Francisco Gonzalez

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Method and Politics in Plato’s Statesman by M. S. LaneFrancisco J. GonzalezM. S. Lane. Method and Politics in Plato’s Statesman. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Pp. xiii + 229. Cloth, $59.95.This rewarding book not only is another sign of growing interest in the Statesman, but also does much to justify this interest. The reasons for the dialogue’s relative neglect until recently are easily stated: readers have been puzzled by the amount of space devoted to method in a dialogue ostensibly about politics; furthermore, they have found both the method and the politics highly unsatisfactory. Lane addresses each of these concerns. She continually draws our attention to the unity of method and politics in the dialogue: the limitations of the Stranger’s initial divisions are shown to be equally methodological and political (44–5); the cosmic story is shown to be flawed by a political prejudice (the traditional model of king as shepherd), which turns into a methodological prejudice (the telling of a story too long to be profitably used as an example; 9–10, 121–3); the capacities ultimately shown to be necessary for a successful inquiry (division, exemplification, and finding the mean) also prove to be essential requirements of political knowledge (143–4, 202).Lane’s major contribution to our understanding of the dialogue’s method is her demonstration of the central role played by example (paradeigma). Lane expresses a common objection to the method of division: “But how to choose just which apparently similar things or names to investigate? Similarities are ubiquitous; there is some respect in which everything is similar to everything else. What is more, it is usually on the basis of prejudice and preconceived ideas … that similarities are distinguished” (75–6). Lane sees example as the solution, since it is precisely the task of an example to fix on those similarities relevant to the aim of the inquiry (76, 86–7).This is a very appealing solution, but one must wonder if it does not simply postpone the problem. To choose the right example, must we not make assumptions about which similarities are relevant to defining the object of inquiry and therefore about the nature of this object? And may not these assumptions be no more than prejudices or preconceived ideas? While the Stranger indeed develops his own example of weaving to an extent unparalleled in other dialogues (93), that there are essential similarities between statecraft and weaving appears to be more assumed than demonstrated by the example.With regard to politics, Lane provides a very illuminating account of the dialogue’s characterization of political expertise as certain knowledge of the good in a temporal context, or the kairos. She shows in what way this “knowledge of timing” (142) both is distinct from, and rules over, other contenders for the title of statecraft (such as rhetoric and strategy).Since, however, the existence of a statesman possessing such political expertise is, from the dialogue’s perspective, “a logical but unlikely possibility” (111) and, “from a [End Page 159] modern perspective,” seemingly impossible (4–5), the practical value of the Stranger’s political theory depends on his claim that the regimes which do exist can ‘imitate’ this ideal (300e11–301a3). But how? Even the second-best regimes are characterized by strict adherence to laws based on nothing more than persuasion, experiment and majority consensus (300b1–6), while in the ideal regime a knowledgeable statesman creates laws only as “memoranda” which he is entitled to revise or revoke at any time. According to Lane there is nevertheless one similarity that allows the second-best regimes to be called “second-order imitations” (see 109–111) of the ideal: both will not change laws without expert advice (158–9). This assumes that the second-best regimes acknowledge the authority of a political expert to change the laws, should one appear, an assumption that Lane reiterates throughout the book (11, 111, 114, 139, 147).Yet it is precisely this assumption that appears to be refuted by the thought-experiment at 298a–299e. The Stranger describes a city in which the practice of medicine, navigation and the other technai must adhere strictly to laws...

45~ JOURNAL OF THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY 34:3 JULY 1996 text" , and an element of "oralism" remains in all of Plato's written works. Nonetheless, Robb's "speculations" on the Platonic dialogues are certainly worth reading. Robb is quite aware that his book stirs up controversial issues, and some of these are briefly stated and discussed in his concluding chapter, "Homer, the Alphabet, and the Progress of Greek Literacy and Paideia." And yet in the very notions of "literacy" and "progress," some weaknesses in Robb's work can be found. For example, as W. V. Harris observed in his Ancient Literacy , 3ft., there is no single definition of literacy or orality, and although Robb cites Harris's book , he takes no special account of it in attempting to define or characterize what he means by "orality" and "literacy." And in his zeal to provide a survey of the influence of alphabetic literacy on Plato, Robb perhaps oversimplifies the tension that existed between the spoken and written work in the ancient world. Much of Greek "literature" remains the product of literate, slave- owning, and well-educated authors, written for their peers. Robb suggests as much in his discussion of mousild and sunousia , and one might desire a "sociology" of ancient Athens, for example, in which economic status and..

