“We’re at it again”
“Yes, here we go again”

(Anonymous realist, Dialogue among Universals)

We offer the reader the partial version of an unpublished dialogue written by the renowned Greek philosopher Plato (Athens, 427 BC – Athens, 347 BC). It is a recently discovered document of extraordinary importance for reconstructing the historical and theoretical development of Plato’s philosophy. The ancient parchment on which it was originally written was found in a state of severe deterioration, and despite various restoration attempts based on the most sophisticated technologies available today it has not been possible to recover its title. Nevertheless, given the content developed therein, the name “De socru”, that is, the On the Mother-in-Law, has by now become established among scholars. The apparently facetious title, however, must not mislead the reader: it is in fact a theoretically very intense text which, according to some, would attest to a serious period of crisis in the Author’s philosophical system.

Socrates [in a solemn tone]: “My dear, you know, these past few days I have thought a great deal about us and our relationship, and I have reached a very significant conclusion: between you and me there is a platonic relation.”

Xanthippe [a bit puzzled]: “A what?”

Socrates: “A platonic relation.”

Xanthippe “I warn you: this is not the moment to subject me to yet another of your extravagant notions, Socrates; I really have so many things to attend to.”

Socrates: “To tell the truth, the notion is not mine. You see, there is a new young pupil of mine, a certain Plato, with whom the other day I pleasantly conversed in a fruitful dialogue.”

Xanthippe: “Darling, would you kindly explain what this Plato has to do with the two of us? You are worrying me… And besides, where did you meet him? You haven’t been hanging about the agora again, have you?”

Socrates [nodding]: “Well, in fact yes, I was passing by and so I decided to stop and have a little chat with someone.”

Xanthippe: “Here we go as usual: how many times must I tell you that sooner or later someone will bar you from frequenting that place? You lure the young away from their school duties, you distract the workers busy at their trade… and then you often keep company with those drachma-squeezing profiteers, what do they call them? Ah yes, the sophists. In short, Socrates, I say it for your own good: why don’t you spend your time looking for a real job, like everyone else?”

Socrates: “A real job? And what is the real?”

Xanthippe [quick as lightning]: “Socrates, don’t you even try.”

Socrates: “Oh, sorry, my dear, you know, force of habit…”

Xanthippe: “Yes, yes, always the same story: every time asking ‘What is this?’, ‘What is that?’… [she huffs] Rather, tell me about your pupil and explain to me this new brainwave of the ‘platonic relation’ before I truly lose my patience.”

Socrates: “Xanthippe, do not be displeased, but I would rather not dwell on Plato so much as on what he asserts. Is that all right with you?”

Xanthippe: “Put it however you like, but know that I have already formed an idea of the matter.”

Socrates: “My dear, you cannot know how happy it makes me to observe your lively spirit of discussion. Come then, do lay out your thoughts on the matter.”

Xanthippe: “Well, at a rough guess, I would say this: since the idea of ‘platonic relations’ arose from a discussion of yours, and bearing in mind that you proudly declare yourselves philosophers, I suppose that a platonic relation is some sort of merely intellectual union or, I don’t know, a kind of idyllic contemplative friendship. Am I wrong?”

Socrates: “Your proposal, Xanthippe, has its reason. Yet it clashes decidedly with what I told you a moment ago: between you and me there is indeed a platonic relation. And however much I admire you intellectually, our union, my dear wife, can certainly not be defined in exclusively contemplative terms, don’t you think?”

Xanthippe: “Yes, decidedly.”

Socrates: “In truth, what I call a ‘platonic relation’ is something far more substantial and complex.”

Xanthippe [a bit impatient]: “Would you care to let me in on it, pray?”

Socrates [pauses for a moment, then bursts out with a serious air]: “Look around you. In the world there are ever so many things: houses, trees, people, grains of dust, harps…”

Xanthippe [snorting]: “Darling, I can see that for myself, there is no need for you to give me a complete list: what are you driving at?”

Socrates: “Wait, be patient and I will get there. I was saying that the world is full of things, but I also wanted to add – before you interrupted me – that these things which are familiar to us and which surround us are made in certain ways and stand to one another in certain others: look at the flame [he points to the lit fireplace]…”

Xanthippe [visibly worried about her husband’s mental health]: “Yes, I am looking at it…”

Socrates: “Good, look at it carefully: that flame is an intense red, it is burning at a precise temperature, it is in the fireplace, it is at a certain distance from us… Do you understand?”

Xanthippe [shaking her head, dumbfounded]: “No…”

Socrates: “You see, what I am trying to explain is that the flame has properties (a colour and a temperature) and maintains relations with other things (with us and with the fireplace, for example): are you with me?”

Xanthippe [nods suspiciously]: “And so?”

