Plato’sCratylus

First published Sat May 6, 2023

[Editor’s Note: The following new entry by David Meißner replaces theformer entryon this topic by the previous author.]

TheCratylus is the only Platonic dialogue devotedexclusively to language and its relation to reality. But its specifictopic—the “correctness of names” (orthotêstôn onomatôn)—seems to have so little to dowith the concerns of modern philosophers of language that it needssome introduction. The first thing to note is that the Greek termonomata (onoma in the singular), standardlytranslated as “names”, denotes not only proper names andcommon nouns, but also adjectives and even verbs in infinitive andparticiple mood. When investigating the “correctness ofnames”, theCratylus attempts to ascertain why it iscorrect to use certain members of this motley class of linguisticitems to refer to certain elements of reality. Most of us would nothesitate to assert that correctness in this sense is a matter ofdecision orconvention. Saying that it is correct touse the common noun “horse” to refer to horses can onlymean, it seems, that “horse” is conventionally used inthis way. This appealing position, widely known asconventionalism, is not absent from theCratylus: Itis championed by Hermogenes, the dialogue’s first protagonist.But Cratylus, the dialogue’s second protagonist, begs to differ.He stubbornly espouses a rather crypticnaturalism, claimingthat a correct name for any given element of reality needs to fulfilan elusive natural standard. Socrates, the dialogue’s thirdprotagonist, adjudicates on the contested issue.

TheCratylus is (in)famous for its surprising twists andturns, and it is often considered one of Plato’s most vexingworks. It has also proven difficult to determine its place withinPlato’s oeuvre. As it introduces Platonic forms in a way that isreminiscent of thePhaedo, many commentators assume that itmust have been written in the same period as this dialogue (see, e.g.,Ross 1955; Luce 1964; Levin 2001: 4 n. 4). But it also provides asomewhat preliminary treatment of issues that are discussed more fullyin later dialogues like theTheaetetus and theSophist, and so a variety of alternative datings have beendiscussed (see, e.g., Kirk 1951; Mackenzie 1986; Sedley 2003:6–16). There is, however, another (and arguably more important)sense in which theCratylus is hard to pin down: It is notclear how its main topic—the correctness of names—isconnected with Plato’s other philosophical concerns. This isprobably the reason why this fascinating dialogue is often treated ina cursory way in general discussions of Plato’s philosophy.

1. TheCratylus and ItsPersonae—a First Overview

Who are the protagonists of theCratylus? All of them arehistorical figures—citizens of fifth and fourth century Athens,to be precise. Hermogenes was a (possibly illegitimate) offspring of avery wealthy and powerful Athenian dynasty (on which see Nails 2002:68–74), but did apparently not inherit anything from his family(391c). Always in financial troubles (384c), he was a committed memberof the circle around Socrates; as thePhaedo (59b) indicates,he was even present at Socrates’ death. Cratylus was aphilosopher who, according to Aristotle’s report, taught theyoung Plato (Metaphysics 987a29–b7). He is known as aradical advocate of the Heraclitean claim that everything is in flux;apparently, he even stopped speaking at some point because he tookspeaking to be senseless in a world of flux (Metaphysics1010a7–15). In theCratylus, he appears to be at anearly stage of his philosophical career, just beginning to appropriateHeraclitean positions (440d–e; cf. Kirk 1951: 236). AboutSocrates, the third protagonist, there is so much to say thatinterested readers should consult the entry onSocrates. One well-known fact appears to be particularly relevant in thepresent context, however: Socrates was the other teacher of the youngPlato—which means that theCratylus is an encounterbetween the two philosophers who influenced Plato most directly.

TheCratylus begins when Socrates joins the on-going debatebetween Cratylus and Hermogenes as an arbiter. He first invitesHermogenes to state his conventionalist view of the correctness ofnames (383a–386e)—and refutes him by presenting anargument for the conclusion that names are indeed subject to astandard of natural correctness (386e–390e). Asked to expand onthis standard (391a), Socrates conjectures that a correct name needsto be a portmanteau: Like the name “shepherd” (from“sheep” and “herder”), it needs to be composedof other names in a way that ensures that it encapsulates adescription of what its referents are (390e–394e). Heillustrates this conjecture by uncovering the descriptive content ofmany Greek names in a famous—and famouslyextensive—etymological survey (394e–421c). The survey endsabruptly when Socrates realizes that he cannot account for thecorrectness of all names in this way; there must, after all, be somenames that are not composed of other names. Socrates’ hypothesisis that these names are correct because they are imitations of whattheir referents are (421c–427d). He thus arrives at a two-tierednaturalist theory of the correctness of names. Cratylus, who takesover from Hermogenes as Socrates’ interlocutor, endorses thistheory enthusiastically. But in a surprising twist, Socrates turnsagainst his own brainchild and compels Cratylus to admit thatconvention is a factor that contributes to the correctness of names(427d–435d). He never spells out, however, what exactly thecontribution of convention is. He rather goes on to refuteCratylus’ further claim that unearthing the descriptive contentof names yields unshakable evidence for the belief that reality is ina state of flux (435d–439c)—and ends his investigation bysketching four arguments for the existence of unchangeable forms(439c–440e).

2. Exegetical Divides

As should be clear from the above summary, theCratylus is along and intricate work, and it raises many pressing questions. Butthere seems to be one question that must play a role in any attempt toarrive at an overall interpretation of this dialogue:

Which view of the correctness of names does theCratylussupport?

Given the obvious importance of this question, it is reasonable toprovide a quick overview of the possible answers before taking acloser look at theCratylus. There are three such answers,corresponding to three possible readings of theCratylus:

Reading A: Some commentatorsbelieve that theCratylus supports Hermogenes’conventionalism. In their view, Plato’s readers are not supposedto accept Socrates’ refutation of conventionalism and thenaturalist theory he elaborates at 390e–427d. Instead, they areto infer from Socrates’ criticism of this naturalist theory at430a–435b that Hermogenes was right all along with his denial ofa natural correctness of names. (See Lanzalaco 1955; Guzzo 1956;Robinson 1956; Bestor 1980; Rehn 1982; Schofield 1982; and Ademollo2009 and 2011.)
Reading B: Other commentators takethe arguments of 430a–435b to establish a very different result:Conventions may ensure that (some) names fulfil a certain minimalstandard of correctness; but nevertheless, the extent to which namesare correct depends on how well they describe or imitate what theirreferents are. It is thus the naturalist theory of the correctness ofnames elaborated at 390e–427d that is borne out by theCratylus, albeit in a refined version which ascribes acertain limited role to convention. (See Grote 1865: ch. XXIX; Benfey1866: Weingartner 1970; Anagnostopoulos 1973; Fine 1977; Palmer 1989;Barney 2001; and Sedley 2003.)
Reading C: Yet other commentatorsurge a sharp distinction between the claim that there is a naturalcorrectness of names and the claim that correct names need to describeor imitate what their referents are. They argue that theCratylus supports the former and undermines the latter claim.(See Kretzmann 1971; Kahn 1973; Gold 1978; Ketchum 1979; Heitsch 1984;and Meißner forthcoming a.)

