in ogni momento la tua destinazione. Quel che in ogni
momento è conforme alla nostra destinazione morale, ossia al fine a cui
si dirige l’impulso puro, è in pari tempo conforme all’impulso
naturale, ma uon tutto quel che è conforme all’impulso naturale è conforme alla
nostra destinazione morale. Appunto perciò l’impulso morale è misto: esso
riceve dall’impulso naturale la materia dell’operare, dall’impulso pui'O la
forma; per esso io debbo agire con la coscienza di adempiere un dovere ;
gl’ impulsi ciechi della natura, come la simpatia, la compassione, la
benevolenza spontanea, in quanto tali non hanno nulla di morale, perchè
contraddice alla moralità il lasciarsi spingere ciecamente. L’impulso
morale differisce profondamente dal cieco impulso naturale, e molto ai
avvicina all’ impulso puro, perchè la sua causalità è ambigua, può avere
effetto e può anche non averne, perchè esso comanda: sii libero (cioè: sii in
grado di fare e di a'stenerti dal fare). E in questo comando appare per
la prima volta un imperativo categorico, un imperativo che è un
prodotto nostro proprio (nostro in quanto siamo intelligenze capaci
di agire per concetti), e il cui oggetto è il fine non subordinato a nessun
altro fine. L’impulso morale, infatti, non ha per fine nessun godimento ;
esso esige u la libertà per la libertà. È poi evidente in questa formula
imperativa il duplice significato della parola “ libertà la quale sta a
designare nel primo posto un operare in quanto tale, ossia un puramente
soggettivo, e nel secondo posto uno stato oggettivo che dev’essere
conseguito, ossia 1’ ultimo fine assoluto, la piena nostra indipendenza
da tutto ciò che è fuori di noi. In altri termini : io debbo agire con libertà
per divenire libero; e soltanto determinandomi da me stesso e non
seguendo altro che le ispirazioni del sentimento del dovere agisco con
libertà e divengo veramente indipendente dalla natura, veramente libero.
A questa distinzione tra la libertà come attività e la libertà come risultalo,
che è di così grande importanza nel nostro sistema, se ne aggiunge
un’ altra entro il concetto stesso di libertà intesa come attività: la
distinzione, cioè, tra la forma e la materia dell’attività libera; distinzione
da cui nasce la divisione della dottrina morale e con cui si passa all’
applicazione sistematica del principio della moralità. Fichte discorre delle
condizioni formali della moralità delle nostre azioni, del contenuto
materiate della legge morale; e dei doveri. Il principio formale di
ogni moralità può enunciarsi così. Opera sempre secondo la convinzione
che hai intorno al tuo dovere. Questo imperativo o legge che
presuppone naturalmente e logicamente una libera volontà— si scinde in
due precetti, di cui 1’ uno concerne la forma o la condizione : u procurati la
convinzione di ciò che è tuo dovere; l’altro la MATERIA o il condizionato.
Fai ciò che ritieni con convinzione tuo dovere 9 failo soltanto perchè lo
ritieni tale Ora, la convinzione nasce dall’accordo di un atto della
facoltà giudicatrice coll’impulso morale, e il criterio della giustezza della
nostra convinzione è un sentimento intimo al di là del quale non si
può risalire, perchè con esso si raggiunge 1’ espressione diretta della nostra
essenza assoluta e della nostra finalità. Per conseguenza, la coscienza
morale, che in quel sentimento ha radice, va immune per natura sua da dubbio
e da errore, non può ingannarsi, nè è suscettiva di rettifiche da
parte di un’ inconcepibile coscienti più interiore, è essa stessa giudice
di ogni convinzione e le sue sentenze non ammettono appello. Voler
oltrepassare la propria coscienza morale per timore che possa essere
erronea, sarebbe come voler uscire fuori di sè, voler separarsi da sè
stesso. È condizione formale della moralità, quindi, non decidersi [Della
volontà iu particolare e della sua natura cosi opposta al juro
meccanismo, il Pielite tratta nella Sitlenlehre] all’azione se non per
soddisfare alla propria coscienza morale, all’impulso originario dell’io puro,
senza sottostare ad altra autorità che non sia quella della propria
convinzione, del proprio giudizio. Chi, dunque, agisce senza consultare la sua coscienza,
senza essersi prima assicurato j delle decisioni di questa, agisce, come
suol dirsi, senza coscienza, e perciò immoralmente, è colpevole e non può
imputare la sua colpa ad altri che a sè stesso. Similmente opera senza
coscienza, e perciò senza moralità, chi si lascia guidare dall’autorità
altrui, perchè la convinzione della coscienza morale e la certezza della sua
giustezza non nascono mai da giudizi estranei, ma traggono origine esclusivamente
dal soggetto: sarebbe una flagrante contraddizione fare di qualche cosa che non
sono io stesso un sentimento di me stesso. In conclusione: in tutta la
nostra condotta (si tratti della ricerca scientifica, ovvero della
vita pratica) l’azione, per essere morale, deve uscire da un’intima
convinzione, perchè soltanto allora essa esprime veramente la nostra
autonomia spirituale. Ogni azione fatta per autorità (si tratti dell’
accettazione di una verità che non risponde in noi a una convinzione,
ovvero del compimento di un’ azione che accettiamo come un ordine) va
direttamente contro il verdetto della coscienza, è male, è I colpa. Giova
ricordare che per Fichte non vi sono azioni indifferenti; tutte debbono essere
riferite alla legge morale, uon foss’altro per assicurarsi che sono
lecite; onde anche le azioni più indifferenti iu apparenza, vanno
sottoposte a matura riflessione, sempre iu vista della legge morale (Siltenlehre).
Risulta qui ancora una volta definitivamente stabilito il primato della
ragione pratica sulla ragione teorica; di quella ragione pratica che agli
occhi E facile argomentare da ciò quale sia la causa del male o
della colpa nell’essere ragionevole finito. Quel che in generale
costituisce l’essere ragionevole trovasi necessariamente ih ciascun individuo
ragionevole, altrimenti questi non sarebbe più tale. Ora, secondo la
legge morale, l’io individuale, finito, empirico, che vive nel tempo,
deve tendere a divenire un’esatta copia dell’Io primitivo, originario,
infinito, extra-temporale; ma, sottoposto com’è alla condizione del t^mpo,
non può acquistare la chiara coscienza di tutto ciò che primitivamente e originariamente
fa l’essenza dell’Io, se non mediante un lavoro successivo e una
progressione nel tempo. Finché questo lavoro più o meno faticoso e questa
progressione più o meno lenta non abbiano compiuto nell’ io empirico
individuale il passaggio dallo stato d’ irriflessione al massimo sviluppo
della coscienza morale, c’ è sempre luogo nella nostra condotta all’immoralità,
alla colpa, al male. Conviene, dunque, seguire questa storia dello
sviluppo della coscienza emjnrica, per vedere attraverso quali fasi
germogli e maturi il seme della moralità, notando a tal proposito ohe
tutto sembrerà succedere come casualmente, perchè tutto dipende dalla
libertà, e in nessun modo da una meccanica legge di natura. Anzitutto, e
al suo grado pivi dàsso, l’io empirico si riduce a un’attività istintiva
; l’istinto, senza dubbio, si accompagna con la coscienza, dista però ancor
molto dalla di Fichte è veramente la ragione, e nella quale si attua
l’accordo dell’essere e dell’agire, dell’oggetto e del soggetto, della
produzione e della riflessione, e che ci fornisce l’intuizione, la
coscienza immediata dell’ Io assoluto. E risulta anche come la morale di Fichte
fluisca per essere in sostanza una morale del sentimento.] riflessione;
l’uomo allora segue meramente e semplicemente l’impulso naturale e, così
facendo, è libero per un’ intelligenza fuori di lui, ma per sè stesso è puro
animale. I Tuttavia l’uomo può riflettere su questo stato; e tale
riflessione è per natura sua un atto di libertà : essa non è nè fisicamente
nè logicamente necessaria, ma soltanto moralmente obbligatoria: chi vuole
adempiere la propria destinazione e acquistare in sè la coscienza dell’ Io
puro, deve riflettere su questo suo stato, e mercè tale riflessione
si eleva, quasi, sopra sè stesso, si stacca dalla natura, se ne distingue
e le si oppone come intelligenza libera ; acquista cosi il potere di differire
‘la propria autodeterminazione e di scegliere quindi tra più modi — la pluralità
dei modi nasce appunto dalla riflessione e dal differimento della
risoluzione di soddisfare l’impulso
naturale. Tale scelta si compie secondo una massima liberamente
adottata dall’ io individuale, e perciò profondamente diversa dal PRINCIPIO
supremo che scaturisce dalla legge morale e CHE NON È, COME LA MASSIMA, UN
LIBERO PRODOTTO DELLA COSCIENA EMPIRICA. Per conseguenza, nel caso di una MASSIMA
cattiva, la colpa spetta tutta all’ io individuale. Ora, in questa
seconda fase di sviluppo, dovuta al primo grado della riflessione, l’io
acquista coscienza del fine a cui tende 1’ impulso naturale, lo fa suo e adotta
come regola di .condotta la MASSIMA della felicità. L’uomo rimane dunque
ancora un animale, ma diventa un animale intelligente, prudente: è
già formalmente libero. Soltanto mette la sua libertà al servigio
dell’impulso naturale. La MASSIMA della felicità, per quanto sia un
prodotto della sua libertà, non può essere diversa da quella che è, e, una
volta posta, egli le obbedisce necessariamente. Senonchè la MASSIMA stessa, e
con essa il carattere ohe ne risulta, non ha nulla di necessario e non è
detto che l’io individuale debba arrestarvi»]/ se vi si arresta è
soltanto sua colpa. Nulla lo costringe L progredire, è vero, ma egli deve
e può progredire, facenti uso della propria libertà ed elevandosi
liberamente a qn piu alto grado di riflessione. Il male morale non deriva
ile non dal fatto che l’uomo il più delle volte non esercita la
propria libertà, onde a ragione Kant
riteneva il male radicale innato nell’uomo e nondimeno prodotto dalla
sua libertà. Quando però — con nuovo miracolo della sua
spontaneità — 1’ uomo, nella fase ora descritta, esercita la propria libertà,
una seoonda riflessione si compie, che, al pari della precedente, ha carattere
non di necessità fisica o logica, ma di obbligatorietà morale, e in virtù di
essa nasce una terza fase, nella quale l’io individuale prende
coscienza della sua opposizione rispetto alla natura e della spontaneità
del proprio operare, ed erige questa spontaneità stessa, ossia la propria
volontà, a nuova massima di condotta. Non piu la ricerca della felicità guida
ora le sue azioni, ma il godimento di un’ indipendenza dal nou-io
la quale non ammette freno al proprio capriccio e fa di sè stessa il
proprio idolo. Si ha, quindi, un progresso verso la libertà assoluta, ma
non ancora la vera libertà morale, non ancora la volontà riflessa
sottoposta alla legge del dovere. Anzi, mentre la MASSIMA della felicità è, si,
mancanza di legge, ma non addirittura rovesciamento della legge > n l’ostilità
contro questa, lt MASSIMA della volontà egoistica e arbitraria, invece,
può portare sino alla trasgressione intenzionale della legge. Il carattere
della condotta ispirata a tale MASSIMA è soltanto la soddisfazione
dell’amor proprio, dell’ orgoglio, del bisogno di dominare, ottenuta
a qualsiasi costo, anche di dolori corporei ; e appunto questa
idolatria della volontà egoistica spiega pressoché tutta la storia umana.
Essa riempie grandissima parte del teatro del inondo con le sue lotte e
le sue guerre, con, le sue vittorie e le sue sconfitte. u II
soggiogamento dei corpi e delle anime dei popoli, le guerre di conquista
e di religione, e tutti i misfatti cou cui l’umanità si è disonorata non si
spiegano altrimenti. Che cosa indusse l'invasore, l’oppressore a perseguire il
proprio fine con pericolo e fatica ? Sperava egli forse che per tal modo
si accrescerebbero le fonti dei suoi godimenti sensitivi? No davvero. 1
Ciò ohe io voglio deve accadere, a quel che io dico si deve stare ’ :
ecco 1’ unico principio che lo moveva. Un siffatto culto della volontà
egoistica certamente non è senza una certa aureola di grandezza, poiché
giunge anche al disinteresse: non al disinteresse che deriva dall'
obbedienza al dovere e che solo ha significato morale, ma a un
disinteresse di carattere impulsivo, derivante dal desiderio di suscitare
ammirazione, di cattivarsi stima, e che rimane tuttora una forma di amor
proprio e di orgoglio. E un culto che porta sino al sacrifizio della vita
e ci vuole del coraggio a vincere in noi la natura. Ma questo
sacrifizio è senza valore etico, perché è fatto soltanto al proprio io
individuale, è puro egoismo. Certo, rispetto alla fase precedente, la
quale non mira che alla felicità sensibile, la fase ora descritta segna
un progresso e sta come a rappresentare l’età eroica dello sviluppo
morale. Ma dal punto di vista della moralità nulla di più pericoluso che
arrestarvisi, perchè essa ci abitua a considerare come nobili e meritori,
come rari e ammirevoli, come opera mpererogativa, atti che sono
semplicemente doverosi, e a considerare d’ altra parto tutto ciò che a
vantaggio nostro si fa da Dio, dalla natura, dagli altri uomini,
come nulla più che doveri verso di noi. Con siffatte pretensioni la
massima della volontà egoistica e senza, freno, adottata in questa fase,
è peggiore di ogni altra, perchè finisce addirittura col corrompere le stesse
radici della moralità: “ >1 pubblicano peccatore non vale più del fariseo
sedicente giusto, in quanto che nessuno dei due ha il menomo valore ; ma
il secondo è assai più difficile a convertire del primo. Per elevarsi al
disopra di questa terza fase basta che l’uomo con un terzo atto di
riflessione, al pari dei precedenti spontaneo ma inesplicabile, non
necessario ma obbligatorio acquisti coscienza chiara di quell’
originario impulso all’ indipendenza assoluta che, considerato
(analogamente a un eminente grado di capacità intellettuale) come un dono
gratuito della natura, può chiamarsi genio della virtù, ma che, allo
^tato d’impulso cieco, pi'oduce un carattere assai immorale. Mercè la
riflessione, quell’ impulso si trasforma in una legge assolutamente
imperativa, e poiché ogni riflessione limita e determina ciò che è
riflettuto, anche quell’impulso sarà limitato dalla riflessione, e da
cieco impulso verso una causalità sconfinata diventerà una legge di
causalità condizionata ; riflettendo, l’uomo sa di dovere assolutamente
qualche cosa ; e affinchè questo sapere si tramuti in azione, bisogna che
egli adotti la MASSIMA: adempì il Ino dovere perchè è tuo dovere. Sorge
così la coscienza morale, la quale impone appunto alla volontà
arbitraria, alla volontà senza regola uè freno della fase precedente,
l’obbedienza al principio assoluto della ragione. Una volta conseguita
questa chiara coscienza del dovere, la nostra condotta vi si conforma
necessariamente, essendo inconcepibile che noi ci decidiamo di proposito
e con piena chiarezza a ribellarci alla nostra legge, a mancare al
nostro dovere, appunto perchè è la nostra legge, appunto perchè è il nostro
dovere. Vi sarebbe in ciò, oltre che una contraddizione evidente, una
condotta veramente diabolica, se lo stesso concetto u diavolo non fosse
contraddittorio. Soltanto può accadere che la chiara coscienza del dovere si
annebbii, si oscuri, che la riflessione non si mantenga sempre alle
altezze della moralità, e la nostra condotta, perciò, cessi di essere
conforme alla legge morale. Il dovere primo, quindi, e anche il più alto, è
mantenere la coscienza del dovere in tutta l’intensità della sua luce
e «Iella sua forza. Bisogna vegliare continuamente su noi stessi,
alimentare senza tregua il fuoco sacro della riflessione; possiamo fare di
questa riflessione un’abitudine, senza perciò renderla una necessità,
senza pregiudizio cioè della libertà, allo stesso modo diesi può fare
un’abitudine dell’irriflessione, con cui la coscienza empirica comincia,
e persistere in essa, senza renderla perciò una necessità e senza
escludere quindi 1’ esercizio della libertà. Nella sua Ascetih «fa Animili/ zur
Murai ( Ascetica conir appendice alta Morale) contenuta in Nuahgelarsene
Werke, e tradotta in inglese da Kroeger. Se la coscienza morale svanisce
del tutto, si da non lasciar sopravvivere più nessun sentimento del
dovere, noi The sciunce of Elltics bij Fichte dianzi ricordato Pielite si adopera a fornire il mozzo
pratico per mantener viva o luminosa, una volta nata per opera della
libertà, la coscienza del dovere, 'l'ale mezzo consiste ned’associazione
delle idee, intermediaria tra la necessità della natura e la libertà della
ragione, e precisamente nell’associare in precedenza la rappresentazione
dell'atto futuro con la rappresentazione dell’atto conforme al dovere.