According to Heidegger’s own testimony, his 1940 essay, “Plato’s Doctrine of Truth,” is derived from a course he first delivered in 1931/32. Yet, while an interpretation of the Theaetetus is central to the argument in 1931/32, this dialogue is not so much as mentioned in the 1940 essay. The reason is that Heidegger’s own careful and insightful reading of the Theaetetus simply does not support his thesis regarding Plato’s “doctrine of truth.” But then the real interest of this reading is that it affords the opportunity for pursuing a genuine dialogue between Heidegger and Plato that was too abruptly discontinued.

During the 1920s Heidegger gave no less than twelve seminars and lecture courses devoted either exclusively or in large part to the reading of Aristotle's texts. Seven of these, especially the smaller seminars for advanced students, have not been published and apparently will never be included in the Gesamtausgabe. My focus here is on the very first of these. Billed as a reading of Aristotle's De Anima, much of it was devoted to Aristotle's Metaphysics. This decision not to separate Aristotle's “psychology” from his “ontology” is a key move of the seminar that anticipates the project of Being and Time. This and many other ways in which Heidegger's early reading of De Anima anticipates the key moves of the later book constitute one of the reasons for its importance. Another is that the seminar allows us to see what gets suppressed in Heidegger's reading of Aristotle, most significantly, the phenomenon of life itself in favor of an eventual focus on the being of human life or Dasein. This early seminar thus enables us not only to better understand Heidegger's project, but also to raise some fundamental questions concerning it.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Form and Argument in Late Plato ed. by Christopher Gill and Mary Margaret McCabeFrancisco J. GonzalezChristopher Gill and Mary Margaret McCabe, editors. Form and Argument in Late Plato. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996. Pp. xi + 345. Cloth, $65.00.This collection has the commendable aim of challenging the view that in Plato’s “late” works the dialogue form is a mere formality adding little to the argumentative content, a view still widespread among “analytic” scholars. The qualification is necessary because this view has already been seriously challenged by “nonanalytic” interpreters. It is therefore surprising that the editors chose contributors who almost all “share the analytic’ approach which is prominent in Anglo-American scholarship on Plato,” despite their admission that this approach has focused more on arguments than on the dialogue form (2, 299–300). Why seek to reinvent the wheel without the help of those who have already invented it? As a result, while the volume certainly makes an important contribution to our understanding of the form of this group of dialogues, it is much more successful in providing helpful and illuminating readings of their argumentative content: the detailed and rigorous analyses of McCabe, Malcolm Schofield (both on the Parmenides), and Gail Fine (on the Theaetetus) deserve special mention. The aim of the present review, which could not even begin to do justice to what the volume provides in the latter area, is therefore limited to documenting its mixed success in addressing some fundamental questions about form that have already occupied nonanalytic scholars (perhaps too exclusively):1) Does the main speaker speak for Plato?Given the great variety of main speakers in the “late” dialogues (Socrates, Parmenides, the Eleatic Stranger, Timaeus, the Athenian Stranger), each with a distinct personality and a distinct method, no attempt to understand the form of these dialogues should avoid this question. Gill raises it (293–95) and Schofield provides the most explicit response in denying that any interlocutor in a Platonic dialogue “can be assumed to be merely a spokesman for Plato’s own views” (51). More importantly, the essays by Dorothea Frede (on the Philebus) and Catherine Osborne (on the Timaeus), probably the most valuable in the volume, show what results can be achieved without this assumption. On the other hand, Michael Frede (on the Sophist) and Christopher Rowe (on the Politicus; see 158 and cf. 172 n.48) simply assume without argument that the Eleatic Stranger = Plato. All other contributors make the “spokesman” assumption, either implicitly or explicitly (see Christopher Bobonich’s reading of the Laws, 254–55).2) What is the significance of the dramatic context, especially dramatic chronology and characterization?As often noted, the Parmenides is set in Socrates’ youth and is in this sense the earliest [End Page 311] dialogue, while the series Theaetetus-Sophist-Politicus is set immediately before Socrates’ trial and condemnation. McCabe and Schofield are silent about the first fact. M. Frede briefly discusses the second (146–47), but adds little to what has already been said by others. As for the characterization of specific interlocutors, this volume overall has surprisingly little to offer. The essays of D. Frede and Osborne, however, are exemplary in this area.3) Why did Plato choose to write these works as dialogues rather than as treatises?Bobonich, D. Frede, and Osborne succeed in demonstrating the significance and even necessity of the dialogue form, an extraordinary achievement given the dialogues they discuss. Osborne in particular brilliantly shows how the dialogue form undercuts the common tendency to read the Timaeus as a treatise on natural science. Other contributors are less successful in answering this question central to the volume’s task. Schofield takes himself to be reading the Parmenides as a dialogue (51) because he, unlike Vlastos, interprets the Third Man Argument (second version) in the wider context of other arguments in the dialogue, including those of the second half. But “reading arguments in context” is demanded by any philosophical text and has nothing per se to do with the dialogue form. Fine reads the first part of the Theaetetus as the dialectical elaboration and refutation of an opponent’s view (109), but this could just as well be...