It would be an exaggeration to say that these are the only availableinterpretations of theCratylus. There are, for example,authors who claim that Plato’s main goal in theCratylus is to debunk the idea that etymological analyses canlead to philosophical knowledge (Baxter 1992 and Keller 2000), or thathe wishes to make an ontological point about flux and stability(Gaiser 1974). But the most important dividing lines amonginterpreters of theCratylus have certainly been exhibited bydistinguishing betweenReading A,Reading B, andReading C; and it will become evident in due course that many scholarly disputesabout individual passages and arguments can be traced back to thedifferences between these readings.

3. Hermogenes’ Conventionalism (383a–386e)

When Socrates agrees to join the debate between Hermogenes andCratylus, Hermogenes immediately bursts out with his own view of thecorrectness of names (384c–e). Frustrated by the on-goingquarrel with a recalcitrant Cratylus, he is probably hoping for somesort of support, or at least for clarity. However, Socrates reacts byasking questions and presenting arguments that do not make anyimmediately recognizable contribution to the clarification of theissue at hand (384e–386e). The present section will ascertainwhat Hermogenes wishes to claim and discuss the perplexing way inwhich Socrates responds to Hermogenes’ contentions.

3.1 What Hermogenes Does (Not) Say

Hermogenes’ main claim is—as has already beenindicated—that it is completely dependent on conventions anddecisions whether any given name is a correct name for any object orkind of object. Today, a convention ensures that “BorisJohnson” is a correct name for a former prime minister of theUnited Kingdom; but if Hermogenes is right, this convention might bechanged tomorrow, and the very same name might then be a correct namefor the cat that currently lives in 10 Downing Street. One can thusnever go wrong in imposing a name on a given (kind of)object—such an act will automatically turn the name into acorrect name for this (kind of) object.

As it stands, this claim seems plausible. Note, however, that it needsto be distinguished very carefully from the infinitely less plausibleclaim that one cannot go wrong in using a name that has already beenimposed on some (kind of) object. Scholars used to agree thatHermogenes fails to make this vital distinction: that he does not keepapart name imposition and name use and thus ends up denying thepossibility of misapplying a name and, ultimately, the possibility offalse speaking (see, e.g., Gold 1978: 242f.; Williams 1982: 90; andMackenzie 1986: 126). But as more recent work (especially Barney 1997)has demonstrated, this diagnosis is not borne out by the evidence. ForHermogenes consistently uses the termtithenai to refer toacts of name imposition and the termkalein to refer to actsof name use. Given this terminological circumspection, it would beuncharitable to charge him with a crude conceptual confusion.(However, see Healow 2020 for a defense of the claim that Hermogenesis less clear about the distinction between name imposition and nameuse at 384c–e than at 385d–e.)

But who exactly has the authority to impose names onthings—linguistic communities or even individual speakers?Pressed on this point, Hermogenes opts for the latter option(385a–b). If you decide to impose the name “BorisJohnson” on the cat that lives in 10 Downing Street while allother speakers continue to use this name for the former primeminister, “Boris Johnson” will be a private correct namefor the cat and a public correct name for its former humanhousemate—or so Hermogenes says. This concession does not imply,as scholars used to think, that a speaker with solipsisticinclinations can apply names in a way that is in principle immune tocriticism and correction (see, e.g., Robinson 1956: 338; Kahn 1973:158f.; and Baxter 1992: 18). For Hermogenes never considers namingconventions that are private in the sense that no other speakers couldpossibly become party to them; he talks about naming conventions thatareaccidentally private, not about naming conventions thatareessentially private. And it is hard to see how aspeaker’s adherence to naming conventions that are onlyaccidentally private would allow her to apply names in a way that isin principle immune to criticism and correction (Barney 1997:152–156).

While older discussions of the passage 383a–386e thus tended topaint Hermogenes as a confused or radical “anything goes”conventionalist, there are good and widely accepted reasons forreversing this traditional verdict. All Hermogenes wishes to claim is,apparently, that speakers are at least in principle completely free toimpose any name they like on any given (kind of) object. Andthis view seems to be very much in tune with commonsense.

3.2 True and False Names

According to all extant manuscripts of theCratylus, Socratesreacts to Hermogenes’ concession that private naming conventionsare possible by presenting an argument for the conclusion that“it is possible to say a true and a false name” (385b–d).^[1] But as this conclusion is so strange, and as there is also aphilological problem with the transition from 385d1 to 385d2–3(Schofield 1972: 248), it is contested whether Socrates’argument really belongs where the manuscripts have it. While manycommentators claim that it should either be transposed between 387c5and c6 (Schofield 1972: 246–251 and Barney 2001: 28) or excisedfrom the text altogether (Sedley 2003: 10–13), some are strictlyopposed to such radical measures (Baxter 1992: 32–17 andAdemollo 2011: 68–70).

As it is not possible to summarize the immensely complicated debateabout the textual status of the contested passage in the confines ofthis entry, the best course is to switch to the conditional mood andprovide a brief discussion of the questions that would be mostpressing if Socrates’ argument did belong where the manuscriptshave it:

What is the purport of the conclusion that “it ispossible to say a true and a false name”?
Why does Socrates establish this conclusion here?

Regarding(i), it is tempting to assume that Socrates’ conclusion rests on thefalse idea that names have the same properties—truth andfalsehood, in particular—as the sentences of which they areparts (Robinson 1956: 328). But a more charitable reading isavailable: Socrates might not be saying that names can be true andfalse in the same absolute sense as sentences, but that they can betrue or falseof objects (Fine 1977: 295f.; cf. Lorenz &Mittelstraß 1967 and Luce 1969). If that were the case, he wouldbe making a respectable and important point about the logicalproperties of names, comparable to a point made by Quine (Quine 1959:65).

Regarding(ii), one might wonder whether Socrates’ argument is supposed toundermine Hermogenes’ position (see, e.g., Kretzmann 1971: 127;Gaiser 1974: 20; and Bagwell 2011: 20). But as Hermogenes does notmake any claims that would compel him to deny that “it ispossible to say a true and a false name”, this is not aplausible conjecture. So maybe Socrates is pursuing a moreconstructive purpose here. He might be interested, for example, inascertaining Hermogenes’ attitude towards the distinctionbetween truth and falsehood—not least because Hermogenes’claim that one cannot go wrong in imposing names might wrongly betaken to imply that false speaking is impossible (Richardson 1976:136f.; Ademollo 2011: 65–68).

3.3 Conventionalism and Relativism

Once Socrates’ has drawn the conclusion that “it ispossible to say a true and a false name”, Hermogenes reaffirmshis conventionalist position loudly and clearly (385d–e).Socrates proceeds to inquire whether Hermogenes acceptsProtagoras’ claim that “however the objects appear to meto be, such they are for me” (385e–386a). This is aradical claim, entailing that objects have their properties in asubject-dependent manner: that it only makes sense to ask whether itis the casefor some subjectS that an objectO has propertyP, but not whether it is objectivelythe case thatO hasP. Hermogenes admits that hefound this relativist outlook tempting at some point, but isnevertheless unwilling to adopt it (386a). Socrates then presents anargument against relativism: Since there are both virtuous and wickedpersons, and since virtuous persons are wise and wicked personsunwise, Protagoras cannot be right in saying that no one is ever wrongabout anything (386a–e). A very similar argument is found to bewanting in theTheaetetus (166d–167d). But here in theCratylus, Socrates is happy to conclude from his reflectionsthat “objects have some stable being of their own” (386e).He thus asserts that objects have their properties in asubject-independent manner: that it makes sense to ask whether asubjectS is objectively right or objectively wrong inbelieving that an objectO has propertyP.