Occorre, in altri termini, che i due propositi : voglio fare quest’azione; non
voglio agire se non conforme al dovere, siano indissolubilmente uniti
in ima sintesi, e la funzione propria dell’ascetica consiste appunto
in questa associazione permanente e anticipata del concetto del dovere
non solo col concetto della nostra condotta in generale il che sarebbe
ancora troppo vago e astratto ma con i concetti di azioni determinate,
soprattutto di quelle ABITUALI, QUOTIDIANE, in cui più facilmente possiamo
peccare per omissione o violazione del dovere. Mentre invece per le azioni
eccezionali e straordinarie difficilmente manca I intervento della
riflessione e la conseguente chiarezza della coscienza. Di qui due
regole: un esame di coscienza generale dei casi in cui siamo più esposti
al pericolo di cadere in colpa; e la risoluzione ferma e sempre attiva di
ridettero, in questi casi, sopra noi stessi e di sorvegliarci, opponendo
alla forza cieoa e alla resistenza passiva di certi stati di coscienza,
divenuti abitudini quasi invincibili, la causalità iutelligAte della
coscienza morale: è noto ohe spesso basta ridettero sulla propria
passione e rendersi consapevoli delle associazioni che la costituiscono per
liberarsene, dissociando mentalmente i fattori da cui nasce e
controbilanciando il piacere che ci aspettiamo dal suo soddisfacimento
col disprezzo che accompagna la trasgressione del dovere. Ma, affinchè l’esame
della propria coscienza abbia valore etico, bisogna che non si riduca a
una pura aulocontemplazione, a un’ analisi fatta quasi per semplice
giuoco estetico. Bisogna, invece, che si proponga la nostra riforma
morale, il miglioramento della nostra attività. Tale esortazione, del
resto, si rivolge non già agli uomini privi di coltura, la cui vita é
tutta rivolta all’azione, ond’essi non ridettono se non per agire, ma
agli artisti, ai letterati, e persino ai lilosotì e ai sacerdoti, per i
quali è frequente il grave pericolo di dimenticare il valore pratico
delle coso, di arrestarsi alla contemplazione e di nou tradurre la
speculazione in azione. ricadiamo in uno degli stati che precedono
la moralità e OPERIAMO SECONDO LA MASSIMA o della felicità o del
dominio arbitrario della nostra volontà egoistica. Se, invece, ci ri mane
ancora un sentimento vago e intermittente del dóvere. possono verificarsi
le seguenti tre specie d’indeterminatezza corrispondenti alle tre
condizioni che rendono determinato il dovere. L’indeterminatezza può
concernere la MATERIA del dovere, cioè l’applicazione della legge morale
a un dato caso : in ciascun singolo caso tra più azioni possibili
non ce n è che una conforme al dovere. Ma, per insufficiente
attenzione e riflessione, noi cediamo segretamente, e quasi a nostra
insaputa, a qualche altra sollecitazione e perdiamo il filo conduttore
della coscienza --; il MOMENTO del dovere : in ciascun singolo caso si deve
adempiere subito ciò che è dovere. Ma, per l’affievolirsi della
coscienza, ci illudiamo che non occorra affrettarsi a ciò,
procrastiniamo il nostro perfezionamento e ci abituiamo a
procrastinarlo all’ infinito --; la FORMA del dovere : l’imperativo
morale è categorico, esige obbedienza assoluta e incondizionata. Ma, se
perdiamo di vista tale sua caratteristica, consideriamo il dovere,
anziché come un comando, COME UN SEMPLICE CONSIGLIO DI PRUDENZA che si può
seguire quando piaccia e non costi troppa abnegazione, e con cui si può
anche transigere; di qui quei compromessi, quegli accomodamenti con
la propria coscienza che sono altrettanti modi di eludere la legge morale,
altrettante cause di torpore per la riflessione, e che pongono nel
massimo pericolo la nostra salvezza spirituale, quando per caso non
sopravvenga dall’esterno una forte scossa, la quale ci sia occasione
a rientrare in noi, a ravvederci. Quest’ultima maniera d’intendere il
dovere, infatti, accusa la morale di RIGORISMO impraticabile, sotto lo specioso
pretesto che l’ adempimento del dovere impone troppi sacrifizi, quasi che
non fosse appunto in ciò l’obbligo nostro. Nel sacrificar tutto al
dovere, la vita, l’onore e ogni cosa all’uomo più caramente diletta. Quale
che sia il modo di oscurarsi della coscienza, si può dire in generale che
la causa di questo suo oscurarsi e del conseguente smarrirsi della
moralità, la causa iu- somma del male, va ricercata in una sconfitta
della libertà. Se la riflessione che ci eleva alla libertà consiste in
una creazione da parte della libertà e quasi in un colpo di grazia
che ci strappa all’oppressione della natura, il mantenimento della chiara
coscienza del dovere non può essere che un perpetuo riprodursi di questo atto
creativo, una creazione continuata, uno sforzo incessante della
riflessione, dell’attenzione ; e appunto perciò al menomo affievolirsi della
nostra vigilanza consegue la nosti-a caduta e il trionfo delle forze
antagonistiche della natura, le quali sono sempre e necessariamente in
azione: tosto che cessa lo sforzo morale, l’impulso naturale inevitabilmente
ha il sopravvento e, con la luce della coscienza, si spegue anche LA
VIRTÙ. Ogni uomo, dallo stato di natura, con cui s’inizia la sua vita in
una specie d’innocenza perchè sono ancora ignorati gli stati superiori in
cui l’innocenza primitiva assume aspetto di colpa, perviene
necessariamente alla coscienza di sé stesso: a ciò gli basta riflettere
sulla libertà che ha di scegliere tra più azioni possibili per soddisfare l’impulso
naturale. SIAMO ALLORA IN QUELLA FASE IN CUI EGLI OPERA SECONDO LA MASSIMA
DELL’INTERESSE O DELLA FELICITÀ (Siuenlehre). In questo grado di sviluppo
rimano volentieri, trattenutovi dalla forza d 'inerzia che l’uomo, in quanto
essere sensibile, ha in comune con tutta la natura fisica. È vero
che, in virtù della sua natura superiore, egli deve 'strapparsi a questo stato,
e può farlo perchè dotato di libertà. Ma proprio la sua libertà è impedita in
questo stato, essendo essa alleata con quella forza d'inerzia, da cui
dovrebbe invece svincolarsi. Come farà egli a elevarsi alla libertà,
quando per questa elevazione stessa deve far uso della libertà ? Donde
attingerà la forza che faccia da contrappeso nella bilancia per vincere la
forza d’inerzia? Certamente non nella sua natura empirica, la quale in
nessun modo fornisce alcunché di simile. Gli occorre, dunque, un
aiuto superiore. L’uomo naturale qui non può nulla da sé – ma da un miracolo puo
essere salvato. Intanto sappiamo che l’inerzia, la pigrizia — la
quale a forza di riprodursi indefinitamente diviene impotenza
morale — è il vizio radicale, il male innato, il peccato originale. L’'uomo
è per natura pigro, dice assai giustamente Kant. Da pigrizia nasce
immediatamente viltà, il secondo vizio fondamentale dell’ uomo. LA VILTÀ
E LA PIGRIZIA D’AFFERMARE LA PROPRIA LIBERTÀ E INDEPENDENZA NELLO *SCAMBIO ili AZIONE
CON GLI ALTRI: donde tutte le specie di schiavitù fisica e morale tra gli
uomini. In genere si ha abbastanza coraggio dinanzi a coloro di cui si
conosce la debolezza relativa, ma si è disposti a cedere, a
umiliarsi, dinanzi a una supposta e temuta superiorità qualsiasi. Si
preferisce la sottomissione piuttosto che lo sforzo necessario a resistere. Precisamente
come quel marinaio che preferiva le eventuali pene dell’ inferno al lavoro
faticoso di correggersi in questa vita. Il vile si consola di
questa sottomissione forzata con l’astuzia e con la frode. Da viltà
nasce inevitabilmente il terzo vizio fondamentale: falsità. È questa il
risultato di uno sforzo indiretto che si compie per ricuperare
l’indipendenza perduta, quell’indipendenza che nessun nomo può
sacrificare ad altri cosi interamente come il pigro finge di fare per
essere dispensato dalla fatica di difenderla in aperta battaglia.
Falsità, menzogna, malizia, insidia derivano dall’esistenza di un oppressore,
e ogni oppressore deve aspettarsi tali frutti. Soltanto il vile è
falso. Il coraggioso non mente e non è falso. Per orgoglio, se non per
virtù. Ma come pud aiutarsi l’uomo, quando in lui è radicata la
pigrizia, la quale paralizza appunto l’unica forza con cui' egli deve
aiutarsi ? Che cosa gli manca propriamente? Non già t la forza, che egli ben
possiede, ma la coscienza della forza e l’Impulso a farne uso. E
donde gli verrà questo impulso? Non da altra foute che dalla
riflessione: è necessario che l’io empirico, avendo in sè l’immagine dell’Io
assoluto, e vedendosi in tutta la propria bruttezza, senta orrore di sè ;
soltanto per questa via potrà formarsi la coscienza di quel che deve
essere, soltanto di là verrà l’impulso. In genere gl’ individui che
formano la grande maggioranza degli uomini hanno bisogno di apprendere la
propria libertà da altri individui liberi, che essi contemplano come
modelli. Ma vi souo nella moltitudine spiriti eletti a cui fu dato di essere
gl’ iniziatori della moralità e quasi i primi maestri dell' umanità, per
es. i fondatori di religione. Si comprende come costoro, non avendo
attinto dall’ esempio altrui la consapevolezza della propria
indipendenza, e non trovando nella propria natura empirica il principio
dell’ emancipazione da questa natura empirica, si credano ispirati dall'
alto da una grazia soprannaturale, da uno spirito divino, mentre invece non
han fatto che obbedire alla propria natura superiore, all’Io assoluto, di
cui l’io finito e individuale deve divenire la copia fedele. Una volta emancipato dalla schiavitù della
natura e divenuto cosciente della propria libertà formale, l’uomo deve
far uso di questa per compiere l’infinita serie di azioni diretta verso l’assoluta
libertà materiale. Quale la materia di queste azioni? In qual modo l’ io
individuale si puo elevere gradatamente sino a quell’ indipendenza
assoluta, a quello stato oggettivo di libertà, che è il fine ultimo della
sua libera attività soggettiva? L’accennammo già. L’attuazione dello stato
di libertà non si ottiene se non determinando il mondo in funzione
della libertà stessa, operando cioè come chi considera e tratta le cose
dal punto di vista non della loro esistenza data, ma della loro FINALITÀ,
non del loro essere, ma del loro dover-essere, e le modifica perciò e le
adatta progressivamente nella direzione di questa FINALITÀ, di questo
dovere. Tale determinazione del mondo secondo l’idea della libertà,
determinazione posta come obbligatoria e come praticamente necessaria,
costituisce il sistema dei nostri doveri, la materia della moralità. In
altri termini, la morale propriamente detta non è che l’insieme delle
condizioni a cui il mondo va sottoposto e a cui deve prestarsi per essere
strumento all’ attuazione della libertà. Queste condizioni possono ridursi
a tre, perchè triplice è il punto di vista da cui può considerarsi il
mondo. Il mondo si può considerare in sè, come pura e semplice
materia, come natura corporea; o nel suo rapporto col pensiero, come
materia di conoscenza; o, finalmente, nel suo rapporto col volere, come
oggetto indispensabile all’ esercizio dell’ attività, come il luogo d’incontro
delle molteplici sfere di libertà individuale, come IL TEATRO DELLA SOCIETÀ. E
per la morale si tratta appunto di mostrare nella nostra natura corporea,
nella nostra intelligenza, e nella NOSTRA VITA SOCIALE, gli strumenti per
l’attuazione della libertà, la quale non può DIVENIRE REALE se non OPERANDO
sul mondo oggettivo, PER MEZZO del corpo, dell’intelligenza e DELLA
SOCIETÀ. Come, dunque, dobbiamo trattare, in vista del fine ideale da
raggiungere: il corpo, l’intelligenza, LA SOCIETÀ? Il nostro corpo, essendo da
una parte prodotto di natura, dall’ altra strumento della causalità del
concetto, funziona da intermediario tra la necessità e la libertà.