The present paper has a negative aim and a positive aim, both limited in the present context to a sketch or outline. The negative aim, today less controversial, is to show that Aristotle’s theory of final causality has little or nothing to do with the teleology rejected by modern science and that, therefore, far from having been rendered obsolete, it has yet to be fully understood. This aim will be met through the identification and brief discussion of some key points on which Aristotle’s theory differs from teleology as still commonly understood. The positive aim is more controversial as it proposes that we take an ontology of life as the proper context for understanding the significance and nature of final causation in Aristotle. The argument for final causation, in other words, is that, without it, we would lose the phenomenon of life and, indeed, of nature altogether, reducing nature to the inanimate and mechanical.

Aristotle notoriously begins his examination of being in the sense ofdunamisandenergeiainMetaphysicsTheta with what he describes as the sense that is ‘most dominant’ but not useful for his present aim. He proceeds to define the not-useful sense ofdunamisas “the principle of change in something else or in itself qua other”, along with other senses derived from this primary sense. But what then is the useful sense? All that Aristotle tells us at the outset is that it is a sense that extends “beyond things spoken of only in relation to motion” and nowhere in Book Theta does he explicitly identify the useful sense as such. This has allowed for very different interpretations of the useful sense in the literature, the primary ones being that it is (1) ‘possibility’, (2) the potential to receive a form, (3) being-potentially-x understood modally as encompassing all specific senses ofdunamis, and (4) capacity for substantial change. The present paper argues that there are significant problems with all of these suggestions and defends an identification of the useful sense ofdunamiswith the sense that Aristotle explicitly opposes to the not-useful sense at the start of Theta 8:phusis(‘nature’). This goes hand-in-hand with an identification of the useful sense ofenergeiawith ‘activity’ as distinguished from motion/change at the end of Theta 6. What makes these senses ofdunamisandenergeiathe useful ones for Aristotle’s present aim is that they are required to explain fully the priority ofenergeiatodunamisin substance defended in Theta 8, they support the identification in Theta 9 ofenergeiawith the good, and they explain the unity of the only substances that Aristotle recognizes as being genuinely substances: natural living substances.

In this international and interdisciplinary collection of critical essays, distinguished contributors examine a crucial premise of traditional readings of Plato's dialogues: that Plato's own doctrines and arguments can be read off the statements made in the dialogues by Socrates and other leading characters. The authors argue in general and with reference to specific dialogues, that no character should be taken to be Plato's mouthpiece. This is essential reading for students and scholars of Plato

Problem: Starting with his personal experience the author pursues the question: How can we alter our way of living, sensoriality and reflective skills so that we can handle today’s information flows, which nowadays are so large that they create confusion and ineffective educational actions? Method: The approach to follow is called “parenthesism,” a practice based on Maturana’s theoretical frameworks of the “biology of cognition” and the “biology of love.” Results: One of the findings when a person lives in parenthesism is the ability to see their own dogmatism and stubbornness when that person would otherwise be blind to his/her own convictions. Implications: Many aspects of this essay, and this manner of thinking, are circular and tautological, and hence may appear illogical to the reader. However, the author claims that existence is not solely logical, and that in a complex matrix circular and recursive relationships are common, and that these can best be understood through circular and recursive logics. Furthermore the relevance of parenthesism for UNESCO’s view on learning paradigms is reviewed in this light

