Grammar and the correctness of names

Many sources bear witness to the sophists’ interest in grammar. This applies especially to Protagoras, who focused on morphological, syntactic, and stylistic questions: apparently, he was the first to distinguish the gender of nouns (male, female, and neuter), while also suggesting many corrections for names in use in his day. Thus he suggested that the female nouns menis (‘wrath’, ‘frenzy’) and pelex (‘helmet’), two terms familiar to Homer's audience, should be regarded as masculine – either on the basis of morphological criteria (because names ending in sigma or xi are usually masculine) or because of their meaning (insofar as war is an eminently masculine pursuit: see 80A27–8 D.-K. = 31D23–4 L.-M.). Protagoras also distinguished four verbal modes (indicative, conjunctive, optative, and imperative), which he linked to four types of speech (prayer, question, reply, and command), once again taking the occasion to criticize Homer, who had addressed the goddess with a command (‘Sing, Goddess, the wrath’) rather than a prayer (80A29 D.-K. = 31D25 L.-M.). Ultimately, these grammatical reflections presuppose a sophisticated conception of language, which is not limited to names but is rather investigated from the point of view of its underlying structure and connections, in relation to the different functions of terms.Footnote ³ As further confirmation of the importance of this research, it should be added that Protagoras was not the only sophist to deal with these problems: Hippias investigated the rhythms, harmonies, and correctness of letters (86A12 D.-K. = 36D15 L.-M), and Alcidamas proposed an alternative division of the types of speech from Protagoras’ (affirmation, negation, question, and address: fr. 24 Patillon with Mazzara 2005). The coining of neologisms can probably be traced back to the same context as well (Antiphon and Critias appear to have been particularly keen on inventing new terms, a remarkable number of which survive).

Naturally, it would be a serious mistake to assume that this focus on language depended on exclusively erudite or grammatical interests, as though the sophists simply sought to codify or standardize the linguistic usages of the Greek world. On the contrary, practical and philosophical interests were in play. On the one hand, it was a matter of increasing the potential of words in view of the practical aim of teaching pupils to exploit language to further their goals: it is by mastering a language that one can use it more effectively.Footnote ⁴ As Aristophanes was to note, these are the tools that help ‘to make the weaker argument the stronger’ (80B6b D.-K.): in order to learn the ‘unjust argument’ (Aristophanes’ version of Protagoras’ ‘weaker argument’), one must first learn the rules of grammar (Clouds, 658–91 = 80C3 D.-K. = Dram. T19c L.-M.).

On the other hand, it should be noted that the issues discussed by the sophists raised some important theoretical questions. One recurrent focus of their research was the issue of the correctness of names (orthotes onomaton, orthoepeia Footnote ⁵), which is to say the capacity of language to faithfully portray reality: this kind of enquiry is what contributed to early philosophical reflection on the nature of language.Footnote ⁶ The correctness of names no doubt represents one of the problems most widely debated in the Greek world, and not just by sophists, either: let us think here of figures such as Democritus and Antisthenes, not to mention Plato's Cratylus, whose subtitle was ‘On the Correctness of Names’.

Among the sophists, the most interesting reflections were made by Protagoras and Prodicus. The latter's investigation of the correctness of names took the form of a detailed analysis of synonyms, which earned him great repute among the men of his day. By first grouping synonyms together and then distinguishing them, Prodicus sought to connect each name to its concrete reality.Footnote ⁷ His theory presupposes a one-to-one relation between words and their referents, such that the phenomenon of synonymity seems only apparent. Prodicus thus emerges as a forerunner of Socrates’ theories (significantly, the sources often associate the twoFootnote ⁸), the main difference being that, whereas Prodicus appear to proceed by asking ‘how does x differ from y’, Socrates focuses more directly on individual entities, asking ‘what is x?’Footnote ⁹ In Prodicus’ case, this interest in names and synonyms has favoured a particular interpretation of his thought, which has emphasized his specificity compared to other sophists. It has been noted that his distinctions usually (but not always: see 84B4 D.-K. = 34D9 L.-M.) refer to terms and concepts pertaining to the field of ethics or moral psychology.Footnote ¹⁰ This has led some scholars to set Prodicus in contrast ‘to people the likes of Callicles and Thrasymachus’, as an opponent of the relativism typical of these authors and the upholder of a certain foundation for the moral principles that are to govern people's lives.Footnote ¹¹ Provided that we bear in mind the rhetorical purposes of this kind of research in Prodicus’ case as well, the reconstruction in question is largely valid (we will be returning to it in Chapter 5).Footnote ¹² Prodicus’ positive ethical orientation, however, does not entail such a radical contrast with the other sophists, as may be inferred from a comparison with Protagoras.

