No More Learning

The interpretation of truth or true being as the sensuous is of course, considered formally, an overturning of Platonism, inasmuch as Plato- nism asserts that genuine being is supersensuous. Yet such inversion, and along with it the interpretation of the true as what is given in the senses, must be understood in terms of the overcoming of nihilism. But the definitive interpretation of art, if it is posited as the countermove- ment to nihilism, operates within the same perspective.
Against Platonism, the question "What is true being? " must be posed, and the answer to it must be, "The true is the sensuous. " Against nihilism, the creative life, preeminently in art, must be set to work. But art creates out of the sensuous.
Now for the first time it becomes clear to what extent art and truth, whose relationship in Nietzsche's view is a discordance that arouses dread, can and must come into relation at all, a relation that is more than simply comparative, which is the kind of interpretation of both art and truth offered by philosophies of culture. Art and truth, creating and knowing, meet one another in the single guiding perspective of the rescue and configuration of the sensuous.
With a view to the conquest of nihilism, that is, to the foundation of the new valuation, art and truth, along with meditation on the essence of both, attain equal importance. According to their essence, intrinsically, art and truth come together in the realm of a new histori- cal existence.
What sort of relationship do they have?
21. The Scope and Context of Plato's Meditation on the Relationship of
Art and Truth
According to Nietzsche's teaching concerning the artist, and seen in terms of the one who creates, art has its actuality in the rapture of embodying life. Artistic configuration and portrayal are grounded essentially in the realm of the sensuous. Art is affirmation of the sensuous. According to the doctrine of Platonism, however, the super- sensuous is affirmed as genuine being. Platonism, and Plato, would therefore logically have to condemn art, the affirmation of the sensu- ous, as a form of nonbeing and as what ought not to be, as a form of meon. In Platonism, for which truth is supersensuous, the relationship to art apparently becomes one of exclusion, opposition, and antithesis; hence, one of discordance. If, however, Nietzsche's philosophy is rever- sal of Platonism, and if the true is thereby affirmation of the sensuous, then truth is the same as what art affirms, i. e. , the sensuous. For inverted Platonism, the relationship of truth and art can only be one of univocity and concord. If in any ca~e a discordance should exist in Plato (which is something we must still ask about, since not every distancing can be conceived as discordance), then it would have to disappear in the reversal of Platonism, which is to say, in the cancella- tion of such philosophy.
Nevertheless, Nietzsche says that the relationship is a discordance, indeed, one which arouses dread. He speaks of the discordance that arouses dread, not in the period prior to his own overturning of Plato- nism, but precisely during the period in which the inversion is decided
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for him. In 1888 Nietzsche writes in Twilight of the Idols, "On the contrary, the grounds upon which 'this' world [i. e. , the sensuous] was designated as the world of appearances ground the reality of this world -any other kind of reality is absolutely indemonstrable" (VIII, 81). During the same period when Nietzsche says that the sole true reality, i. e. , the true, is the sensuous world, he writes concerning the relation- ship of art and truth,". . . and even now [i. e. , in the autumn of 1888] I stand in holy dread in the face of this discordance. "
Where is the path that will take us to the hidden, underlying sense of this remarkable phrase concerning the relationship of art and truth? W e have to get there. For only from that vantage point will we be able to see Nietzsche's basic metaphysical position in its own light. It would be a good idea to take as our point of departure that basic philosophical position in which a discordance between art and truth at least seems to be possible, i. e. , Platonism.
The question as to whether in Platonism a conflict between truth (or true being) and art (or what is portrayed in art) necessarily and there- fore actually exists can be decided only on the basis of Plato's work itself. If a conflict exists here, it must come to the fore in statements which, comparing art and truth, say the opposite of what Nietzsche decides in evaluating their relationship.
Nietzsche says that art is worth more than truth. It must be that Plato decides that art is worth less than truth, that is, less than knowl- edge of true being as philosophy. Hence, in the Platonic philosophy, which we like to display as the very blossom of Greek thought, the result must be a depreciation of art. This among the Greeks-of all people-who affirmed and founded art as no other Occidental nation did! That is a disturbing matter of fact; nevertheless, it is indisputable. Therefore we must show at the outset, even if quite briefly, how the depreciation of art in favor of truth appears in Plato, and see to what extent it proves to be necessary.