Socrates: “Well, you should know that Plato, whom I already consider one of my most gifted and brilliant pupils, maintains something unheard of. The properties and relations that we can observe, and that give colour and form to the otherwise amorphous things of the world, are privileged entities: they are universals.”

Xanthippe [in a sceptical tone]: “All right, all right, this is your philosophers’ jargon. Translated into our everyday language, what does it mean? What privileges would these uni-thingies have?”

Socrates [drawing near to her with wild eyes, speaking in a hushed tone]: “U-ni-ver-sals are eternal and have the gift of ubiquity.”

Xanthippe [unable to hold back a laugh]: “That’s a good one!”

Socrates: “Mind you, I am not joking, and neither was Plato joking when he spoke to me of it. This is a very serious matter. See for yourself: you have acknowledged that the fire is in our fireplace. But is the fire the only thing that can be in it?”

Xanthippe [regaining her composure]: “Evidently not: in the fireplace there are also several logs of wood, four to be precise, some ash… [she leans over to look more closely] the remains of the wastepaper that you are wont to toss in despite my disapproval.”

Socrates: “Good, just what I wanted to hear you say…”

Xanthippe: “You mean the wastepaper?”

Socrates: “No, I mean the wastepaper too… You see, the remains of the wastepaper that so annoy you, the ash, the logs of wood that feed the fire, and the fire itself are different things, yet joined by the fact of all being in our fireplace. However dissimilar they may be from one another, they have one trait in common: they share one and the same spatial relation, that of being inside something.”

Xanthippe: “Interesting… so according to you, besides all those things that fill our fireplace there also exists a certain relation that links them to it, correct?”

Socrates [nodding]: “Exactly! Among the things we can count in that corner of our dwelling there are the fireplace, the logs, the fire, the ash, the wastepaper, and also the spatial relation that binds them all together.”

Xanthippe: “Very interesting…”

Socrates: “Of course it is. And it becomes even more interesting if we broaden our gaze to embrace the whole world: not only our logs of wood, the wastepaper I have burned, and their remains can be inside something, but ever so many other things too.”

Xanthippe: “Let me think… our dog is in his kennel on the patio, there are offerings in the Spartan sanctuary of Artemis, bronze mirrors in the lighthouse of Alexandria, unspeakable treasures in the tombs of Mycenae… I think these are fitting examples.”

Socrates [exulting]: “Of course they are!”

Xanthippe: “So, according to what you say, the very same spatial relation presents itself identical to itself in our fireplace as at Sparta, in our courtyard as at Alexandria and Mycenae… In short, it is found in several places at the same time.”

Socrates [with a satisfied smile]: “Precisely so!”

Xanthippe: “And would you also have me believe that even the relation of love which has united us since we first met behaves in this sort of way?”

Socrates: “It seems obvious to me: besides the two of us, there are ever so many couples scattered across the world who love one another. Consider: if a relation were not ubiquitous, the fact that it is here, now, binding you and me would entail that it cannot be elsewhere: does that seem plausible to you?”

Xanthippe: “It does not seem so to me.”

Socrates: “In short, think for instance of our friends Cratylus and Polemona, newlyweds now on their honeymoon at Miletus: down there would those two not love one another merely because you and I laid claim to the relation of love long before them? Absurd, don’t you think?”

Xanthippe: “It would indeed seem so. But earlier you alluded to ubiquity and eternity. So far, however, you have spoken only of the first characteristic and not of the second…”

Socrates: “Indeed, you are perfectly right: it is time to speak of eternity as well. The reason that persuades me of the idea that our world, at times so wretched and perishable, is populated (at least in part) by eternal entities is simple. Take a true assertion such as ‘Diogenes (our beloved dog) exists’ – are you with me?”

Xanthippe: “I believe so, go on.”

Socrates: “That assertion concerns Diogenes, and it is precisely he who makes it true, right?”

Xanthippe: “Of course.”

Socrates: “However, ‘Diogenes exists’ is only temporarily true: without complicating matters by going back in time, it is easy to imagine that it will cease to be true in the near future, and you and I can well imagine how sad the world will become then.”

Xanthippe: “Yes, but what is the point?”

Socrates: “The point is this: if temporarily true assertions – or better, contingently true ones – are made true by contingently existing things – mortal and perishable beings –, then eternally true assertions must be made true by necessarily existing things – eternal and indestructible beings.”

Xanthippe [suspiciously]: “What do you mean by ‘eternally true assertions’? Give me an example.”

Socrates: “Assertions of this kind are those called ‘necessary truths’, and examples abound: ‘Red is a colour’, ‘Wisdom is a virtue’, ‘Height is a property’, ‘Friendship is a relation’, and I could go on endlessly. In these assertions, which cannot be anything but true, properties and relations are mentioned, which suggests that these entities (besides being ubiquitous) are also eternal. Platonic entities, precisely.”

