Clement of Alexandria · a new plain-English translation from the original language
The sophistic art, which the Greeks have zealously pursued, is a power of illusion, one that produces through arguments false opinions as though they were true; for it supplies rhetoric for the purpose of persuasion, and eristic for the purpose of contention. These arts, then, if they do not come to be practiced along with philosophy, would surely be more harmful than anything. Plato, at any rate, straightforwardly called sophistic a "base art," and Aristotle, following him, declares it to be a kind of "thievery," inasmuch as it plausibly steals away the whole work of wisdom while professing a wisdom it has never practiced. To put it briefly: just as of rhetoric the starting point is the plausible, its function the argument undertaken, and its end persuasion, so too of eristic the starting point is the opinion held, its function the contest, and its end victory. In the same way, of sophistic the starting point is the apparent, and its function is twofold — the one, proceeding from rhetoric, appearing as continuous discourse; the other, proceeding from dialectic, appearing as question-and-answer — and its end is the dazzling of the hearer. And that dialectic so much talked up in the philosophical schools shows itself to be a philosopher's exercise concerning received opinion, undertaken for the sake of a capacity for argument on both sides; but nowhere in any of this is truth to be found.
Fittingly, then, the noble apostle, disparaging these superfluous arts of words, says that if anyone does not hold to sound words, he is puffed up by some teaching, knowing nothing, but sick over questionings and disputes about words, out of which come strife, envy, slander, and evil suspicions — the constant frictions of men corrupted in mind and deprived of the truth. Do you see how he has moved against them, calling their art of reasoning a "sickness" — the very thing on which they pride themselves, those to whom this glib base-craft is dear, whether they be Greeks or barbarian sophists? Excellently, then, does the tragedian Euripides say in the Phoenician Women: "the unjust argument, being sick in itself, needs skillful remedies." For the saving word, being itself truth, is called sound; and what is sound always remains undying, while separation from the sound and the divine is godlessness and a death-bearing affliction. These men are wolves, snatchers of sheep hidden beneath fleeces, both enslavers and smooth-tongued seducers of souls, stealing secretly, yet when exposed shown to be robbers, striving to capture us — us who are without artifice, and so, one might say, the less capable of defending ourselves — by both crooked trickery and force.
"A man, often overcome for lack of eloquence though he has spoken what is just, fares worse than the glib speaker. But now, with fluent mouths, men steal away the truest things, so that what ought to seem true does not seem so" — thus tragedy speaks. Such are these contentious men, whether they pursue heresies or practice the little arts of dialectic — these are the men who, as Scripture says, pull down the rigging and weave nothing, having zealously pursued a labor that comes to nothing, which the apostle called a "trickery of men" and a "craftiness" suited to the scheming of error. "For there are," he says, "many who are unruly, vain talkers, deceivers of minds." And surely it is not to everyone that this was declared: "You are earth's salt." For among those who have heard the word there are some who resemble sea creatures — fish that, although raised from birth within the brine, nonetheless require seasoning by salt. I, for my part, very much accept what tragedy says: "My child, false words might well be spoken well, and by the beauty of their phrasing might overcome the truth; but this is not the most exact test — rather, it is nature and what is right. And he who conquers by eloquence of tongue is indeed clever, but I for my part always reckon deeds better than words." We ought therefore never to seek to please the many. For the things that gratify them we do not practice; and the things we know are far removed from their disposition. The apostle puts it thus: "Let us not turn vainglorious, challenging each other, begrudging each other."
It is for this reason that Plato, the lover of truth, as though inspired by a god, says: "I am such a man as to be persuaded by nothing other than the argument which, upon my examining it, appears to me best." He accordingly finds fault with those who, without understanding and knowledge, put their trust in opinions, holding that it is not fitting for men, abandoning the right and sound reasoning, to give their trust to that which has fellowship with falsehood. For to be deceived away from the truth is an evil, while to speak truly and to hold opinions of things as they are is a good. Now of these goods men are deprived involuntarily; yet deprived they are, whether by being robbed, or bewitched, or compelled, and ... not having been persuaded. He who has been persuaded willingly is already ... spent; but he who has been persuaded otherwise, or who has forgotten, is robbed — for in the one case time, in the other reasoning, secretly takes the thing away unnoticed. And often pain and anguish do violence and force a change of opinion, and likewise contentiousness and passion; and besides all these, men are bewitched, whether charmed by pleasure or terrified by fear. All such turnings are involuntary, and none of them could ever cast out knowledge.
← All of Clement of Alexandria: Exhortation, Instructor & Miscellanies