But the intention of the following digression is by no means merely one of informing ourselves about Plato's opinion concerning art in this respect. On the basis of our consideration of Plato, for whom a sunder- ing of art and truth comes to pass, we want to gain an indication of
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where and how we can find traces of discordance in Nietzsche's inver- sion of Platonism. At the same time, on our way we should provide a richer and better defined significance for the catchword "Platonism. "
We pose two questions. First, what is the scope of those determina- tions which in Plato's view apply to what we call "art"? Second, in what context is the question of the relationship of art and truth discussed?
Let us turn to the first question. W e customarily appeal to the word techne as the Creek designation of what we call "art. " What techne means we suggested earlier (cf. p. 80). But we must be clear about the fact that the Creeks have no word at all that corresponds to what we mean by the word "art" in the narrower sense. The word "art" has for us a multiplicity of meanings, and not by accident. As masters of thought and speech, the Creeks deposited such multiple meanings in the majority of their sundry univocal words. If by "art" we mean primarily an ability in the sense of being well versed in something, of a thoroughgoing and therefore masterful know-how, then this for the Creeks is techne. Included in such know-how, although never as the essential aspect of it, is knowledge of the rules and procedures for a course of action.
In contrast, if by "art" we mean an ability in the sense of an acquired capacity to carry something out which, as it were, has become second nature and basic to Dasein, ability as behavior that accomplishes some- thing, then the Creek says melete, epimeleia, carefulness of concern (see Plato's Republic, 374). *Such carefulness is more than practiced diligence; it is the mastery of a composed resolute openness to beings; it is "care. " W e must conceive of the innermost essence of techne too as such care, in order to preserve it from the sheer "technical"
*Cf. especially Republic 374e 2: the task of the guardians requires the greatest amount of technes te kai epimeleias. Socrates has been arguing that a man can perform only one techne well, be he shoemaker, weaver, or warrior. Here techne seems to mean "skill" or "professional task. " In contrast, meletaino means to "take thought or care for," "to attend to, study, or pursue," "to exercise and train. " He me/ete is "care," "sustained attention to action. " Epimeleia means "care bestowed upon a thing, attention paid to it. " Schleiermacher translates epimeleia as Sorgfalt, meticulousness or diligence. Such is perhaps what every techne presupposes. Epime/eia would be a welcome addition to the discussion of cura, Sorge, in Being and Time, section 42.
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interpretation of later times. The unity of melete and techne thus characterizes the basic posture of the forward-reaching disclosure of Dasein, which seeks to ground beings on their own terms.
Finally, if by "art" we mean what is brought forward in a process of bringing-forth, what is produced in production, and the producing itself, then the Greek speaks of poiein and poiesis. That the word poiesis in the emphatic sense comes to be reserved for designation of the production of something in words, that poiesis as "poesy" becomes the special name for the art of the word, poetic creation, testifies to the primacy of such art within Greek art as a whole. Therefore it is not accidental that when Plato brings to speech and to decision the relation- ship of art and truth he deals primarily and predominantly with poetic creation. and the poet.
Turning to the second question, we must now consider where and in what context Plato poses the question concerning the relationship of art and truth. For the way he poses and pursues that question determines the form of the interpretation for the whole of Plato's multifaceted meditation on art. Plato poses the question in the "dia- logue" which bears the title Politeia [Republic], his magnificent discus- sion on the "state" as the basic form of man's communal life. Consequently, it has been supposed that Plato asks about art in a "political" fashion, and that such a "political" formulation would have to be opposed to, or distinguished essentially from, the "aesthetic" and thereby in the broadest sense "theoretical" point of view. We can call Plato's inquiry into art political to the extent that it arises in connection with politeia; but we have to know, and then say, what "political" is supposed to mean. If we are to grasp Plato's teaching concerning art as "political," we should understand that word solely in accordance with the concept of the essence of the polis that emerges from ~he dialogue itself. That is all the more necessary as this tremendous dia- logue in its entire structure and movement aims to show that the sustaining ground and determining essense of all political Being con- sists in nothing less than the "theoretical," that is, in essential knowl- edge of dike and dikaiosyne. This Greek word is translated as "justice," but that misses the proper sense, inasmuch as justice is transposed
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straightaway into the moral or even the merely "legal" realm. But dike is a metaphysical concept, not originally one of morality. It names Being with reference to the essentially appropriate articulation of all beings. * To be sure, dike slips into the twilight zone of morality precisely on account of the Platonic philosophy. But that makes it all the more necessary to hold onto its metaphysical sense, because otherwise the Creek backgrounds of the dialogue on the state do not become visible. Knowledge of dike, of the articulating laws of the Being of beings, is philosophy. Therefore the decisive insight of the entire dialogue on the state says, dei taus philosophous basileuein (archein): it is essentially necessary that philosophers be the rulers (see Republic, Bk. V, 473). The statement does not mean that philosophy professors should conduct the affairs of state. It means that the basic modes of behavior that sustain and define the community must be grounded in essential knowledge, assuming of course that the community, as an order of being, grounds itself on its own basis, and that it does not wish
to adopt standards from any other order. The unconstrained self-grounding of historical Dasein places itself under the jurisdiction of knowledge, and not of faith, inasmuch as the latter is understood as the proclamation of truth sanctioned by divine revelation. All knowledge is at bottom commitment to beings that come to light under their own power. Being becomes visible, according to Plato, in the "Ideas. " They constitute the Being of beings, and therefore are themselves the true beings, the true.