Plato's Phaedrus suggests that one of Protagoras’ works was entitled Orthoepeia (The Correctness of Language; Phdr. 267c = 80A26 D.-K. = 31D22a L.-M.). Regrettably, the content of this book is completely unknown; but different sources confirm that Protagoras had an interest in the problem of the correctness of language at different levels.Footnote ¹³ Mention has already been made of Protagoras’ grammatical interests and criticism of Homer, which implied the thesis of linguistic correctness. On another level, the notion of orthos is used as a criterion of analysis for poetry: correctness in this case concerns not points of grammar, but the consistency of a composition, its statements, and its moral teaching (80A25 D.-K. = 31D31 and 42 L.-M.; we will be returning to this testimony in the following section). Finally, the same notion could also be applied in an even more general sense:

This testimony is a fine example of Protagoras’ way of reasoning. The facts are indisputable: a man has unintentionally killed another man.Footnote ¹⁴ However, much remains to be said in regard to the issues of moral responsibility, legal guilt, and how to judge the whole incident. One and the same indisputable fact may be viewed from many different perspectives: for the physician, the javelin will be responsible for the man's death; for the judge, it will be the javelin-thrower; for the person who has organized the competition, it will be the judge. This contrast gives the sophist some room for action: he will attempt to create some agreement, lending meaning and order to the event.Footnote ¹⁵ The notion of correctness is the criterion which enables him to overcome the above difficulties: given that there is some truth and validity to all the above points of view, the problem will be to find the one most suited to the situation, while foregoing any claim to come up with a single, abstract answer.Footnote ¹⁶

The notion of ‘correctness’ finds a prominent place in Protagoras’ thought, and allows us to grasp some of its strands of continuity.Footnote ¹⁷ At the basis of this notion lies the awareness of the problematic relationship between reality and the human world which we discussed in connection with the ‘man-measure’ thesis, and which finds another expression in the statement that ‘concerning every subject, there are two arguments opposed to one another’ (80B6a D.-K. = 31D26 L.-M.). With regard to each thing there are two opposite logoi (speeches, arguments, points of view) – A and not-A – precisely because each experience is open to contrasting readings and interpretations. Logos, which expresses our capacity to think and speak, thus cannot exhaust the complexity of reality.Footnote ¹⁸ However, as already noted with regard to the ‘man-measure’ thesis, contradictory points of view do not imply confusion or the failure of human possibilities. Rather, the challenge that Protagoras takes up and the promise he makes is to be able to (and teach others to) unravel this complexity by identifying which of any two opposite logoi is the better, or rather the more correct, which is to say the one better suited to the circumstance at hand: this is the meaning of his well-known claim to ‘to make the weaker argument the stronger’ (80B6b D.-K.). It is easy to discern the structural analysis that links this notion of correctness to that of the type of usefulness we have discussed in relation to the ‘man-measure’ fragment: in both cases the problem is to find the best, most expedient relationship with things in each circumstance. We here get a better idea of Protagoras’ teaching, which centres on the concept of logos, understood both as the ability to reason and the ability to express oneself (that is, as both thought and languageFootnote ¹⁹). ‘Correctness’, in other words, is to be understood on two levels, one conceptual and the other linguistic: correct reasoning, which expresses the best possible solution, must find a counterpart in formal correctness, which makes one's speech persuasive and hence allows one to gain the upper hand in each particular situation.Footnote ²⁰ The best speech, therefore, is not the speech that is true but the one that is correct, the speech best suited to the situation at hand and most capable of outdoing others from a formal and logical perspective: an irrefutable logos.Footnote ²¹

The notion of ‘correct’ thus encapsulates the two underlying motivations of Protagoras’ thought: on the one hand, the concrete need to win discussions and debates; on the other, a more profound reflection on the human beings and the importance of logos, understood as the capacity to reason and to express oneself – as thought and speech. An increased awareness of the chasm between human beings and reality goes hand in hand with a belief that, through logos, humans can become the measure of all things. This is what Protagoras’ thesis ultimately amounts to, and it is easy to see that Prodicus and the other sophists had reached the same conclusion, by different routes.