This paper defends a ‘perspectivist’ reading of Plato’s dialogues. According to this reading, each dialogue presents a particular and limited perspective on the truth, conditioned by the specific context, aim and characters, where this perspective, not claiming to represent the whole truth on a topic, is not incompatible with the possibly very different perspectives found in other dialogues nor, on the other hand, can be subordinated or assimilated to one of these other perspectives. This model is contrasted to the other models that have been proposed, i.e., Unitarianism, Developmentalism, and ‘Prolepticism’, and is shown to address and overcome the limitations of each. One major advantage of ‘perspectivism’ against the other interpretative models is that, unlike them, it can do full justice to the literary and dramatic character of the dialogues without falling into the opposite extreme of turning them into literary games with no positive philosophical content. To say that Plato’s dialogues are ‘perspectivist’ is not to say that they contain no ‘doctrines’ on the soul, for example, but, on the contrary, to stress the plurality of doctrines, with the observation that each is true within the limits of the argumentative function it is introduced to serve and of the specific dialogical context.

BackgroundFor a long time, in sports, researchers have tried to understand an expert by comparing them with novices, raising the doubts if the visual search characteristics distinguish experts from novices. Therefore, the aim of the present study was to review and conduct a meta-analysis to evaluate the differences in visual search behavior between experts and novices in team sports athletes.MethodsThis systematic review with meta-analysis followed the PRISMA 2020 and Cochrane's guidelines. Healthy team athletes were included, which engaged in regular practice, from any sex or competitive level, specifically classified a priori as expert or novice in the original research. We considered only research published in peer-reviewed journals, with no limitations regarding date or language. It was considered healthy team sport athletes engaged in regular practice. The scenarios could be in situ or film-based. The databases of EBSCO, PubMed, Scopus, SPORTDiscus, and Web of Science were used to perform the searches. The risk of bias was calculated through the RoBANS tool.ResultsFrom a total of 6,257 records, of which 985 were duplicates, titles and abstracts of 5,272 were screened, and 45 required full-text analysis. Of those, 23 were excluded due to not fulfilling the eligibility criteria regarding participants. In the end, 22 studies were selected, however, as two studies were part of the same trial and were analyzed conjointly.DiscussionExperts showed to be older and with more years of practice. The ability to distinguish experts from novices was not so clear regarding the variables analyzed. This could be due to the strategies chosen in each study, which were specific to each scenario, and when grouping all together, it was lost information within non-representative averages. The distinction between experts and novices was not clear, showing a lot of heterogeneity in the included studies. The expert classification itself may have been the conditioning aspect for these results, retaining the doubt and the need for more studies in the field.Systematic review registrationThe protocol was pre-registered in OSF.

In a critique of Heidegger that respects his path of thinking, Francisco Gonzalez looks at the ways in which Heidegger engaged with Plato’s thought over the course of his career and concludes that, owing to intrinsic requirements of Heidegger’s own philosophy, he missed an opportunity to conduct a real dialogue with Plato that would have been philosophically fruitful for us all. Examining in detail early texts of Heidegger’s reading of Plato that have only recently come to light, Gonzalez, in parts 1 and 2, shows there to be certain affinities between Heidegger’s and Plato’s thought that were obscured in his 1942 essay “Plato’s Doctrine of Truth,” on which scholars have exclusively relied in interpreting what Heidegger had to say about Plato. This more nuanced reading, in turn, helps Gonzalez provide in part 3 an account of Heidegger’s later writings that highlights the ways in which Heidegger, in repudiating the kind of metaphysics he associated with Plato, took a direction away from dialectic and dialogue that left him unable to pursue those affinities that could have enriched Heidegger’s own philosophy as well as Plato’s. “A genuine dialogue with Plato,” Gonzalez argues, “would have forced [Heidegger] to go in certain directions where he did not want to go and could not go without his own thinking undergoing a radical transformation.”