146c7-148d7
Beginning of Theaet.' first attempt, a digression about geometry, and Soc' asks again.
146c7-147c6
Theaet. suggests that geometry etc. is knowledge. Soc. says that is a type of knowledge, not knowledge itself.
Theaetetus' answer points out some paradigmatic instances of knowledge, namely geometry and the other things which Socrates "just mentioned.” Socrates mentionedμουσικός, γραφικός, ζωγραφικός, γεωμετρικός, ἀστρονομικός, and λογιστικός at 144e3, then at 145c7, γεωμετρία, ἀστρονομία, ἁρμονία, and λογισμοί, to which he adds shoemaking and the other craft skills, "both all and each of them,” which may mean that individually they are ἐπιστήμαι (cf. "bodies of knowledge") and as a whole constitute knowledge. Thus knowledge seems to be not so much a “count noun” as a stuff: each bit is knowledge, and when you put more than one bit together, the resulting more extensive bit is also knowledge. In all, a fine practical answer to begin an inductive investigation: if you want to know what an X is, look at diverse but paradigmatic instances of X. Theaetetus' answer could also be taken to include a notion that knowledge is not independent of its object: the object of knowledge may affect what knowledge is in each case. It may also suggest that if we really don’t know what X is, we should start out with purported instances of X and work up a satisfactory definition of them, if one exists, rather than go chasing after theoretical things that may well have no counterpart in the particulars that we can point at with our index finger (at the potter’s, we can point to the potter’s pots, etc. when we point out “pot-making” as an instance of knowledge). At the very least, Theaetetus' response gives us an idea of the scope of the definiendum.
Socrates' reply, however, acknowledges none of those possible virtues of Theaetetus' response. As is typical of Socrates (cf. Euthphr. 6d6-e3, Men. 71e7-73c5), he points out that while Theaetetus' answer is generous, it is also many and varied, not simple and one (combined with what follows, this amounts to an assumption that “simple and one” is better). He also claims he asked for one thing (but he did not explicitly do so). That claim must refer back to 145d5-e9, where he explained that knowledge, learning and knowing are "of something" and that knowledge and wisdom are the same thing.
Theaetetus requests that Socrates clarify his meaning. Socrates replies apologetically that it may be nothing (as at FIND PARALLELS), but he will say what he thinks.
Socrates suggests that Theaetetus has specified what there is knowledge of, but not what knowledge itself is. That is, he has specified objects of knowledge (e.g. the making of shoes) rather than what knowledge itself is. Theaetetus could, however, have replied that there is no such thing as knowledge that is not of something, that “knowlege” is a relative like “father”: there is no father who is father of nothing.
What is more, Theaetetus provided particular knowledges which can be counted, but Socrates' question was intended to elicit an explanation of what knowledge itself is, not how many there are. The mention of counting (146e8) may be a bow to the presence of Theodorus, the mathematician, but both Euthphr. 6d6-e3 and Men. 71e7-73c5 both contrast the many knowledges provided by the interlocutor with the unity sought by Socrates. Among other things, Theaetetus might have replied to Socrates’ objection that by supplying discrete instances, he was not trying to count knowledges. Rather, he was trying to specify the sort of things, their range and character, that are appropriate objects of knowledge, and that amounts to specifying something about knowledge itself.
Socrates makes an important assumption in his argument. Namely, he assumes that substitutions are allowed in definitions. Thus if knowledge is 'shoemaking among other crafts,' and shoemaking is 'knowledge of making shoes,' then by substitution,knowledge will be 'knowledge of making shoes among other crafts.' Such substitution shows that Theaetetus has defined knowledge in terms of knowledge, which is circular (cf. Meno 79b4-c3: are there more parallels?). Sedley, 2004, 25 says this is the one place in Plato's works where the principle that a proper definition of X must not include X as a term is not only invoked, but also defended (see on genus and species below), but it is not clear that there is a real defense of it here.
