Precision

Use in the book

When Charmides addresses Socrates by name, Socrates checks that he has it right. Charmides qualifies his recognition with an idiom meaning “if I am not mistaken,” then explains that Socrates is often discussed among his contemporaries and that he remembers him from childhood. The supplied translation instead presents the first phrase as a courtesy: “I’d be doing you an injustice if I didn’t.” Exact recognition here belongs to acquaintance and reputation. The exchange grounds the ensuing conversation in prior social knowledge while letting Socrates relax into a fuller explanation of the charm. It should not be conflated with the later technical problem of discriminating knowledge from ignorance, even though both raise questions about the warrant for recognition.

Places to read

1. 156aSocrates asks whether Charmides is sure of his name; the boy appeals to reputation and memory.

Translation in this edition

The supplied “you are sure you have my name right” captures the verb’s practical force. The ordinary phrase “talking sense” elsewhere need not belong to this same Greek family. The idiom εἰ μὴ ἀδικῶ γε need not assert an injustice against Socrates; see Justice and the just.

ἀκριβόω

Attested: ἀκριβοῖς (akribois). Know or ascertain accurately; Socrates asks whether Charmides is certain of his name. References: 156a. Lexical identification: lemma: ἀκριβόω. See Precision.

παντὸς μᾶλλον

Attested: παντὸς τοίνυν μᾶλλον / παντὸς ἄρα μᾶλλον (pantos toinyn mallon / pantos ara mallon). Most certainly or beyond all else; an emphatic expression of conviction, used when Socrates identifies a riddle and when he concludes that knowledge of knowledge cannot discriminate particular experts. References: 162b, 171c. Lexical identification: phrase template: παντὸς μᾶλλον. See Precision.

Use in the book

Precision enters when the building example threatens to make the lover’s program impossible. If the understanding to be acquired is that of the top master builder, even two crafts may exceed one learner’s capacity. The lover corrects Socrates: the philosopher need not know each craft precisely, but should know it in the way appropriate to a free and educated person. Precision thus marks the line between the practitioner and the informed participant.

The distinction has an intelligible motivation. The lover thinks exact labor in one pursuit leaves all other pursuits behind. The philosopher should avoid that imbalance and touch everything moderately. His ideal is not ignorance; it combines a considerable degree of understanding with refusal of exhaustive specialization. The pentathlete represents this as a rank just below the specialists and above everyone else.

Socrates then changes the evaluative test. On the lover’s account, precision appears costly because it narrows a life. In the cases of sickness and storm, its absence is costly because somebody’s health or safety depends on correct action. The same division of labor that limits an expert’s range now makes that expert the preferred person to trust. The dialogue does not measure how much learning a generalist actually needs, or establish that intellectual breadth has no value; it asks whether this breadth can constitute philosophy and its alleged usefulness.

The closing responsibilities imply that there is at least one sphere where a philosopher cannot settle for second place. Yet the text never simply says “philosophy is precision.” It changes the field and standard of obligation: one must judge rightly in one’s household and in matters entrusted by friends or the city. The earlier educational problem, how to determine the proper measure of learning for the soul, is approached through responsible knowledge rather than a new quantitative rule.

Places to read

1. 135dἀκριβῶς ὥσπερ αὐτὸν τὸν τὴν τέχνην ἔχοντα — The specialist’s exact knowledge is explicitly excluded from the proposal.
2. 136aμηδ’ εἰς τὴν ἀκρίβειαν μηδὲν διαπεπονηκέναι — Labor to the point of precision is treated as a threat to breadth.

Translation in this edition

The English “precisely” and “precision” preserve the word-family connection. The edition also uses “have labored at” for diapeponēkenai, which recalls the earlier argument about much and moderate labor. That connection is suggestive, but the later claim that technical depth crowds out other pursuits is the lover’s own defense, not the athlete’s earlier training advice.

Use in the book

The snail’s tentacula prompt a praise of precise naming and a tentative new word, essayoirs. The precision lies in making the testing action felt. In style, reflection molds expression into a form; ingenuous fluency may have grace without precision. The political example of justesse then makes exactness a direction toward a proper goal, public virtue. This moves beyond verbal neatness without turning every use of juste into moral righteousness. The shared question is whether an act of thought or expression reaches what it should.

Places to read

1. I, p. 157, entry 9, ¶1Precise naming motivates the tentative coinage essayoirs.
2. II, p. 512, entry 4, ¶1Molded reflective expression differs from graceful fluency.
3. II, p. 838, entry 12, ¶1Justesse depends on direction toward the appropriate goal.

Translation in this edition

The English translation renders essayoirs as “tryers,” preserving its tentative character, and avant-corps as forebody. In the directional passage it distinguishes exactness for justesse, precision for exacte and right for juste rather than enforcing one equivalent.

Exactness

French: exactitude.

Joubert distinguishes the precision sufficient to satisfy the mind from the exactness of which a thing is capable; perhaps no thing is known with the latter. This is a local contrast of adequacy and possible completeness, not a universal bilingual rule equating précision with approximation. The final likeness between pleasing imperfection and perfection remains deliberately paradoxical.

Places to read: I, p. 231, entry 5, ¶1.