It is not clear why Socrates discusses Protagorean relativism withHermogenes. Commentators used to think that he does this becauseHermogenes defends an “anything goes” conventionalism thathas relativist implications (see, e.g., Mackenzie 1986: 129; Palmer1988: 44–50; and Silverman 1992: 31–34); but as has beennoted, Hermogenes’ position is in fact a very sensible one. Ifthere really is a connection between Hermogenes’ conventionalismand Protagorean relativism, it must thus be of a more indirect nature(Barney 1997: 156–162; Meißner 2021). It has also beenargued, however, that Plato has Socrates discuss relativism withHermogenes to prevent misunderstandings and show that conventionalismabout names has nothing to do with relativism (Ademollo 2011:80f.).

4. The Tool Analogy (386e–390e)

Socrates’ initial reaction to Hermogenes’ conventionalistposition is puzzling. But his philosophical agenda becomes moretransparent when, at 386e–390e, he uses the result thatProtagorean relativism is false to show against Hermogenes that thereis a natural correctness of names. The argument he presents for thishighly significant interim conclusion is analogical in nature: Itcompares names to tools such as knives or drills to establish thatthey are subject to a natural standard and need to be introduced by anexpert. This section takes a closer look at this major turning pointof Socrates’ investigation.

4.1 The Name as a Tool for Naming

To set up the analogy between names and tools, Socrates considersactions. Given that objects have a stable being or a stable nature oftheir own, actions too must have a stable nature (386e). This seems tomean that a particular act needs to meet a certain objective standardto count as a genuine instance of a given action type.^[2] As Socrates points out, one will meet this standard if and only ifone handles a naturally suitable tool in a naturally fitting way(387a–b). This entails, crucially, that a tool for a givenaction needs to fulfil an objective or natural standard: It needs tobe such as to enable a competent person to perform this action.

What do these plausible reflections about tools have to do withnames? To make the connection, Socrates argues that namingqua part of speaking is an action with a stable nature(387b–d). He combines this claim with his observation thatactions with a stable nature need to be performed by means of anaturally suitable tool—and infers that naming needs to beperformed by means of such a tool. This toolis—unsurprisingly—the name (387d–388a). It followsthat names are subject to a natural standard in the same (or at leasta similar) sense as drills or shuttles.

As it stands, this analogical argument is frustratingly abstract. Itspurport becomes clearer when Socrates provides two closely relatedaccounts of naming a little later. He says, first, that “weteach something to each other and separate the objects as theystand” (388b) when we name; and he says, second, that we usenames for “teaching and for separating being”(388b–c). What is the purport of these two accounts of naming?Consider the first one first. It is widely and plausibly assumed thatSocrates explicates the sense in which “we teach something toeach other” in naming when he says that we “separate theobjects as they stand”, and so it is best to focus on thisphrase. Many authors read it as a description of the act of using aname to mark off a species or a kind. Some believe that this actoccurs only in the context of Platonic division and must bedistinguished from more mundane forms of naming (see, e.g., Sedley2003: 60f. and Ademollo 2011: 112f.); others point out that even inthe bread-and-butter sentences “I love dogs” or “Herfavorite pastime is reading”, the names “dog” and“reading” seem to pick out a kind of animal and a kind ofactivity (Meißner 2019: 127–132). Be that as itmay—it seems reasonable to assume that Socrates defines namingas the act of picking out objects (in the broadest sense of the term)as a kind or a species. This construal of Socrates’first account of naming makes his second account transparent as well.Readers of the Platonic dialogues are, after all, well acquainted withthe idea that if a name is used to designate a class of objects thathave something in common, it can also be said to refer to what itsreferents have in common—the way of being or theousiathey share (see, e.g.,Laches 190e–192a orMeno 71e–72c). It thus makes sense to move from theclaim that we “separate the objects as they stand” to thecontention that we use names “for separating being” or away of being.

When Socrates ascribes a stable nature to naming, he is thus relyingon the assumption that one performs an act of naming if and only ifone picks out a kind or, equivalently, the way of being that is sharedby the members of this kind. Given this result, the application of hisreflections on tools like drills or shuttles to names at387b–388c is a little easier to follow. His central point ispresumably that names are subject to a natural standard insofar asthey need to be suitable instruments for picking out a kind. Thesecond stage of his analogical argument will elaboratethis—still somewhat vague and elusive—point.

4.2 Creating (and Evaluating) Names

Socrates proceeds to argue that names are like drills or shuttles notonly insofar as they are subject to an objective or natural standard:Precisely because they are subject to such a standard, they are alsosimilar to ordinary tools insofar as they need to be created by askilled expert. This expert is a lawgiver ornomothêtes(388d–389a). A lawgiver, Socrates explains, will create anaturally suitable name only if he looks “to that thing itselfwhich is a name” (390a). The thought is probably that thelawgiver’s creative efforts need to be guided by knowledge ofhow to produce a linguistic device that enables a competent user toperform the action of naming. Socrates adds that the lawgiver needs tofulfil a second condition: He needs to embody “the form of thename appropriate to each in syllables of whatever sort” (390a).What does this mean? In making a parallel claim about shuttleproduction, Socrates’ point is that there are different specificversions of the action for which shuttles are made—separatinglinen warp and weft, e.g., or separatingwoolen warpand weft—and that the carpenter needs to create a naturallysuitable tool for one of these specific action types (389b–c).Socrates must thus be assuming that there are different specificversions of naming, and that the lawgiver needs to create a suitabletool for one of these versions. Given that naming has been defined asthe action of picking out a kind, it is not difficult to see what theversions of naming might be: IfA andB aredifferent kinds, picking outA and picking outBwill certainly be different versions of naming. Hence, Socrates’claim is that the lawgiver needs to make sure that his product is asuitable tool for picking out a specific kind.

All of this sounds rather complicated. But while the details ofSocrates’ argument are indeed obscure at times, the big pictureis clearer. Socrates proceeds from the idea that names are tools forpicking out kinds to the idea that an individual name needs to besuited for picking out aspecific kind and must be createdaccordingly. And even though he does not say this in so many words,there can be no doubt that he thus arrives at the followingcharacterization ofcorrect names:

(NAT): A correct name for a given kind is a linguistic device that hasbeen created from letters and syllables in a way that guarantees thatit is suited for picking out this kind (or, equivalently, the way ofbeing shared by its members).

As Socrates hastens to point out (390a–e), an expertdialectician is responsible for ascertaining whether a name fulfilsthe standard described by(NAT). It is clear, then, that while there are many humdrum contexts inwhich names are used, their true purpose is to make possibledialectical inquiries.

