Although I've known about the bit of Plato's Phaedrus known as the critique of writing for years, I didn't actually read it until I started teaching it a few years ago (a terrible admission!). But every time I re-read it I am amazed and happy that I finally discovered it for myself. I genuinely learn something new every time I read it. This time around I've noticed two things about my response to Plato: that this is a critique in the true sense of that word and that Plato is very concerned about audiences--or, as I would think about it, readers.
Many people may consider a 'critique' to be something that just points out weaknesses. But to think critically about something (and then to produce a critique) means, of course, to be skeptical and reveal problems or flaws, but it also means acknowledging what is good and right in a work (textual or otherwise). So while it is true that Plato is worried that people might start valuing writing more than real, embodied knowledge, he also admits that there can be serious intentions in writing and that it might be useful to have a written reminder sometimes.
This way Plato characterizes the relationship between writer and reader, though, is what really struck me this time around. The line of thinking appears throughout, but emerges quite clearly when he compares writing to painting--both paintings and texts are 'silent.' The key difference between audience and reader or viewer hinges on this silence--audiences, composed of living people can clap, or cheer; in a live performance (let's imagine a musical performance), the performer might become more animated and give a better performance, send a shout out to the audience, take requests. Or, to take another example, isn't the excitement of the crowd why football teams do better at home games? How does this work at movies? Does the responsiveness of the audience matter at a play?
Plato follows this up later by suggesting that written discourse that doesn't allow "opportunity for questioning or teaching" should not be "treated very seriously." Here he seems to suggest the importance of that living response--the questions, the teacher responding to questions. Writing stops that live process--or so he seems to suggest. Does writing have to stop our questioning even if the writer can't talk back? Do books stop our questioning? Does new media?
To answer your last few questions..
ReplyDelete"Does writing have to stop our questioning even if the writer can't talk back?"
I think that a lot of the time readers will postulate questions internally as they read, but from my own experience I often pose a question, and if the question isn't answered by the author within the next few pages I either answer the question myself (sometimes resorting to Google and see other's viewpoints), or dismiss it completely.
Do books stop our questioning?
For myself- I often base the extent of my questioning on the topic at hand based off of how 'debatable' the topic truly is, but I am unlikely to question the author obviously has superior knowledge in, unless it is a more malleable subject such as religion, politics, etc.
Does new media?
With new media (forums such as TV news websites, newspaper websites, etc.) although they offer the opportunity to respond and comment, it basically allows the participant to voice their opinion or vent; but not much else. It creates a false sense of involvement for the participant as their viewpoint is 'heard' because they posted, but they will never influence the source.
With places like Facebook, Blogspot, and other social networking sites it is nice that most of the time the source will acknowledge or respond one's posts, however this is partially skewed as people do not often speak their full mind on a public forum where others are fully aware of who is posting the comments. About the only place where true freedom of speech exists is anonymous forums and YouTube comments.