La volizione si esercita immediatamente su di esso, e per esso
modifica mediatamente il mondo esterno secondo i nostri concetti. Di qui
risulta chiaro un triplice dovere rispetto al corpo: un dovere negativo :
non far mai del proprio corpo il fine ultimo delle proprie azioni ; un
dovere positivo : conservare e coltivare il proprio corpo nell’interesse
della libertà ; un dovere limitativo : evitare come illecito ogni piacere
corporeo che non si riferisca al fine ultimo della nostra attività. u
Mangiate e bevete in onore di Dio: se questa morale vi sembra troppo
austera, tanto peggio per voi ; non ce n’ è un’ altra. L’intelligenza è
la forma indispensabile attraverso cui può attuarsi la libertà, poiché
soltanto la riflessione dà alla libertà la sua legge; fuori
dell’intelligenza ci sarà 1’ istinto cieco, non già la coscienza morale ;
l’intelligenza è il veicolo stesso della moralità. Diciamo di più-: per
la legge morale, mentre il corpo è condizione materiale puramente esterna
e soltanto della sua causalità, l’intelligenza è condizione materiale veramente
interna e di tutta quanta la sua essenza. Di qui un triplice dovere
anche verso l’intelligenza : un dovere negativo : non subordinare mai
materialiter ossia nelle sue
ricerche e cognizioni
l’intelligenza a nessuna autorità, foss’anche quella della legge
morale ; la ricerca da parte della ragione teorica dev’ essere
assolutamente libera e disinteressata, non deve preoccuparsi di altro che
non sia l’acquisto della conoscenza ; un dovere positivo : formare
l’intelligenza il più possibile ; il più possibile imparare, pensare,
indagare ; un dovere limitativo: subordinare formaliier l’intelligenza
alla moralità, la quale rimane sempre il fine supremo ; riferire al
dovere tutte le nostre investigazioni ; coltivare la scienza non per
curiosità ma per dovere, essendo essa strumento di moralità. LA SOCIETÀ,
infine, può dirsi addirittura l’espressione vivente della libertà, in quanto
questa non si concepisce come qualcosa d’individuale, ma soltanto come
una recijjrocanza di RAPPORTI TRA PIU INDIVIDUI corporei, intelligenti e VOLENTI.
L’ideale della libertà, quindi, si attua non nel singolo uomo, ma NELLA
COMUNITÀ di tutti gli uomini, in seno alla quale l’individuo DIVIENE
PERSONA e senza la quale per l’ individuo nessun perfezionamento, anzi
nemmeno l’esistenza stessa, sarebbe possibile, essendo individuo e SOCIETÀ
termini correlativi, coudizionantisi a vicenda. Se così è, se l’io
empirico non può porsi altrimenti che come individuo, e se come tale NON PUO
PRESCINDERE DA SUOI RAPPORTI CON LA SOCIETÀ, che vai quanto dire dalla
esistenza di ALTRI INDIVIDUI e dalla loro libertà, è evidente che egli
non può voler sopprimere questa esistenza e questa libertà, da cui sono
determinate l’esistenza e la libertà sua propina. La mia tendenza
all’indipendenza assoluta, fine supremo della mia attività, è dunque SUBOARDINATA
ALLA LIBERTÀ DEGLI ALTRI. Le libere azioni degli altri sono gli originari
punti di confine della mia individualità, e a esse io reagisco f non meno
liberamente, autodeterminandomi a quella serie di azioni che prescelgo e da
cui uscirà costituita la mia personalità, non essendo io se non
quel che mi fo • con le mie azioni, e non consistendo il mio essere in
altro che nel mio operare. Soltanto che mentre il mio operare, rispetto a
quegli originari punti di confine della mia individualità, ossia rispetto
ai liberi influssi degli altri, mi appare l’effetto della mia assoluta
autodeterminazioue, della mia libera causalità, quei punti di confine,
quei LIBERI INFLUSSI DEGLI ALTRI, invece, mi appaiono come predeterminati a
priori. Alla stessa guisa che dal punto di vista altrui s’invertono le
parti, e agli altri appare liberamente autodeterminato il loro agire
su di me e predeterminato a priori il mio reagire su di loro. Il
che dà luogo, è vero, a un’ antinomia tra predeterminazione e
autodeterminazione, ma a un’ antinomia che si risolve facilmente cosi. Tutte
le azioni libere (le mie come le altrui) sono predeterminate ab æterno
(ossia fuori del tempo) dalla ragione universale. Ma il momento in
cui ciascuna deve accadere e gli attori di essa non sono predeterminati.
Ecco, quindi, predestinazione e libertà perfettamente conciliate. Ciò premesso
- è evidente il-dovere fondamentale verso la società. Non impedire, con
l’esercizio della propria libertà, la libertà degli altri, hou trattare gli
altri uomini come cose, come semplici strumenti della propria libertà. Ma
anche nell’ interno di questo dovere sembra annidarsi un’ antinomia. Da una
parte devo tendere all’ indipendenza assoluta, all’ emancipazione
da ogni limitazione, dall’altra DEVO RISPETTARE LA LIBERTA ALTRUI, LA
QUALE E UNA VERA LIMITAZIONE ALLA MIA LIBERTA. Da una parte devo agire
sul moudo sensibile si da farne, come il mio corpo, il mezzo per giungere
al line supremo, all’ assoluta libertà, dall’ altra non mi è lecito modificare
i prodotti della libertà altrui. Come comporre questa nuova contraddizione?
Non difficile la soluzione. Basta supporre tra le molteplici libertà
individuali, anziché contrasto, vera COMUNANZA DI AZIONE. Se dal punto di
vista giuridico occorre una forza coercitiva -- l’autorità dello stato --
la quale, restringendo l’esercizio delle libertà individuali
antagonistiche, renda possibile il loro mutuo sviluppo, dal punto di
vista morale, invece, tutti gli individui sottostanno alla medesima
legge, tutti perseguono il medesimo fine, tutti sono in certo qual modo
identici nella loro condotta conforme al dovere. perchè tutti hanno il
medesimo dovere, e l’emancipazione degli uni, lungi dall’opporlesi, è
necessaria all’emancipazione degli altri, perchè l’indipendenza di ciascuno va
di pari passo con l’indipendenza di tutti, perchè LA LIBERTA, INTESA NEL
SENSO MORALE, NON SI ATTUA SE NON NELLA COLLETTIVITA DEGLI ESSERI LIBERI. Dunque,
non già limitazione o interferenza tra le libertà individuali, sì bene CONFLUENZA,
COLLABORAZIONE, CO-OPERAZIONE A UN’OPERA COMUNE, AL TRIONFO DELLE RAGIONE: il
rispetto della libertà altrui è qui compatibile con l’esercizio assoluto
della libertà propria, perchè questa e quella si accordano e si
completano reciprocamente, la liberazione dell’uno è in pari tempo
la liberazione di tutti. E invero, 1’ originaria tendenza
all’indipendenza assoluta non si riferisce a un determinato individuo; ha
per oggetto la libertà assoluta, l’autonomia della ragione in
generale. L’ultimo fine della moralità è il regno della ragione in quanto
ragione, il che NON SI OTTIENE SE NON NELLA COMUNANZA E CON LA COOPERAZIONE di
tutti gli esseri che partecipano della ragione, di tutta l’umanità ; la
libertà, ripetiamo non hì concepisce sotto la forma dell' individualità,
essa è di natura essenzialmeute sociale e universale, e non si attua nel
singolo uomo se uon in quanto questi da u individuo „ si eleva a “ PERSONA„
per confondersi in ispirito con tutti, gli esseri ragionevoli. Di qui
trae luce e spiegazione la nota formula kantiana. Opera in modo da poter
pensare LA MASSIMA DELLA TUA VOLONTA come PRINCIPIO d’ una legislazione
universale, formula più euristica che costitutiva della moralità, perchè
non è un principio come sembra al
Kant, a cui il metodo da lui adottato interdiceva di penetrare sino al
fondo delle cose ma soltanto una
conseguenza di quel vero principio che consiste nel comando dell’ assoluta
indipendenza della ragione. Di qui deriva la necessità che
tutti-siano veramente liberi, che nessuno sia impedito nell’esercizio
dulia ragione e nell’adempimento del dovere, che ciascuno si adoperi ad
avvicinare sempre più quell’ ideale
per quanto destinato a rimanere sempre un ideale — che è la
moralizzazione dell’umanità. Soltanto l’uso della libertà contrario alla
legge morale ho il dovere di annullare ; ma siccome ciascuno deve operare
secondo le proprie convinzioni, cosi mi è lecito cercar di determinare o
modificare soltanto la convinzione degli altri, mai la loro azione.
E poiché non si può agire sulle convinzioni degli altri uomini se
non vivendo in mezzo a essi, anche per questa via si ribadisce la necessità
morale della società e il dovere per ognuno di vivere in essa. Segregarsi
dalla società significa rinunziare ad attuare il fine della ragione ed
essere indifferente al propagarsi della moralità, al trionfo della
libertà, al bene dell’ umanità. Chi si propone di aver cura
sola- Secondo Fichte la suddetta formula kantiana va intesa non già
nel senso: perchè un quid può essere principio di una legislazione
universale, perciò dev’essere MASSIMA DELLA MIA VOLONTA ma nel senso opposto : perchè un quid DEV’ESSERE MASSIMA DELLA
MIA VOLONTÀ, perciò può essere anche PRINCIPIO di uua legislazione
universale. In altri termini, non la forma determina il contenuto della
moralità, ma il CONTENUTO determina la forma. Se la moralità ha per contenuto
l’attuazione universale della ragione, ne segue che ciascun individuo il quale
operi di siuteressatameute, secondo ragione, può pensare la propria
condotta come un dovere per chiunque altro operi nelle medesime
circostanze. La proposizione kantiana, appunto con questa universalizzazione
della condotta individuale, non fornisce altro che un eccellente mezzo
di controprova per accertarci se, agli effetti della morale, la
condotta di un individuo sopporti o no universalità, possa o no erigersi
a legge per tutti: è perciò una proposizione euristica, non già
costitutiva della moralità.] mente di sè, dal lato morale, in verità non ha
cura neppure di si, perchè suo fine ultimo dev’essero il prendersi cura
di tutto il genere umano, la sua virtù non è virtù, ma soltanto im
servile, venale egoismo. Non già con una vita eremitica, dedita a
pensieri sublimi e speculazioni pure, non già col fantasticare, ma
soltanto con 1’operare nella e per la società si soddisfa al dovere. La
necessità etica della società e il dovere che ne deriva all’ individuo di
vivere in essa e di lavorarvi alla moi'alizzazione degli uomini, operando
sul loro spirito e formando le loro convinzioni, implica l’istituzione di
quella repubblica morale che i?i chiama la Chiesa e che è condizione
indispensabile per la reciproca azione sociale diretta a produrre
credenze pratiche concordi e con esse il progresso della moralità. La Chiesa,
infatti, rappresenta nel suo simbolo, accettato da tutti i suoi membri,
quell’accordo primitivo e, a dir così, minimo, che solo rende possibile
una comunità spirituale. Ma il simbolo non è, nè può essere, che un punto di
partenza o un mezzo, nou già un punto di arrivo o uu fine ; esso è
indefinitamente perfettibile mercè la continua reciproca azione degli spiriti
gli uni sugli altri e il conseguente sviluppo della moralità, e non
può, quindi, rimanere fisso e invariabile. Così, appunto, l’intende il PROTESTANTISMO.