4.3 Assessing the Argument of the Tool Analogy

At 390e, Socrates concludes the tool analogy by stating “thatnames belong to the objects by nature” (390d/e). As the aboveanalysis indicates, the purport of this conclusion is captured by(NAT). But (NAT) is still a highly abstract claim. It is far from clear whatit takes to create a linguistic device in a way that guarantees thatit is suited for picking out a given kind (or the being of itsmembers); and consequently, it is far from clear how a correct namefor a given kind differs from a linguistic device that does notdeserve that title. This unclarity makes it very hard to say whatexactly the tool analogy contributes to Socrates’ investigation.One widespread assumption is that the tool analogy’s conclusionis a blueprint for the theory of the correctness of names thatSocrates elaborates at 390e–427d: that (NAT) anticipates theclaim that correct names need to be composed of letters and syllablesin a way that ensures that they describe or imitate the being of theirreferents. Champions of bothReading A andReading B are committed to this assumption. That does not mean, however, thatthey agree in their overall assessment of the tool analogy and itsconclusion—quite the contrary. Champions ofReadingA contend that while the analogy between names and tools maybe highly suggestive, Plato wants his readers to realize thatcomparing the introduction of a name for a given kind to the creationof a tool for a specific task is ultimately misleading—and todiscard the conclusion that there is a natural correctness of names.Champions ofReading B disagree strongly: They assumethat Plato wants his readers to accept the argument of the toolanalogy and its conclusion.

One way of dealing with the exceedingly abstract conclusion of thetool analogy is thus to construe it as an anticipation of the claimthat correct names need to be descriptions or imitations, and to askin a next step whether Plato want his readers to accept this claim.But there is also a radically different approach to the problem athand. Champions ofReading C take the tool analogy’s conclusion to boil down to the claimthat names are correct if they have been assigned to genuine kinds byadopting suitable conventions (whereas they are not correct if theyhave been assigned to gerrymandered classes of things such as, e.g.,the class that comprises all cats and all donkeys and nothing else).They argue that Plato wants his readers to acceptthisclaim—and to see that Socrates is going astray when he moves onto elaborate the theory that correct names are descriptions orimitations of their referents’ being. It has been objected,however, that assigning a name to a kind and creating a correct namein the sense of(NAT) seem to be two very different things (Ackrill 1994: 18 f.; Smith2014). WhetherReading C’s take on the toolanalogy is a viable alternative toReading A’s andReading B’s interpretation is thus a matter of debate (Meißner forthcominga).

5. Correctness and Etymological Meaning (390e–394e)

When Socrates infers from the argument of the tool analogy “thatnames belong to the objects by nature” (390d/e), Hermogenes isnot fully convinced and demands to know what “the naturalcorrectness of a name consists in” (390e). As has become evidentby now, this is a good question—it is in fact not clear whatHermogenes would commit himself to if he accepted(NAT). Socrates attempts to answer Hermogenes’ question at390e–394e by discussing the name “Astyanax”.“Astyanax” is actually a proper name of a victim of theTrojan war (Hector’s son, who would have become king of Troy hadthe city not been destroyed). However, Socrates does not treat it as aproper name, but as a general term that refers to the kind(genos) of kings. He gives the following account of itscorrectness:

“Astyanax” is a correct name for the kind (genos)of kings because its etymological meaning (“townlord”)ensures that it indicates (dêloun) the way of being(ousia) that the members of this kind share.

What does this account entail? What, in particular, does it mean tosay that “Astyanax”indicates the way of beingthat is shared by all kings? It has been claimed that indicating a wayof being is tantamount to disclosing its definition (see, e.g., Barney2001: 103). But Socrates’ examples, and his later use of thetermdêloun (seesection 8.2), suggest that this is an overinterpretation (Ademollo 2011: 165f.).Apparently, a way of being is indicated if and only if it isdistinguished from other ways of being—if it is picked out, asit were.

How, then, does the etymological meaning of the name“Astyanax” ensure that it picks out the way of being thatis characteristic of kings? Socrates’ idea seems to be that theetymological meaning of the name ensures that it functions as adescription of what it means to be a king. It is important tonote, however, that indicating something does not necessarily entaildescribing it; as Socrates will explain at 421c–427e, names thatare not composed of other names indicate a way of being in virtue ofimitating it. But in the passage at hand, he ignores this possibilityand focuses on names that are composed of othernames—etymologically complex names, as one mightsay.

Socrates does not stop to distill a general account of the correctnessof etymologically complex names from his reflections on the name“Astyanax”. But he clearly has the following account inmind:

(NAT*): If an etymologically complex name is a correct name for a givenkind, this is because its etymological meaning ensures that itdescribes and thus indicates the way of being (ousia) thatthe members of the kind share.

At first blush,(NAT*) seems to be a far cry from(NAT), the central claim of the tool analogy. But this impression might bemisleading. According to (NAT), a correct name for a given kind is alinguistic device that has been created in a way that makes it fit forpicking out the way of being that the members of this kind share. Ashas just been indicated, picking out a way of being and indicating away of being are the same act. Hence, (NAT) would appear to beequivalent to the claim that a correct name for a given kind must besuited for indicating the way of being that the members of this kindshare. And clearly, (NAT*) does provide an explanation of how a namecan be suited for this act.

There is one more thing to note before we move on: As virtually allcommentators who take a closer look at 390e–394e agree,Socrates’ discussion of the name “Astyanax” ispeppered with blatant mistakes. Proponents ofReading A andReading C see this as Plato’s way of discrediting(NAT*) (Heitsch 1984: 53–57; Eckl 2003: 135–155; Ademollo 2011:146–180); proponents ofReading B, on the otherhand, need to bite the bullet and argue that Plato is simply not awareof Socrates’ blunders (Sedley 2003: 75–86).

6. The Etymological Section (394e–421c)

Having arrived at the conjecture that there is a connection betweenthe correctness of names and their etymological meaning, Socratesbegins to uncover the etymological meaning of Greek names—anddoes not stop until he has spent more than 25 Stephanus pages ondiscussing more than 100 names. Remarkably, his etymological analysesgradually take on a Heraclitean character; taken together, theysuggest that many Greek names encapsulate descriptions that would betrue of the being of their referents if and only if Heraclitus wereright in claiming that everything is in flux. The Greek name forexcellence,arêtê, is characterized as anabbreviation of the descriptive phrase “that which alwaysflows” (aei rhêon), for example (415c–d);and the name for practical wisdom,phronêsis, is saidto have the meaning “understanding of movement and flux”(phôras kai rhou noêsis) (411d). These and manycomparable analyses eventually lead Socrates to the conclusion thatall (or at least many) Greek names must be built up from a small setof basic names that refer to movements and processes—such as,e.g., the namesion,rheôn, anddoun.This result, in turn, prompts him to augment his naturalist theory byinvestigating the correctness of these basic names.