Hence, if one still wants to say that Plato is here inquiring politically into art, it can only mean that he evaluates art, with reference to its position in the state, upon the essence and sustaining grounds of the state, upon knowledge of "truth. " Such inquiry into art is "theoretical" in the highest degree. The distinction between political and theoretical inquiry no longer makes any sense at all.
*Cf. Martin Heidegger, An Introduction to Metaphysics, pp. 134-35 and 139-40. (N. B. : in the Anchor Books edition, p. 139, line II, the words techne and dike are misplaced: dike is the overpowering order, techne the violence of knowledge). On dike, cf. also "The Anaximander Fragment" (1936) in Martin Heidegger, Early Greek Think- ing, pp. 41-47.
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That Plato's question concerning art marks the beginning of "aes- thetics" does not have its grounds in the fact that it is generally theoretical, which is to say, that it springs from an interpretation of Being; it results from the fact that the "theoretical," as a grasp of the Being of beings, is based on a particular interpretation of Being. The idea, the envisioned outward appearance, characterizes Being precisely for that kind of vision which recognizes in the visible as such pure presence. "Being" stands in essential relation to, and in a certain way means as much as, self-showing and appearing, the phainesthai of what is ekphanes. * One's grasp of the Ideas, with regard to the possible accomplishment of that grasp, though not to its established goal, is grounded upon eros, which in Nietzsche's aesthetics corresponds to rapture. What is most loved and longed for in eros, and therefore the Idea that is brought into fundamental relation, is what at the same time appears and radiates most brilliantly. The erasmiotaton, which at the same time is ekphanestaton, proves to be the idea tau kalou, the Idea of the beautiful, beauty.
Plato deals with the beautiful and with Eros primarily in the Sym- posium. The questions posed in the Republic and Symposium are conjoined and brought to an original and basic position with a view to the fundamental questions of philosophy in the dialogue Phaedrus. Here Plato offers his most profound and extensive inquiry into art and the beautiful in the most rigorous and circumscribed form. We refer to these other dialogues so that we do not forget, at this very early stage, that the discussions of art in the Republic-for the moment the sole important ones for us-do not constitute the whole of Plato's medita- tion in that regard.
But in the context of the dialogue's guiding question concerning the state, how does the question of art come up? Plato asks about the structure of communal life, what must guide it as a whole and In totality, and what component parts belong to it as what is to be guided. He does not describe the form of any state at hand, nor does he
*On the meaning of phainesthai see section 7A of Being and Time; in Basic Writings, pp. 74-79.
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elaborate a utopian model for some future state. Rather, the inner order of communal life is projected on the basis of Being and man's funda- mental relation to Being. The standards and principles of education for correct participation in communal life and for active existence are established. In the pursuit of such inquiry, the following question emerges, among others: does art too, especially the art of poetry, belong to communal life; and, if so, how? In Book Three (1-18)* that question becomes the object of the discussion. Here Plato shows in a preliminary way that what art conveys and provides is always a portrayal of beings; although it is not inactive, its producing and making, poiein, remain mimesis, imitation, copying and transforming, poetizing in the sense of inventing. Thus art in itself is exposed to the danger of continual deception and falsehood. In accord with the essence of its activity, art has no direct, definitive relation to the true and to true being. That fact suffices to produce one irremediable result: in and for the hierarchy of modes of behavior and forms of achievement within the community, art cannot assume the highest rank. If art is admitted into the community at all, then it is only with the proviso that its role be strictly demarcated and its activities subject to certain demands and directives that derive from the guiding laws of the Being of states.