Invece, come fa il papismo, lavorare pur contro la propria convinzione a
mantenere il simbolo in una fissità assoluta, a rendere la ragione stazionaria,
a costringere gli altri in una fede già superata, significa, oltre che
ignoranza, trasgressione del dovere, perchè allora si fa del simbolo non
più 1’ espressione puramente prdVvisoria di un accordo destinato a
permettere la discussione delle diverse opinioni in vista dell’ ulteriore
sviluppo morale della comunità, ma la formula definitiva di una verità assoluta
e immutevole, il che sta in recisa opposizione con lo spirito della
moralità, la cui essenza consiste nello sforzo e nel progresso all’
infinito. Come la Cliiesa è istituzione necessaria al perfezionamento morale
per quanto riguarda le convinzioni interne, COSI LO STATO E ISTITUZIONE
NECESSARIA per quanto riguarda le azioni esterne, l’operare sul mondo
sensibile. Ciò che sta fuori del mio corpo, ossia tutto il mondo
sensibile, è patrimonio comune e il coltivarlo secondo le leggi
della ragione non spetta a me soltanto, ma a tutti gli individui
ragionevoli; di guisa che il mio operare su di esso interferisce con l’ operare
degli altri, e può accadermi, perciò, di arrecar danno alla libertà
altrui, quando il mio operare non sia all’ unisono con 1’ altrui volontà:
il che assolutamente non mi è lecito. Quel che interessa tutti io non
posso fare senza IL CONSENSO di tutti, e
senza seguire, quindi, principi universalmente accettati, previo ACCORDO,
tacito o esplicito, circa una parziale restrizione volontaria e generale
delle diverse libertà individuali. Il consenso a questa restrizione e 1’accordo
che determina i comuni diritti e la reciproca azione sul mondo sensibile è
oggetto del cosidetto contratto sociale e costituisce lo Stato. Lo
Stato, grazie alle leggi conosciute e accettate da tutti i cittadini,
rende possibile a ciascuno di essi di conciliare l’esercizio della
propria libertà col rispetto dovuto alla libertà degli altri; rende
passibile, iu altri termini, prevenendo eventuali conflitti nell’incontro delle
libertà individuali, quella convivenza sociale die è condizione strie iy
ua non della moralità'; di qui il suo alto significato e il suo
valore etico. La necessità del simbolo nella Chiesa, il rispetto delle
leggi nello Stato, impongono, non tanto alle convinzioni dell’individuo le quali sono incoercibili quanto alla loro manifestazione e
comunicazione, certi limiti che non si possono oltrepassare senza
mettersi fuori del simbolo o fuori della legge, fuori, iusomma, della
comunità morale e civile ottenuta iu un dato momento del progresso
umano. E pur tuttavia si è tenuti non solo a formarsi una convinzione
indipendente da ogni autorità, ma anche ad affermarla e parteciparla agli
altri. Come conciliare questa contraddizione tra 1’ assoluta libertà delle
singole coscienze e il rispetto alla fede comune? come risolvere questo
conflitto di doveri ? Non altrimenti che mediante una LIMITAZIONE RECIPROCA dei
due doveri, che vai quanto dire : ammettere la libertà assoluta delle
convinzioni e della loro comunicazione, ma circoscrivere questa libertà e
questa comunicazione a quel particolare gruppo sociale che è
il pubblico dotto. E invero, l’assoluta libertà delle convinzioni e
della loro comunicazione, se è impraticabile nel vasto ambito della
Chiesa e dello Stato, perchè per essere morale dovrebbe raccogliere cosa impossibile 1’ adesione unanime di tutti i membri della
comunità chiesastica e politica, è, invece, praticabile nel ristretto pubblico
dei dotti, il quale sta come anello di congiunzione tra la
convinzione comune e la privata. Il carattere distintivo del
pubblico dotto è uifa assoluti libertà e indipendenza di pensiero ; il
principio della sua costituzione è LA MASSIMA di non sottoporsi a nessuna
autorità, di basarsi in tutto sulla propria riflessione e di rigettare
assolutamente da sè tutto ciò che non sia da questa confermato. Nella
repubblica dei dotti non è possibile nessun simbolo, nessuna direttiva
prestabilita, nessun riserbo ; tra dotti si deve poter dichiaral e
tutto ciò di cui si è persuasi, appunto come si oserebbe dichiararlo alla
propria coscienza ; giudice della verità sarà il tempo, ossia il
progresso della coltura. E come assolutamente libera è l’investigazione
scientifica, così pure libero a tutti deve essere 1’ adito a essa. Per chi
nel suo intimo non può più credere all’ autorità, è contro coscienza
continuare a credervi, è dovere di coscienza associarsi al pubblico dotto. Lo stato
italiano e la chiesa debbono tollerare i dotti, altrimenti violerebbero»
te coscienze, perchè nessuna potenza terrena ha il diritto d’imporsi in materia
di coscienza. Lo stato e la chiesa debbono anzi riconoscere la repubblica
dei dotti, perchè questa è condizione del loro progresso morale, in
quanto che soltanto in essa possono elaborarsi i concetti che
modificheranno, perfezionandoli, e il simbolo e la costituzione dello
Stato: sin anche come pubblici ufficiali
per es. nelle università i dotti
possono lavorare all’educazione degli uomini e alla formazione
scientifica degli insegnanti e dei funzionari tutti della Chiesa e dello
Stato. È da aggiungere, però, che il dotto, insieme con l’incontestabile
diritto che ha all’ esistenza, all' indipendenza e alla massima libertà di
ricerca e critica nel campo del pensiero, lia anche il preciso dovere di
sottomettersi all’autorità della Chiesa e dello Stato nel campo
deU’azioue ; onde non è lecito a chi ne faccia parte nè diffondere le
propine convinzioni, ancora discutibili e non universalmente accettate,
tra i fedeli e i cittadini che vivono fuori della repubblica dotta, nè,
tanto meno, attuarle senz’ altro nel mondo sensibile, minando cosi,
o addirittura sovvertendo, senza il consenso di tutti, gli ordinamenti e
i poteri costituiti; Stato e Chiesa hanno il diritto di impedire ciò. Sarebbe
un’oppressione della coscienza proibire al predicatore di esporre in
scritti scientifici le sue convinzioni dissenzienti, ma rientra
perfettamente nel1’ordine vietargli di portarle sul pulpito, ed egli
stesso, se'è illuminato, sentirebbe la propria immoralità quando
facesse così. In conclusione: l’ultimo fine di ogni attività
sociale è l’accordo universale tra gli uomini, accordo non
possibile se non sul puro ragionevole, perchè qui soltanto
ritrovasi ciò che agli uomini è comune. Col presupposto d’ un tale
accordo cade la differenza tra un pubblico dotto e un pubblico non dotto ;
scompaiono anche Chiesa e Stato. Condividendo tutti le medesime convinzioni, a
che servirebbe più il potere legislativo e coercitivo dello Stato?
Riunite tutte le coscienze individuali nella visione diretta della
verità assoluta, a ohe servirebbero più i simboli provvisori e mutevoli
della Chiesa ? Il pensiero e l’azione di ciascuno confluirebbe col
pensiero e 1’ azione di tutti, la legge morale troverebbe la sua espressione
nella sublime armonia di tutti gli esseri ragionevoli e buoni, nella
suprema comunione dei santi, l’io empirico e individuale,
completamente liberato da ogni limitazione, svanirebbe completamente
in seno all’Io puro e assoluto, si attuerebbe, insomma, nella
realtà l’Ideale, l’Infinito, Dio. Il contenuto materiale della moralità è
tutto in Questo perenne e progressivo attuarsi del regno della ragione
nel regno della natura, è tutto in questa ascensione, in
quest’approssimarsi del mondo verso lo spirito, vei’so la Libertà. Da
quanto precede risulta evidente che l’io empirico q la persona è soltanto
mezzo all’ attuazione del fine supremo morale. La proposizione del Kant :
L’uomo è /ine in se, è giusta purché completata così : l'uomo è fine in
.sr. ma per gli altri. Siccome la legge si dirige a ciascuno e il
suo fine è la ragione in generale, ossia 1’ umanità tutta quanta, ne
segue che tutti sono fine a ciascuno, ma nessuno è fine a se stesso; 1’
attività di ciascuno è semplice strumento per attuare la ragione. Con che
la dignità del1’ uomo non è abbassata, è anzi inalzata, poiché a ciascun
individuo vien affidato il raggiungimento del fine universale della ragione e
dalla cura e dall’ attività di lui dipende l’intera comunità degli esseri
ragionevoli, mentre egli, invece, non dipende da nulla. Ciascuno diventa
Dio nella misura che gli è possibile, ossia con riguardo alla
libertà degli altri, e appunto perchè tutta la sua iudividualità scompare, egli
diventa pura rappresentazione della legge morale nel mondo sensibile,
vero Io puro. Errano di molto coloro che pongono la perfezione in pie
meditazioni, in un devoto covare sopra sé stessi, e di qui aspettano
l’annientarsi della propria individualità e il loro confluire culi la divinità;
la loro virtù è, o rimane, e geliamo ; essi vogliono fare perfetti
soltanto se stessi. La vera virtù, invece, consiste nell’operare, e
nell’operare per la comunità : è quindi oblio, abnegazione intera di sè
nell’interesse della totalità degli esseri ragionevoli. Se
cosi è, se l’io empirico o individuale serve solamente di mezzo all’attuazione
del fine supremo, ossia all’avvento del regno della ragione, ne segue che i
doveri verso l’io empirico sono mediati e condizionati di fronte a
quelli che, riferendosi direttamente al fine supremo, diconsi immediati e
incondizionati, ossia assoluti. Senonchè la promozione del fine supremo è
possibile soltanto in virtù di una ben disegnata divisione di lavoro,
altrimenti potrebbe molto accadere in più modi, e molto non accadere
affatto. È necessario, dunque, attuare una tale divisione di
lavoro, mediante 1’ istituzione di divei'se professioni, da cui nascono
doveri diversi, che diremo particolari o trasferibili (perchè s’impongono
soltanto a chi abbia scelto quella data professione) di fronte ai doveri
che sono generali o intrasferibili (perchè s’impongono indistintamente a tutti
gli esseri umani). Combinando questa seconda classificazione dei doveri, fatta
dal punto di vista del soggetto della moralità, con la precedente, fatta
dal punto di vista dell’oggetto della moralità, si hanuo quattro specie
di doveri: generali condizionati; particolari condizionati; generali
incondizionati; e particolari incondizionati. I doveri generali
condizionati abbiamo dette si
riferiscono all’io empirico in quanto mezzo e strumento
indispensabile per 1 adempimento della legge morale: primo
tra essi, dunque, V autoconservazione, la conservazione, cioè,
di questo mezzo o strumento. *L’ autoconservazione già richiesta dal
diritto naturale come condizione necessaria al I attuarsi di quel futuro da cui
attendiamo la soddisfazione implicita nell’oggetto del nostro volere
presente, e perciò come qualcosa di relativo
diventa per la moralità materia di un comando assoluto ; per 1’
uomo morale si tratta non più di attendere un risultato più o meno
egoistico e interamente conseguibile nel tempo, ma di lavorare
disinteressatamente all’attuazione di quel fine supremo di cui egli non
potrà mai godere, perchè posto all’ infinito. Dal dovere dell’
autoconservazione nasce : un
divieto : evita tutto ciò che, secondo la tua coscienza, può mettere in
pericolo la tua conservazione in quanto strumento della moralità (il digiuno e
1’intemperanza in riguai do al corpo, l’inerzia intellettuale, il soverchio
sforzo, l’occupazione irregolare, il disordine della fantasia, la coltura
unilaterale, ecc. in riguardo all’ intelligenza) ; non espone al pericolo
la tua salute, il tuo corpo, la tua vita, quando non vi sia necessità
morale. Segue da ciò la più recisa condanna del suicidio : la moralità
può comandare di esporre la vita, non già di distruggerla ; la vita è
la condizione stessa dell’ adempimento del dovere, e il suicidio,
distruggendo la vita, la sottrae appunto al dominio della legge ;
suicidarsi significa dichiarare di non voler più adempiere il dovere; un
comando : opera tutto quello che ritieni necessario alla tua
conservazione (il buon mauteuimeuto del corpo, il nuo adattamento perfetto
ai fini che deve conseguire, la coltura dell’intelligenza, la
ricreazione estetica, eco.). Non va mai dimenticato, però, che il dovere
dell’auto-conservazioue è condizionato, essendo l’io empirico semplice
strumento della moralità : quindi, dove il fine della moralità non fosse
compatibile col dovere «Iella conservazione, sarebbe moralmente necessario che
la vita dell’individuo venisse sacrificata a quel fine, che il dovere
coudizionato fosse subordinato al dovere incondizionato : quando la
moralità lo esige, ho il dovere di arrischiare la mia vita, e tutti i
pretesti con cui cercassi di nascondere la mia viltà per es., quello di risparmiarmi la vita per
operare ancora dell’ altro bene che altrimenti rimarrebbe incompiuto andrebbero contro il dovere, il quale comanda
in modo assoluto e non ammette indugi al suo adempimento. Tra i doveri
particolari condizionati attinenti,
cioè, ai diversi uffici e alle diverse professioni individuali sta anzitutto quello d’avere un ufficio,
d’esercitare una professione nell’interesse della società, di contribuire
in qualche misura all’ esistenza e all’ organizzazione sociale ;
poi 1’ altro di scegliersi a ogni modo un ufficio, una professione, e non già
secondo l’inclinazione, ma con la coscienza d’ avere la migliore attitudine
all’ uno o all’ altra, considerate le proprie forze, la propria coltura,
le condizioni esterne dipendenti da noi, poiché non il sodisfaci- mento
dei nostri gusti dev’ essere lo scopo della nostra vita, ma 1’
avanzamento del fine della ragione : onde gli uomini uou dovrebbero
scegliersi uno stato prima d’essere giunti alla necessaria maturità della
ragione, e sino a questa maturità si dovrebbe educarli tutti allo stesso modo;
infine il dovere di attendere con tutta coscienza all’ufficio o alla
professione prescelta, formando sempre meglio all’uno o all’ altra il
corpo e lo spirito, secondo che più occorre (all’agricoltore, per es.,
occorre più la forza e la resistenza fisica, all’ artista la destrezza e
1’ agilità dei movimenti, allo scienziato la coltura spirituale in tutte
le direzioni, ecc. Di una gerarchia delle professioni e degli uffici
secondo il loro grado di dignità, si può parlare dal punto di vista
sociale soltanto nel senso che le molteplici occupazioni umane sono
subordinate le une alle altre come il condizionato e la condizione, come il
mezzo e il fine ; ma dal punto di vista morale esse hanno tutte lo stesso
valore, tutte la stessa dignità : quel che importa è adempieide
bene. I doveri generali incondizionati si riferiscono non più allo
strumento, ma al fine stesso della moralità, che è il dominio della
ragione nel mondo sensibile e nella totalità degli individui per opera di
ciascun individuo. Primo tra essi il dovere verso quella libertà
formale di tutti gli esseri ragionevoli, nella quale sta 1’origine,
la radice stessa della moralità. La libertà formale di eia- scun
individuo poggia sopra due condizioni : la permanenza del rapporto tra la
volontà individuale e il corpo che ue è 1’ organo esecutivo; la
permanenza del rapporto tra il corpo individuale e il mondo sensibile che
ne è la sfera d’ azione. Di qui due specie di doveri concerneuti
l’inviolabilità: del corpo altrui; della altrui libertà d’azione: L'inviolabilità
del corpo altrui implica; il divieto di esercitare qualsiasi violenza o
coercizione fisica su altri (la condanna, quindi, della schiavitù, della
tortura, dell’ omicidio eoe.); il comando d’aver cura della vita e della
salute degli altri come della propria, essendo gli altri, al pari di noi,
strumenti della moralità (ama il tuo prossimo come te stesso); L’ altrui