Insofar as the etymological section provides an incentive to completethe naturalist theory of correctness, it has a clear dialecticalfunction. But given its extraordinary length, this can hardly be itsonly function. How else does the etymological section contribute toSocrates’ inquiry, then? Three (non-exclusive) answers to thisquestion suggest themselves:

The etymological section might shine a light on the prospects andproblems of etymological research.
The etymological section might make a point about the correctnessof names.
The etymological section might draw attention to the ontologicalchallenge of Heracliteanism.

The present section zooms in on these possible answers.

6.1 Prospects and Problems of Etymological Research

TheCratylus introduces its readers to two very differentforms of etymological research. Socrates is engaged in one form ofetymological research when he tries to uncover the etymologicalmeaning of names; Cratylus is engaged in a different (if notindependent) form of etymological research when he later derivesclaims about the being of the referents of a name from conjecturesabout its etymological meaning (435d–440e; seesection 9). Taking one’s cue from Sedley’s universally accepteddistinction between the exegetical and the philosophical correctnessof etymological analyses (Sedley 2003: 28), one might thus say thatSocrates practicesexegetical etymology and Cratylusphilosophical etymology.

The etymological section illustrates vividly that philosophicaletymology is a nonstarter. For it shows that one would just take overthe Heraclitean opinions of the ancient lawgivers if one relied onphilosophical etymology—and as Socrates himself points out,these opinions are mistaken (411b–c). While this much isacknowledged by all commentators, matters are more complicated when itcomes to exegetical etymology. Some commentators point out that manyof Socrates’ etymological analyses are obviously absurd, andthat he punctuates these analyses with ironical remarks about hisunusually inspired state (see, e.g., 396c–397a or 410e) and withreflections on the methodological pitfalls of etymological research(414c–415a and 418a–b); they conclude that theetymological section must be read as a parody of exegetical etymology(see, e.g., Schleiermacher 1824: 5–9; Heitsch 1984: 51; andTrivigno 2012). But other commentators object that Socrates’etymological analyses will have seemed much less absurd to ancientreaders than they appear to modern readers, and downplay thesignificance of his intermittent meta-observations. In their view,Plato does not make fun of exegetical etymology, but puts forwardclaims that are at least “bonâ fide guesses” (Grote1865: 526) about the etymological meaning of names (see, e.g., Grote1865: 518–529; Sedley 1998 and 2003; and Ademollo 2011:237–256).

As this scholarly dispute is still unresolved, it is very hard to saywhich point the etymological section is supposed to make aboutexegetical etymology. One plausible minimalist assumption would seemto be that Socrates’ etymological analyses suggest thatexegetical etymology is not a science and does not lead to trueknowledge. There are, to be sure, commentators who reject even thisminimalist assumption (Sedley 2003: 41–50). But since it iscompatible with both the idea that Socrates’ analyses are“bonâ fide guesses” and the claim that theseanalyses are meant to parody exegetical etymology, it might beacceptable to a solid majority among scholars.

6.2 Application or Subversion?

Which conclusion(s) about the correctness of names might theetymological section suggest? Here is one possible answer to thisquestion. Socrates’ etymological analyses indicate that theetymological meanings of many Greek names mirror mistaken Heracliteanassumptions about the being of their referents. It follows that manyetymologically complex names fail to indicate the being of theirreferents by describing it. If one does not want to assume that thesenames are all incorrect, one is compelled to conclude thatetymologically complex names can be correct even if they encapsulatedescriptions that do not apply to the being of their referents. Thisconclusion is clearly incompatible with(NAT*)—with the hypothesis, i.e., that a correct etymologically complex name fora given kind needs to encapsulate a description of the way of beingthat the members of this kind share. It is a very natural thought,then, that the etymological section might be meant to discredit (NAT*)and the naturalist theory of which (NAT*) is part.

This elaboration of the idea that the etymological section makes apoint about the correctness of names appeals, unsurprisingly, tochampions ofReading A andReading C. It is not the only possible elaboration of this idea, however. Thealternative is to contend that Plato wants his readers to concludethat many of the names under scrutiny are not correct. If one iswilling to commit oneself to this assumption, one is free to arguethat the etymological section does not discredit(NAT*), but applies this account of the correctness of names to assess thecorrectness of selected Greek names. On this interpretation, whichobviously appeals to champions ofReading B, the etymological section relies on Socrates’ naturalist theoryof correctness to show that one should not place one’s trust inthe correctness of actual Greek names.

6.3 The Challenge of Heracliteanism

What remains to be discussed is the idea that the etymological sectionis meant to draw attention to the ontological challenge ofHeracliteanism. As it is clear from other dialogues like theTheaetetus that coming to grips with Heracliteanism is aphilosophical task of paramount importance for Plato, this idea isindeed plausible. But what, exactly, is the challenge ofHeracliteanism? This is a very difficult and contested question. It isnot even clear how the notion of flux is to be construed. Somecommentators believe that for Plato, flux amounts to what Irwin hascalled “aspectual change” (Irwin 1977). If that were true,the claim that all things are in flux would be equivalent to the claimthat all things have opposing properties in different respects.Heracliteanism would then not be a theory that reduces reality togenuine change and motion, but a position that is very close to (acertain variety of) relativism (see, e.g., Sedley 2003:109–112). It has also been claimed, however, that theetymological section presents Heracliteanism as “a robustlyphysical theory according to which everything is engaged inspatial change, i.e. locomotion” (Ademollo 2011: 233).If that were the case, there would be a sharp distinction betweenHeracliteanism and relativism.

If it is controversial how the Heraclitean claim that everything is influx should be construed—can one at least be sure aboutPlato’s assessment of this claim? He has Socrates disagreestrongly with Heraclitus in the etymological section (411b–c);and later on, he has him postulate forms and thereby acknowledge theexistence of entities that are exempt from flux (439c–440e).Hence, Plato certainly takes Heraclitus and his followers to errinsofar as they overlook that there is a flux-lessintelligible realm. But what about thesensiblerealm—the realm of the things that surround us? Might Plato notbelieve that these things are in flux and thus accept a restrictedversion of Heracliteanism? The issue is once again contested: Whilesome commentators do indeed take theCratylus to lend supportto the venerable claim that Plato is a Heraclitean when it comes tosensible things (Gaiser 1974: 61–80; Barney 2001: 73; Sedley2003: 99–122), it has been objected that Socrates seems toconsider Heracliteanism as “wrong across the board” in theetymological section (Ademollo 2011: 207f.).

As these considerations show, the etymological section’streatment of Heracliteanism leaves open many important questions. Thisis clearly no coincidence. Just like the wholeCratylus, theetymological section is not aimed at providing a thorough metaphysicaldiscussion of the ins and outs of Heracliteanism (this is, arguably,the job of theTheaetetus). It illustrates, however, thatsuch a discussion is of much greater necessity and consequence than aninquiry into the hidden meanings of names could ever be. And thus, itdovetails with the conclusion that Socrates reaches at the very end ofhis investigation (440c–d).

