Tuesday, January 27, 2015

The Invisible Plato



A note about the Socratic Dialogues. Plato wrote them, but he seldom appears in them. Most of the dialogues feature Socrates. Scholars have been arguing for hundreds, even thousands, of years about whether we’re hearing the true Socrates, Socrates filtered by Plato, or just Plato with Socrates relegated to the role of a marionette.
Since I listen to the Socratic Dialogues rather than read them, I’m often very aware of the ambiguity of voice. Sometimes I hear Socrates speaking. At other times, I hear Plato. Sometimes Plato speaks with someone else’s voice. Sometime he speaks with Socrates’s voice.

There are moments this sounds unnatural. There are other times that I can embrace the schizophrenia of the dialogue. Most often, that comes when dialogue turns into monologue. Socrates, despite his distrust of politicians, rhetoricians, and sophists, all of whom he condemned for making long speeches, wasn’t above doing so himself. He definitely insisted that his audience do as he said, not as he did. In those long speeches, for instance, in Book Five of The Laws, Socrates goes on and on, yet Plato sneaks in and out of the speech. At these moments, more than the dialogues, I hear what the Russian theorists Michael Bakhtin called “dialogism.” 

Bakhtin argued  that every utterance is made up of the words of others. That there isn’t any such thing as a single author, as single speech. If he was right, then the monologues are dialogues. I wonder, sometimes, just how dialogic the dialogues are, since often I hear Plato in Socrates’s interlocutors.

At the Crossroads



I shuffled into the Crossroads aid station after coming around the Three Sister’s loop (bitches all of them), on the last five mile leg of the Bandera 50K. The young woman behind the table welcomed me with a smile (obviously no relation to the sisters) and said something. I pulled off my ear buds. 

“Catching some tunes while you run?” she asked.

“Plato,” I replied.

“Never heard of them.”

“Not a them, a he. I’m listening to Plato’s Republic, Book 7.” 

I get that look, the one I usually get from friends when the find out I’m running a 50K. Yeah, that look. “50K? Why?” they ask.

Of course, the only answer that makes sense to me is, “In order to get ready for a 100K.” That only assures them that their initial assessment was correct. They are talking to an insane man. 

The girl who handed back my water bottle understood why I was running, but not why I was listening to Plato while I ran.

I was ready to ditch Plato for a while. I’d reached the point where my mind was so muddled I couldn’t keep track of the ends and outs of his argument anyway. I hadn’t listened to him for the first ten miles, only inviting him along with me during the middle of the run, that long, section where the excitement of the start is long forgotten and the end isn’t close enough to be real. For that section of a long trail run, Plato is the ideal companion.

Running with Plato may be a little like running with scissors; you think it’s a good idea at the time, but there’s always the possibility that you might cut yourself.  

Then again, running with Plato is like running with someone you like on Facebook because they always post the funniest memes. Not necessarily the most PC, but the funniest. Sure, he can be a real jerk at times; but the butt of his humor is never me. So, I get to laugh along with him.

Plato in Running Trim