libertà d’azione esige : in primo
luogo l’esatta conoscenza dei rapporti tra le cose, senza la quale manca
ogni garanzia che il risultato dell’ azione sarà conforme al disegno
della volontà; di qui il dovere della veracità, il quale implica: il
divieto d’ingannare il prossimo, con l’inganno [Grice, SNEAKY INTENTIONS] si
danneggia la libertà degl’altri, trattandoli non come persone ma come cose,
e la conseguente condauna DEL VENIR MENO ALLE PROMESSE E DEL MENTIRE. Nessuna
menzogna è lecita, neppure la menzogna pietosa, o la pretesa menzogna
necessaria, neppure col pretesto dell’interesse altrui, o, peggio ancora,
con quello dell’ interesse della moralità, perchè la menzogna stessa, per
essenza sua, nasce da viltà ed è sempre radicalmente immorale; comando
d’illuminare e istruire il prossimo e di COMUNICARGLI LA VERITÀ. In
secondo luogo la proprietà, ossia quella sfera d’azione nel mondo
sensibile senza la quale manca, oltreché la materia prima per attuare i
disegni della propria volontà, altresì la sicura coscienza di non
disturbare, con l’esercizio della propria libertà, la libertà degli
altri, come esige la legge morale ; di qui il dovere dell’ istituzione e
della conservazione della proprietà, il quale implica : a) il divieto di
distruggerla, usurparla o menomarla in qualsiasi maniera; il comando
d’acquistarsi una proprietà e di procurarne una a ciascun individuo (come
ogni oggetto dev’ èssere proprietà di ciascuno affinchè tutto il mondo
sensibile rientri nel dominio della ragione, così ognuno deve avere
una proprietà ; in uno Stato in cui un sol cittadino non abbia una
proprietà, ossia una sfera esclusiva se non di oggetti, almeno di diritti
a certe azioni, non esiste in generale nessuna legittima proprietà ; la
beneficenza consiste non nel fare l’elemosina, ma nel fornire a ciascuno
il modo di vivere del proprio lavoro). In fatto di libertà non può
mai nascere conflitto tra esseri che operino secondo ragione ; ma quando
della libertà si faccia un uso contrario al diritto, nasce collisione tra
determinati atti di più individui e viene posta in pericolo, quindi, la
vita o la proprietà, insomma la libertà del singolo. E poiché è
proprio dello Stato attuare l’idea della legalità, così spetta allo Stato
appianare gli eventuali conflitti tra individui, contenendo, mediante la
forza della legge giuridica, ciascuno entro i propri confini. Non sempre, però,
lo Stato può immediatamente intervenire a comporre contese : sottentra
allora il dovere della persona privata. È dovere universale, in tal caso,
salvare dal pericolo la libertà del1’ essere ragionevole, senza far distinzione
se si tratti di noi o di altri, perchè tutti, indistintamente, siamo
strumenti della logge morale. Se sono io l’aggredito, il dovere dell’
autoconservazione m’impone di difendermi con tutte le forze ; se è in
pericolo il mio simile a me vicino, l’amore del prossimo m’impone di
salvarlo anche a rischio della mia vita ; se più di uno è assalito nello
stesso tempo, si devo portare aiuto anzitutto a quello ohe si può
salvare più presto e del quale oi accorgiamo prima. In questo
adempimento del dovere non può essere mai mio fine uccidere 1’ aggressore, il
nemico, ma soltanto disarmarlo ; posso cercare d’indebolirlo, di ridurlo
all’ impotenza di ferirlo, ma
sempre in modo che la sua morte non sia il mio fine. u Se, peraltro,
rimanesse ucciso, ciò dipende dal caso, contro la mia intenzione, e io
non sono perciò responsabile „. Si deve, insomma, trattare il nemico con
1’ amore dovuto a ogni altro prossimo, perchè è aneli’ egli strumento
della moralità e se dalle sue azioni per il momento non si può concludere che
1’ opposto, non si deve, tuttavia, mai disperare che egli sia capace di
miglioramento. L’ uomo animato da sentimento morale non ha. nè riconosce,
nessun nemico personale; chi sente piu vivamente un’ ingiustizia soltanto
perchè fatta a lui, è ancora un egoista, è ancora lontano dalla vera
moralità. La libertà formale altrui, verso la quale s’impongono i doveri
ora descritti, è condizione necessaria ma non sufficiente per la moralità negli
altri ; questa è resa possibile da quella, ma, alfiuchè sia anche reale,
bisogna che gli altri prendano di fatto coscienza del loro dovere. Di
qui il comando, per chi si sia già elevato alla coscienza del
dovere, di allargare e promuovere la vita morale intorno a sè, di elevare
gli altri alla moralità. In qual modo? Poiché sarebbe assurdo voler
produrre la virtù con mezzi coercitivi, con premi o gastighi : la
moralità non si lascia imporre dal di fuori, nè per forza, ma nasce
soltanto da una determinazione interiore ; come può, dunque, tale
determinazione nascere per opera di un altro in colui che. ne è il
soggetto e che deve possedere già dentro di sé le condizioni atte a
produrla? 14li è che, per chi guardi bene, realmente esiste la
possibilità, di un influsso ^morale da coscienza a coscienza, ed esiste
grazie a un sentimento che serve di leva alla virtù, ma il cui sviluppo
esige appunto un’ azione dal di fuori, l’azione dell’esempio altrui : è
questo il sentimento del rispetto o della stima, il quale, sempre latente
nel cuore dell’uomo, da cui è inestirpabile, si desta, dinanzi alla condotta
virtuosa degli altri, suscita, a sua volta, il bisogno di provare il
medesimo sentimento dinanzi alla condotta propria, il bisogno,
cioè, dell’autostima, e sprona, per tal via, alla moralità. Sorge,
così, per ognuno il dovere del buon esempio, essendo l’esempio il vero
strumento dell’educazione morale. E poiché l’esempio, per avere efficacia, per
agire sulla coscienza altrui, dev’ essere pubblico, ne segue che anche la
pubblicità della condotta morale è per noi un dovere : essa nasce dalla
franchezza dell’ operare virtuoso e non ha nulla di comune con 1’
ostentazione, la quale deriva dal desiderio d’ essere ammirato. I doveri
particolari condizionati si dicono così perchè hanno sempre per oggetto
il fine supremo della moralità, il dominio della ragione, ina, anziché
all’umanità o alla società in genere, si riferiscono a ben
determinate relazioni umane, a ben definiti organismi sociali,
quale che sia la loro origine, vuoi da una stabile legge di natura — nel
qual caso diconsi naturali vuoi dalla
mobile scelta delle singole volontà — nel qual caso diconsi artificiali. Dalle
relazioni naturali nascono i doveri di stato, dalle artificiali i doveri
di vocazione. Due relazioni naturali sono possibili per l’uomo, e insieme
costituiscono l’organismo sociale della famiglia : la relazione tra
coniugi, la relazione tra genitori e figli. Di qui due specie di doveri
di stato : doveri tra coniugi, doveri tra genitori e figli, La relazione
coniugale è già 1’ inizio della moralità nella natura, segna già il
passaggio da questa a quella, perchè è uno stato che da una parte si
fonda sopra un IMPULSO NATURALE l’istinto sessuale — dall’ altra implica, in
entrambi x sessi, sentimenti — reciproca dedizione completa e perpetuo
reciproco amore, reciproca fedeltà che trasformano la sensualità brutale in una
spiritualità umana. Il coniugio, associazione naturale e morale a un tempo, è
condizione precipua per l’esistenza di quella società che vedemmo
essere a sua volta condizione cosi indispensabile per 1’attuarsi della
moralità, e, in quanto t,ale, costituisce un dovere che implica: il comando di
contrarre matrimonio, quando si verifichi la sua base naturale, 1’amore,
(l’individuo umano fisico non è un uomo o una donna, è, a un tempo, 1’uno
e 1’altra; lo stesso dicasi dell’individuo umano morale: vi sono in lui
aspetti dell’ umanità e proprio i
più nobili e disinteressati i quali
solamente nel matrimonio possono formarsi ; perciò u rimaner celibi
senza propria colpa è una grande infelicità, ma rimaner celibi per
propria colpa è una gran colpa „) ; fi) il divieto di relazioni sessuali
fuori del matrimonio (queste relazioni, infatti, sono fondate o sull’
amore della donna, e allora s’impone moralmente il matrimonio, ovvero
soltanto sul' piacere o sull’interesse, ohe vai quanto dire
sull’indegnità della donna, e allora sono immorali non solo per la
donna ohe si avvilisce, ma anche per l’uomo che l’avvilisce, che
vede in lei non più un essere umano e ragionevole, ma un semplice
strumento di voluttà. La relazione tra genitori e figli dà luogo a due
serie inverse di doveri: da parte dei genitori il dovere di vigilare la
vita e la salute dei loro nati e in pari tempo di suscitare e favorire in
essi lo sviluppo della libertà secondo la direzione del fine umano :
insomma il dovere dell’allevamento e del- P educazione alla moralità.
L’adempimento di questo dovere che del
resto è una specificazione del dovere universale che a tutti incombe di
plasmare sè e gli altri in conformità della legge morale risponde nella famiglia a un bisogno
del cuore, perchè la prole, per i coniugi, non è semplicemente prossimo,
ma il prodotto del loro reciproco amore ; da parte dei figli, se minorenni il
dovere di obbedienza, se maggiorenni il dovere di rispetto, venerazione,
assistenza ai genitori. Due relazioni artificiali,ma non meno
indispensabili delle naturali alla vita comune, possono essere stabilite dalla
libera scelta dei singoli individui e insieme costituiscono l’organismo
sociale dello Stato: agire direttamente sugli uomini, in quanto esseri
ragionevoli ; agire sulla natura, in quanto mezzo o strumento per le
nostre azioni verso gli uomini. Su questa base e in forza della suaccennata
necessità di una armonica divisione del lavoro movale e di una
organizzazione gerarchica dell’attività degl’ individui per la promozione del
fine supremo, si distinguono due specie di classi sociali, con due
corrispondenti specie di doveri di vocazione : classi superiori (scienziati,
educatori, artisti, impiegati), che lavo- t vano al
progresso spirituale della società, e sono, perciò, quasi 1’ anima dello
Stato; classi inferiori (minatori, agricoltori, artigiani, commercianti)
che assicurano 1’ esistenza economica della società e sono, perciò, quasi
il corpo dello &tato. Quali i doveri di vocazione delle classi
superiori ? L’ uomo allora soltanto adempirà la sua vera destinazione
quando abbia una visione chiara del dovere ; è necessario, dunque, formare
anzitutto la sua conoscenza teorica. Tale ufficio è la missione del dotto. Chi
consideri tutti gli uomini come una sola famiglia, è tratto a fare
delle loro cognizioni un unico sistema, il quale si accresce e si elabora
attraverso i secoli, come si accresce e si elabora attraverso gli anni
l’esperienza del singolo individuo. Ciascuna generazione, quindi, eredita
dal passato un tesoro di formazione scientifica, che la classe dotta è
chiamata a conservare e aumentare. I dotti sono i depositari e
quasi 1’ archivio della coltura della loro età; non però alla maniera dei
non dotti, che si arrestano ai risultati, si bene come chi possiede anche
i principi ohe condussero lo spi- L’essenza e la missione del dotto
furono più volte per il Fichte argomento di conferenze e di lezioni. Vedi
in proposito nel voi. VI dei Sàmmtl. Werke Ueber die Bestimmung des
Gelchrten, lezioni tenute a Erlangen; e nel voi. Ili dei Nachgel. Werhe,
Ueber die Bestimmung des Gelchrten, cinque lezioni tenute a Berlino.
A rito umano a questi risultati. E primo dovere del dotto,
quindi, acquistare una veduta stori co-filosofica del cammino della scienza
sino al suo tempo: altrimenti egli non potrebbe nè intendere il
significato della verità, uè epurarla dagli errori che 1* offuscano. È inoltre
dovere del dotto amare rigorosamente la verità e lavorare al suo
progresso mediante una ricerca sincera e disinteressata. la quale non si
proponga altro che servire al fine ultimo dell’umanità, all’avvento del
regno della ragione nel mondo. Il dotto, come ogni virtuoso, deve obliare
se stesso in questo fine : fare sfoggio di abilità nel difendere
errori sfuggiti o brillanti paradossi è soltanto egoismo e vanità
che la morale disapprova e un’ elementare prudenza sconsiglia ; perchè soltanto
il vero e il buono permane : il falso, per quanto sfolgori a tutta prima,
è destinato a perire. La formazione della conoscenza teorica è
solfante mezzo al fine supremo di promuovere la moralità, ed è un
mezzo inefficace quando non vi si aggiunga l’operare pratico, quando, cioè,
alla visione da parte dell’intelligenza non si aggiunga l’azione da parte
della volontà. Ora, è ufficio d’ur.a speciale classe di dotti, dedicarsi
in modo particolare all’ educazione della volontà del pubblico non
dotto, alla moralizzazione del popolo : sono essi i ministri della
Chiesa, i quali, appunto perchè si sono messi al servizio della comunità
etico-religiosa, hanno il dovere di adempiere il loro ufficio in nome
della comunità stessa, attenendosi scrupolosamente a ciò ohe è oggetto di
fede generale, al simbolo. Debbono, si, essere uomini di scienza e,
ilei loro campo speciale, vedere al di là e meglio di quanto vedano le
anime affidate alla loro cura, ma nel- 1 educare queste anime, nell’
inalzarle a vedute superiori, devono procedere in modo che tutte a un
tempo possano seguirli, altrimenti si romperebbe quell’accordo
spirituale che fa 1 essenza della Chiesa. Gli educatori del popolo,
in quanto tali, non devono svolgere o dimostrare conoscenze teoretiche e
principi, e tanto meno polemizzarvi sopra, come si fa nella repubblica
dotta; non è loro missione porre articoli di fede o creare la fede — perchè
articoli e fède esistono già come legame vivente della comunità etico-religiosa
ma ravvivare e rafforzare la fede che il credente ha già nel progresso
morale, ed elevare con essa lo spirito di lui all’eterno, al divino.
Soprattutto l’esempio che danno è importante a tal fine; la fede
della comunità riposa in grandissima parte sulla fede loro, e il più
spesso non è che una fede nella loro fede. Ora, se in essi la vita non
risponde alla fede, la fiducia in questa rimane profondamente scossa. Spetta
al dotto formare 1’intelligenza, spetta all’educatore morale formare la volontà
dell’ uomo: sta tra i due l’artista, il quale ha il privilegio di educare
il senso estetico, interposto come tratto d’unione tra la conoscenza teoretica
e1’attività pratica. L’artista non agisce soltanto sull’ intelletto, come
fa 1’uomo di scienza, nè soltanto sul cuore, come fa il moralista
popolare, ma sullo spirito umano tutto quanto: l’arte bella investo e
pervade tutta l’anima in quanto siuLesi di tutte le facoltà. La formula
pili espressiva di ciò che 1’arte fa è la seguente: l' arie rende coninne il
punto di vista trascendentale. Il filosofo s’eleva ed eleva con sé gl’altri
a questo punto di vista col lavoro del pensiero e seguendo una regola;
l’artista vi si trova già senza rendersene conto: nou ne conosce
altri. Bai punto di vista trascendentale il mondo è fatto: dal punto
di vista comune il mondo è dato; dal punto di vista estetico il mondo è
dato, sì, ma non altrimenti che come tatto. Il mondo reale, voglio dire la
natura, presenta due aspetti: d’un lato è il prodotto delle
determinazioni o limitazioni a noi poste, dall’altro è il prodotto
della nostra attività libera, ideale, trascendentale. Sotto il
primo rispetto la natura è essa stessa limitata da ogni parte, sotto
il secondo è da per tutto libera. La prima maniera di vedere è volgare, la
seconda è estetica. Per es., ogni forma nello spazio può considerarsi
come circoscritta dai corpi vicini, ma anche come la manifestazione della
forza espansiva, della pienezza interna del corpo che ha questa forma.