7. Correctness and Imitation (421c–427d)

Having discovered that many Greek names are built up from names likeion,rheôn, anddoun, Socratesobserves that the process of etymological analysis must necessarilystop after finitely many steps. There must be “firstnames” (prota onomata), then—names that do nothave an etymological meaning in virtue of the fact that they arecomposed of other names (421c–422c). Sinceion,rheôn, anddoun seem to be among theseetymologically simple names, their correctness cannotpossibly depend on their etymological meaning. Socrates thus findshimself in a predicament: For his theory of the correctness ofetymologically complex names would be built on sand if it wereimpossible to account for the natural correctness of etymologicallysimple names (cf. 426a–b). Hence, he decides to“investigate in some other manner” what the correctness ofthese names “consists in” (422b). The present sectionfocuses on this investigation.

7.1 Indicating by Imitating

Socrates assumes that etymologically simple names must meet the samestandard as etymologically complex names: They need to “indicatewhat each of the beings is like” (422d)—which turns out tomean that they need to indicate the being of their referents (423e).He argues that etymologically simple names can only meet this standardbyimitating the being of their referents (422e–423e).And thus, he arrives at this augmented version of(NAT*), his earlier account of the correctness of etymologically complexnames:

(NAT**): If an etymologically complex name is a correct name for a givenkind, this is because its etymological meaning ensures that itdescribes and thus indicates the way of being (ousia) thatthe members of this kind share; and if an etymologically simple nameis a correct name for a given kind, this is because its compositionfrom letters and syllables ensures that it imitates and thus indicatesthe way of being that the members of this kind share.

(NAT**) is a full-fledged, completely general theory of the correctness ofnames. The most pressing question raised by this theory is probablyhow exactly the imitation of a way of being by means of letters andsyllables is supposed to work. Socrates’ answer to this questionpresupposes that individual letters or individual syllables resemblethe basic kinds of beings (424d–425a); he takes this to ensurethat a combination of different letters and syllables canresemble—and thus imitate—any given way of being. Notethat Socrates does not take the resemblance between letters andsyllables on the one hand and the basic kinds of beings on the otherhand to depend on the sound of these letters and syllables, but on theway in which the mouth and the tongue move in articulating them. Forhim, imitation is not onomatopoetic, but “articulatory”(Ademollo 2011: 309–311; cf. Belardi 1985: 33).

Socrates’ theory of the correctness of etymologically simplenames has its problems and omissions; it does not take into account,e.g., that the mimetic qualities of a name would probably not onlydepend on the letters and syllables from which it is composed, butalso on the way in which these letters and syllables are arranged(Barney 2001: 105 n. 31). Characterizing etymologically simple namesas imitations is nevertheless an ingenious attempt at filling theexplanatory gap left by(NAT*).

7.2 An Ideal Language?

Having formulated(NAT**), Socrates seems to take up his original task of accounting for thecorrectness of concrete etymologically simple names likeion,rheôn, anddoun (424a–b). But very soon,he digresses: Instead of examining existing names, he expands on how alawgiver should ideally go about creating names that imitate the beingof their intended referents (424b–425a). His explanation isdense and difficult, and a crucialsentence—424d1–5—is fraught with philologicalproblems. The basic idea seems to be that an ideal lawgiver would haveto do four things:

He would have to provide a taxonomy of all the letters;
he would have to identify and distinguish those basic kinds ofbeings to which all things can be traced back;
he would have to determine which letters or syllables resemblewhich basic kinds; and
he would have to form concatenations of letters and syllables thatimitate the being of thenominanda.

What Socrates sketches here is clearly a very ambitious researchproject. Some parts of this research project—the taxonomy ofletters and, especially, the taxonomy of beings—are certainlyclose to Plato’s heart; they are, after all, stronglyreminiscent of the dialectical investigations that are conducted (orat least envisaged) in dialogues such as theSophist, theStatesman, and thePhilebus. It is less clear,however, whether Plato really believes that a linguistic lawgivershould detect correlations between the two taxonomies and introducenames that imitate the being of their referents on the basis of thesecorrelations. Some commentators do indeed contend that the passage athand contains Plato’s recipe for the creation of an ideallanguage. Most of these commentatorsare—unsurprisingly—adherents ofReading B (see, e.g., Anagnostopoulos 1973: 331f.; Baxter 1992: 80–85;and Barney 2011: 97). Other commentators—usually proponents ofReading A andReading C—object that the language Socrates describes here would have no realadvantage over other possible languages, since its users would not beable to access and appropriate the system of knowledge it encodesunless they embark on their own philosophical investigation (see,e.g., Williams 1982: 92). These commentators conclude that the passage424b–425a is meant to show that even a mimetically perfectlanguage would not be particularly useful—and thus to discredit(NAT**).

7.3Reductio ad Absurdum?

At 425a, Socrates abruptly returns to his examination of individualetymologically simple Greek names. He confesses that he is not up to asystematic classification of both letters and beings, and that he willthus have to work with conjectures about the resemblance betweenletters and basic kinds of beings (425b–426b). These conjecturesappear “absolutely outrageous and ridiculous” (426b) notonly to many scholars, but also to Socrates himself. What Socratessuggests is, e.g., that the Greek letterrhô (or, moreprecisely, the way in which the mouth moves in articulating thisletter) resembles movement (426c–e), or that the letteriota resembles fine things “which should most gothrough everything” (426e–427a). Building on these andsimilar suggestions, he ascertains what many etymologically simplenames imitate—that names likepsychron orzeonimitate “what is blowy” (427a), for example.

Given the avowedly “outrageous and ridiculous” quality ofSocrates’ mimetological discussion, it might seem tempting toassume that Plato must be out to debunk the idea that a namequa concatenation of letters and syllables can resemble andimitate a way of being, and thus to discredit(NAT**). But while some proponents ofReading A andReading C endorse this assumption (see, e.g., Heitsch 1984: 40–43;Belardi 1985: 39–41; and Trivigno 2012: 63–67), there isreason for doubt. What Socrates calls “outrageous andridiculous” is his attempt to spell out which letters andsyllables resemble which basic kinds of beings. But crucially, hisself-critical remarks do not seem to be directed against the idea thatthe imitation of a way of being by means of letters and syllables ispossiblein principle (Sedley 2003: 76; Ademollo 2011:313–315). Whether Plato accepts or rejects this idea is veryhard to tell from the passage at hand.

8. Criticizing Naturalism (427d–435d)

Once Socrates has concluded his discussion of individualetymologically simple names, Hermogenes wants to know whether Cratylusaccepts Socrates’ account of the natural correctness of names.Cratylus endorses this account wholeheartedly (427d–428c).Fearing that he might have fallen prey to some sort of self-deception,Socrates suggests revisiting his account together with Cratylus(428d). Cratylus agrees and takes over from Hermogenes asSocrates’ interlocutor. It soon turns out that he is committednot only to(NAT**), but to some very counterintuitive additional claims. He thus espousesa radical version of the naturalist theory of correctness thatSocrates has presented (428e–430a). Socrates marshals a seriesof arguments against Cratylus’ position(430a–435b)—and is led to a disappointingly vagueconclusion about the correctness of names (435b–d). This sectiontakes a closer look at this pivotal and difficult passage.

8.1 Cratylus’ Naturalism

Socrates begins his discussion with Cratylus by observing that theproducts of craftsmen are usually of variable quality(428e–429a). Cratylus denies that this principle applies to theproducts of (linguistic) lawgivers (429b). Even though he takesetymologically simple names to be imitations, he thus commits himselfto the following claim:

(C1): No name can be any better or worse than any other name.

