In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Plato's Doctrine of the Psyche as a Self-Moving Motion RAPHAEL DEMOS I WILLXSXTHEREADERto ignore for the time being what he has gleaned about the soul from the reading of the Phaedo and the Republic. In these dialogues Plato speaks of the soul sometimes as wholly rational, as having three parts, and so forth. But in these dialogues he is t~lklng of the human soul, which is a (...) special case, whereas in this essay I am de~Hng with the wider role and the concept of the soul as the efficient cause of motion, change, and all becoming everywhere in the cosmos. My cardinal texts in this exposition are the Sophist (246a-249d), the Phaedrus (245c, d), and a considerable portion of Laws, X. Consider the Phaedo, a dialogue with at least four motifs: it is a dramatic evocation of the last day in the life of Socrates, it is an argument for the immortality of the soul and for the reality of the world of ideas, it is a myth of the nether world, and finally, it is a theory of the cosmos as ruled by purpose--all in all, one of the great pieces of literature of the Western world. For the reader, it is an evocation of an attitude to life, based on Plato's conception of the soul--an attitude expressed in the famous phrase that the wise man spends his life meditating on death. As contrasted with what may be called his existential concern with the soul, in the other dialogues on which I will comment, Plato approaches the topic of the soul as part of his explanation of the cosmos. In these his attitude is objective and quasi-scientific. It is to this side of Plato's thought that I wish to call attention in this essay, where the establishment of the immortality of the soul is incidental to the more basic doctrine that the soul is an arche, a primary factor and an ontological principle. In the,Sophist, we find Plato playing the music of his philosophy in a new key. He refers to the "friends of the forms" as though he, himself, were an outsider looking in; then, too, he asserts that motion is really real in contrast to his derogatory references to motion in the Cratylus, the Phaedo, and the Republic.I In these (and other) dialogues, Plato contrasts change and changing things with the timeless forms in respect of reality: the former are said, at best, to be semi-real; only the latter are really real. But in the Sophist he changes his tune, arguing that total reality (~o ~v, to' ~a~rE~ By) includes both motion and rest (248e 8; 249d 3-4). What does he mean by these two words? That by 'rest' he means the realm of ideas is indicated (if not proved) by his references to the forms in the same context (247b 1But in the Theaeteius,he classifiesmotions in a semi-scientific fashion, leaving the impression on the reader that he regards motion as a reality. [133] 134 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY 1-2; 249b, 10, c 1).2 As for motion, Plato makes it clear that the term covers not only (a) physical motion but also (b) life, (c) psyche, and (d) phronesis or naus (249b 5). All these are said to be forms of kinesis; how this is so--how life, soul, mason may be described as motions or changes--is a matter for later comment. What is more to the point is Plato's insistence that motion and what is moved are onta (beings, 249b 2, d 3). Plato uses change (metabol$) interchangeably with kinesis; anticipating the Phaedrus, I will include activity under change. And anticipating the Laws, I will characterize some of this activity as mental; indeed the Sophist, includes within change nous, phronesis, and episteme; that is to say, understanding (in the sense of an activity, 249a, b, c).s Plato offers various reasons in support of his contention that change is real. He may also be offering a special demonstration as follows. The philosopher who denies that change is real is engaged in a mental activity, in short... (shrink)

The initial paradox is simple: The ideal state, as Plato describes it, is composed of un-ideal individuals. Both the warrior class and the masses are deprived of reason and must be governed by the philosopher-king. How can one legitimately call a community perfect when so many of its members are imperfect ? My point here is logical; the word ‘ideal’ is used in a self-inconsistent manner.

This paper is based on the "cratylus", although there is occasional reference to other dialogues. In plato's contrast between the language of the gods and the language of mortals, we may discern something like the contrast between ideal and ordinary language. By names he means terms which have both reference and sense necessarily; such terms are also verbs, for verbs are names of actions and actions are realities; for instance, a blow. The criterion for the identity of names is that (...) they mean the same thing. "statements".unlike names, statements have meaning without necessarily having any reference. A word is a name "only" if what it names exits, whereas a statement may be false. A statement achieves meaning by purely internal criteria as to its composition. "the structure of statements". A statement is not a list of names; it is a unity and has meaning only in its character as a unity. Ryle's view that the terms in a sentence are not independent constituents and that their meaning is contextual is presented. The author concludes that plato is undecided on this matter. (shrink)

Such a question and such a suggestion may seem preposterous. The scholarly tradition represents Plato as the first historical figure to construct a utopia, and as one who stimulated Th. More, Rousseau and others to similar efforts at construction. While I agree with this tradition, I do not think that its view of Plato's intention can be taken for granted; such a view needs arguing and demonstrating--arguing against important objections. The question is certainly not preposterous, as will be obvious from (...) a consideration of relevant passages. (shrink)

