Theaetetus

SO. for each alone by itself can only be named, and no qualification can be added, neither that it is nor that it is not, for that would at once be adding to it existence or non-existence, whereas we must add nothing to it, if we are to speak of that itself alone. Indeed, not even itself or that or each or alone or this or anything else of the sort, of which there are many, must be added; for these are prevalent terms which are added to all things indiscriminately and are different from the things to which they are added; but if it were possible to explain an element, and it admitted of a rational explanation of its own, it would have to be explained apart from everything else. But in fact none of the primal elements can be expressed by reason; they can only be named, for they have only a name; but the things composed of these are themselves complex, and so their names are complex and form a rational explanation; for the combination of names is the essence of reasoning. Thus the elements are not objects of reason or of knowledge, but only of perception, whereas the combinations of them are objects of knowledge and expression and true opinion. When therefore a man acquires without reasoning the true opinion about anything, his mind has the truth about it, but has no knowledge; for he who cannot give and receive a rational explanation of a thing is without knowledge of it; but when he has acquired also a rational explanation he may possibly have become all that I have said and may now be perfect in knowledge. Is that the version of the dream you have heard, or is it different?

THEAET. That was it exactly.

SOC. Are you satisfied, then, and do you state it in this way, that true opinion accompanied by reason is knowledge?

THEAET. Precisely.

SOC. Can it be, Theaetetus, that we now, in this casual manner, have found out on this day what many wise men have long been seeking and have grown grey in the search?

THEAET. I, at any rate, Socrates, think our present statement is good.

SOC. Probably this particular statement is so; for what knowledge could there still be apart from reason and right opinion? One point, however, in what has been said is unsatisfactory to me.

THEAET. What point?

SOC. Just that which seems to be the cleverest; the assertion that the elements are unknowable and the class of combinations is knowable.

THEAET. Is that not right?

SOC. We are sure to find out, for we have as hostages the examples which he who said all this used in his argument.

THEAET. What examples?

SOC. The elements in writing, the letters of the alphabet, and their combinations, the syllables [*](Στοιχεῖον and συλλαβή originally general terms for element and combination, became the common words for letter and syllable.); or do you think the author of the statements we are discussing had something else in view?

THEAET. No; those are what he had in view.

SOC. Let us, then, take them up and examine them, or rather, let us examine ourselves and see whether it was in accordance with this theory, or not, that we learned letters. First then, the syllables have a rational explanation, but the letters have not?

THEAET. I suppose so.

SOC. I think so, too, decidedly. Now if anyone should ask about the first syllable of Socrates; Theaetetus, tell me, what is SO? What would you reply?

THEAET. I should say S and O.

SOC. This, then, is your explanation of the syllable?

THEAET. Yes.

SOC. Come now, in the same manner give me the explanation of the S.

THEAET. How can one give any elements of an element? For really, Socrates, the S is a voiceless letter, [*](The distinction here made is that which we make between vowels and consonants. The seven Greek vowels are α, ε, η, ι, ο, υ, ω called φωνήεντα.) a mere noise, as of the tongue hissing; B again has neither voice nor noise, nor have most of the other letters; and so it is quite right to say that they have no explanation, seeing that the most distinct of them, the seven vowels, have only voice, but no explanation whatsoever.

SOC. In this point, then, my friend, it would seem that we have reached a right conclusion about knowledge.

THEAET. I think we have.

SOC. But have we been right in laying down the principle that whereas the letter is unknowable, yet the syllable is knowable?

THEAET. Probably.

SOC. Well then, shall we say that the syllable is the two letters, or, if there be more than two, all of them, or is it a single concept that has arisen from their combination?

THEAET. I think we mean all the letters it contains.

SOC. Now take the case of two, S and O. The two together are the first syllable of my name. He who knows it knows the two letters, does he not?

THEAET. Of course.

SOC. He knows, that is, the S and the O.

THEAET. Yes.

SOC. How is that? He is ignorant of each, and knowing neither of them he knows them both?

THEAET. That is monstrous and absurd, Socrates.

SOC. And yet if a knowledge of each letter is necessary before one can know both, he who is ever to know a syllable must certainly know the letters first, and so our fine theory will have run away and vanished!

THEAET. And very suddenly, too.

SOC. Yes, for we are not watching it carefully. Perhaps we ought to have said that the syllable is not the letters, but a single concept that has arisen from them, having a single form of its own, different from the letters.

THEAET. Certainly; and perhaps that will be better than the other way.

SOC. Let us look into that; we must not give up in such unmanly fashion a great and impressive theory.

THEAET. No, we must not.

SOC. Let it be, then, as we say now, that the syllable or combination is a single form arising out of the several conjoined elements, and that it is the same in words and in all other things.

THEAET. Certainly.

SOC. Therefore there must be no parts of it.

THEAET. How so?

SOC. Because if there are parts of anything, the whole must inevitably be all the parts; or do you assert also that the whole that has arisen out of the parts is a single concept different from all the parts?

THEAET. Yes, I do.

SOC. Do you then say that all and the whole are the same, or that each of the two is different from the other?

THEAET. I am not sure; but you tell me to answer boldly, so I take the risk and say that they are different.

SOC. Your boldness, Theaetetus, is right; but whether your answer is so remains to be seen.

THEAET. Yes, certainly, we must see about that.

SOC. The whole, then, according to our present view, would differ from all?

THEAET. Yes.

SOC. How about this? Is there any difference between all in the plural and all in the singular? For instance, if we say one, two, three, four, five, six, or twice three, or three times two, or four and two, or three and two and one, are we in all these forms speaking of the same or of different numbers?

THEAET. Of the same.

SOC. That is, of six?

THEAET. Yes.

SOC. Then in each form of speech we have spoken of all the six?

THEAET. Yes.

SOC. And again do we not speak of one thing when we speak of them all?

THEAET. Assuredly.

SOC. That is, of six?

THEAET. Yes.

SOC. Then in all things that are made up of number, we apply the same term to all in the plural and all in the singular?

THEAET. Apparently.

SOC. Here is another way of approaching the matter. The number of the fathom and the fathom are the same, are they not?

THEAET. Yes.

SOC. And of the furlong likewise.

THEAET. Yes.

SOC. And the number of the army is the same as the army, and all such cases are alike? In each of them all the number is all the thing.

THEAET. Yes.

SOC. And is the number of each anything but the parts of each?

THEAET. No.

SOC. Everything that has parts, accordingly, consists of parts, does it not?

THEAET. Evidently.

SOC. But we are agreed that the all must be all the parts if all the number is to be the all. [*](Cf. Plat. Theaet. 204b)

THEAET. Yes.

SOC. Then the whole does not consist of parts, for if it consisted of all the parts it would be the all.

THEAET. That seems to be true.

SOC. But is a part a part of anything in the world but the whole?

THEAET. Yes, of the all.