Literary criticism and the critique of the poetic tradition

In the Platonic dialogue of the same name, Protagoras, when illustrating the aims of his teaching, assigns a particularly central place to poetry:

An interest in language did not merely inspire grammatical investigations and pave the way for rhetoric: it also constituted a privileged means to engage with the poetic tradition. Literary criticism first emerged in this period, also thanks to the sophists’ contributions. Yet this is not all. Poets had traditionally been regarded as educators and as the custodians of the most genuine Greek tradition: poetry was a treasure trove of useful knowledge, an encyclopaedia of ethics, politics, and history that every good citizen was expected to assimilate as the core of his education. The poet's task was to preserve and transmit the system of values on which the life of his community was founded. To engage with poetry, therefore, was to engage with the tradition; and this engagement was a fundamental part of the sophists’ teaching. Generally speaking, the rhapsodes were the social figures entrusted with the transmission of the poets’ knowledge. By declaiming the Homeric poems, they contributed to spreading a whole cultural heritage, consisting of norms and values. The rhapsodes did not merely recite verses: they also commented on them, and in doing so, they imparted teachings and instructions (see Plato, Ion, 530c–d). By developing different reading strategies, which often went against the established ones, the sophists presented themselves as the heirs to the rhapsodes, in some cases even donning their garb (e.g. Gorgias and Hippias: see 82A9 D.-K. = 32P18 L.-M.). In such a way, the sophists reinforced their claim to be new teachers, educators capable of imparting teachings suited to the needs of the new world of the polis. Footnote ²² The sophists’ strategy is one of appropriation, where an engagement with traditional knowledge represents the starting point of their attempt to acquire a dominant position in the Athenian cultural scene.Footnote ²³

The aforementioned evidence from Protagoras is very clear in this respect. In the dialogue, the above claim is followed by the reading of a poem by Simonides, one of the great lyric poets of the Greek world, with the declared aim of highlighting its incongruities and contradictions with respect to questions such as virtue and the good. Once again, the criterion used for this analysis is that of ‘correctness’. Protagoras follows a specific method, that of literal interpretation, which unfolds in three successive stages (understanding, analysing, and giving account). This method brings together all the various aspects of the research on language conducted by Protagoras:

Clearly, the purpose is not to provide a mere exegesis. Rather, it is to critically discuss the text and fulfil an educational goal: literary criticism is a useful intellectual exercise which enables the individual to grow familiar with the works of the poets and hence with traditional values – values that the individual will then be free to engage with, by either approving or rejecting them.Footnote ²⁵ Similar conclusions are suggested by other sources I have mentioned, namely the (regrettably) very succinct texts in which Protagoras analyses and criticizes some Homeric verses (80A28–30 D.-K. = 31D24–5, 30 L.-M.): by showing his ability to discuss the great Homer, while at the same time taking the liberty of criticizing him, Protagoras justifies his claim to be the new teacher that the city needs.