Xanthippe [arching an eyebrow with a challenging air]: “Now your sally is clearer to me: according to what you have said, you would love me with an eternal and ubiquitous love, right?”

Socrates: “Yes, just so.”

Xanthippe: “There is, however, something that does not add up for me.”

Socrates: “Do tell.”

Xanthippe: “If our love is eternal, will we love each other eternally?”

Socrates: “Take care: you must not confuse the characteristics of universals with those of their eventual possessors. The fact, for example, that Diogenes is white does not entail that Diogenes is ubiquitous or that he is eternally and incorruptibly white: these divine traits belong only to the universal and never to its bearer. And likewise the fact that this bundle of wood is in the hearth does not imply that it has always been there or that it can be elsewhere at the same time, but only that our logs of wood are for the moment bound to our hearth by a universal spatial relation, which is indeed eternal and ubiquitous. The same holds for the two of us: what binds us is something eternal, but we, unfortunately, are not.”

Xanthippe: “I see. This fellow, Plato, truly maintains an extraordinary thesis. Not to mention the fantastic mother-in-law he must be related to…”

Socrates: “What?”

Xanthippe: “The mother-in-law.”

Socrates: “Whose?”

Xanthippe: “Plato’s, of course. Darling, are you distracted?”

Socrates: “By the beard of Zeus, are you rambling or making sport of me? What has his mother-in-law to do with anything now?”

Xanthippe: “Simple. Let me explain. Take our case: you know how much I love my mother and how it grieves me that there is no love lost between you and her.”

Socrates: “And so? Forgive me, but I do not follow you.”

Xanthippe: “Well: you, my darling, love me dearly, and it is reciprocated; and I, as is only natural, love the woman whose daughter I am. Now, since what binds you to me and what binds me to my mother is one and the same bond (platonic, is it not?), it follows that I, you, and my mother are united by one and the same, eternal and ubiquitous relation of love. And so, you love my mother if you love me and I love her.”

Socrates [speechless]: “…”

Xanthippe [with an amused air]: “… and all this obviously leads me to think that Plato must really have a wonderful mother-in-law, for having maintained the existence of the uni-thingies.”

Socrates: “U-ni-ver-sals.”

Xanthippe: “Universals, right. How did you put it at the start? ‘Something unheard of’, wasn’t it? Husbands who amiably carry on platonic relations with their own mothers-in-law. Now that is truly something unheard of!”

Socrates: “Xanthippe dear, your eloquence is admirable, but I suspect that a sophism lurks in this discourse of yours.”

Xanthippe: “That is your field, is it not? Do tell me where I go astray.”

Socrates: “Not to take anything away from your venerable mother, but you should consider the fact that I love no one else as I love you. Was this not precisely what I told you when I proposed marriage to you?”

Xanthippe: “Yes, it was precisely this.”

Socrates: “If, then, I love no one as I love you, I cannot thereby love your mother in the same way as I love you.”

Xanthippe: “I see.”

Socrates: “Therefore I can love you without on that account having to feel love toward your mother.”

Xanthippe: “Darling, but at this point our love ceases to be a universal, or am I mistaken?”

Socrates: “In what sense?”

Xanthippe: “We said that a universal is such insofar as it is eternal and ubiquitous.”

Socrates: “Of course.”

Xanthippe: “In this particular case, the relation of love that binds us, being a universal, is in itself indestructible and binds ever so many other couples in the world.”

Socrates: “And how could it be otherwise?”

Xanthippe: “Ah, one moment: if you now tell me that the love you feel for me you cannot feel for anyone else, then this relation loses the promiscuity of a universal, and so things change a great deal.”

Socrates: “Explain yourself better.”

Xanthippe: “You said that the love you feel for me is a relation that binds only you to me and cannot join you to anyone who is not me. It follows, then, that the loving relationship that binds us is something exclusive and absolutely not shareable.”

Socrates: “Are you perhaps saying that love is not a universal?”

Xanthippe: “I am only saying that if your declaration of love was truthful, that is, if the love you feel for me you truly cannot feel for anyone else in the world, then that relation concerns only you and me and is therefore not ubiquitous at all.”

Socrates: “Interesting. What have you to say, instead, about the eternity we spoke of earlier?”

Xanthippe: “Frankly, I harbour strong doubts about it: indeed, I cannot picture in what sense the love that Socrates feels toward Xanthippe could survive the passing of Socrates and Xanthippe. Loves, as we know, are temporary and at best last a lifetime.”

Socrates: “And how do you reckon with our friends Cratylus and Polemona? Could they not love each other merely because you and I love each other?”

Xanthippe: “No, I am not saying that. I am only saying that these are their affairs, not yours.”

