Plato’s Paradox: He Wrote Despite Hating Writing

Here’s the thing about Plato – the guy had a real thing against writing.

Said it’d rot your brain. Kill your memory. Like some kind of death sentence for thought.

And then, what did he do?

He sat down and wrote one hell of a bunch of books.

The irony is so thick you could cut it with a dull knife. It’s like the guy who swears off drinking but ends up in the bar every damn night, ordering doubles.

You can’t help but ask yourself, “Plato, what the hell, man?”

But we’re gonna dig into that. Get our hands dirty in the mud of paradox.

Because that’s what philosophy is all about – pushing the limits of what makes sense until you’re left with a question mark on your forehead, wondering if maybe the whole world’s been playing you for a fool.

So buckle up. This is gonna get messy.

1. The Hater’s Dilemma: Why the Hell Write, Then?

You’ve got Plato, and you’ve got his main man, Socrates. And here’s the thing – Socrates is the one who’s always going on about how writing is poison.

In Phaedrus, Socrates says it dulls the mind, makes you forgetful. Memory, according to him, is this delicate thing, and writing? It’s like putting it through a meat grinder.

According to Socrates, you can’t just put words on paper and expect them to do the heavy lifting.

You need dialogue, the raw, unfiltered conversation that gets into your soul. That’s how the real truth is found.

But then – then – you’ve got Plato, the man who learned from Socrates, who was Socrates’ disciple.

And guess what he does? He picks up the pen, scratches out some words, and writes down one of the most influential bodies of work the world’s ever known.

If writing’s so damn evil, why bother?

Before you start throwing rocks at Plato’s hypocrisy, let’s make something clear.

Plato never flat out says, “writing is the devil’s work” – no, no, no.

He lets Socrates do that dirty work. He uses Socrates’ mouth to run down writing in Phaedrus.

But Socrates wasn’t Plato, and Plato wasn’t Socrates.

Socrates was all about the spoken word, the dialectic. The guy could’ve gone without ever putting pen to paper. Hell, he didn’t even care about leaving a legacy.

But Plato? That was a different breed.

He wasn’t just trying to carry on some tired old oral tradition. He was ambitious.

He saw the potential for something more than just conversation in a smoky, dimly lit room.

Writing was a way to preserve the ideas – to plant them for the future.

You can’t talk to the dead. But you can write for them.

Maybe that’s why he used it, because when you’re on the hunt for truth, you take what you can get, even if it’s not perfect.

2. A Playwright at Heart, But a Philosopher by Necessity

Before the philosopher gig, Plato had dreams of being a playwright.

Yeah, you heard me right. Plato wrote plays, tragedies, the kind of stuff that got people in the heartstrings.

The guy was into drama, into pushing people to feel, to think.

But plays? They’re fleeting.

The stage is ephemeral, the words evaporating the second the curtains fall.

Maybe that’s why it wasn’t enough for Plato.

He wanted something permanent. Something that wouldn’t disappear with the dawn.

So he traded the stage for the page.

A playwright might fade into obscurity, but a philosopher?

A philosopher’s words can shake the world for centuries.

3. The Necessary Evil of Writing

Here’s the truth no one likes to admit: Writing’s not perfect. Plato knew that. Hell, he hated it. But writing, for all its flaws, was better than nothing. Sure, it’s limited. You can’t capture the full depth of an idea with just words on a page.

They’re like a shadow of the real thing. They only get you part of the way.

But when you’re gunning for truth, sometimes you gotta use what you got.

The written word can’t take you all the way to the summit, but it can get you close enough to taste the air.

Plato didn’t think writing was evil. No, no. He thought it was inferior – a necessary evil, a stopgap.

He knew it couldn’t compete with dialectic, the raw, face-to-face exchange of ideas.

But the written word? Sometimes, that’s all you have.

And Plato wasn’t the kind of guy to shy away from what was necessary. If writing had to be the tool, so be it.

At least it wasn’t as lazy as sitting around, letting ideas slip away like water through your fingers.

Plato’s View on Writing	What’s Wrong With It	Why He Still Used It
Not evil, but inferior	Limited, can’t capture truth completely	Necessary to communicate ideas to others
A tool, not the answer	Too rigid, too fixed	Writing is better than nothing; it sparks thought
Words are shadows of truth	Can’t replace dialectic	Use it to get closer to the truth, even if it’s imperfect

4. Myths and Stories: The Wild Card of Discourse

The plot thickens. See, Plato used myths. Myths. Those things you’re supposed to leave behind in your childhood.

But Plato? He was using them to sneak you closer to the truth, even when he knew you weren’t paying attention.

Myths are like those dirty little secrets we tell ourselves – things we don’t quite believe, but they tell us something we don’t know how to say in plain words.

Plato didn’t think writing was the ideal form of discourse, but he wasn’t above using it when it suited his purposes.

Same goes for myths. They were a tool, a vehicle to transport you, and if the words were a little messy, so be it. They still carried weight.

6. Rhetoric: A Dangerous Game

Plato had a thing for rhetoric, too. Not a big fan of it, mind you.

Rhetoric’s like a slick car salesman – smooth, but with a hidden agenda.

If it’s not used for truth, it’s just manipulation. But Plato still thought there was a place for it.

And writing’s the same thing. If it’s not used for the good, it’s a pile of garbage. But if it leads you closer to the Forms – if it helps you grasp the truth, even if it’s just a little bit – then maybe it’s worth something.

Philosophical Tool	The Problem	The Fix
Writing	It’s not perfect, can’t capture the whole truth	Use it to spark truth-seeking, even if it’s flawed
Rhetoric	Can be deceptive, twisted for manipulation	It should serve truth, not just make you feel good

6. Dialectic: The Real Deal

Now, if you want to talk about real truth, you’re talking about dialectic. Nothing beats face-to-face conversation, digging into the bones of a problem until you strip away the nonsense.

Writing? It’ll never measure up.

But Plato wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to sit around waiting for the perfect situation.

He used what he could. Even if it was a step away from the real thing.

At least writing, like dialectic, could get people closer to the Forms.

At least it was a way to nudge people, get their feet in the door.

The Paradox Resolved… Sort Of

The great paradox of Plato. A man who hated writing for all its imperfections, yet used it to carve his name into history.

He didn’t fool himself – he knew writing was a crutch.

But a crutch wasn’t the worst thing in the world when the alternative was stumbling around in the dark.

He didn’t think writing was evil; he thought it was inadequate.

But damn it, sometimes inadequate is all you’ve got.

He used it, despite himself, to get closer to truth.