Studying Aristotle’s “Poetics” — Part 9(B): Possibility, Probability and Necessity

As I’ve been interviewing screenwriters, I typically ask what some of their influences are. One book title comes up over and over again: Aristotle’s “Poetics.” I confess I’ve never read the entire thing, only bits and pieces. So I thought, why not do a daily series to provide a structure to compel me to go through it. That way we’d all benefit from the process.

For background on Aristotle, you can go here to see an article on him in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

To download “Poetics,” you can go here.

Part 9(B): Possibility, Probability and Necessity

It is, moreover, evident from what has been said, that it is not the
function of the poet to relate what has happened, but what may happen-
what is possible according to the law of probability or necessity.
The poet and the historian differ not by writing in verse or in prose.
The work of Herodotus might be put into verse, and it would still
be a species of history, with meter no less than without it. The true
difference is that one relates what has happened, the other what may
happen. Poetry, therefore, is a more philosophical and a higher thing
than history: for poetry tends to express the universal, history the
particular. By the universal I mean how a person of a certain type
on occasion speak or act, according to the law of probability or necessity;
and it is this universality at which poetry aims in the names she
attaches to the personages. The particular is- for example- what Alcibiades
did or suffered. In Comedy this is already apparent: for here the
poet first constructs the plot on the lines of probability, and then
inserts characteristic names- unlike the lampooners who write about
particular individuals. But tragedians still keep to real names, the
reason being that what is possible is credible: what has not happened
we do not at once feel sure to be possible; but what has happened
is manifestly possible: otherwise it would not have happened. Still
there are even some tragedies in which there are only one or two well-known
names, the rest being fictitious. In others, none are well known-
as in Agathon’s Antheus, where incidents and names alike are fictitious,
and yet they give none the less pleasure. We must not, therefore,
at all costs keep to the received legends, which are the usual subjects
of Tragedy. Indeed, it would be absurd to attempt it; for even subjects
that are known are known only to a few, and yet give pleasure to all.
It clearly follows that the poet or ‘maker’ should be the maker of
plots rather than of verses; since he is a poet because he imitates,
and what he imitates are actions. And even if he chances to take a
historical subject, he is none the less a poet; for there is no reason
why some events that have actually happened should not conform to
the law of the probable and possible, and in virtue of that quality
in them he is their poet or maker.

Justifiably chastened as I was last week by some folks for separating out the first four lines of this part [italicized above], the point being that I disconnected the first part of Aristotle’s argument from the second, I have posted the entire paragraph so we can discuss it as a whole. I have also highlighted three terms that recur through this section: possible, probable, necessary.

To start the discussion, let me excerpt this from a comment made last week by Jennine Lanouette:

The fifth sentence begins “Poetry, therefore, . . .” giving a clear indication that what follows will shed light on what came before. He then says that poetry is a higher form than history because, whereas history is for reporting the particular (i.e., chronicling factual incident), poetry is for expressing the universal (i.e., drawing larger meaning from the specific incidents). Considering this, I disagree that Aristotle sees the poet’s area of focus as being on the outcome of the story’s plot. Over and over, he uses the phrase “of probability and necessity” which to me pretty easily translates to what we call “cause and effect,” the backbone of dramatic structure. Thus, he is not saying that the outcome of the plot is unknown (indeed, if it’s based on a historical incident, the outcome is known) so much as that it is the poets job to draw cause and effect relationships between the particular incidents in order to illuminate their larger meaning. To my reading, the remainder of that paragraph also supports the idea that, while the historian chronicles a series of events, the poet looks for cause and effect relationships among those events and structures their account accordingly. The implication being that it is the structuring of those cause and effect relationships that elevates the story to a higher universal expression.

This strikes me as an excellent articulation of the primary point of cause and effect, a discussion that appears to put us squarely into the arena of “unity of action,” a continuous and seamless chain of events constituting story structure. To which pgronk added this observation last time:

>>uncertainty of the Future.

