Plato and Bob Dylan and flattery

Note: So I started writing this after seeing Dylan play in Cincy last night. The blog seemed much more organized in my head. But as I’ve thought about Plato, I’ve also been thinking that applying the classical view of rhetoric to the MA paper I begin talking about would add a lot. Suggestions are certainly welcome. (I should also note that I am presenting on its current interation at MPCA conference this October.)           

As an MA I wrote a paper about the changing rhetoric in Bob Dylan’s various renditions of “Tangled Up in Blue.” The paper was premised on this ridiculous notion that I might be able to sift through each lyrical and musical reimagining, juxtapose them with the period of my life they came to represent (since I heard and understood them un-chronologically) and somehow I could arrive at ultimate Truth. In hindsight this view hewed more closely to the Platonic view of art (mimesis) than the other theoretical frameworks I was imposing on Dylan’s work. Each rendition of the song after all was really just an imitation (or as I called them, “reimaginings”) of the original—and what’s more, the original is an imitation of the Dylan’s real life divorce. (He famously said the song took him ten years to live and two years to write.) Add these layers of imitation to the idea that I am trying to apply this to the construct of my life and you’re nowhere close to Truth.

            If nothing else, I guess it’s flattering for Dylan to have people think so highly of his work. The old adage does state that imitation is the highest form of flattery. (So, I guess, logically speaking, Dylan actually flatters himself quite a bit.) Through all of the conversations Socrates has with Gorgias, Polus, and Callicles flattery seems to be the driving force. Plato (through Socrates) defines flattery as “a part of a certain business which has nothing fine about it” and eventually as “base” (97). Plato elaborates, saying that rhetoric is not art but a habitude or knack—it’s what cookery is to medicine (98). It’s what the Real Live version of “Tangled” is to the Blood on the Tracks version. But to look at Plato’s view of art as an imitation really doesn’t add a whole lot to my understanding. He did, after all, illustrate his point quite well in his parable of the cave. What I want to look at specifically is the degree of imitation and to what end.

            Flattery—a feigning of interest or being impressed—is an imitation. Plato’s use of flattery in both the dialectics of Gorgias and Phaedrus expose the true forms of the thought. In the former, weakness of definition is exposed, while in the latter true intentions are made clear. To rely on Plato’s idea of the cave once more, we are able to see form only by projection; but we know it is only a projection because of the form. Rhetoric becomes a necessary thing to understand philosophy.

            On top of everything else we also have to consider that Socrates is, in a literary sense, an imitation put forth by Plato—he is merely a shadow of Plato’s thoughts and intentions. This is flattery on a whole different level, one that supposes ethos, but also asks on a deeper level for the audience to take a quasi-historical and literary view of Socrates as not just a person, but as a symbol. It’s flattering for Socrates, but it also adds, as Burke puts it, “the delight[s] of symbolic interaction... increased by the imitation of grave and serious conflicts” (298). The conflicts in neither Gorgias and Phaedrus aren’t really all that grave or serious; however, given Socrates as a symbol with which to synthesize Plato’s ideas, the true form becomes more apparent.

            To bring it all back home to Dylan it seems to me that the best way to get at truth is to look at the multitude of projections and how they are layered. We understand the irony and the humor and the rhetoric behind such phrases as “Sweet Polus” (96) or Socrates calling Phaedrus charming (140); however, that is only one dimension of it. In order to gain a greater understanding, we have to consider the person saying it and to whom they are speaking. This interaction is at its core, symbolic (which in the case of fictionalized dialogues is even more so). At one point in time we have to look at the interaction from a different point of view—or, while we can’t step into the same river twice, we can step in at the same spot and understand more about our initial encounter. (Insert clever Bob pun about watching the river flow here.)