Why Allen Ran

Danielle Allen begins her 2010 book,Why Plato Wrote, with a seemingly simple question: Why did Plato, that most famous of ancient philosophers, write things down? The question seems simple, but it evokes complex possibilities. Allen’s question reminds us that being a philosopher—being a person who loves wisdom—can, as a practicalmatter, entailmultiplemodes of action.A love ofwisdom can be expressed in thinking, in speaking, in writing, in teaching, in being a student, in questioning, in listening, in observing, in creating, and in doing all sorts of other human activities. It can entail engaging with other people or retreating from them. It can involve participation in formal academic institutions or the avoidance of them. As a philosopher, Plato had choices among all these and other possibilities, choices about how to pursue his love of wisdom in theworld. Furthermore, evenwithin the act of writing Plato had many choices. He had choices about how to write, choices about what to write, choices about to whom he would write, and choices about how much time to spend writing. Plato had, in short, lots of choices about how to practice theorizing. By reminding us that Plato had choices about how to practice theorizing, Allen’s question does two important things. First, it blurs the conventional line between theory and practice. And it invites reflection, especially among those of us who have been credentialed by the academy as “philosophers” or “theorists,” about the extent to which our professional norms and identities can be limiting, so much so that they point us away from wisdom (or the good life) rather than toward it. That Allen pushes her inquiry of Plato in these directions should be no surprise. From the very beginning of her adult life, Allen has questioned—sometimes implicitly