Symposium Related Quotes

During the youthful period of mankind's spiritual evolution human fantasy created gods in man's own image, who, by the operations of their will were supposed to determine, or at any rate to influence, the phenomenal world. Man sought to alter the disposition of these gods in his own favor by means of magic and prayer. The idea of God in the religions taught at present is a sublimation of that old concept of the gods. Its anthropomorphic character is shown, for instance, by the fact that men appeal to the Divine Being in prayers and plead for the fulfillment of their wishes. Nobody, certainly, will deny that the idea of the existence of an omnipotent, just, and omnibeneficent personal God is able to accord man solace, help, and guidance; also, by virtue of its simplicity it is accessible to the most undeveloped mind. But, on the other hand, there are decisive weaknesses attached to this idea in itself, which have been painfully felt since the beginning of history. That is, if this being is omnipotent, then every occurrence, including every human action, every human thought, and every human feeling and aspiration is also His work; how is it possible to think of holding men responsible for their deeds and thoughts before such an almighty Being? In giving out punishment and rewards He would to a certain extent be passing judgment on Himself. How can this be combined with the goodness and righteousness ascribed to Him? (Albert Einstein, Science, Philosophy, and Religion, A 1934 Symposium published by the Conference on Science, Philosophy and Religion in Their Relation to the Democratic Way of Life, Inc., New York, 1941; from Einstein's Out of My Later Years, Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1970, pp. 26-27.)

All ancient philosophers, poets, and moralists agree that love is a striving, an aspiration of the “lower” toward the “higher,” the “unformed” toward the “formed,” ... “appearance” towards “essence,” “ignorance” towards “knowledge,” a “mean between fullness and privation,” as Plato says in the Symposium. ... The universe is a great chain of dynamic spiritual entities, of forms of being ranging from the “prima materia” up to man—a chain in which the lower always strives for and is attracted by the higher, which never turns back but aspires upward in its turn. This process continues up to the deity, which itself does not love, but represents the eternally unmoving and unifying goal of all these aspirations of love. Too little attention has been given to the peculiar relation between this idea of love and the principle of the “agon,” the ambitious contest for the goal, which dominated Greek life in all its aspects—from the Gymnasium and the games to dialectics and the political life of the Greek city states. Even the objects try to surpass each other in a race for victory, in a cosmic “agon” for the deity. Here the prize that will crown the victor is extreme: it is a participation in the essence, knowledge, and abundance of “being.” Love is only the dynamic principle, immanent in the universe, which sets in motion this great “agon” of all things for the deity. Let us compare this with the Christian conception. In that conception there takes place what might be called a reversal in the movement of love. The Christian view boldly denies the Greek axiom that love is an aspiration of the lower towards the higher. On the contrary, now the criterion of love is that the nobler stoops to the vulgar, the healthy to the sick, the rich to the poor, the handsome to the ugly, the good and saintly to the bad and common, the Messiah to the sinners and publicans. The Christian is not afraid, like the ancient, that he might lose something by doing so, that he might impair his own nobility. He acts in the peculiarly pious conviction that through this “condescension,” through this self-abasement and “self-renunciation” he gains the highest good and becomes equal to God. ... There is no longer any “highest good” independent of and beyond the act and movement of love! Love itself is the highest of all goods! The summum bonum is no longer the value of a thing, but of an act, the value of love itself as love—not for its results and achievements. ... Thus the picture has shifted immensely. This is no longer a band of men and things that surpass each other in striving up to the deity. It is a band in which every member looks back toward those who are further removed from God and comes to resemble the deity by helping and serving them.

How singular is the thing called pleasure, and how curiously related to pain, which might be thought to be the opposite of it; for they never come to a man together, and yet he who pursues either of them is generally compelled to take the other. They are two, and yet they grow together out of one head or stem; and I can not help thinking that if Aesop had noticed them, he would have made a fable about God trying to reconcile their strife, and when he could not, he fastened their heads together; and this is the reason why when one comes the other follows, as I find in my own case pleasure comes following after the pain in my leg which was caused by the chain.

I refer, of course, to the theory that Plato in his Symposium puts into the mouth of Aristophanes and which deals not only with the origin of the sexual instinct but also with its most important variations in relation to the object. Human nature was once quite other than now. Originally there were three sexes, three and not as to-day two: besides the male and the female there existed a third sex which had an equal share in the two first . . . . In these beings everything was double: thus, they had four hands and four feet, two faces, two genital parts, and so on. Then Zeus allowed himself to be persuaded to cut these beings in two, as one divides pears to stew them. . . . When all nature was divided in this way, to each human being came the longing for his own other half, and the two halves embraced and entwined their bodies and desired to grow together again.‘36 Are we to follow the clue of the poet-philosopher and make the daring assumption that living substance was at the time of its animation rent into small particles, which since that time strive for reunion by means of the sexual instincts? That these instincts—in which the chemical affinity of inanimate matter is continued—passing through the realm of the protozoa gradually overcome all hindrances set to their striving by an environment charged with stimuli dangerous to life, and are impelled by it to form a protecting covering layer? And that these dispersed fragments of living substance thus achieve a multicellular organisation, and finally transfer to the germ-cells in a highly concentrated form the instinct for reunion? I think this is the point at which to break off.

