The Suasory Seuss

 http://vstream.dixie.edu/DSC/Play/8a2f5568f6cd42159194bd13578a06341d

Cupid is Stupid & Other Platonic Thoughts

Why is “love” used as an example in Plato? What is true and false rhetoric?

Love is a universal topic, the subject of which was ubiquitous among philosophers and poets, so Plato had a lot to draw from, calling up not only Phaedrus and Socrates’ dialogue, but the contributions--presented vicariously--of others as well. Additionally, the lovers/nonlovers,  passionate/dispassionate, dithyrambic/hexameter binaries can serve as a samples or metaphors for any subjects that share similar binaries. However, we should remember that love is not really the subject of Pluto’s Phaedrus. Rather, the topic actually seems to be rhetoric. In other words, Plato’s Phaedrus—to play on a Raymond Carver short story title—is not a matter of what we talk about when we talk about love, but instead a matter of how we talk when we talk about love.

Socrates says to Phaedrus that he is “fond of learning” (BH 140), and that, though he typically learns in the city from the city people, he trusts that Phaedrus has led into nature because there something to be gained beyond the city walls. In this act, the teacher is showing that he is willing to be taught. In this way (among others), Socrates sets himself apart from the Sophists. Phaedrus begins reading a speech on love first given by Lysias.

Nonlovers don't have the same expectations lovers impose on each other. Rather, their Platonic (my word, not Lysias's) love affords them the freedom to speak freely, without the burden of not-yet-realized regret, the kind that is particular to lovers when passion ceases. Lysias contends that passionate love breeds insanity and vanity. Furthermore, passionate love is ephemeral and easily replaced by the next desirable person to come along; however, Platonic love—or Divine Eros—is stable and constant. Whereas lovers create poor—maybe even hostile—conditions for learning and betterment, nonlovers are the bedrock for non-obligatory negotiations where one can pursue matters of self-interest. Phaedrus, quoting Lysisas, continues to extol the virtues of friendship and the vices of passionate love.

Socrates doesn’t disagree with Lysias. After all, one who is as fond of learning as he must concede that Platonic relationships are the only sort that could cultivate environments for learning. Passionate love impedes knowledge-making endeavors. Socrates does, however, disagree with Lysias’s rhetorical style, contending that he has surely heard better rhetoric on the subject (though he can’t recall where or by whom). This maneuver is a teaching strategy employed by Socrates, one that reminds me of Stanley Fish's "How to Write a Sentence." Socrates, like Fish, basically says, "Let's not worry about the content right now, and instead let's focus on the style."

Upon Phaedrus’s urging, Socrates, like an evangelical preacher overcome by the spirit, delivers a dithyrambic sermon that begins by comparing love to gluttony and drunkenness. It serves a man nothing to be in love because man is a jealous creature, and will, therefore, do everything in his power to keep his lover more pale, less nourished, less knowledgeable, less desirable, and less wealthy than himself. In this way, passionate love is a metaphor for any passion or desire where excess takes over a man’s ability to develop his best possible self.

Socrates, in an expert teaching moment, then goes on in his second speech to persuade Phaedrus further that not only his style but also his content is superior to Lysias's. Phaedrus can see by contrast how that with which he had earlier been so enamoured pales in comparison. We see in Plato's Phaedrus an example of true rhetoric, wherein the student and teacher have a dialogue almost as equals, wherein the student is persuaded through reason, example, alignment, and participation.

Teachers are Penultimate Sophists

At first the question “Are teachers penultimate sophists?” didn’t make sense to me. I couldn’t derive even a semblance of meaning from it and immediately thought “Did he mean ultimate? Are teachers ultimate sophists?” I could at least answer that. But, after some contemplation, I like the original question better.

My attention is drawn to the adjective, not the noun, in this question, but first I have to make a case that teachers are sophists. They are, or at least the good ones are. They teach the strategies of good rhetoric. They teach their students to use good timing, to make themselves as credible as possible, to think about arrangement and delivery. They teach students to add flavor to otherwise bland ideas. Sophistry carries with it a connotation of manipulation, which itself carries a negative connotation. But manipulation is actually a neutral term; the motive and result of manipulation should be evaluated and perhaps contested, but not necessarily the manipulation itself. Think of a parent who uses euphemistic language to soften tragic news for a child. That’s a manipulation without intent to deceive for personal gain, and shouldn’t be classified synonymously with a malicious deceit. At any rate, teachers may teach the strategies for manipulation, but few teach sophistry as it’s commonly (mis)understood, as the craft of deception.

Now on to the adjective: penultimate. I understand the word penultimate to mean second to last. Teachers as penultimate sophists means their students would be the last of the sophists, but then those students would eventually become the teachers, or the penultimate sophists. In other words, the question could be rephrased in this way: “Is education perpetuating sophistry?” We have no choice but to answer yes. We have 2500 years of sound evidence that teachers are, indeed, penultimate sophists.