The importance of an engagement with the poetic tradition finds confirmation that is only apparently unexpected in the ‘man-measure’ fragment. In the previous chapter we saw how one of Protagoras’ polemical targets was Parmenides and the philosophical tradition of the ‘teachers of the truth’. Yet these were not the only ‘teachers of the truth’ attacked by the sophists, since much the same holds true of the poets, who had often drawn upon the idea of ‘measure’ to assert their importance: a poet – to quote some famous verses – is someone who, by grace of the Muses, knows the ‘measure’ of loving wisdom (Solon, fr. 1, 51–2 Gentili-Prato) and possesses the ‘measure’ of wisdom (Theognis, 873–6).Footnote ²⁶ A poet, in other words, is someone who, by virtue of the divine protection he enjoys, is capable of speaking the truth and distinguishing it from falsehood; he is the custodian of the order of reality and this justifies his prominent role in society.Footnote ²⁷ Everything changes with Protagoras: the ‘man-measure’ thesis undermines the poets’ claim to truth, just as it does with the truth referred to by philosophers such as Parmenides (who ultimately were operating within the same context as the tradition of poetic lore: he too wrote in verse). The truth is no longer guaranteed by gods and inspired poets, since humans are now the measure of all things, each according to their own perspective. And Protagoras is the new teacher, and the only one who can help others find their bearings in the ambiguous world that surrounds them, in which contrasting opinions take the place of absolute truth and falsehood. We can thus appreciate the programmatic importance of Protagoras’ introductory speech at the beginning of Plato's Protagoras, where he proclaims himself to be the heir to an authoritative, centuries-old tradition:

This claim is not merely designed to place Protagoras under the aegis of a well-rooted tradition; rather, it contributes to a more complex strategy of appropriation, which, through an apparently slavish adherence, brings about a radical reversal.

While Protagoras seems to focus entirely on the rational and rationally analysable aspects of poetic language, Gorgias also shows an interest in its psychagogic and creative aspects (without overlooking the importance of rational arguments, as we will see in the following section). The assumptions and aims, however, are the same: the centrality of logos and the ambition to establish oneself as Greece's true teacher. In particular, Gorgias’ reflection is marked by an acknowledgement of the power of words and by the notion of deception. In this respect, the most interesting text is his declamation Encomium of Helen, which was apparently composed to defend the memory of Homer's famous heroine, guilty of having fled with Paris, bringing about the Trojan War. Among the various reasons that may have led Helen to flee to Troy, Gorgias considers the arguments by which Paris might have persuaded her, and this allows him to embark on a famous digression on the power of logos and what constitutes it, namely words:

The acknowledgement of this power of words, a power that is also magical and divine, leads Gorgias to introduce the concept of deception (apate), which lies at the basis of his aesthetics.Footnote ²⁹

The notion of deceit can probably be traced back to Parmenides, and certainly to the poetic tradition of earlier centuries.Footnote ³⁰ In Gorgias, however, it lacks the negative nuance that it possesses in Parmenides and the poets. When Parmenides describes his cosmology as deceptive, he is not saying that it is false or fallacious; rather, he is warning his audience that what they are dealing with is still the world of appearances and not that of true reality. Much the same holds true for the poets. In Gorgias, by contrast, there is no longer any room for a ‘true divine reality’ beyond the changing world of appearances: all that remains is phenomena and the uncertain opinions of men. The deception stems from this precarious situation: every opinion – which is to say every attempt to make sense of reality – is intrinsically deceitful, since it is incapable of faithfully representing a reality that cannot be faithfully represented. But it is evident that in this context deception loses all negative connotations: for such is the human condition. And it is from this situation that poetry and all other forms of art can set out to achieve their goals.

Gorgias provides the first ‘aesthetic’ reflection on art and its power: the aim of the ‘deception’ embodied by art is to charm the soul by rousing feelings of pleasure, joy, or pain.Footnote ³¹ Yet, as we have just seen, the triggering of an emotional response is not an end in itself: it is a way to know oneself better and build a relationship with reality, which, according to Gorgias, is always ‘other’ with respect to us – a way of making sense of ourselves and the things around us. Deception, in other words, is to be fostered because it is what allows us to build a relationship with the reality of things and the reality of our very own being: the problem is not to attain a universal truth but to ‘enrich our universe, expanding our knowledge and culture, which is to say our self-understanding, our capacity to explain our own being’.Footnote ³² With Gorgias, what we have for the first time is an awareness of the value of art, ‘a deception, in which the one who deceives is more just than the one who does not deceive, and the one who is deceived is more intelligent that the one who is not deceived’ (82B23 D-K. = 32D35 L.-M.).Footnote ³³ Not unlike Protagoras, however, Gorgias implements a subtle strategy by appropriating traditional poetic lore, as poetry is nothing but ‘a speech (logos) that possess meter’ (82B11, 9 D.-K. = 32D24, 9 L.-M.): what matters, then, is logos and the ability to make suitable use of it. The real object of the encomium is not Helen but logos.Footnote ³⁴ This justifies the subsuming of poetry within the broader genre of rhetoric, the art of logos which is the object of Gorgias’ teaching: like Protagoras, Gorgias plays with tradition in order to appropriate it.Footnote ³⁵ The lore safeguarded by the poet has now been integrated in the wisdom of rhetors and sophists.