Chi vede i corpi nelle prima maniera uon vede che forme contorte,
compresse, mostruose: vede la bruttezza; chi li vede nella seconda maniera,
vede in essi la vigoria, la vita, lo sforzo della natura: vede la
bellezza. Vale altrettanto della legge morale: in quanto comanda
assolutamente essa comprime ogni tendenza della natura, e veder la nostra natura
a questo modo è come vederla schiava; ma la legge morale fa tutt’uno con
l’Io, ne è anzi l’espressione più intima, onde, obbedendo ad essa, obbediamo
a noi stessi: veder la nostra natura a quest’altra mauiei’a è vederla
esteticamente, ossia come bellezza. L’artista vede tutto dal lato bello, vede
in tutto energia, vita, libertà; il suo mondo è interiore, è nel1 umanità,
e perciò 1’arte riconduce 1’uomo al fondo di ne stesso, strappandolo al
dominio della natura, liberandolo dai vincoli della sensibilità e
rendendogli l’indipendenza, che e il supremo fine morale. Idi guisa che il
senso estetico non e.la virtù, ma prepara alla virtù, e la coltura
estetica ha, un rapporto positivo coll’avanzamento del fine morale. La
moralità dell’ artista può raccogliersi in questi due precetti: un
itimelo per tutti gli uomini: non ti fare artista a dispetto della natura,
non pretendere d’essere artista quando la natura non t’ispira; un comando
per il vero artista: guardati dal favorire, o per egoismo, o per desiderio
di fama, il gusto corrotto del tuo tempo; sforzati soltanto a riprodurre
l’ideale che è in te; ispiiati alla santità della tua missione, e sarai, a
un tempo, uomo migliore e migliore artista. L’opera del dotto
dell’educatore e dell’artista, in servigio del fine supremo morale, presuppone
sempre quella libera reciprocità d’azione tra gl’uomini, che è
condizione prima di ogni comunità e a garantir la quale — finché il regno
della ragione non sia una realtà è necessario lo stato. Quali sono ora i
doveri degl’impiegati, ossia degl’ufficiali dello stato? L’impiegato subalterno
è rigorosamente legato alla lettera della legge, la quale, perciò, dev’essere
chiara e uon dar luogo a dubbi d’interpretazione. Quanto all’impiegato
superiore, al legislatore, al giudice inappellabile, i quali non sono che
i gerenti della volontà comune affermatasi, espressamente o
tacitamente, nel contratto sociale – H. P. Grice: “A myth!” --, debbono
aneli’essi conformarsi alla costituzione politica attuale, nata dalla
volontà comune, con la riserva, però, di perfezionarla secondo le idee
della ragione, tenendo gli occhi tìnsi alla costituzione ideale. Chi regge
lo stato deve avere una chiara veduta circa il fine della costituzione il
quale non può essere che il progresso umano — deve, perciò, elevarsi
mediante concetti sopra 1’esperienza comune, dev’essere un do'tto nella
sua materia, deve, come dice Platone, partecipare alle Idee, e lavorare
all’attuazione dell’ideale, favorendo la coltura delle classi superiori.
Da queste classi il progresso si diffonderà poi nella comunità tutta quanta e
trarrà seco, col suffragio universale, la riforma della costituzione. Il
reggitore di uno Stato, quindi, è sempre responsabile dinanzi al suo
popolo del modo ond’egli lo governa, e se può considerarsi come legittima ogni
costituzione che non renda impossibile il progresso in generale e quello
dei singoli individui, sarebbe assolutamente illegittimo e immorale
un governo che si proponesse di conservare tutto com’ è attualmente. Quali
i doveri di vocazione delle classi inferiori ? La nostra vita e il nostro
operare sono condizionati dalla materia, la quale va trattata
conformemente al fine supremo che è il dominio della ragione sulla
natura. Quanto piu questo dominio si estende, tanto più l’umanità
progredisce ; è necessario, dunque, elaborare la rozza natura e renderla
adatta ai fini spirituali ; è qui, appunto, 1’ ufficio delle classi sociali
inferiori, il cui lavoro, riferendosi come ogni altro alla moralità di
tutti, ha il medesimo valore etico del lavoro delle classi superiori,
alla pve/sibilità del quale è condizione indispensabile. E poiché dal
perfezionamento meccanico e tecnico del lavoro materiale è facilitata] la
conquista della natura, ed è quindi promosso il progresso dell’ umanità,
è nu dovere per le classi inferiori migliorare e inalzare il loro
mestiere. TI che riohiede 1’adempimento d un altro dovere concernente i
rapporti tra la classe inferiore e la superiore. Il perfezionamento industriale
dipende da conoscenze, scoperte, invenzioni, che rientrano nell ufficio
professionale dei dotti ; è dovere, dunque, della classe inferiore,
onorare la classe piò colta appunto perchè, tale e attenersi ai consigli
e alle proposte che da essa le provengono per quanto riguarda il
miglioramento di questo o quel ramo d’industria, di questo o quel genere
di vite, domestica, di questo o quel sistema di educazione, ecc.
Dal canto suo, poi, la classe superiore, ben lungi dal disprezzai e, deve
tenere nella piu alta stima la classe inferiore, rispettarne la libertà,
riconoscere il valore dell’opera sua in riguardo agli interessi superiori
dell’ umanità. Soltanto in una giusta reciprocanza di rapporti tra le
varie classi sociali sta la base del perfezionamento umano, inteso
come fine supremo di ogni dottrina morale. Riassumendo, la dottrina morale,
nelle tre parti in cui si divide, si propone un triplice oggetto e
ottiene un triplice risultato. Anzitutto nella deduzione del
principio della moralità Fichte mostra come LA RAGIONE E LA LIBERTÀ, le
quali a tutta prima per la coscienza empirica non sono che ideali,
divengano poi in essa principi di azione, esercitino una causalità. L’io
empirico individuale non può porsi nè pensarsi se non in base all’io puro
universale, se non in quanto ha per principio e per fine l’Ideale; e l’io
puro universale non può attuarsi se non ha per strumento l’io
empirico individuale. L’ unità dell’ ideale non acquista causalità, non diviene
efficace nel mondo se non pluralizzandosi, quasi in centri luminosi, in spiriti
individuali, i quali soltauto possono dirsi realmente esistenti e attivi.
Ora, appunto questo reciproco rapporto tra i molteplici io empirici e 1’unico
Io puro fornisce il contenuto del dovere e rende il dovere intelligibile.
Il dovere, infatti, è la necessita imposta all’io puro, ossia alla Libertà, di
attraversare 1’intelligenza, ossia l’io empirico, di divenire quindi
intelligibile, per passare dallo stato ideale di potenza a quello leale
di atto, necessità che non significa eteronomia perchè non impone alla
Libertà se non la propria attuazione. L’intelligibilità del dovere : ecco il
primo risultato che Fichte ottiene, colmando l’abisso che Kant lascia
aperto tra la conoscenza e la volontà – cf. H. P. Grice, KANTOTLE --, e
facendo dell’ intelligenza la condizione interna, il veicolo della
libertà; poiché l’intelligenza esprime quasi lo sforzo della libertà infinita
per assumere, con la coscienza di sè, la forma del reale. In secondo
luogo, a proposito dell’applicabilità del principio morale, Fichte mostra
come il mondo si presti all attuazione della ragione e della libertà ; il
che significa che la natura non è radicalmeute cattiva, non è
assolutamente refrattaria allo spirito; c’ è anzi una stretta parentela tra lo
spirito e la natura, non essendo questa che un prodotto inconscio di
quello. Soltanto che l’attuazione del1’ideale morale non si compie a un tratto
nel mondo con un semplice decreto della volontà, ma è la meta di un
progresso. L’idea di sviluppo, di progresso è una categoria della
moralità; ecco il secondo risultato che Fichte ottiene eliminando l’assoluta
irriducibilità riaffermata dal Kant tra libertà e natura . spirito e
materia, idealità e realtà, e facendo la natura, la materia, la realtà
suscettive di un progressivo liberarsi, spiritualizzarsi, idealizzarsi
all’infinito. Infine, nel fare 1’applicazione del principio morale, Fichte
mostra come il progresso richieda, per compiersi, una duplice condizione; l’uua
formale : occorre che 1’individuo acquisti in sè la coscienza della
libertà e della legge morale; 1’altra materiale : occorre che
1’individuo apprenda come il contenuto del dovere sia nell’ attuare
la moralità non solo in lui, ma anche fuori di lui, negli altri
individui, nel genere umauo tutto quanto, la cui totalità appunto
rappresenta la ragione universale ; occorre, insomma, che 1’individuo sappia di
essere strumento indispensabile per 1’ attuarsi dell’ ideale nel mondo, per
1’emancipazione cioè dell’ umanità intera dai vincoli della natura e per
la sua elevazione al regno dello spirito. La sostituzione d’ un ideale sociale
a un ideale individuale: ecco il terzo risultato che Fichte ottiene
trasformando la formula kantiana. Ogni uomo è esso stesso fine in quest’altra:
ogni uomo è esso stesso fine in quanto mezzo ad attuale la ragione
universale „ e subordinando così il singolo al tutto, 1’individuo all’
umanità. È facile argomentare, in base a questo triplice risultato, le
radicali innovazioni di cui, rispetto alla morale tradizionale, è feconda la
dottrina fichtiana. L’intelligibilità del dovere porta seco la
razionalità dell’azione e sostituisce alla fede, opera della grazia
divina o di uu impulso incosciente, la convinzione della
propria coscienza, l’unione indissolubile dell’energia della volontà
con la luce del pensiero. Per ben operare, all’ intellettualismo socratico
basta il retto giudizio, al volontarismo cristiano basta il cuore puro: Fichte
fonde i due 'punti di vista ed esige per la moralità degli atti così la
dirittura del giudizio come la purezza del cuore, così l’intima
persuasione come la buona volontà. Un dovere IRRAZIONALE, impenetrabile a ogni
sforzo della riflessione è, secondo lui, altrettanto immorale quanto un
dovere adempiuto per secondi fini. Inintelligibilità e insincerità sono per
Fichte ugualmente incompatibili col concetto del dovere. L’ idea di
sviluppo e di progresso, intesa come categoria della moralità, porta seco la
riabilitazione della natura rispetto allo spirito, alla cui attuazione, anziché
ostacolo, è condizione e mezzo. Senza la natura vedemmo mancherebbe allo
spirito l’oggetto su cui esercitare la propria attività, la quale ha bisogno
d’agire sulla natura per liberarsi dalla natura; senza i corpi
individuali, che della natura fanno parte, mancherebbe alla libertà dello
spirito il modo di pluralizzarsi in tante sfere d’ azione, le
quali, sebbene distinte, sono in recipi'oco rapporto fra loro, sì
da applicarsi tutte al medesimo universo e da rappresentare, unite
insieme, e attuare la vivente unità del cosmo e della ragione universale.
Ogni organismo corporeo, infatti, è strumento indispensabile affinchè la libera
attività spirituale abbia causalità nel mondo ; e da ciò deriva a esso e,
per estensione, a tutta quanta la natura, una consacrazione morale, che
non si accorda con la condanna della natura e del corpo pronunziata dall’
ascetismo cristiano, ma nemmeno con l’apoteosi della natura e del corpo
celebrata dall’edonismo pagauo ; una consacrazione morale che vieta a un
tempo così la macerazione, come il blandimento della carne, e che mentre,
restituisce alla vita dei sensi il suo ufficio subordinato e la sua vera
finalità nella vita morale si ricordi la prescrizione fichtiana già
citata: Mangiate e bevete a gloria di Dio; se questa morale vi sembra
troppo austera, tanto peggio per voi ; non ce n’ è un’ altra „ non ritiene necessario nè una risurrezione
dei corpi, nè un’ immortalità personale. Perché Fichte non si contenta
più di una moralità che miri a una vita futura, o che si appaghi di un
sogno di perfezione interiore, ma vuole attuare sulla terra stessa il
regno dei cieli, riponendo la beatitudine, come già il Lessing aveva detto
della verità, non nel possesso, ma nella conquista della
libertà: essere liberi è nulla, divenire liberi è il cielo! La
sostituzione dell’ ideale sociale all’ ideale individuale porta seco
l’inversione del rapporto di dipendenza tra morale e diritto,
1’accentuazione massima del valore del regime di giustizia e la radicale
trasformazione del concetto tradizionale di carità. È, infatti, un’
originale caratteristica della dottrina fichtiana l’aver posto non più
come si soleva in passato la morale a condizione del diritto, ma il
diritto a condizione della morale. Per Fichte la libertà, materia del
dovere, non si concepisce senza la società, ma la società non si
concepisce senza rapporti di giustizia, dunque la giustizia, ossia il
diritto (juslitiu da jus = diritto) è il fondamento della morale ;
affinchè la moralità possa attuarsi, occorre prima assicurare a
tutti 1’EGUAGLIANZA nel possesso della libertà esteriore, e procurare a
tutti indistintamente, con una legislazione regolatrice dell’attività
economica, quella parte di agiatezza materiale che è necessaria all’opera di
emancipazione morale o di elevazione verso la vita dello spirito. Questa
emancipazione ed elevazione spirituale, poi, non deve uè può finire nel singolo
individuo, che nella dottrina fiohtiana nou ha per sè nessun valore
assoluto, ma dev’ essere promossa da ciascun uomo in tutti gli altri
uomini, perchè l’ideale etico, ben lungi dal ridurci a una salvezza
individuale, a una perfezione interiore, a una santità eremitica
incurante della sorte delle altre anime, o una santità operosa soltanto
per conquistarsi un posto nel cielo, consiste invece nella moralizzazione
e nella salvezza di tutto il genere umano, nell’avvento del regno della
ragione su questa terra e in tutta 1’umanità. Di qui deriva, secondo
Fichte, il vero concetto della carità: sforzarsi d’inalzare i nostri
simili alla moralità. Ciascuno deve proporsi non la propria felicità, e
nemmeno soltanto la propria libertà e indipendenza particolare, ma la libertà
universale, la salute spirituale di tutti; il culmine della virtù per
l’individuo è darsi in olocausto per la salvezza del mondo,
accettando coraggiosamente l’imperativo ingrato, se si vuole, ma
categorico, di lavorare senza riposo e senza ricompensa, a un fine di cui
non vedrà mai l’adempimento completo, al trionfo infinitamente lontano
della ragione, e di lavorarvi in un ambiente spesso indifferente ed
ostile, con penosi sacrifizi, senz’ altro stimolo che il puro amore del dovere,
senz’ altra gioia che quella di avere colla propria abnegazione contribuito
all’ordine universale! Concezione sublime questa, che ricorda l’altra
affine dello Zend Avesta, la quale fa dipendere aneli’ essa la salvezza
di ciascuno dalla salvezza di tutti e comanda a ognuno di combattere,
secondo i propri mezzi e secondo il posto assegnatogli, il regno delle
tenebre e del male e di lavorare al trionfo della luce e del bene. E
nonostante questa abnegazione di sè nell’ interesse della ragione
universale, l’io individuale conserva tutta la propria realtà e
personalità, nè potrebbe avere una dignità ma'ggiore, poiché quale
dignità può ritenersi più grande di quella di un essere dalla cui azione
dipende la salvezza di tutti e alla salvezza del quale concorre 1’ universalità
degli esseri ragionevoli [Tale concezione trovasi eloquentemente illustrata da
Ficlite anche nella terza delle conferenze da lui tenute a Jena
sulla Missione ilei dotto ; ne riportiamo qui, liberamente tradotta, la
bella chiusa che è quasi una lirica: Se l’idea liuora svolta si considera auche
prescindendo da ogni rapporto con noi stessi, siamo portati a vedere fuori di
uoi una collettività in cui nessuno può lavorare per sè senza lavorare per gli
altri, nè lavorare per gli altri senza lavorare in pari tempo per sè,
essendo il progresso dell’ uno progresso di tutti, la perdita dell’ uno
perdita di tutti : spettacolo questo che ci sodisfa intimamente e solleva
alto il nostro spirito con la visione dell’armonia nella varietà.