And isn’t that the riddle of the Sphinx every writer has to answer? She has to (eventually) figure out:
1) How the story ends.
2) Build a chain of cause and effect that leads to that end and makes it believable.
3) With an emotional payoff (That, imho, is the central focal point of Aristotle’s inquiry into tragedy; he was trying to figure out the mechanics of how it happens, explain how it is possible to evoke fear and pity in an audience.)
4] BUT do it all in a way that keeps the audience in the semi-dark, guessing, wondering, worrying, hoping about what may happen — the future.

Yes, not only a riddle, but a fundamental reality for a writer of rubber meeting the road. How to do that, indeed! I have two further things to add re this part, one a question, one a crazy interpretation that may be of some help in that regard:

— Notice how Aristotle uses “law of probability or necessity” twice at toward the front of Part IX, but then at the end writes, “law of the probable and possible.” Are the terms “necessity” and “possible” interchangeable? Or do they mean different things? The first two instances — with “necessity” — he uses “or”. The last instance — with “probable” — he uses “and”. So does “probability or necessity” represent two divergent paths whereas “probable and possible” represents paths than can converge?

I suspect one interpretation can arise from the perspective of time.

If we are talking about a story at its beginning, then might that not be where possibility is most relevant because the entire chain of impending events awaits in the future.

If we are talking about a story in its middle, then might that not be where probability is most relevant because we will have experienced enough of the chain of events to be able to see patterns and deduce certain potential outcomes.

If we are talking about a story at its end, then might that not be where necessity is most relevant because we will know how the chain of events played out all the way through to its resolution.

— In addition to what Aristotle may have meant and the above interpretation per time, I can extract an additional way to think about the three terms, and tie them back into pgronk’s point via my obsession: character.

What if we, as writers, looked at the dynamic of possibility from the specific perspective of an individual character, and even more specifically — the Protagonist? They are alive in the moment. Every scene is the present to them. Furthermore they believe themselves to be free agents with free will. So whatever goal they have in mind, whether a macro one related to the overall narrative or a near-term objective in this scene or that, wouldn’t the Protagonist operate under the assumption that they are living in the realm of possibility?

Now let’s widen the perspective to include all of the characters in that particular story universe (let’s call them the Collective). Each of them would act as Protagonists in their own story and, therefore, would bring with them the attitude articulated above: Everything is possible to them individually. And yet they know that cannot be true ultimately because by virtue of existing amidst a whole set of other characters as a Collective, some are going to win, some are going to lose, some are going to live, some are going to die, some goals will be achieved, some will not. So once we move from the Protagonist to the Collective level, isn’t this more the domain of probability, characters assessing the possibilities and figuring out the odds, which in turn would impact the choices they make and the actions they take?

Finally, let’s step outside the story universe entirely to the vantage point of the writer. We see the Protagonist and their critical role within the overall narrative. Likewise we can observe and analyze the nature of the interrelationships of the Collective, and determine the cause and effect each individual will have upon the plot. But there’s also this: If we dig down deep enough into the Protagonist and grasp the essence of their Metamorphosis, can we not discern the narrative destiny implied therein? How the possibilities the Protagonist believes are present, and the probabilities the entire Collective of other characters believe to be in play, are actually all tethered to the Protagonist’s own fate as grounded upon their transformation-journey. Thus from a writer’s perspective outside the story universe, we can divine and understand the necessity of the chain of events.

And so circling back to pgronk’s point about the “riddle of the Sphinx,” the trick may be for us, as writers, understanding the necessity of the chain of events, where the narrative destiny must go, but by writing each scene from the perspective of the Protagonist, who believes in possibility, and the Collective, which traffics in probability, we can imbue our writing with that sense of potential — anything can happen — while at the same time moving the plot forward toward its inevitable conclusion.

In other news, I think I just broke my brain…

I welcome the input of the traveling feast of Aristotelians who have taken to gathering here for a weekly discourse. If you have just stumbled onto this series, you should really go back and read the comments in each post as the folks who have been participating have added incredible insight into this seminal work by Aristotle.

A reminder: I am looking at “Poetics” through the lens of screenwriting, what is its relevance to the craft in contemporary times. And I welcome the observations of any Aristotle experts to set me straight as I’m just trying to work my way through this content the best I can.

See you here tomorrow for another installment of this series.

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For the entire series, go here.