Among the other sophists, Hippias stands out for his interest in poetry and traditional lore. We know that he dealt with the division and length of syllables, probably in relation to metrical and rhythmic issues (see 86A2 and 12 D.-K. = 36D14b and 15 L.-M.). Moreover, he was well known in antiquity for his ‘antiquarian’ interests: that is, for having gathered and catalogued quotes from the great masters of past centuries – poets such as Orpheus, Musaeus, Homer, and Hesiod, among others (86B6 D.-K. = 36D22 L.-M.; Hippias’ interest in Homer is also documented elsewhere: see 86A10, 9, 18 D.-K. = 36D25, 26, 24 L.-M.). Hippias’ immediate aim, of course, was to provide a series of quotes that could be used in speeches and discussions. However, this work of selection may also be seen to promote a more detached approach to the tradition, which is viewed from a historical perspective and no longer as the depository of unquestionable truths.

This work of critical revision of poetic lore finds further confirmation in the method of memorization (mnemotechnique) that made Hippias famous (86A2, 5a, 11–12, 16 D.-K. = 36D12–13 L.-M.). Up until then, memory had served as the poet's key tool: it had exercised a religious function that enabled him to get in touch with divine reality and acquire knowledge of present, past, and future. With Hippias – and indeed Simonides before him – memory becomes a ‘“secular” technique, a psychological faculty that each person exercises according to well-defined rules, rules that are available to everyone’.Footnote ³⁶ This engenders a new attitude to time, regarded not as the ‘power of oblivion’, but as the context in which human endeavours take place.Footnote ³⁷ Hippias thus contributes to the development of historical awareness, and the only surviving authentic passage by him, the aforementioned fragment B6, bears unquestionable witness to the pride that he took in affirming the innovative nature of his teaching:

The case of Critias, in contrast, is a more problematic one. Probably following Philostratus’ lead, Diels reckoned him among the sophists. Certainly, Critias’ interest in antiquarian traditions and poetry finds a parallel in the work of other sophists.Footnote ³⁹ However, his ideology seems to follow a radically different direction, insofar as he apparently upholds a return to tradition and poetry (a genre he practised extensively) against the threats posed by the new rhetorical education (see Brisson 2009: 395).Footnote ⁴⁰ The differences here seem far more significant than the points of convergence.Footnote ⁴¹

Rhetoric, the sophists, and philosophy

As should be clear by now, the interest in logos is central to the sophists’ conceptualizations. In the previous section, we examined how the sophists used their new form of knowledge in relation to – and in competition with – the traditional knowledge embodied by poetry. We can now move on to analyse how this interest in logos relates to rhetoric, which developed as an independent form of knowledge in the late fifth and early fourth centuries bc. In turn, this will allow us to return to the thorny question of the relation between the sophists and philosophy, an issue which we began to address in the previous chapter.

The extent of the sophists’ contribution to rhetoric has been at the centre of a lively debate in recent scholarship. Despite the fact that several sophists were credited with the authorship of textbooks (the so-called logon technai), and that Gorgias, Antiphon, and Thrasymachus have traditionally been regarded as the founding fathers of this discipline,Footnote ⁴² some modern scholars have noted that the surviving testimonies seem to suggest that a genuine reflection on this new literary genre only emerged with Plato and Aristotle.Footnote ⁴³ The problem is certainly an interesting one, and it is difficult to take a side in the debate, given that the sources we have do not allow us to clearly determine the extent to which the sophists may have contributed to the development of theoretical problems (for example, the classification of different rhetorical genres, such as the deliberative, epideictic, and judicial) or stylistics (for instance, the distinction between high and low style). What is certain is that, although the sophists were not the ‘official’ founders of rhetoric, they showed an interest in logos and what related to it, bringing to the fore a series of questions that later became the focus of the discipline of rhetoric. A more detailed analysis of problems of this sort should probably be undertaken by scholars of rhetoric. On this occasion, what I wish to emphasize is that we can only shed light on certain aspects if we focus on the importance of the theme of logos for the sophists. Only by doing so will we be able to reach a more adequate understanding of them.