I refer, of course, to the theory that Plato in his Symposium puts into the mouth of Aristophanes and which deals not only with the origin of the sexual instinct but also with its most important variations in relation to the object. Human nature was once quite other than now. Originally there were three sexes, three and not as to-day two: besides the male and the female there existed a third sex which had an equal share in the two first . . . . In these beings everything was double: thus, they had four hands and four feet, two faces, two genital parts, and so on. Then Zeus allowed himself to be persuaded to cut these beings in two, as one divides pears to stew them. . . . When all nature was divided in this way, to each human being came the longing for his own other half, and the two halves embraced and entwined their bodies and desired to grow together again.‘36 Are we to follow the clue of the poet-philosopher and make the daring assumption that living substance was at the time of its animation rent into small particles, which since that time strive for reunion by means of the sexual instincts? That these instincts—in which the chemical affinity of inanimate matter is continued—passing through the realm of the protozoa gradually overcome all hindrances set to their striving by an environment charged with stimuli dangerous to life, and are impelled by it to form a protecting covering layer? And that these dispersed fragments of living substance thus achieve a multicellular organisation, and finally transfer to the germ-cells in a highly concentrated form the instinct for reunion? I think this is the point at which to break off.

Unfortunately, the word has no direct counterpart in English, and an in-depth understanding requires a reading of Plato’s Charmides, The Symposium, and The Republic. But if you don’t mind a little armchair philosophy, I’ll give you my interpretation of the term, and how it relates to our minimalist journey. As I see it, there are three main facets to sophrosyne: 1. Self-knowledge 2. Self-restraint 3. Harmony Or, in my minimalist interpretation: 1. Knowing what’s enough for you 2. Choosing enough over excess 3. Finding joy in enough Sophrosyne, then, isn’t about self-denial. Rather, it’s avoiding overindulgence (like doing, buying, owning, or eating “too

We had a great department there; we were something. We were pretty much at the top of the university. So we were treated well by the administration. In 1966 we held a symposium. We were the first to bring the deconstructionists like Jacques Derrida and others to the United States. Many of my colleagues were hostile to that. They felt it was very bad. Two years later they were all converted to deconstruction. That left me somewhat disconcerted, and I left for Buffalo.   SB: Why did that bother you?   RG: Well it bothered me because deconstruction is against reality. They say everything is language. I think, as I said before when talking about my study of ritual, the way I read a theorist like Frazer is that you can choose either to say everything is language or everything is a fluid reality of violence that takes various shapes and can be named in different ways. That’s my way. Out of the sight of reality but not against language. I say it can be named different ways, but behind the solid stuff are human relations and the violence that creates a false peace. What they say is that everything is about language; everything is play, futility. There is no reality. You don’t have to worry about anything. Ultimately it becomes dull and stupefying, this doing away with reality. I think that day is finished.   Ultimately

Kennon Smith in their delineating of critical issues in education through the studio. Central to their investigation is a connection with other fields of design and bringing common essential characteristics to the field of instructional design. Design and narrative meet in two chapters. In the first, Katherine Cennamo relates her experiences in pairing two design forms in a multidisciplinary design studio. Not all design work is alike and different cultures exist in different disciplines. At the same time, there are lessons to be learned through this innovative studio environment. Subsequently, Wayne Nelson and David Palumbo present the crossover of an interactive design firm to engagement with instructional design. Blending processes and ideas from product design and user-experience design informs their work, beginning from their entertainment-oriented experience and moving toward an educational product. How people design—whether they are instructional designers, architects, or end users—is a valuable base for practice and education. Chapters by Lisa Yamagata-Lynch and Craig Howard examine the design process using different methods of inquiry, but both help us in our quest for understanding. While Yamagata-Lynch uses Cultural Historical Activity Theory to examine design from an end-user point of view, Howard builds on an extensive use of the case study method to examine our own practices of instructional design. As we have seen in these chapters, instructional design is a diverse field and, while the specific subject matter is important, it is but one component of education. Wayne Nelson outlines the possible scope of research and practice and finds ways to integrate the field beyond traditional educational research. The qualitative and subjective aspects of instructional design must also be addressed. The specific elements of message design, judgment, and ethics are presented in chapters by M.J. Bishop, Nilufer Korkmaz and Elizabeth Boling, and Stephanie Moore. Each is critical in a holistic understanding of the field of instructional design, touching on such questions as how we convey meaning and information, our judgment of quality in our work, and our responsibilities as designers. We began the symposium with the idea of the value of design thinking, and Gordon Rowland, in his chapter, presents a method for improving the use of design in learning and thinking. Design is “a unique and essential form of inquiry,” and Rowland’s method can advance the use of design as a full-fledged educational component. Examining design and education encourages us to address larger, more systemic issues. Marcia Ashbaugh and Anthony Piña examine leadership thinking and how it could infuse and direct instructional design. How to improve the practice of design inquiry extends to the full field of education and to leadership in higher education. Paul Zenke’s chapter examines the role of university leadership as designers. Challenges abound in the modern age for higher education, and the application of design thinking and transformation is sorely needed. Our story, the chapters of this book, began with detailed views of the work of instructional design

Nussbaum, in The Fragility of Goodness, sees the Phaedrus as a sort of palinode in relation to the Symposium in which love is of the individual qua individual.

The generations steeped in the virtual will never have known the Real. But that is not so serious if we accept that the Real is merely a referential illusion. More serious is the case of those who, steeped in sex and images of sex, will never have known pleasure. But this is nothing in relation to the possibility, for future generations, of never knowing death. With so many spectacles, festivals, symposiums, art fairs and book fairs, the desire for a sudden cultural recession, or at least for a period of latency, for long enough to recover the savour of a book or the silence of images. Zero (degree zero, zero risk, Ground Zero, zero deaths) is the current form of perfection, empty, sterile and faultless. It is the nil-sum equation, defined by the elimination of all variables. In this sense, there is no longer any difference between the perfection of life and that of death.