L’interesse aumenta se, riportando lo sguardo sopra noi stessi, ci riconosciamo
membri di questa grande e stretta comunione. Sentiamo rafforzarsi la
coscienza della nostra dignità e della nostra forza, quando diciamo a noi
stessi ciò che ognuno può dire : la mia esistenza non è inutile e senza
scopo ; io sono un anello necessario dell’ infinita catena che, dal
momento in cui 1’ uomo assurse per la prima volta alla piena
consapevolezza del proprio essere, si svolge verso l’eternità; quanti,
tra gli uomini, furono grandi, buoni e saggi, i benefattori dell' umanità
i cui nomi leggo registrati nella storia del inondo, e i tanti i cui
meriti rimangono, mentre i nomi sono dimenticati, tutti hanno lavorato per
me; io raccolgo i frutti delle loro fatiche; ricalco sulla via che essi
percorsero le loro orme benefiche. Io posso, tosto che lo voglia, riprendere 1’
ufficio altissimo che essi si erano proposto ; rendere, cioè, sempre più
saggi e più felici i nostri fratelli ; posso continuare a costruire là
dove essi dovettero smettere; posso portare più vicino al compimento il
tempio magnifico che essi dovettero lasciare incompiuto. Ma anch’ io dovrò smettere
il [mio lavoro come essi, dirà qualcuno
Oh ! questo è il pensiero più elevato di tutti. Se assumo quell’
ufficio altissimo, non lo potrò mai portare a termine; quanto è certo che
è mio dovere l’accettarlo, altrettanto è certo che Amiamo sperare che la
precedente esposizione della Dol/t'ina morale del Fichte non riesca
inutile per chi si accinga a leggere il volume, se non nella lingua,
nello stile del suo autore. Certo non tutti accetteranno integralmente
l’ardita metafisica ivi presupposta che
volentieri chiameremmo Etilica come quella dello Spinoza e che è
forse, per adoperare una felice espressione di BARZELLETTI (vedasi), la più
eroica presa di possesso che mai mente umana abbia potuto fare, a un
tempo, e del mondo delle idee e del mondo della realtà ma tutti, senza
dubbio, saranno colpiti dalla originalità, profondità e finezza
delle vedute psicologiche ivi proiettate e analizzate con arte
insuperabile, e in particolar modo dalla nobiltà dei senti- non potrò mai
cessare d’operare; quindi non potrò mai cessare d’essere. Ciò che si suoi
chiamare morte non può interrompere 1’ opera mia; perchè l’opera mia
dev’essere compiuta, e non può essere compiuta nel tempo ; perciò la mia
esistenza non è limitata nel tempo ed io sono eterno. Assumendo parte di
quell’ufficio sommo, ho fatto mia l’eternità. Sollevo fieramente il capo
verso le rocce minaccioso, verso le cascate spumeggianti, verso le nuvole
velegginoti in un oceano di fuoco, e dico : io sono eterno e sfido il
vostro potere. Irrompete tutti su di me, e tu, cielo, e tu, terra, precipitate
in un selvaggio tumulto, e voi tutti, o elementi, spumeggiate e
rumoreggiato e stritolate nella lotta selvaggia pur 1’ ultimo atomo del
corpo che io dico mio ; la mia volontà sola, col suo fermo proposito,
aleggerà ardita e fredda sopra le rovine dell’ universo, perchè io ho
assunto la mia missione, e questa è più duratura di voi : è eterna, e, al
pari di essa, sono eterno io (Einige Vorlesungen ilber din
Bcstimmung dea Gelehrten, Summit. Werke)
V. la trad. franc., di Nicolas, De la destinatimi da savant et de
l'liomine de lettres par Fichte, Paris, De Ladrauge; e la trad. ital. di E.
Roncali, con prefaz. di Vitali, G. A. Fichte, La missione del dotto,
Lanciano, Carabba; La Storia della Eiloso/ia (estratto dalla Nuova
Antologia) p. 2. menti ivi espressi con forza sempre, e spesso con
vivezza di colorito. Del resto non c’è una sola opera del nostro
filosofo che non elevi e non fortifichi l’anima del lettore perchè i suoi
seritti, .emanazione diretta delle più intime e salde convinzioni, e la
sua vii* di pensiero, rientrano nel ciclo di quella vita d’azione che fa
del Fichte una personalità tipica, un represen latice man, direbbe l’Emerson.
E invero egli appartiene come già
affermammo all’eletta schiera di quegli
eroi, la cui apparizione nella storia diventa un possesso eterno per
l’umanità, e la memoria dei quali durerà quanto il mondo lontana.
Il carattere adamantino della sua figura morale, la quale è un’
unità altrettanto solida quanto ben fusa, grazie alla più perfetta
armonia tra idee pai-ole e opere, risulta scultoreamente espresso in questa
solenne dichiarazione, da lui fatta all’ inizio della sua carriera
universitaria : u Io sono un sacerdote della verità ; la mia esistenza è
votela al suo servizio; sono impegnato a tutto fare, tutto osare,
tutto soffrire per essa. Se per causa sua fossi perseguitato e odiato, se
dovessi anche morire, che farei di straordinario? nulla più che il mio assoluto
dovere. Parole, queste, che spiegano bene il poderoso influsso,
spiritual- mente rigeneratore, esercitato dal Fichte sui suoi
conna- ziouali e contemporanei, influsso che, propagandosi nello
spazio e nel tempo, ha suscitato e susciterà sempre sublimi emozioni e
risoluzioni virili in mille e mille anime, Cfr. prec. Einiye Vorlesungen
iiber die Bestini muny (Ics Gelehrten (Sdmmtl. Werke). che pur non udirono
mai la voce di lui. Costante missione di questo eminente spirito fu : destare
negli uomini il senso della divinità della propria natura, fissare i
loro pensieri sopra una vita spirituale come l’unica e vera,
insegnar loro a guardare a qualcos’ altro che la pura apparenza e irrealtà e
guidarli così allo sforzo tenace verso i più alti ideali di purezza,
abnegazione, giustizia, SOLIDARIETÀ e libertà. Questa infinita risonanza
di idee, sentimenti e propositi, attraverso le generazioni, nel tempo e nello
spazio, questa immensa simpatia e solidarietà umana che eccelle tra i principi fondamentali della
dottrina liclitiana èprofondamente
sentita dal Fichte stesso, come può rilevarsi anche dalla seguente bella
pagina con cui si chiude la seconda conferenza sulla Missione del Dotto. Ognuno
può dire : chiunque tu sia, tu che hai sembianze umane, sei un membro di
questa grande comunità; sia pure infinito il numero di quelli che stauuo tra me
e te, io so, nondimeno, che il mio influsso giungerà sino a te, e il tuo
sino a me ; chiunque porti sul viso, per quanto rozzamente espressa,
l’impronta della ragione, non esiste invano per me. Ma io non ti conosco,
nè tu conosci me. Oh! quanto è corto che ambedue siamo chiamati a esser
buoni e a divenire sempre migliori, tanto è certo che verrà il giorno, e sia
pure tra milioni e bilioni d’ anni (che è mai il tempo ?), verrà il
giorno, dico, in cui trascinerò anche te nella mia sfera d’azione, in cui
potrò beneficarti e ricevere benefizi da te, in cui anche il tuo cuore
sarà avvinto al mio coi viucoli, i più belli, di un libero scambio di
reciproche azioni (Siimmtl. Werke. Nome compiuto: Cleto Carbonara. Keywords: l’esperienza
e la prattica, esperienza, dull title: “l’empirismo come filosofia
dell’esperienza”! – i periti conversazionale – esperienza dell’altro, persona e
persone – solipsism, anti-solipsismo – esperienza, sperimento, esperire,
perito, perizia, per, fare, fahren, --. altri, altro, l’altro, l’altri, la
filosofia pratica, etica e diritto, la filosofia pratica di Giovanni Amedeo
Fichte, il pratico e l’aletico. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco di
H. P. Grice, “Grice e Carbonara,” The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Speranza,
Liguria, Italia.
Luigi Speranza -- Grice e Carbone: la
ragione conversazionale e l’implicatrua conversazionale – scuola di Mantova –
filosofia lombarda -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco
di H. P. Grice, The Swimming-Pool Library (Mantova). Filosofia lombarda. Filosofo italiano. Mantova, Lombardia. Grice: “I
love Carbone; my favourite of his tracts are on the ‘unexpressible’ – a
contradictio in terminis – and on ‘the flesh and the voice’ – but the favourite-favourite are his tract on ‘il bello’ (‘eidos ed eidolon’)
and even more, his “La dialettica”. Si laurea a
Bologna con “Marxismo: i soggetti nella storia". Studia a Padova. Insegna
a Milano. Opere: Condannàti alla libertà, adattamento teatrale del romanzo di
Sartre L'età della ragione, che è stato messo in scena in quello stesso anno.
Fonda a Pisa con il sostegno del Leverhulme Trust un
Programma di ricerca sulla filosofia, concentrandolo
su alcune delle sue figure più importanti e sulle parole-chiave: l'essere, la
vita, il concetto». Dirige la collana f«L'occhio e lo spirito. Estetica,
fenomenologia, per Mimesis Edizioni. Si
concentra sulla fenomenologia di Merleau-Ponty, indagandone il duplice ma
unitario significato estetico di riflessione filosofica sull'esperienza
percettiva e sull'esperienza artistica attraverso l'esame del parallelo
interesse manifestato da Merleau-Ponty per Cézanne e Proust. Tale indirizzo di
studi si è allargato dapprima a una più vasta considerazione della
fenomenologia e poi a quella del pensiero post-strutturalistico sviluppatosi in
Francia, pur mantenendosi imperniato sul parallelo interesse per la riflessione
filosofica sulla pittura e sulla letteratura moderne. Questo ampliamento ha
inoltre condotto gli studi ad affrontare tematiche di carattere gnoseologico e
ontologico, spingendolo anche a problematizzare il tradizionale rapporto tra la
filosofia e la "non filosofia". Tli orientamenti hanno trovato sbocco
in una riflessione sul peculiare statuto delle immagini nella nostra epoca,
sulle possibili implicazioni etico-politiche del rapporto con esse e sulla
dimensione ontologica dell'"essere in comune" (morire insieme,
dividualita, dividuo). che in tali implicazioni troverebbe espressione. Cura Merleau-Ponty
(Il visibile e l'invisibile; Linguaggio Storia Natura, La Natura, È possibile
oggi la filosofia? Saggi eretici sulla filosofia della storia) e Cassirer -- Eidos
ed eidolon, il bello. Influenzato prevalentemente
da Merleau-Ponty, di cui ha sviluppato in maniera teoreticamente personale
alcune nozioni. Tra queste, spicca il concetto di "idea sensibile",
intesa quale essenza che s'inaugura nel nostro incontro col sensibile e da
questo rimane inseparabile, sedimentandosi in una temporalità retroflessa --"tempo
mitico". Alla prima di queste nozioni è dedicato il dittico “Ai confini
dell'esprimibile” e “Una deformazione senza precedente: la idea sensibile Porta
a sintesi le implicazioni filosofiche delle nozioni sopra citate nel concetto
di "de-formazione senza precedenti", con cui egli intende
caratterizzare il peculiare statuto che a suo avviso la de-formazione assume
nell'arte, al fine di staccarsi dal principio imitativo della rappresentazione
e dunque dalla concezione del modello inteso quale “forma” preliminarmente
data. Alle nozioni sopra menzionate si è andata successivamente collegando
quella di "precessione reciproca" tra l’immaginario e il reale che Carbone
ha proposto di dar conto del prodursi della peculiare temporalità retroflessa
detta "tempo mitico". Cerca di sviluppare le implicazioni
etico-politiche della concezione della memoria legata all'idea di
"deformazione senza precedenti" nella sua riflessione sue venti di
cui ha sottolineato l'irriducibile carattere visivo indagandolo pertanto
mediante un approccio anzitutto estetico. Cerca le radici ontologiche di tali
implicazioni etico-politiche della filosofia, proponendo le nozioni di
"a-individuale" e di "dividuo" per sottolineare
l'intrinseco carattere re-lazionale (e dunque il divenire e la divisibilità) di
ogni identità. Altre saggi: “Ai confini
dell'esprimibile. Merleau-Ponty a partire da Cézanne e da Proust, Milano,
Guerini); Il sensibile e l'eccedente. Mondo estetico, arte, pensiero, Milano,
Guerini e Associati); Di alcuni motivi in Marcel Proust, Milano, Libreria
Cortina); La carne e la voce. In dialogo tra estetica ed etica, Milano, Mimesis);
Essere morti insieme (Torino, Bollati Boringhieri). Sullo schermo
dell'estetica. La pittura, il cinema e la filosofia da fare, Milano, Mimesis). Una
deformazione senza precedenti. la idea sensibile, Macerata, Quodlibet). Mereologia
Lingua Segui Modifica Ulteriori informazioni Questa voce sull'argomento
concetti e principi filosofici è solo un abbozzo. Contribuisci a migliorarla
secondo le convenzioni di Wikipedia. In filosofia la mereologia (composizione
del grecoμέρος, méros, "parte" e -λογία, -logìa,
"discorso", "studio", "teoria") è uno dei
"cosiddetti" «sistemi di Leśniewski», ossia è la teoria, o scienza,
delle relazioni parti-tutto[3]; presentata da Achille Varzicome teoria «delle
relazioni della parte al tutto e da parte a parte con un tutto»[4] (o «teoria
delle parti e dell'intero»), da Hilary Putnam come «"il calcolo delle
parti e degli interi"» e da Claudio Calosi come la «teoria formale delle
parti e delle relazioni di parte». Per Ferraris tale relazione parte-interopuò
essere tra oggetti concreti, regioni spazio-temporali, processi (parti
temporali), eventi e oggetti astratti.[8] Storia Modifica Lo studio delle
parti affonda le sue radici nelle speculazioni filosofiche dei presocratici,
per poi essere portato avanti da Platone, Aristotele e Boezio. Di grande
importanza nello sviluppo della mereologia furono anche i contributi di
numerosi filosofi medievali, tra i quali AQUINO, Pietro Abelardo ed Occam. Nel
periodo illuminista, anche Kant e Leibniz si interessarono a quest'ambito.