Let us start from an initial misunderstanding. Usually, the attempt to confine the sophists to the field of rhetoric implies a contrast with philosophy (as in the case of Plato and Aristotle). In turn, the distinction between philosophy and rhetoric entails a contrast between different argumentative strategies: whereas philosophy is seen to uphold the ideal of rigorous reasoning, rhetoric is considered susceptible to the charm of a deceptive persuasion which appeals to people's feelings. But if we consider Gorgias’ declamations or Antiphon's writings (particularly his Tetralogies, clusters of speeches each containing two speeches for the defence and two for the prosecution of a given case), we will soon realize that this is a false opposition. For, while it is true that the appeal to people's feelings plays an important role in the sophists’ strategies, it is equally true that their efforts are largely focused on developing cogent and rigorous arguments.Footnote ⁴⁴

If we consider Gorgias and Antiphon, the two sophists about whom we have most information, several types of argument may be found in their texts: most notably, arguments from probability (or likelihood: eikos),Footnote ⁴⁵ antinomy, induction from exemplary cases, reductio ad absurdum, and so-called apagoge (where the speaker explains all possibilities in order to then criticize each of them: this appears to be Gorgias’ favourite strategy).Footnote ⁴⁶ We may note that one of the major consequences of Gorgias’ and Antiphon's interest in rhetoric is their considerable effort to identify and develop many different types of argument – the concrete object of the sophists’ teaching.Footnote ⁴⁷ The appeal to feelings is certainly important, but what is equally important is rational analysis. Ultimately, the reason for this interest is the need to carry out investigations in contexts where truth is not self-evident; and it would be difficult to deny that this effort is irrelevant from a philosophical perspective.

This focus on argumentative strategies, moreover, makes it possible to rectify a second assumption, which seeks to reduce the sophists’ teaching to a simple transmission of practical advice designed to ensure victory in an argument – as though achieving successful persuasion and winning contests were the only things that really mattered. No doubt, persuasion was crucial. But if we consider the surviving texts by Gorgias and the other sophists, we soon realize that it was not only a matter of persuading the listener: ultimately, it would be simplistic to think that the aim of declamations such as the Encomium of Helen or the Defence of Palamedes was simply to convince the audience of the innocence of two mythological figures.

Let us take, for instance, the aforementioned case of the Encomium of Helen, which Gorgias allegedly composed to defend the memory of Homer's celebrated heroine, guilty of fleeing with Paris and causing the Trojan War. To absolve Helen, Gorgias lists the four possible reasons that might have led her into Paris’ arms, and shows that in all four cases she is not responsible: the responsibility would lie with the gods, or with Paris’ force, or with the power of words, or with desire. Now, the attempt to cover all possibilities – this text is obviously based on the method of apagoge – clearly goes well beyond the need to persuade someone of Helen's innocence: to reach this objective, Gorgias only needed to stress traditional topics such as the will of the gods or Paris’ physical force. Instead, he rather quickly moves beyond these topics, so as to focus on an analysis of the power of logos and eros. Indeed, while in this text Gorgias states his intention of persuading the public, his intention of eliciting pleasure is just as important. This is the pleasure derived from his display of intelligence, from his capacity to investigate the potential of language and human thought, and from his bold attempt to revisit – and at times criticize – traditional knowledge:

Besides, all of this does not apply to Gorgias alone. For instance, a cursory reading of the Dissoi logoi is enough to show that the primary aim of its anonymous author is not simply to persuade his audience, for example when he notes that, in a race or war, victory is good for the winner but bad for the loser: the purpose of a claim of this sort is certainly not to persuade anyone that good and bad are the same thing. From Protagoras onwards, antilogy became the typical scheme of sophistic discussions, with opposing arguments being used as a means to examine a question in all of its complexity and ambiguity. When properly employed, this method could be of use for winning arguments; yet it was just as useful as a means to discuss problematic cases, investigate or develop different types of arguments, entertain the public or capture its interest, and showcase one's skills.Footnote ⁵⁰ We here get to the very heart of the sophists’ conceptualization: the analysis of logos served not just to develop rigorous and cogent arguments, but also to investigate various other aspects of human experience.Footnote ⁵¹

This helps to clear up a third misunderstanding. The sophists have often been accused of being somewhat incoherent and unsystematic. Now, if no philosophy can exist without a system – that is, without a systematic and organized exposition of all the problems under scrutiny – it is legitimate to claim that there is no room for the sophists in this field. But such a rigid conception hardly does any justice to the richness of philosophy, which also includes enquiry and critical analysis as constitutive elements. According to this second, and more reasonable, definition, the sophists, too, have a place in philosophy, since, in order for it to truly work, the analysis of logos cannot be reduced to an investigation of argumentative techniques, but must also take into consideration human reality and things in all their complexity. So it is easy to realize that the development of rhetoric promotes a deeper familiarity with human psychology and its underlying mechanisms.

Let us again consider the example of the Encomium of Helen. To better understand the phenomenon of communication, Gorgias investigates human physiology, emotional dynamics, and the power of mechanisms of persuasion: his analyses de facto imply a ‘quasi-physical’ conception of the soul, on which discourses exert a clear impact, eliciting concrete reactions.Footnote ⁵² In turn, this conception of the soul has very provocative consequences when it comes to human responsibility, or rather the lack thereof. For, if this is how the human soul works, then, no matter from what perspective we approach the problem, the conclusion will always be that Helen is innocent. But, clearly, Helen is not the problem here, since what is true in her case also applies to all human actions. So if Helen is innocent, no person is guilty of his or her actions.Footnote ⁵³

This is obviously a provocative thesis, and it may well be that not even Gorgias himself accepted it. Yet, through his arguments, Gorgias has the merit of having raised thorny problems that call for a more in-depth reflection on the concept (and existence) of responsibility and the idea of the subject that it assumes. Can an action performed under the impulse of a desire be considered a truly responsible action? And what about an action performed because of some external constraint? Thus far, the answer seems quite straightforward. But to what extent is Helen responsible with respect to the war that followed her flight? In a way, it was she who triggered it; but can she really be held accountable for it? And if so, is she also guilty? The problem becomes more complicated, and it is no coincidence that Protagoras and Antiphon had dealt with similar questions, by asking themselves who is really responsible for the death of a boy struck by a javelin (see p. 47 above). On the other hand, we might note that the question is not only interesting in itself, but is also so more generally in relation to human freedom, which now seems to have been obliterated by the force of human passions and the power of chance. Generally speaking, the sophists are not concerned with developing an exhaustive philosophical system: it is difficult to determine what the position of someone like Protagoras may have been with regard to the problem of determinism; and it is probably impossible to reconstruct a theory of moral responsibility for Gorgias. Yet this does not mean that the problems which their reflections raise in each case are unimportant. And it is precisely in this capacity to make crucial problems the centre focus of the debate, bringing out many previously undetected tensions, that the philosophical interest of the sophists lies.

Now that we have cleared up all these misunderstandings, having confirmed the importance of logos and the rationalist assumptions underlying the sophists’ commitment to rhetoric, we can return to the problem of the philosophical significance of sophistic thought. The link between rhetoric and philosophy might seem paradoxical at first, given that traditionally – from Plato onwards – philosophy has developed in opposition to rhetoric: the claim that it is necessary to focus on rhetoric in order to understand the philosophical significance of sophistic thought might seem like utter nonsense. Yet it is actually true: the sophists’ interest in logos and rhetoric does not lead them outside philosophy, but towards a different conception of philosophy. Their unsystematic approach, intellectual curiosity, and ambiguousness towards the problem of truth are all based on the insight we discussed in the previous chapter: the acknowledgement of the problematic nature of the reality that surrounds us and the awareness of the fact that logos is our only means to develop a relationship with reality.