At this point we can see that a decision may be reached concerning the essence of art and its necessarily limited role in the state only in terms of an original and proper relation to the beings that set the standard, only in terms of a relationship that appreciates dike, the matter of order and disorder with respect to Being. For that reason, after the preliminary conversations about art and other forms of achievement in the state, we arrive at the question concerning our basic relation to Being, advancing to the question concerning true comport- ment toward beings, and hence to the question of truth. On our way through these conversations, we encounter at the beginning of the seventh book the discussion of the essence of truth, based on the Allegory of the Cave. Only after traversing this long and broad path
*I. e. , topics 1-18 in Schleiermacher's arrangement; in the traditional Stephanus num- bering, 386a-412b.
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to the point where philosophy is defined as masterful knowledge of the Being of beings do we turn back, in order to ground those statements which were made earlier in a merely provisional manner, among them the statements concerning art. Such a return transpires in the tenth and final book.
Here Plato shows first of all what it means to say that art is mimesis, and then why, granting that characteristic, art can only occupy a subor- dinate position. Here a decision is made about the metaphysical relation of art and truth (but only in a certain respect). We shall now pursue briefly the chief matter of Book Ten, without going into particulars concerning the movement of the dialogue, and also without referring to the transformation and refinement of what is handled there in Plato's later dialogues.
One presupposition remains unchallenged: all art is mimesis. We translate that word as "imitation. " At the outset of Book Ten the question arises as to what mimesis is. Quite likely we are inclined to assume that here we are encountering a "primitivistic" notion of art, or a one-sided view of it, in the sense of a particular artistic style called "naturalism," which copies things that are at hand. We should resist both preconceptions from the start. But even more misleading is the opinion that when art is grasped as mimesis the result is an arbitrary presupposition. For the clarification of the essence of mimesis which is carried out in Book Ten not only defines the word more precisely but also traces the matter designated in the word back to its inner possibility and to the grounds that sustain such possibility. Those grounds are nothing other than basic representations the Greeks enter- tained concerning beings as such, their understanding of Being. Since the question of truth is sister to that of Being, the Greek concept of truth serves as the basis of the interpretation of art as mimesis. Only on that basis does mimesis possess sense and significance-but a·lso necessity. Such remarks are needed in order that we fix our eyes on the correct point of the horizon for the following discussion. What we will consider there, after two thousand years of tradition and habituation of thought and representation, consists almost entirely of common- places. But seen from the point of view of Plato's age, it is all first
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discovery and definitive utterance. In order to correspond to the mood of this dialogue, we would do well to put aside for the moment our seemingly greater sagacity and our superior air of "knowing all about it already. " Of course, here we have to forgo recapitulation of the entire sequence of individual steps in the dialogue.
22. Plato's Republic: The Distance of Art (Mimesis) from Truth (Idea)
Let us formulate our question once again. How does art relate to truth? Where does art stand in the relationship? Art is mimesis. Its relation to truth must be ascertainable in terms of the essence of mimesis. What is mimesis? Socrates says to Glaucon (at 595 c): Mimesin halos echois an moi eipein hoti pot' estin; oude gar toi autos pany ti synnoo ti bouletai einai. "Imitation, viewed as a whole: can you tell me at all what that is? For I myself as well am totally unable to discern what it may be. "
Thus the two of them begin their conversation, episkopountes, "keeping firmly in view the matter itself named in the word. " This they do ek tes eiothuias methodou, "in the manner to which they are accustomed to proceeding, being in pursuit of the matter," since that is what the Greek word "method" means. That customary way of proceeding is the kind of inquiry Plato practiced concerning beings as such. He expressed himself about it continually in his dialogues. Meth- od, the manner of inquiry, was never for him a fixed technique; rather, it developed in cadence with the advance toward Being. If therefore at our present position method is formulated in an essential statement, such a designation by Platonic thought concerning the Ideas corre~ sponds to that stage of the Platonic philosophy which is reached when Plato composes the dialogue on the state. But that stage is by no means the ultimate one. In the context of our present inquiry this account of method is of special significance.
Socrates (i. e. , Plato) says in that regard (at 596 a): eidos gar pou ti
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hen hekaston eiothamen tithesthai peri hekasta ta polla, hois tauton onoma epipheromen. "We are accustomed to posing to ourselves (let- ting lie before us) one eidos, only one of such kind for each case, in relation to the cluster (peri) of those many things to which we ascribe the same name. " Here eidos does not mean "concept" but the outward appearance of something. In its outward appearance this or that thing does not become present, come into presence, in its particularity; it becomes present as that which it is. To come into presence means Being; Being is therefore apprehended in discernment of the outward appearance. How does that proceed? In each case one outward appear- ance is posed. How is that meant? We may be tempted to have done with the statement, which in summary fashion is to describe the meth- od, by saying that for a multiplicity of individual things, for example, particular houses, the Idea (house) is posited. But with this common presentation of the kind of thought Plato developed concerning the Ideas, we do not grasp the heart of the method.
