The appearance of a new translation of a Platonic dialogue by Eva Brann, Peter Kalkavage, and Eric Salem for the Focus Philosophical Library is always exciting, and this edition of the Meno does not disappoint. The translation is highly praiseworthy for its fidelity and lucidity, accurately capturing the vocabulary of the Greek while presenting the text in an engaging, colloquial form that places it among the best English translations of Plato. The book’s value is increased by an authoritative but concise introductory overview of the dialogue, extensive historical and linguistic footnotes, and detailed geometric diagrams set directly within the text, rather than in an appendix. These virtues, along with its affordable cost, make this edition a must-have for scholars and an excellent choice for teaching at all levels.
The Focus series is favored by continental philosophers and Straussians, but is also gaining some traction in analytic philosophical scholarship. We might be surprised to find a new Focus translation of the Meno, given the publisher’s 1998 (rev. 2004) version by George Anastaplo and Laurence Berns. The Brann-Kalkavage-Salem translation does not differ radically from it, indeed often resembling a revision of it. Nevertheless, its significant deviations are nearly all improvements, in my view. In what follows, I will consider a few notable aspects of this new translation (BKS) against Anastaplo-Burns’ (AB) and the popular Grube translation (Gr.) published by Focus’ owner, Hackett Publishing. (All these translations follow the Greek of Burnet.)
Like their other Platonic translations, BKS resist overtranslation. One especially praiseworthy strategy of BKS is their dedication to highlighting important Platonic themes as they arise in the text. In addition to capturing the Socratic ethos, this will prove especially helpful for students in early encounters with these themes. For example, consider the translators’ subtle attention to the important epistemological connection between an object’s whatness and its sort that lies at the heart of Socratic inquiry:
“ὃ δὲ μὴ οἶδα τί ἐστιν, πῶς ἂν ὁποῖόν γέ τι εἰδείην;” (71b3-4)
“And if I don’t know what something is, how would I know what sort of thing it is?” (BKS, 2)
“And how could I know what sort of thing something is, if I do not know what it is?” (AB, 2)
“If I do not know what something is, how could I know what qualities it possesses?” (Gr., 871-72).
Through the use of italics to highlight the key terms τί ἐστιν and ὁποῖόν, and by staying close to the Greek word order, the BKS wording helps to draw out the structure and importance of this question.
For an example where BKS avoid overtranslation, compare these renderings of Socrates’ comment to Meno about his pedagogical method with the slave:
“ὁρᾷς, ὦ Μένων, ὡς ἐγὼ τοῦτον οὐδὲν διδάσκω, ἀλλ᾽ ἐρωτῶ πάντα;” (82e4-5)
“Do you see, Meno, that I’m teaching him nothing but asking him everything?” (BKS 23).
“Do you see, Meno, that I am not teaching him anything, but all that I do is ask questions?” (AB 19)
“You see, Meno, that I am not teaching the boy anything, but all I do is question him” (Gr. 882).
Following an urge to find a technical point about Socratic method here, translators like Grube have missed the simple terseness of Socrates’ question. Socrates does not mention anything about his “doings,” and no word in the Greek corresponds to the English “questions”. We should take this to be more of an aside than a discourse on method. Similar instances of resisting overtranslation abound in BKS.
Worth noting also is that BKS will err on the side of density of English text when that is needed to capture all elements of the Greek. For instance, compare:
“ὀρθῶς δέ γε ἡγεῖσθαι δύο ὄντα ταῦτα μόνα, δόξαν τε ἀληθῆ καὶ ἐπιστήμην, ἃ ἔχων ἄνθρωπος ὀρθῶς ἡγεῖται— τὰ γὰρ ἀπὸ τύχης τινὸς ὀρθῶς γιγνόμενα οὐκ ἀνθρωπίνῃ ἡγεμονίᾳ γίγνεται—ὧν δὲ ἄνθρωπος ἡγεμών ἐστιν ἐπὶ τὸ ὀρθόν, δύο ταῦτα, δόξα ἀληθὴς καὶ ἐπιστήμη” (99a1-5).
“And that only these things, being two, guide correctly, true opinion and knowledge, which a human being who guides correctly has—for things that come about correctly on the basis of some sort of chance don’t come about through human guidance—but what a human being has who is a guide toward what is correct are these two things: true opinion and knowledge” (BKS 53).
“And these two things only direct rightly: true opinion and knowledge, which the human being who directs rightly has. For things which turn out rightly from some sort of chance do not come about through human direction. But those things, through which a human being is a director to what are right, are these two, true opinion and knowledge” (AB 44).
“And that only these two things, true belief and knowledge, guide correctly, and that if a man possesses these he gives correct guidance. The things that turn out right by some chance are not due to human guidance, but where there is correct human guidance it is due to two things, true belief or knowledge” (Gr. 896).
Here we find BKS resisting the urge to simplify a complex point by cutting points or clauses (e.g., that these things “are two” [δύο ὄντα], that the observation about the coming-to-be of these two according to chance is parenthetical in the structure of the sentence, etc.) The results are occasionally bulky, but laudably consistent.
Other subtle wording choices warrant mention, including BKS’ resistance to using the English “exist” to translate einaiand its cognates. Instead, they consistently use ‘be’, without interpreting the sense of being intended. (I count at least four “existential” interpretations of einai in AB: 72d8, 72e6, 73a1, and 74a9.)
While the technical vocabulary remains close to that of AB, we find some interesting differences. These include ‘helpful’ for ōphelimos, ‘thoughtfulness’ for phronēsis, ‘arrogance’ for hybristēs, ‘beautiful’ (with aggressive consistency) for kalon, ‘models’ for paradeigmata, narkē as ‘numbfish’ (not ‘torpedo-fish’), athanatos as ‘deathless’ (not ‘immortal’), ‘to maim’ for lōbaomai, and ‘genius’ for daimonie (92c1). One particularly welcome change is the use of ‘fine and good men’ for kaloi k’agathoi late in the dialogue, replacing the awkward ‘gentlemen’ in AB. This spares teachers the laborious task of unpacking the meaning of such awkward phrasing as, “But you, [Meno], tell me, are there not men among your people who are gentlemen too?” (95a6-7, AB 38).
Although an improvement, the Brann-Kalkavage-Salem edition does not entirely supersede that of Anastaplo-Berns: the latter’s helpful textual commentary (endnotes, 47-76) and alternative approach to rendering the geometric figures (79-85) retain their value. Scholars thus will want access to both. Nevertheless, due to its improvements, the Brann-Kalkavage-Salem edition clearly recommends itself over the earlier for classroom use.
Like all objects in space and time, there is room for improvement in this translation. The translators make frequent use of the non-substantive ‘it,’ which I sometimes find a bit burdensome to sort through in tracking a philosophical point. Although their use of gender-neutral language is a marked improvement over Anastaplo and Berns, the Brann-Kalkavage-Salem text does occasionally include gendered terms that could be gender neutral (e.g., hippeus as ‘horseman’ rather than ‘horse rider’). But the faults are minimal and of little significance in what overall is an excellent and, so far as I could tell, typo-free book.