The inclusion of both τέχνη and ἐπιστήμη as words for what is to be defined make clear that this is not a search for a dictionary-style definition of a particular Greek word ἐπιστήμη, but rather a search for a definition of a concept which may be referred to by both Greek words. If they are not fully synonymous in Greek, that indicates that the concept may well be one that is not the same as any “common” notion of what each one individually is.
In allowing for the use of more than one term, Socrates also expands the applicability of the rejection of circular definition. One not only cannot use "knowledge" to define knowledge: one also cannot use τέχνη to define ἐπιστήμη or vice versa. McDowell ad 146c-147c finds this implausible.
McDowell finds a further implausibility. The rejection of an answer to "What is knowledge?" that uses not only "knowledge" but also expressions that are equivalent to phrases of the form "knowledge of x" but do not use the word "knowledge" requires some way to say which expressions are equivalent to phrases of that form. McDowell, I think, thinks that that amounts to requiring that one already understand knowledge. For one cannot judge equivalence without understanding the terms.
McDowell, 1973, 114, and Burnyeat, 1977, XXXX, point out that if Socrates is saying that the problem is that Theaetetus has said that X is Y, but Y is Z, and so Theaetetus maintains that X is Z, which is false, then Socrates is committing the mistake of subsituting terms in an opaque context. Clearly, if we want Socrates to have a valid and interesting point that he is making, we are justified in teasing out such arguments, but it bears keeping in mind that Socrates himself does not explicitly make such arguments. They are, rather, amng the possible undergirdings required to support the explicit points he does make.
Sedley, 1993, says that ancient critics pointed out that Socrates' argument also amounts to a tautology ("if X is Y, to say that X is Y just is to say that X is X" (Sedley, 2004, 22)).
Some scholars (Sedley, 2004, 24) say that Socrates' words amount to a claim that knowledge of a species (e.g. 'shoemaking') presupposes knowledge of that species' genus: 'knowledge' is the genus of 'shoemaking,' because shoemaking is a species of knowledge. This same idea will be taken up again in the Aviary (196d1-200c6). Genus-species issues may not be the point here, however, because Socrates explicitly differentiates between knowledge and what knowledge is of, which seems more a difference between a thing and its sphere of application (or an action and what is acted on) than the difference between generic knowledge and specific knowledge (147a1-c2), unless what properly speciates knowledge is its object (that is possible, but perhaps there are other qualities of knowledges which speciate them). On the other hand, if what properly speciates knowledge is its object, then Theaetetus’ string of examples was not, after all, so misguided. And that would be an ironic result, given Socrates’ rejection of the string of examples as not what he wanted.
Socrates frequently repeats a very simple concept for an interlocutor who requires repetition or who does not get the first iteration. Socrates' didactic point of repeating a concept with an interlocutor who does not get it the first time fits the dramatic interchange between Socrates and the characters in one way: the character needs clarification, indicates that, and so naturally Socrates tries to provide it. It fits the interchange between the reader and the dialogue in a different way: for the reader may get it the first time, but the repetition prompts the reader to reflect on the importance of the distinction. What is more, because the reader does get it the first time, he or she may also get a sense of superiority over the interlocutor, which primes the reader to think that he or she would be a superior interlocutor and could answer or counter Socrates' questions better than the interlocutor. But this is not just repetition. The second time is slightly different. Stating the clarification slightly differently than the original formulation also has a different point for the fictional drama than the point it has for the reader. For the fictional drama, a second explanation in slightly different words might be better understood. We readers, however,look not merely to understand what is being said but also to compare the two versions: Socrates’ interlocutors never say “that’s not exactly what you said before” much less “but at some point later in the dialogue, you will say.” We, however, inevitably do, for that is one of the most important differences between reading and hearing: it is always possible to reread, whereas a conversation happens in real time and cannot be repeatedly rewound and repeated exactly as before.