It is not merely a matter of positing the Idea, but of finding that approach by which what we encounter in its manifold particularity is brought together with the unity of the eidos, and by which the latter is joined to the former, both being established in relationship to one another. What is established, i. e. , brought to the proper approach, i. e. , located and presented for the inquiring glance, is not only the Idea but also the manifold of particular items that can be related to the oneness of its unified outward appear- ance. The procedure is therefore a mutual accommodation between the many particular things and the appropriate oneness of the "Idea," in order to get both in view and to define their reciprocal relation.
The essential directive in the procedure is granted by language, through which man comports himself toward beings in general. In the word, indeed in what is immediately uttered, both points of view intersect: on the one hand, that concerning what in each case is immediately addressed, this house, this table, this bedframe; and on the other hand, that concerning what this particular item in the word is addressed as-this thing as house, with a view to its outward appear- ance. Only when we read the statement on method in terms of such an interpretation do we hit upon the full Platonic sense. We have long
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been accustomed to looking at the many-sided individual thing simul- taneously with a view to its universal. But here the many-sided individ- ual appears as such in the scope of its outward appearance as such, and in that consists the Platonic discovery. Only when we elaborate upon that discovery does the statement cited concerning "method" provide us with the correct directive for the procedure now to be followed in pursuit of mimesis.
Mimesis means copying, that is, presenting and producing some- thing in a manner which is typical of something else. Copying is done in the realm of production, taking it in a very broad sense. Thus the first thing that occurs is that a manifold of produced items somehow comes into view, not as the dizzying confusion of an arbitrary multi- plicity, but as the many-sided individual item which we name with one name. Such a manifold of produced things may be found, for example, in ta skeue, "utensils" or "implements" which we find commonly in use in many homes. Pollai pou eisi klinai kai trapedzai (596 b): ". . . many, which is to say, many according to number and also according to the immediate view, are the bedframes and tables there. " What matters is not that there are many bedframes and tables at hand, instead of a few; the only thing we must see is what is co-posited already in such a determination, namely, that there are many bedframes, many tables, yet just one Idea "bedframe" and one Idea "table. " In each case, the one of outward appearance is not only one according to number but above all is one and the same; it is the one that continues to exist in spite of all changes in the apparatus, the one that maintains its consis- tency. In the outward appearance, whatever it is that something which encounters us "is," shows itself. To Being, therefore, seen Platonically, permanence belongs. All that becomes and suffers alteration, as imper- manent, has no Being. Therefore, in the view of Platonism, "Being:' stands always in exclusive opposition to "Becoming" and change. We today, on the contrary, are used to addressing also what changes and occurs, and precisely that, as "real" and as genuine being. In opposition to that, whenever Nietzsche says "Being" he always means it Platoni- cally-even after the reversal of Platonism. That is to say, he means it in antithesis to "Becoming. "
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Alla ideai ge pou peri tauta ta skeue dyo, mia men kline:. ~, mia de trapedzes. "But, of course, the Ideas for the clusters of these imple- ments are two: one in which 'bedframe' becomes manifest, and one in which 'table' shows itself. " Here Plato clearly refers to the fact that the permanence and selfsameness of the "Ideas" is always peri ta polla, "for the cluster of the many and as embracing the many. " Hence it is not some arbitrary, undefined permanence. But the philosophic search does not thereby come to an end. It merely attains the vantage point from which it may ask: how is it with those many produced items, those implements, in relation to the "Idea" that is applicable in each case? W e pose the question in order to come to know something about mimesis. W e must therefore cast about, within the realm of our vision, with greater penetration, still taking as our point of departure the many implements. They are not simply at hand, but are at our disposal for use, or are already in use. They "are" with that end in view. As pro- duced items, they are made for the general use of those who dwell together and are with one another. Those who dwell with one another constitute the demos, the "people," in the sense of public being-with- one-another, those who are mutually known to and involved with one another. For them the implements are made. Whoever produces such implements is therefore called a demiourgos, a worker, manufacturer, and maker of something for the sake of the demos. In our language we still have a word for such a person, although, it is true, we seldom use it and its meaning is restricted to a particular realm: der Stellmacher, one who constructs frames, meaning wagon chassis (hence the name
\Vagner). * That implements and frames are made by a frame- maker-that is no astonishing piece of wisdom! Certainly not.