Socrates [mutters to himself and then bursts out]: “Xanthippe, this answer is absurd: to say that it is none of my affair regarding a certain problem is not an answer that has philosophical dignity. I forgive this impudence only because you are my wife.”

Xanthippe: “Dear, you have not quite understood: when I say that their love is their affair, I mean precisely that the relation that in fact binds them binds only the two of them and no one else. In other words, their love is a private affair, or rather, a private relation. So, once again, it is not a universal.”

Socrates: “Xanthippe, your dialectic is impetuous and would be the envy of every pupil of mine.”

Xanthippe: “My dear Socrates, I thank you for this compliment.”

Socrates: “We have thus set out two alternative conceptions of relations: the one I have called ‘platonic’, according to which relations are eternal and ubiquitous, and the one you have expounded, according to which relations are temporary and private.”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “Excuse me, may I? I could not help overhearing your heated discussion from the other room, and if you will now permit me, I would have my say.”

Xanthippe [visibly surprised]: “Mother, although your eavesdropping was not respectful, do speak, we are all ears.”

Socrates [whispers to Xanthippe]: “Speak for yourself!”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “I have heard your subtle reasoning, and I must say the question has interested me greatly. But forgive me, is it only my impression, or does it seem to you too that, deep down, both of your suppositions can boast good arguments on their side, so much so that it appears well-nigh impossible to decide which of the two is the better?”

Socrates and Xanthippe [in unison]: “Indeed it seems so.”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “And so, given an undecidable question, does there not perhaps arise the suspicion that somewhere an error lies hidden which, having gone unnoticed, generates an apparently insoluble problem?”

Xanthippe: “Perhaps, Mother.”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “Well then, since we are speaking of amorous relations, perhaps this aged woman, who certainly has more experience than you, might suggest something to you, namely that all these subtleties of yours arise from an initial mistake.”

Socrates [suspiciously]: “And that would be?”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “However different your discourses may be, you both assume that relations are something real or, as Socrates said, something substantial: well, my dear children, let me tell you that you are arguing over trifles.”

Socrates: “That is to say?”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “Simple: ‘love’, ‘friendship’, ‘spatial relations’ are only abstract words with which we refer to concrete things, that is, to beloved persons, to friends, and to objects located in particular places. I do not see why, besides the persons I love, there must also exist a relation of love, eternal and ubiquitous, or several relations of love, temporary and private. And likewise, I do not see why ever, in addition to the persons who are my friends and the objects that occupy space, there must be one or more relations of friendship or one or more spatial relations.”

Socrates: “So for you, what we have called relations would not exist at all, to the point that merely speaking of them would lead to misunderstandings and confusions, right?”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “Socrates, your mind is well trained, and you have grasped well what I mean.”

Socrates: “However authoritative and worth heeding your words may be, I nevertheless remain of the contrary opinion.”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “Meaning?”

Socrates: “Let me return to what you have just said, namely to the fact that your, moreover most respectable, opinion rests on a suspicion.”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “Just so.”

Socrates: “And this suspicion of yours would arise, as you have stated, from the fact that my discourse and Xanthippe’s regarding the nature of relations leave the question undecided, or am I mistaken?”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “Not at all, O Socrates.”

Socrates: “And might it not rather be the case that the undersigned and dear Xanthippe have as yet inquired too little into the nature of things, such that both still have unclear ideas about it? Would it not be equally plausible to say that this is the origin of the problem?”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “In fact yes, it might well be so.”

Socrates: “The fact that the question cannot be decided does not mean, in itself, that it cannot be resolved.”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “I acknowledge it.”

Socrates: “And so, what will be the wiser attitude before a conundrum like the one we are discussing: to break off the inquiry on account of its complexity, or to persevere in it?”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “Surely to persevere.”

Socrates: “You, O Mother, are right to note that the problem is quite complicated and that our attempts to settle it seem equivalent. But perhaps it is not our task to find, now, a solution to it.”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “Socrates, your words are wise. Yet it remains astonishing to observe that what is commonly held to be a simple and well-known subject, that concerning the nature of relations, on closer inspection reveals itself unexpectedly intricate and problematic.”

Xanthippe: “Indeed, especially when applied to ties of kinship [she casts a nasty glance at her mother]. As for you, my dear Socrates, are you still convinced that what unites us is really a platonic relation?”

Socrates: “Decidedly yes, and you ought to be glad of it: my preference for the platonic theory of relations leads me to say that I love you with the same love as when I first met you.”

Xanthippe: “I am glad of it, darling, and you ought to be at least as glad if I tell you that my inclination toward a non-platonic theory of relations leads me to say that, with time, my love has changed and today I love you even more.”

Meddling Mother-in-Law: “What a tender little scene! And who ever said that doing philosophy is a burdensome and austere thing?”