Socrates then offers an illustration. From the fictional dramatic point of view, the illustration must be meant to be easy and ordinary, or at least easier and less controversial than what preceded: namely, Socrates says that if someone asked "what is clay," and we gave the answer, "there is potter's clay, oven-maker's clay, and brickmaker's clay," we would be ridiculous. But that is not true: often a helpful and accurate answer to "What is X?" is a list of instances of X. It is at least an intelligent departure point. What is more, the fact that instances of a thing can be counted as well as the consideration of what makes them separate instances are also not bad places to start when considering "What is X?" For they provoke the question, what makes these specific things all one more general thing? In the case of clay, they would differentiate it at the very least from mere mud (something which Socrates’ purported definition will not do). An alien asking Theaetetus, “what is clay” would be as well-served by several examples as by Socrates’ definition, although both would be even better.
Thus at this point, Plato is building in assumptions about the sort of reply which counts as Socratic, and he is expecting a Socratic definition, not a discussion that might lead to a definition of any other sort, from Theaetetus. In other words, Socrates is teaching Theaetetus what sort of answer he wants (but not why he wants such an answer).
Those who see foreshadowing of the Forms in dialogues such as the Euthyphro (xxxx) will notice that a virtually equivalent interchange occurs here in the Theaetetus and so, via the parallel, will conclude that the Forms are as present here as in the Euthyphro. That seems to tilt toward making a dialogue which reads the Theatetus in light of the Forms at the very least plausible, but probably does more. It seems to make such a reading inevitable and justified.
Although we can see philosophical strengths in Theaetetus' responses, and we wonder what Socrates would say to those strengths, it seems reasonable to assume that Plato either did not see them or did not want to explore them here. WHY?
McDowell ad 146c-147c notes that Socrates has rejected the notion that the answer to the question "What is knowledge?" consists in answering the question "What are the objects of knowledge?" And the rejection of that notion, McDowell says, raises difficulties for Cornford's thesis that the Theaetetus' moral is that knowledge is knowledge of the forms. To be fair, the difficulties are not insurmountable. (McDowell points to his notes ad 201a4-c7, 210b1 (and the notes cited at the end of that note) as further points about Cornford's thesis).
For the nature of mud/clay and other such physical things, cf. Prm. 130c5-d2. On the possibility that the object of a search for knowledge might turn out to be many, some of which are opposites, cf. Phlb. 13e-14.
Theaetetus' reply to Socrates' clay example, Ἴσως, is a study in ambiguity ranging in semantic meaning from definite assent to non-committal "perhaps." Ἴσως also has an additional range: it ranges from virtual certainty to outright scepticism about the assent or lack of assent expressed. Context decides, but we do not have enough of the character Theaetetus' thoughts (the context here) to decide. Such ambiguity makes the characters dynamic, for it creates a sliding scale of assent both in terms of the character’s confidence in the reply’s correctness and also in terms of the emotional tone of the reply. That requires the reader to interpret quite actively but perhaps still unconsciously.
Socrates next gives a reason why it would be ridiculous to answer the question "What is clay?" by saying that there is potters', brickmakers', and oven-makers' clay. The reason is couched in a question, "Or do you think that anyone understands a name of something who does not know what it is?" That sets up a fictional situation for illustrative purposes. In the fictional situation, πηλὸς ὁ τῶν χυτρέων καὶ πηλὸς ὁ τῶν ἰπνοπλαθῶν and πηλὸς ὁ τῶν πλινθουργῶν are meant to be names of clay, and there is a person who does not know what clay is and so does not understand the names. The example "clay" is perhaps misleading: what if we think of something about which we truly know nothing but the name, such as "thoodle." Being told that "there are mechanics' thoodles, woodworkers' thoodles, and chefs' thoodles" surely moves us closer to knowledge of what thoodles are. Socrates' point seems minimally to be that the name of a thing and a few instances of it do not suffice for knowing what it is. But if you know what chefs, mechanics, and woodworkers are, or at least one or two of them, then you gain valuable contextual information which surely must be contributory to learning what a thoodle is. Socrates' labeling such an answer 'ridiculous' is, hence, questionable to unfair.