All the same, we ought to think through the simplest things in the
*Der Stellmacher is a wheelwright, maker of wheeled vehicles; but he makes the frames (Cestelle) for his wagons as well. Heidegger chooses the word because of its kinship with herstellen, to produce. He employs the word Ce-stell in his essay on "The Origin of the Work of Art" (in the Reclam edition, p. 72). Much later, in the 1950s, Heidegger employs it as the name for the essence of technology; cf. Vortrage und Aufsatze (Pfullingen: G. Neske, 1954), p. 27 ff. , and Ursprung des Kunstwerkes, "Zusatz" (1956), Reclam edition, pp. 97-98.
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simplest clarity of their relationships. In this regard, the everyday state of affairs by which the framemaker frames and produces frames gave a thinker like Plato something to think about-for one thing, this: in the production of tables the tablemaker proceeds pros ten idean blepon poiei, making this or that table "while at the same time looking to the Idea. " He keeps an "eye" on the outward appearance of tables in general. And the outward appearance of such a thing as a table? How is it with that, seen from the point of view of production? Does the tablemaker produce the outward appearance as well? No. Ou gar pou ten ge idean auten demiourgei oudeis ton demiourgon. "For in no case does the craftsman produce the Idea itself. " How should he, with axe, saw, and plane be able to manufacture an Idea? Here an end (or boundary) becomes manifest, which for all "practice" is insurmounta- ble, indeed an end or boundary precisely with respect to what "prac-
tice" itself needs in order to be "practical. " For it is an essential matter of fact that the tablemaker cannot manufacture the Idea with his tools; and it is every bit as essential that he look to the Idea in order to be who he is, the producer of tables. In that way the realm of a workshop extends far beyond the four walls that contain the craftsman's tools and produced items. The workshop possesses a vantage point from which we can see the outward appearance or Idea of what is immediately on hand and in use. The framemaker is a maker who in his making must be on the lookout for something he himself cannot make. The Idea is prescribed to him and he must subscribe to it. Thus, as a maker, he is already somehow one who copies or imitates. Hence there is nothing at all like a pure "practitioner," since the practitioner himself necessar- ily and from the outset is always already more than that. Such is the basic insight that Plato strives to attain.
But there is something else we have to emphasize in the fact that craftsmen manufacture implements. For the Greeks themselves it was clearly granted, but for us it has become rather hazy, precisely because of its obviousness. And that is the fact that what is manufactured or produced, which formerly was not in being, now "is. " It "is. " We understand this "is. " We do not think very much about it. For the Greeks the "Being" of manufactured things was defined, but different-
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ly than it is for us. Something produced "is" because the Idea lets it be seen as such, lets it come to presence in its outward appearance, lets it "be. " Only to that extent can what is itself produced be said "to be. " Making and manufacturing therefore mean to bring the outward ap- pearance to show itself in something else, namely, in what is manufac- tured, to "pro-duce" the outward appearance, not in the sense of manufacturing it but of letting it radiantly appear. What is manufac- tured "is" only to the extent that in it the outward appearance, Being, radiates. To say that something manufactured "is" means that in it the presence of its outward appearance shows itself. A worker is one who fetches the outward appearance of something into the presence of sensuous visibility. That seems to delineate sufficiently what, and how, it is that the craftsman properly makes, and what he cannot make. Every one of these pro-ducers of serviceable and useful implements and items keeps to the realm of the one "Idea" that guides him: the tablemaker looks to the Idea of table, the shoemaker to that of shoe. Each is proficient to the extent that he limits himself purely to his own field. Else he botches the job.