Let us take the exemplary case of Gorgias once more. The celebration of logos that we find in the Encomium complements the thesis regarding the rift between thought and language put forward in the treatise On Not-Being. At first sight, this might seem problematic, and one might object that the treatise On Not-Being and the Encomium of Helen present mutually incompatible theses: whereas the former ends with an acknowledgement of the failure of words, the latter assigns the word a sort of divine omnipotence. Upon closer scrutiny, however, it is possible to reconcile these two positions, if we accept, on the one hand, that On Not-Being criticizes a certain conception of logos, and not logos as such; and, on the other, that the two declamations pick up from where the treatise had left off, so as to explore alternative possibilities. In this respect, the two declamations may be seen to constitute the constructive side, so to speak, of a two-part work which also comprised the deconstructionist treatise On Not-Being.Footnote ⁵⁴

The discussion on logos is therefore essential for assessing the distance which separates Gorgias and the other sophists from the traditional conception of philosophy, the Parmenidean conception, which was partly taken up by Plato and Aristotle. The sophists’ polemical target is the claim to establish logos as a foundation, based on the assumption that being, thought, and reality coincide, whereby logos is thought to express truth in the sense of a true and objective representation of reality. But this is impossible, according to the sophists: reality is intrinsically multifarious and resists any unitary reconstruction; and because human logos is always subjective or relative, it always represents a given point of view or opinion, and not absolute truth. This is where the sophists’ alternative conception comes into play: they assign logos the function not of stating the truth, but of giving meaning to reality, of turning multiplicity into some kind of order – a provisional order, yet one still capable of orienting human actions. To paraphrase Nietzsche (who appreciated the sophists precisely because of such theses), it is a matter of interpreting things, since there are no facts, but only interpretations. Alternatively, and more radically, it is possible to draw a distinction between ontology and logology:

Logos can prove successful because – as we have seen – despite its apparent inconsistency, it is actually very powerful. Paradoxically, Gorgias’ emphasis on the limits of human experience ultimately leads to a celebration of the capacity of logos to give meaning to everything.

From logos to nomos, from language to politics

As repeatedly noted over the course of this chapter, the sophists can truly make a claim to being specialists of logos. Clearly, this is such an important term that it can hardly be made the exclusive preserve of the sophists: the concept of logos, with all that it entails, was just as important for the Presocratics, as well as for Plato, Aristotle, and all other Greek philosophers. Still, the sophists’ contribution here remains crucial. It was thanks to them that an awareness of the fact that logos is the distinctive feature of humankind emerged. Whereas for many previous thinkers, logos is what enables us to get in touch with an objective and well-ordered reality, since logos is also the ordering principle of reality, for the sophists it is a tool that a human can – and must – use to give meaning to things, a meaning that things do not necessarily possess in themselves. The problem, in other words, is to build a relationship with an ever-elusive reality and to adapt to changing situations, finding the right measure in each case. Thus the problem of logos is the problem of kairos, the right moment: the problem of finding the best possible solution in each circumstance and of knowing how to express it.Footnote ⁵⁶

In themselves, when viewed in abstract terms, however, logos and kairos are not enough to describe the sophists’ position. The attempt to give meaning to reality cannot be confined to the theoretical level of words, but must concretely manifest itself in the shaping of a human world: in order to possess any real value, the sophists’ logos must engage with the ambiguous world of politics, where nothing is fixed and duplicity is the norm. It is hardly a coincidence that the first people to be referred to as sophists were politicians such as Mnesiphilus, who had helped Themistocles:

As is well known – and as one would expect in the historical and cultural context of the fifth century – the sophists extensively dealt with practical and political matters. It is important to note that this was not a self-contained interest, but the direct consequence of their enquiries into physis and logos:

The emphasis on the creative power of speech enables the sophist to take the place of the philosopher who expresses being and of the poet who claims to be the spokesman for divine truth; and this is precisely how he comes to affirm his leading position in the world of the polis. Along with physis and logos, a third concept is of crucial importance in order to understand the sophists, specifically nomos, and it is this concept that we must now focus on.