Jung has long been a doctor for mental illness; at Zurich and elsewhere the list of his patients---many of them American--is very large. But he has never been merely a practising physician of mental ills; he has all along been a student of the human psyche, both abnormal and normal. The forces impelling him to his investigations are surely complex. Jung, no doubt, is concerned with therapy--a therapy of the ills not only of particular individuals, but of societies too. Indeed, (...) he is deeply worried over the direction in which our Western culture is proceeding, and, like a prophet, he speaks out with vigor against present trends. But his interest in psychological phenomena goes far beyond the bounds prescribed by the pursuit of practical results. He is also an independent inquirer who seeks understanding for its own sake, and is concerned with extending the boundaries of our theoretical knowledge in psychology. He is a student not only of the individual mind but of culture as well--or, as he would prefer to put it, of the collective mind. Indeed, one of the points we must consider is whether, as has been alleged by some of his critics, Jung sinks the individual into the collective pool of the psyche, there to drown him. The question, in other words, is whether Jung believes that there is a group mind as an entity existing over and above individual minds. (shrink)

What is it that leads the author to take up the particular problems which he studies in this book? The topics do not of themselves fit into a structure. The author would dissent from this statement. For instance he says that the book ultimately attempts to clarify the relation between mind and body. With all respect, I suggest that the book could be more suitably entitled "Problems of philosophy in which I have been interested and which I have discussed with (...) myself or with friends on various occasions." The author succeeds in communicating his own zest and interest to the reader. The unity of the book lies rather in its attitude--which I will describe as a combination of empirical analysis with commonsense. But the word "analysis" should not mislead the reader into supposing that the author is a member of the Oxford Group. I am using the word "analysis" in its old-fashioned sense to mean "clear and distinct ideas and definitions." The author would prefer to speak of an analysis of the meaning of words; yet essentially his quest is not different from that of Socrates who aimed to clarify ideas, nor from that of Descartes with his insistence on clear and distinct ideas. But as against the latter at least, the author would insist that philosophical analysis should have empirical roots and an empirical reference. By speaking of commonsense as a component of the author's attitude I mean something more than his addiction to empiricism. I mean his espousal of commonsense categories like, for instance, substance and property, and his preference for commonsense usages. For example, Professor Ducasse rejects behaviorism for the professed reason that the commonsense usage of the word "observation" includes introspection as well as external perception. But I will try to show that the alliance between clarity and commonsense in the author's mind often dissolves into an undeclared and a cold war between them, in which commonsense has the worst of it. (shrink)

Moralists have raised the question as to how punishment may be justified, and their answers to the question generally have been of two sorts: they have appealed to the principle either of retributive justice or to that of beneficial consequences. I will argue that the question itself is illegitimate and that therefore the answers should be dismissed as irrelevant. For punishment is not a separate act or operation calling for justification; rather it is the last act of a play beginning (...) with a command or regulation which includes a threat and ends up with punishment. The demand for justification is legitimate only when addressed to the command; one may properly ask what are the justifying reasons for the imperative, was it a good law, was the command well-advised, and so forth. And the answers will appeal either to principle or to consequences according to one's ethical position. But in no case will retribution be relevant, since that is not how an imperative may be justified at all. Retributive justice has been thought to be relevant because punishment has been regarded as an independent operation. Now, consider a battle of which an incident is the capturing of a hill from the enemy. What one judges is the plan of the whole battle, of which the taking of the hill is an operation entailed by the general plan. The attack on the hill may require heroics, but heroics are not a consideration in estimating the plan. The question of retributive justice is no more relevant to the justification of the imperative than that of heroics to the drawing up of the battle-plan. Thus, my point is that punishment is, so to speak, built in to the command; what we need then is an analysis of commands--or orders as I prefer to call them--of which punishments are logically necessary incidents. (shrink)

According to Spinoza, the categories of good and bad—in fact, all categories of value—are relative. The only valid category is that of substance; value as distinct from reality has no genuine meaning. Spinoza’s attack on valuation is based on two sets of arguments, one rationalistic and scientific, the other religious and theological. We will consider each in turn.

The initial paradox is simple: The ideal state, as Plato describes it, is composed of un-ideal individuals. Both the warrior class and the masses are deprived of reason and must be governed by the philosopher-king. How can one legitimately call a community perfect when so many of its members are imperfect? My point here is logical; the word ‘ideal’ is used in a self-inconsistent manner.

My beliefs during the first stage of my philosophical career were a mixed brew of ingredients taken from the Greek and Christian traditions. My tastes were conservative and even reactionary. I believed in the reality of substance, material and mental; I held that there are universal and necessary connections in nature which can be known. In short, I was a naive objectivist about things and about structures. I was a realist about values too. I believed that there are such traits (...) in nature as good and bad, right and wrong, beauty and ugliness, independently of my preferences. I was convinced further that goodness was a supreme causal agent; that—to paraphrase the familiar quotation—righteousness is power. I believed in God. With Plato I maintained that causality is not only efficient but final too; that nature exhibits both a mechanical and a moral order. And these two propositions were, to my view, but twin aspects of the one proposition that nature will not deceive my expectations. (shrink)