But how would it be if there were a man, hos panta poiei, hosaper heis hekastos ton cheirotechnon (596 c), "who pro-duced everything that every single other craftsman" is able to make? That would be a man of enormous powers, uncanny and astonishing. In fact there is such a man: hapanta ergadzetai, "he produces anything and every- thing. " He can produce not only implements, alla kai ta ek tes ges phuomena hapanta poiei kai zoia panta ergadzetai, "but also what comes forth from the earth, producing plants and animals and every- thing else"; kai heauton, "indeed, himself too," and besides that, earth and sky, kai theous, "even the gods," and everything in the heavens and in the underworld. But such a producer, standing above all beings and even above the gods, would be a sheer wonderworker! Yet there is such a demiourgos, and he is nothing unusual; each of us is capable of achieving such production. It is all a matter of observing tini tropoi poiei, "in what way he produces. "
While meditating on what is produced, and on production, we must pay heed to the tropos. We are accustomed to translating that Greek
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word, correctly but inadequately, as "way" and "manner. " Tropos means how one is turned, in what direction he turns, in what he maintains himself, to what he applies himself, where he turns to and remains tied, and with what intention he does so. What does that suggest for the realm of pro-duction? One may say that the way the shoemaker proceeds is different from that in which the tablemaker goes to work. Certainly, but the difference here is defined by what in each case is to be produced, by the requisite materials, and by the kind of refinements or operations such materials demand. Nevertheless, the same tropos prevails in all these ways of producing. How so? This query is to be answered by that part of the discussion we shall now follow.
Kai tis ho tropos houtos; "And what tropos is that," which makes possible a production that is capable of producing hapanta, "anything and everything," to the extent designated, which is in no way limited? Such a tropos presents no difficulties: by means of it one can go ahead and produce things everywhere and without delay. Tachista de pou, ei
'theleis laban katoptron peripherein pantachei (596 d), "but you can do it quickest if you just take a mirror and point it around in all directions. "
Tachy men helion poieseis kai ta en toi ouranoi, tachy de gen, tachy de sauton te kai talla zoia kai skeue kai phyta kai panta hosa nynde elegeto. "That way you will quickly produce the sun and what is in the heavens; quickly too the earth; and quickly also you yourself and all other living creatures and implements and plants and everything else we mentioned just now. "
With this turn of the conversation we see how essential it is to think of poiein-"making"-as pro-ducing in the Greek sense. A mirror accomplishes such production of outward appearance; it allows all beings to become present just as they outwardly appear.
But at the same time, this is the very place to elaborate an important distinction in the tropos of production. It will enable us for the first time to attain a clearer concept of the demiourgos and thereby also of mimesis, "copying. " Were we to understand poiein-"making"-in some indefinite sense of manufacturing, then the example of the mirror would have no effect, since the mirror does not manufacture the sun.
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But if we understand pro-duction in a Greek manner, in the sense of bringing forth the Idea (bringing the outward appearance of something into something else, no matter in what way), then the mirror does in this particular sense pro-duce the sun.
With regard to "pointing the mirror in all directions," and to its mirroring, Glaucon must therefore agree immediately: Nai, "Cer- tainly," that is a producing of "beings"; but he adds, phainomena, ou mentoi onta ge pou tei aletheiai. But what shows itself in the mirror "only looks like, but all the same is not, something present in uncon- cealment," which is to say, undistorted by the "merely outwardly appearing as," i. e. , undistorted by semblance. Socrates supports him: kalos, . . . kai eis dean erchei toi logoi. "Fine, and by saying that you go to the heart of what is proper (to the matter). " Mirroring does produce beings, indeed as self-showing, but not as beings in un-con- cealment or nondistortion. Juxtaposed to one another here are on phainomenon and on tei aletheiai, being as self-showing and being as undistorted; by no means phainomenon as "semblance" and "the merely apparent," on the one hand, and on tei aletheiai as "Being," on the other; in each case it is a matter of on-"what is present"-but in different ways of presencing. But is that not the same, the self-showing and the undistorted? Yes and no. Same with respect to what becomes present (house), same to the extent that in each case it is a presencing; but in each case the tropos differs. In one case the "house" becomes present by showing itself and appearing in, and by means of, the glittering surface of the mirror; in the other the "house" is present by showing itself in stone and wood. The more firmly we hold on to the selfsameness, the more significant the distinction must become. Plato here is wrestling with the conception of the varying tropos, that is, at the same time and above all, with the determination of that "way" in which on itself shows itself most purely, so that it does not portray itself by means of something else but presents itself in such a way that its outward appearance, eidos, constitutes its Being. Such self-showing is the eidos as idea.