Socrates takes (C1) to imply that “all names have been set downcorrectly” and asks Cratylus whether he accepts this implication(429b/c). Cratylus responds by endorsing a second claim (429c):

(C2): A linguistic device is a name for its (conventional) referents ifand only if it fulfils the standard of correctness described by(NAT**).

And it soon turns out that there is yet another claim that Cratyluswants to defend (429c–430a):

(C3): If a name is not a correct name for an object, it cannot possiblybe applied to this object (and thus be used to speak falsely).

These three claims are very counterintuitive, and Socrates immediatelybegins to attack(C3) and(C1). His arguments against these two claims rely on the presuppositionthat etymologically simple names are imitations and can thus becompared to pictures. To refute (C3), Socrates observes that it ispossible to assign a picture of a man to a woman, and that it shouldtherefore be equally possible to apply an etymologically simple namethat does not imitate the being of a given object to this object(430a–431c). This suffices to show that one can speak falsely bymisapplying names. To debunk (C1), Socrates points out that if someonewere to produce an object that is perfectly like Cratylus in everyrespect, this object would not be a picture of Cratylus, but a secondCratylus (432a–c). He infers from this that pictures canresemble the objects they depict only to a certain degree (432c/d).But if resemblance comes in degrees, imitative success comes indegrees, and qualitative differences between imitations must bepossible. Consequently, qualitative differences between etymologicallysimple names must be possible (433a).

8.2 The Return of Convention

Socrates’ convincing arguments against(C1) and(C3) lead him to the interim conclusion that even if(NAT**) holds, etymologically simple correct names imitate the being of theirreferents only in outline, but not perfectly (432d–433b). Hisnext argument—the so-calledsklêrotêsargument—complements this interim conclusion by undermining(C2) and re-introducingconvention into the picture. The basicpremise of this argument is the following one:

(P1): If a convention ensures that a name is a means to indicate(dêloma) the being (ousia) of its referents,^[3] the correctness of this name is conventional. (433d–434a)

Socrates’ reliance on this premise is a bit surprising. Afterall, he had first introduced the concept of indication when he beganto elaborate his naturalist theory of correctness at 390e–394e;but now, he is characterizing the assumption that names are used toindicate as a shared tenet of naturalism and conventionalism. He mustbelieve, then, that conventionalism and naturalism do not differ intheir account of the use to which speakers put names, but in theiraccount of what makes this use possible (Ademollo 2011:385–388).

At any rate, Socrates moves on to apply(P1) to the namesklêron (“hard”).^[4] He considers this name a correct etymologically simple name that canbe used to indicate the way of being that unites all hardthings—hardness. Using the results of his earlier mimetologicaldiscussion of individual letters, he points out that whilesklêron contains oneletter—rhô—that resembles hardness, it alsocontains one letter—lambda—that resembles theopposite of hardness, softness (434c–d). Hence,sklêron contains as many letters that resemble theopposite of hardness as letters that resemble hardness; andconsequently, it cannot be a means to indicate hardness in virtue ofbeing an imitation of hardness. He then introduces two more premisesto show thatsklêron is such a means in virtue of aconvention:

(P2): If a convention ensures that a hearer understands that a speakerwho articulates the namesklêron is thinking ofhardness, then a convention ensures thatsklêron is ameans to indicate the being of its referents (= hardness). (435a)
(P3): A convention ensures that a hearer understands that a speaker whoarticulates the namesklêron is thinking of hardness.(434e)

Cratylus does not object to any of this and is compelled to accept thefollowing conclusion:

(CONV): The correctness of the namesklêron is conventional(435a–b).

This argument is certainly plausible. What is very important to see isthat its conclusion is explicitly framed as a claim about thecorrectness of the namesklêron. It thuscannot be right to assume (as, e.g., Williams 1982: 83) that Socratesshows only thatsklêron is a name for hardness invirtue of a convention, but not that it is correct in virtue of aconvention. As a matter of fact, Socrates does not distinguish betweennames and correct names at this crucial moment (Barney 2001: 137; cf.Ademollo 2011: 2–4). And consequently, his argument does notonly show that(C2) is wrong: It also demonstrates that(NAT**) cannot be true as it stands.

8.3 Socrates’ Conclusion

Having established(CONV), Socrates makes a more general claim that is apparently supposed towrap up his whole investigation (435b):

(CONV*): Convention contributes to the correctness of names.

To lend further support to this conclusion, Socrates argues that therewould be a problem if one did not assume that convention has“some authority concerning the correctness” of the namesfor the natural numbers (435b/c). But as he does not elaborate on thenature of this problem, the precise purport of his argument iscontested (see, e.g., Sedley 2003: 142 and Robinson 1956: 117). Hegoes on, in any case, to state that while “he likes the ideathat names are, as far as possible, similar to the objects”(435c), he sees no alternative to accepting(CONV*).

(CONV*) is Socrates’ last word on the correctness of names—and adisappointingly vague claim. How can one make sense of Socrates’concluding remarks despite their vagueness? One option, favoured bychampions ofReading A, is to argue that Socratesunderstates the true result of hisinvestigation when he formulates (CONV*). What he could conclude afterpresenting thesklêrotês argument, and whatPlato’s readers are supposed to work out for themselves, is thatthe correctness of all names is completely conventional. For while thesklêrotês argument and its conclusion (CONV)concern only one name, it seems obvious that this argument could begeneralized and would then vindicate a thoroughly conventionalistview. (To see why this may seem obvious, take another look at thepremises of thesklêrotês argument.(P1) is about all correct names, and(P2) does not seem to concern the namesklêron inparticular. But even when it comes to(P3), which is specifically aboutsklêron as a name thatdoes not successfully imitate hardness, a generalization seems to bewarranted. For even if it is granted that a given name succeeds atimitating hardness or any other way of being, it will still not seemto be this imitative success which guarantees that a hearerunderstands what a speaker is thinking of when using the name. As onlya shared convention would seem to ensure such understanding, (P3)appears to convey an insight that applies to all correct names. And ifone combines this insight with (P1) and a generalized version of (P2),one will arrive at the conclusion that the correctness of all names iscompletely conventional.)

But of course, one could also take Socrates’ endorsement of thevague(CONV*) to indicate that he is not convinced that the correctness of allnames is completely conventional and wants to stick to a suitablymodified version of(NAT**). This alternative assessment of Socrates’ concluding remarks,which is favoured by champions ofReading B, can be elaborated in different ways. It has been argued, forinstance, that thesklêrotês argument concernsonly those names which—like the namesklêron—contain letters that resemble a certainway of being and an equal number of letters that resemble the oppositeway of being. While Socrates does indeed acknowledge that conventionis crucial for the correctness ofthose names, he believesthat the correctness of all other names is completely dependent ontheir mimetic qualities or their etymological meaning (Sedley 2003:144f.). But thesklêrotês argument has also beentaken to show only that names fulfil some sort of minimal conditionfor correctness in virtue of a convention, and thus to be compatiblewith the idea that the degree of a name’s correctness is afunction of its mimetic qualities or its etymological meaning (Barney2001: 134–142). There may be yet other elaborations of the ideathat Socrates’ concluding remarks do not amount to a totalrepudiation of(NAT**). They must all agree, however, in characterizing the import of thesklêrotês argument as more limited than it mightappear to be.