Tuttavia, la diffusione della mereologia in età contemporanea si dovette a
Franz Brentano e ai suoi studenti, in particolare Husserl, assieme al primo
vero tentativo di avviarne un'analisi attraverso strumenti formali. Leśniewski creò il termine mereologia per
denominare la teoria (che gli si presentò tramite un ragionamento di Husserl)
delle relazioni tra le parti e il tutto a partire dalla differenziazione — il
cui principale fine era "evitare" l'antinomia di Russell— tra
interpretazione distributiva (un oggetto come elemento di una classe) e interpretazione
collettiva (un oggetto come parte di un intero) dei simboli di classe.
Leśniewski, parzialmente influenzato da Whitehead, elaborò poi la teoria in un
sistema assiomatico deduttivo entro cui poter esprimere il calcolo
proposizionale e il calcolo delle classi. I sistemi di Leśniewski. Anche
se cronologicamente è il primo dei sistemi di Leśniewski la mereologia contiene
gli altri due: la prototetica (scienza delle tesi più originarie,
fondamentali ..le «prototesi») che è una logica proposizionale con
l'equivalenza come unico termine primitivo, la proposizione come
categoriafondamentale (ammettente la quantificazione per le proposizioni e i
funtori di qualunque categoria), un solo assioma, e delle regole di
separazione, sostituzione, definizione, separazione dei quantificatori e di
estensionalità. l'ontologia così denominata per la presenza del funtore
indicato con ε «preso nel suo senso esistenziale» (non indica l'appartenenza
insiemistica), essa è derivante dalla prototetica ed è anche denominata
«calcolo dei nomi» poiché gli è aggiunta la categoria dei nomi. Con la
mereologia si presenta una differente definizione d'insieme. Esso non è
definito distributivamente ma collettivamente(mereologicamente): l'insieme è
una concreta totalità di elementi, un aggregato e dunque un oggetto fisico
composto di parti, che è solo se, e finché, esse sono (v. dipendenza
ontologica]). Da ciò risultano varie differenze dalla "normale"
teoria degli insiemi tra le quali che in mereologia è "insensato"
ammettere l'esistenza di un insieme vuoto; indi insiemi di un solo elemento
sono tale elemento e la proprietà, unico termine primitivo della mereologia, di
«essere un elemento» è transitiva e antisimmetrica e riflessiva. Assiomi e
definizioni Modifica Il fondamento concettuale alla base della mereologia è la
nozione di parte. In generale, nelle lingue naturali con «parte» si intende una
porzione costitutiva di un oggetto, gruppo o situazione. Si può dire, ad
esempio, che «la maniglia è parte della porta», che «il Gin è parte del
Martini», che «il cucchiaio è parte dell'argenteria» o che «il calciatore è
parte della squadra». Tuttavia, nell'ambito della mereologia si cerca di
seguire un impianto nominalista definendo questa nozione in termini puramente
logici, prendendo in esame le relazioni tra gli oggetti senza entrare nel
merito di eventuali considerazioni ontologicheriguardo questi ultimi. Di
conseguenza, la relazione di parte si può applicare anche a concetti più
astratti, come ad esempio nelle frasi «la razionalità è parte dell'essere
umano» o «la lettera 'c' è parte della parola 'cane'». Assiomi
fondamentali Modifica La nozione mereologica di parte può essere formalizzata
mediante il linguaggio della logica del primo ordine come un predicato,
solitamente indicato con P. Un'espressione del tipo {\displaystyle Pxy} dunque
si legge «x è parte di y». Per convenzione, questo predicato è concepito come
una relazione binaria che gode di tre proprietà fondamentali: il principio
della riflessivitàdella nozione di parte (Rp), il principio dell'antisimmetria
della nozione di parte (aSp) e il principio di transitività della nozione di
parte (Tp). (Rp) ogni cosa è parte di se stessa {\displaystyle (\forall
x)(Pxx)}, (aSp) per ogni x e y distinti, se x è parte di y, allora ynon è parte
di x {\displaystyle (\forall x)(\forall y)(Pxy\land x\neq y\rightarrow \neg
Pyx)}, (Tp) per ogni x, y e z, se x è parte di y e y è parte di z, allora x è
parte di z {\displaystyle (\forall x)(\forall y)(\forall z)(Pxy\land
Pyz\rightarrow Pxz)}.[9][4] In altri termini, la relazione di parte è un ordine
parzialelargo. Nonostante bastino solo questi assiomi per porre le fondamenta
della mereologia standard (o sistema M), si possono definire ulteriori concetti
a partire dal predicato P. Di seguito sono riportati quelli più
frequenti: Uguaglianza {\displaystyle EQxy:=Pxy\land Pyx} (x e y sono
uguali se sono uno parte dell'altro), Parte propria {\displaystyle
PPxy:=Pxy\land \neg (x=y)} (x è una parte propria di y se è parte di y ma è
distinto da esso), Sovrapposizione {\displaystyle Oxy:=(\exists z)(Pzx\land
Pzy)} (x è sovrapposto a yse c'è una parte di x che è anche parte di y),
Disgiunzione {\displaystyle Dxy:=\neg Oxy} (x è disgiunto da y se non ha
sovrapposizioni con esso). In particolare, la nozione di parte propria descrive
un ordine parziale stretto (irriflessivo, asimmetrico e transitivo) a
differenza del suo corrispondente primitivo, mentre la sovrapposizione è
riflessiva, simmetrica ma non necessariamente transitiva. È anche possibile
ridefinire il concetto di parte in termini di parte propria: {\displaystyle
Pxy:=PPxy\lor x=y}, ovvero x è parte di y quando è parte propria di y oppure
quando è identico a y. Decomposizione e composizione Modifica Per
disporre di una teoria mereologica che sia realmente in grado di rendere conto
dell'uso del termine «parte» in maniera adeguata, occorre imporre ulteriori
restrizioni sull'ordine parziale P. Nello specifico, vi sono due tipologie di
principi aggiuntivi: quelli di decomposizione (che ragionano dall'intero alle parti)
e quelli di composizione (che ragionano dalle parti all'intero). Tra gli
assiomi di decomposizione, il principio di supplementazione debole (o WSpp)
afferma che nessun intero può avere una singola parte propria. Ciò risponde
all'intuizione comune secondo la quale se un intero possiede una parte propria,
allora deve averne almeno anche un'altra, che costituisce il rimanente. In
simboli si ha che: (WSpp) {\displaystyle PPxy\rightarrow (\exists
z)(Pzy\land \neg Ozx)}, ovvero se x è una parte propria di y, allora esiste
(almeno) un zche è parte di y ma non è sovrapposto ad x. Similmente, il
principio di supplementazione forte (o SSp) prevede che un se y non è parte di
x, allora y ha una parte che non è sovrapposta a x. In simboli: (SSpp)
{\displaystyle \neg Pyx\rightarrow (\exists z)(Pzy\land \neg Ozx)}. Una
conseguenza logica del principio di supplementazione forte è l'estensionalità
(Exp). Questa importante proprietà afferma che due oggetti non possono essere
differenti se hanno le stesse parti proprie, o, in maniera equivalente, se due
oggetti hanno le stesse parti proprie, allora sono lo stesso oggetto. In simboli: (Exp) {\displaystyle x=y\rightarrow (\forall
z)(PPzx\leftrightarrow PPzy)}. Un sistema mereologico che accetta, oltre
agli assiomi fondametali di M, anche i principi di supplementazione debole,
supplementazione forte ed estensionalità è detto mereologia estensionale (o
EM). Considerazioni ulteriori, che però non fanno riferimento al
significato della nozione di parte, possono includere l'idea che esista un
oggetto privo di parti proprie, ovvero l'atomismo, oppure l'idea che, al
contrario, ogni cosa ha parti proprie, o simili, come la proprietà della
densità, che nega l'esistenza di parti proprie immediate. Atomismo
{\displaystyle (\forall x)(\exists y)(Pyx\land \neg (\exists z)(PPzy))}
Infinitismo{\displaystyle (\forall x)(\exists y)(PPyx)} Densità {\displaystyle
(\forall x)(\forall y)(PPxy\rightarrow (\exists z)(PPxz\land PPzy))} Tra
gli assiomi di composizione, il principio di somma mereologica o fusione
formalizza l'idea esistano degli interi composti esclusivamente ed esattamente
da un certo numero di parti. Ad esempio, la Spagna e il Portogallo compongono
la Penisola Iberica (o, in maniera equivalente, la Penisola Iberica è la somma mereologica
di Spagna e Portogallo). Di contro, la mano destra e la mano sinistra non
compongono il corpo umano, poiché quest'ultimo possiede anche altre parti (gli
occhi, il naso, i piedi, ecc.). Nei casi che, come in quest'esempio, prevedono
solo due parti la somma mereologica può essere definita come segue:
{\displaystyle Szxy:=Pxz\land Pyz\land (\forall w)(Pwz\rightarrow (Owx\lor
Owy))}(ovvero z è la somma mereologica di x e y se x e ysono parte di z e ogni
parte di z è sovrapposta a x o y) Si tratta di un principio controverso,
soprattutto se le parti che compongono la somma sono potenzialmente infinite e
non soltanto due. È infatti possibile generalizzare tale definizione per
indicare una somma di infinite parti: {\displaystyle Sz\varphi x:=(\forall
x)(\varphi x\rightarrow Pxz)\land (\forall w)(Pwz\rightarrow (\exists
x)(\varphi x\land Owx))}, dove φ indica una generica proprietà. Vi sono almeno
tre possibili posizioni che si possono assumere nei confronti dell'esistenza
somma mereologica: Nichilismo mereologico Non esistono somme
mereologiche, e anche gli oggetti che a prima vista sembrano composti sono in
realtà semplici. In altri termini, utilizzando un'immagine già evocata da Peter
van Inwagen, non esiste il tavolo, ma esistono solo atomi disposti a forma di
tavolo. Per un nichilista mereologico la Spagna e il Portogallo non compongono
la Penisola Iberica allo stesso modo di come la mano destra e la mano sinistra
non compongono il corpo umano, perché né la Penisola Iberica né il corpo umano
esistono (in senso mereologico, perlomeno). Moderatismo Le somme mereologiche
esistono soltanto in determinati casi e solo qualora vengano soddisfatte
determinate circostanze. Un moderatista potrebbe ammettere che la Spagna e il
Portogallo compongano la Penisola Iberica in virtù di qualche proprietà di
queste parti, ma negare che la mano destra e quella sinistra compongano
qualcosa. Universalismo Le somme mereologiche esistono in tutti i casi, anche
qualora non sembri possibile a prima vista. Per un universalista qualsiai
insieme di oggetti, ancorché totalmente differenti, compone qualcosa. Non
soltanto, dunque, la Spagna e il Portogallo compongono la Penisola Iberica, ma
anche la mano destra e quella sinistra compongono una somma, benché non esista
un termine per riferirsi ad essa. La nozione di somma mereologica, assieme a
quella di prodotto mereologico, costituisce la base della mereologia
estensionale classica (o CEM). -Logia, in Treccani.it – Vocabolario
Treccani Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana. Coniglione Leśniewski, Stanisław,
in Treccani.it – Enciclopedie on line, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia Italiana, Varzi
^ Achille Varzi, Ontologia e metafisica, in Agostini e Nicla Vassallo (a cura
di), Storia della Filosofia Analitica, Torino, Einaudi, Putnam Calosi; Ferraris
Torrengo Inwagen, Material Beings, New York, Cornell University Press, Ithaca,
Varzi (2014) per una definizione di prodotto mereologico. Cotnoir e Varzi,
Mereology, Oxford, Lando, Mereology: A Philosophical Introduction, Londra,
Bloomsbury. Varzi, Mereology, in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy,
Stanford, Edward N. Zalta, Calosi, Mereologia, in APhEx (Analytical and
Philosophical Explanation),, Lezione 2 - In difesa della relatività
concettuale., in Etica senza ontologia, tr. it. di Eddy Carli, prefazione di
Luigi Perissinotto, Milano, Paravia Bruno Mondadori Editori, Coniglione, 2.2.8.
I contributi in campo logico, in Nel segno della scienza: la filosofia polacca
del Novecento, Milano, FrancoAngeli, Torrengo, 2.6.5. Parte-intero, in Maurizio
Ferraris (a cura di), Storia dell'ontologia, Milano, Bompiani, Ferraris,
Glossario, in Ontologia, Napoli, Guida, Voci correlate Modifica Logica
Ontologia Achille Varzi, Spatial reasoning and ontology: parts, wholes, and
locations, in M. Aiello, I. Pratt-Hartmann, e J. van Benthem (a cura di),
Handbook of Spatial Logics, Berlino, Springer-Verlag, Varzi, Ontologia, in SWIF
Edizioni Digitali di Filosofia, Volume Supplementare 2, Roma, Università degli
Studi di Bari, Bosco, La Fundierung nella Terza ricerca logica di Husserl, in
Dialegesthai, Roma. Portale Filosofia: accedi alle voci che trattano di
filosofia Ultima modifica 18 giorni fa di FrescoBot Quantificatore
Rappresentabilità Geometria senza punti. Nome compiuto: Mauro Carbone.
Keywords: mereologia, organicismo in Hegel, il tutto e le parti, dialettica, “individuo
e dividuo”, divisio, visio, compositio, de-compositio, divisum, indivisum -- eidos,
forma, shape, il bello, essere en comune, mit-sein, l’impersonale,
l’intrapersonale, l’interpersonale – tutto, parte, tutto-parte, totum-pars,
unita, a-tomon, a-tomism, atomismo logico. tomismo logico, il tutto e le parti
-- #DialetticaDegl’EntrambiDividui -- -- --. Merleau-Ponty ‘linguaggio’,
individuus, dividuus, dividuo -- Refs.: Luigi Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco di
H. P. Grice, “Grice e Carbone,” The Swimming-Pool Library, Villa Speranza,
Liguria, Italia.
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