Two kinds of presence result: the house (i. e. , the idea) shows itself in the mirror or in the "house" itself at hand. Consequently, two kinds
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of production and producers must be differentiated and clarified. If we call every pro-ducer a demiourgos, then one who mirrors is a particular type of demiourgos. Therefore Socrates continues: ton toiouton gar oimai demiourgon kai ho zographos estin. "For I believe that the painter too belongs to that kind of pro-ducing," which is to say the mirroring kind. The artist lets beings become present, but as phainomena, "showing themselves by appearing through something else. " Ouk alethe . . . poiein ha poiei, "he does not bring forward what he produces as unconcealed. " He does not produce the eidos. Kaitoi tropoi ge tini kai ho zographos klinen poiei. "All the same, the painter too produces [a] bedframe"-tropoi tini, "in a certain way. " Tropos here means the kind of presence of the on (the idea); hence it means that in which and through which on as idea produces itself and brings itself into presence. The tropos is in one case the mirror, in another the painted surface, in another the wood, in all of which the table comes
to presence.
We are quick on the uptake, so we say that some of them produce
"apparent" things, others "real" things. But the question is: what does "real" in this case mean? And is the table manufactured by the carpen- ter the "real" table according to the Greeks; is it in being? To ask it another way: when the carpenter manufactures this or that table, any given table, does he thereby produce the table that is in being; or is manufacturing a kind of bringing forward that will never be able to produce the table "itself"? But we have already heard that there is also something which he does not pro-duce, something which he, as frame- maker, with the means available to him, cannot pro-duce: ou to eidos (ten idean) poiei, "but he does not produce the pure outward appear- ance (of something like a bedframe) in itself. " He presupposes it as already granted to him and thereby brought forth unto and produced for him.
Now, what is the eidos itself? What is it in relation to the individual bedframe that the framemaker produces? To eidos . . . ho de phamen einai ho esti kline, "the outward appearance, of which we say that it is what the bedframe is," and thereby what it is as such: the ho esti, quid est, quidditas, whatness. It is obviously that which is essential in
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beings, by means of which they "first and last are," teleos on (597 a). But if the craftsman does not pro-duce precisely this eidos in itself, but in each case merely looks to it as something already brought to him; and if eidos is what is properly in being among beings; then the craftsman does not produce the Being of beings either. Rather, he always produces this or that being-ouk . . . ho esti kline, alla klinen tina, "not the what-being of the bedframe, but some bedframe or other. "
So it is that the craftsman, who grapples with a reality you can hold in your hands, is not in touch with beings themselves, on tei aletheiai. Therefore, Socrates says, meden ara thaumadzomen ei kai touto (to ergon tou demiourgou) amydron ti tynchanei on pros aletheian. "In no way would it astonish us, therefore, if even this (what is manufac- tured by the craftsman) proves to be something obscure and hazy in relation to unconcealment. " The wood of the bedframe, the amassed stone of the house, in each case bring the idea forth into appearance; yet such pro-duction dulls and darkens the original luster of the idea. Hence the house which we call "real" is in a certain way reduced to the level of an image of the house in a mirror or painting. The Greek word amydron is difficult to translate: for one thing it means the darkening and distorting of what comes to presence. But then such darkening, over against what is undistorted, is something lusterless and feeble; it does not command the inner power of the presencing of beings themselves.
Only now do the speakers attain the position from which Socrates may demand that they try to illuminate the essence of mimesis on the basis of what they have so far discussed. To that end he summarizes and describes in a more pointed way what they have already ascertained.
The approach to their considerations established that there are, for example, many individual bedframes set up in houses. Such a "many" is easy to see, even when we look around us in a lackadaisical sort of way. Therefore, Socrates (Plato) says at the beginning of the discussion, with a very profound, ironic reference to what is to follow and which we are now on the verge of reaching (596 a), pol/a toi oxyteron blepon- ton amblyteron horontes proteroi eidon. "A variety and multiplicity is
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what those who look with dull eyes see, rather than those who examine things more keenly. " Those who examine things more keenly see fewer things, but for that reason they see what is essential and simple. They do not lose themselves in a sheer variety that has no essence. Dull eyes see an incalculable multiplicity of sundry particular bedframes. Keen eyes see something else, even-and especially-when they linger upon one single bedframe at hand. For dull eyes the many always amounts to "a whole bunch," understood as "quite a lot," hence as abundance. In contrast, for keen eyes the simple is simplified. In such simplifica- tion, essential plurality originates. That means: the first (one), pro- duced by the god, (the pure) one-and-the-same outward appearance, the Idea; the second, what is manufactured by the carpenter; the third, what the painter conjures in images. What is simple is named in the word kline. But trittai tines klinai hautai gignontai (597 b). W e must translate: "In a certain way, a first, a second, and a third bedframe have resulted here. " Mia men he en tei physei ousa, "for what is being in nature is one. " We notice that the translation does not succeed. What is physis, "nature," supposed to mean here?