Is it also possible to maintain that Socrates rejects(NAT**) at 435b–d, but not the more general claim that there is anatural correctness of names? This is obviously how champions ofReading C would have to read Socrates’ concluding remarks. Unfortunately,there is no in-depth discussion of these remarks by any proponent ofthis reading (see, however, Kretzmann 1971: 138, for some reflectionson the issue). Two conjectures about the shape that the suggestedinterpretation would have to take seem reasonable, however:

Proponents ofReading C would have to read Socrates’ official conclusion(CONV*) as the claim that while there is a natural correctness of names, theways in which correct names are composed of letters and syllables isconventional (seesection 4.3).
To defend such an assessment of (CONV*), it would be necessary toexplain how thesklêrotês argument can justify awholesale rejection of(NAT**) and yet fail to show that the correctness of all names is completelyconventional.

Choosing between these exegetical options is exceedingly difficult.The fact that Socrates avowedly “likes the idea that names are,as far as possible, similar to the objects” might be thought toprove that he does not completely reject(NAT**). But a different reading is available: Socrates could be expressingthe conviction that most (etymologically simple) names are indeedsimilar to their referents while steering clear of the claim that thissimilarity constitutes their correctness (Ademollo 2011: 415). It istrue, however, that it is not easy to make sense of 435b–d, andespecially of the vague(CONV*), if one takes Socrates to believe that the correctness of all names iscompletely conventional. But on the other hand, it is harder to dojustice to thesklêrotês argument if one does notascribe this belief to Socrates. Given the mixed signals Socratessends, the debate about his conclusion is not likely to end anytimesoon.

9. Coda: The “Power” of Names (435d–440e)

As soon as Socrates has concluded his investigation of the correctnessof names, he turns to a different (if closely related) topic and asksCratylus what the “power” (dynamis) of names is.Cratylus answers that names have the power to teach (435d). While thisis reminiscent of Socrates’ earlier contention that names areinstruments for teaching (388b–c), it soon turns out thatCratylus has something more radical in mind. What he wants to defendis the claim that analysing names is the only way of gaining knowledgeabout their referents’ being. For him, philosophical etymology(seesection 6.1) and mimetological studies are thus nota, butthepath to knowledge. Socrates objects by making an observation that isillustrated well by his earlier etymological and mimetologicaldiscussions: that examining names will at the very best lead one tothe opinions of the ancient lawgivers who have introduced the names,and that these opinions can be wrong (436a–b). Cratylus has aresponse: He argues that the opinions of the ancient lawgivers arecoherently Heraclitean in character, and that this coherenceguarantees their truth (436b–c). Unimpressed, Socrates retortsthat coherence does not guarantee truth (436c–d) and that thereare also some cases in which the analysis of names suggests that theancient lawgivers held decidedly un-Heraclitean opinions(436d–437d). He also points out that the knowledge that Cratylusascribes to the ancient lawgivers cannot—on pain ofregress—have resulted from an examination of names(438a–d).

All in all, Socrates presents a very compelling case againstCratylus’ conviction that one needs to analyse names in order tolearn anything about reality. But he also draws a positive conclusionfrom his reflections: It must be possible “to learn about thebeings without names” (438e). The purport of this conclusion isnot immediately clear. One might think that Socrates means toadvertise some sort of intuitive, non-linguistic understanding (see,e.g., Derbolav 1972: 201–207; Silverman 2001: 25f.). But thatseems implausible; for Socrates will soon go on to use names to gaininsight into the nature of reality. According to a more plausibleinterpretation, Socrates wants to claim that one should examine thingsinstead of names, but not that one should refrain from using nameswhen investigating (Sedley 2003: 162; Ademollo 2011: 445). He mightalso have a special mode of inquiry in mind when he says that it mustbe possible to learn without names: He might be thinking of a broadlytranscendental inquiry that aims at ascertaining how reality must beorganized if language and knowledge are to be possible (Thomas2008).

Whatever Socrates’ exact theoretical point is when he suggestsan “inquiry without names”—he very soon starts hisown investigation into the nature of reality, arguing that Heraclituscannot be right when he claims that everything is in flux. His caseagainst this claim is based on the presupposition that there are notonly beautiful or good things, but also the beautiful itself or thegood itself (439c–d)—Platonic forms, it would seem. AsSocrates points out, four absurd consequences follow if one assumesthat even these entities are in constant flux:

One could not make true statements about them, because they wouldchange while one speaks (439d);
they would not be anything, because being something presupposesstaying in the same state for some time (439d–e);
they would not be knowable, because they would change before onecould get to know them (439e–440a); and
there would be no knowledge, because knowledge itself would be inconstant flux (440a–b).

These arguments against Heraclitus’ theory of flux are verycompressed and leave open many questions. Fittingly, Socrates admitsthat he is not sure whether he has really established that Heraclitusis wrong in claiming that everything is in flux and declares that theissue should be investigated more thoroughly without relying onphilosophical etymology (440c–d). Cratylus, on the other hand,is still convinced that Heraclitus is right (440d–e).Accompanied by Hermogenes, he leaves for the countryside—andends the dialogue that bears his name.

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E. Historical issues

Ademollo, Francesco, 2012, “The Platonic Origins of StoicTheology”, inOxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy, 43:216–243. doi:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199666164.003.0008
–––, 2013, “Cratylus 393b–cand the Prehistory of Plato’s Text”,The ClassicalQuarterly, 63(2): 595–602.doi:10.1017/S0009838813000128
Allan, D. J., 1954, “The Problem of Cratylus”,TheAmerican Journal of Philology, 75(3): 271–287.doi:10.2307/292439
Kirk, Geoffrey S., 1951, “The Problem of Cratylus”,The American Journal of Philology, 72(3): 225–253.doi:10.2307/292074
Luce, J. V., 1964, “The Date of theCratylus”,The American Journal of Philology,85(2): 136–154. doi:10.2307/293061
Nails, Debra, 2002,The People of Plato: A Prosopography ofPlato and Other Socratics, Indianapolis and Cambridge:Hackett.
Ross, David, 1955, “The date of Plato’sCratylus”,Revue Internationale dePhilosophie, 32(2): 187–96.
Smith, Colin C., 2022, “The Case for the 399 BCE DramaticDate of Plato’sCratylus”,ClassicalPhilology, 117(4): 645–661. doi:10.1086/721536

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Plato’sCratylus, English translation by H. N. Fowler, at The Perseus DigitalLibrary.
Plato’sCratylus, Greek Text by J. Burnet, at The Perseus Digital Library.
Sedley, David, “Plato’sCratylus”,Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2023 Edition),Edward N. Zalta & Uri Nodelman (eds.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/spr2023/entries/plato-cratylus/>. [This was the previous entry on this topic in theStanfordEncyclopedia of Philosophy – see theversion history.]

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