Socrates' application of the illustration to Theaetetus' shoemaker leads to the conclusion that if one does not know what knowledge itself is, one does not understand the knowledge of shoes. Of course, it is ridiculous to say that accomplished cobblers do not understand the knowledge of shoes, whether or not they expliclitly know (and can explain) what knowledge is. After all, they produce actual shoes: how could that happen if they did not know shoemaking? Socrates is claiming much more than that cobblers don't know how to explain what they know: he is claiming that they do not know shoemaking (147b4-10). Socrates' argument needs challenging, obviously. And yet, Theaetetus assents.
One way for Socrates’ project to nonetheless make sense would be if Socrates were creating a technical term "knowledge" which fit his claim and would still allow shoemakers to “know” shoemaking in ordinary senses of “knowledge.” But that would vitiate the undertaking, which has never been to explain some technical 'knowledge' that differs from everyday 'knowledge,’ but rather to explain what is meant by ‘knowledge.’
Perhaps Socrates intends to reveal that some technical and important philosophical understanding of 'knowledge' and 'shoemaking' is inaccessible to shoemakers, but nonetheless integral to our everyday understanding of 'knowledge,’ albeit unbeknownst to cobblers, who regularly and effectively use language to talk about things like ‘knowledge.' This philosophical definition of knowledge might exist side-by-side with and overlap the everyday meaning in such a way that we can say that we 'know' something in the everyday sense, but do not know it in the philosophical sense. Sedley, 2004, 25-26, suggests that Socrates intends a philosophical definition of knowledge, but the crucial elements to construct it are not apparent until 196d2-197a7 (where he rejects as sophistic the objection that you cannot know something at all until you know its definition) and 200d1-2 (where he allows that you must know what knowledge is before you can know what false judgement is). Sedley's idea is that lexical understanding of a word can successfully communicate, but it cannot be a tool of philosophical understanding, for which something more is required.
Whether he is creating a technical meaning of “knowledge” or not, Socrates is apparently seriously making the strongly paradoxical claim that shoemakers do not understand or have the knowledge of shoemaking unless they understand and can explain what knowledge per se is. Elsewhere in Plato (WHere? Laches for virtue), we find a similar but simpler requirement that one who possesses some candidate for knowledge of anything be able to explain that candidate.
Socrates next reasserts as a conclusion that it is ridiculous to give the names of particular areas of knowledge when one is asked what knowledge is, for that is to provide what knowledge is of, not knowledge itself.
Then Socrates suggests that with the example of clay, there was an "easy and short" (φαύλως καὶ βραχέως) direct route to the answer, which is "clay is earth kneaded with water.” The idea may be that there is a clear understandable definition that will suffice. That looks disingenuous, however, when one examines the example more closely. For starters, the Greek word for "clay" used here is partially synonymous with the word used for "earth," and so the answer appears circular. What is more, clay is a certain sort of water and earth mixture, not just any earth used to create any muddy mixture, which creates a definitional scope problem. Plato's Socrates exhibits nuanced familiarity with such problems elsewhere (XXXXXXand even in the Tht.?). What is even more, knowing that clay is water mixed with earth barely begins to display knowledge of clay, what it is: no one could possibly go out and apply that knowledge to the world with broad success without knowing a good deal more about clay. In sum, if knowing Socrates' definition of clay is 'knowledge' of clay, that is an impoverished notion of knowledge and an impoverished notion of clay. If, on another hand, such a definition is merely a good or the best starting point, then one must ask why another starting point cannot do as well: why must such a definition be the first step? Isn’t there more than one way to skin a cat? Perhaps there are multiple routes to knowledge.