Here I gather together some key excerpts from Plato's writings, with some introduction and comment, which form the basis for the present critical reconstruction of Plato's Form theory and Socratic/Platonic reasoning.
Habitual internal motives that are good for their own sake are the essence of what makes a person a good and admirable person. Are there other possible motives motivating me to behave rightly or be good, that would also make me a more admirable person? Basically, no. Motives constitute moral goodness, so the quality of one's moral character is determined by one's ultimate motives. Suppose Sara is motivated mainly by the desire to make money. Last year this desire led her to take a purely competitive and uncaring attitude toward her fellow-workers, just trying to get promoted at others' expense. This year her money-making motives have not changed one bit, but she now treats her fellow-workers kindly, but just as a means to impress a boss who values kindness. Kind-Sara this year is really no better as a person than uncaring Sara last year. As Plato puts it, this year she merely puts on the appearances or "seemings" (doxa) of kindness, but still does not have its essence.
To make this point about the difference between the concrete external "seemings" of goodness and the invisible "essence" of goodness, Plato creates two extreme and unrealistic fictional examples in the passage below. If a person gets lots of tangible social or monetary rewards for acting justly, we never know whether he is motivated to put on these seemings of justice by the desire for these rewards, or whether he is motivated purely by love of justice itself, valuing it for its own sake. So one way of creating a concrete picture representing "the essence of justice" in its most pure form, is to imagine a story of a person who remains just even when he is getting no rewards for it at all, but is actually getting punished for his just behavior. Plato probably has the example of Socrates in mind, condemned to death even though Plato says he was 'the most just man in Athens." A later passage (quoted below) shows that Plato recognizes the unrealistic character of such a story. It only serves as a kind of ideal model (paradeigma) for internal imitation, trying to purify one's motives of less admirable concerns.
Here is Plato's text:
Fathers, when they give advice to their sons... urge the necessity of being
just, not by praising justice itself, but the good reputation with mankind that
accrues from it. The object that they hold before us is that, by seeming to be
just, the man may get from it reputation, office, connections, and all the
good things... [And,] throwing in good standing with the gods, they have no lack
of blessings to describe, which they affirm the gods give to pious men...
[But when it comes to deciding] between our two kinds of life [a just life and an unjust life], we shall be able to decide rightly [only] if we separate the most completely just and the most completely unjust man.
How, then, is this separation to be made?
Thus: We must subtract nothing of his injustice from [our image of] the unjust man or of his justice from [our image of] the just man, but assume the perfection of each in his own mode of conduct...
The unjust man who attempts injustice rightly must be supposed to escape detection if he is to be altogether unjust, and we must regard the man who is caught as a bungler. For the height of injustice is to seem just [dokei dikaion einai] without being so [mē einai].
To the [image of the] perfectly unjust man, then, we must assign perfect injustice and withhold nothing of it, but we must allow him, while committing the greatest wrongs, to have secured for himself the greatest seeming of justice [tēn megistēn doxan... eis dikaiosunen], and if he does happen to trip, we must concede to him the power to correct his mistakes by his ability to speak persuasively if any of his misdeeds come to light, and when force is needed, to employ force by reason of his manly spirit and vigor and his provision of friends and money.
And when we have set up an unjust man of this character, our theory must set the [image of the] just man at his side - - a simple and noble man, who... does not wish to seem but to be good. Then we must deprive him of the seeming [to dokein]. Because if he seems [doxei] just, honors and gifts will come to him on account of this seeming [dokounti toiouto]. Then it will not be clear whether he is this way for the sake of justice or because of honors and gifts. He must be stripped bare of everything except justice... Doing no injustices, he must have the seeming [doxan echeto] of the greatest injustice, so that he may be put to the test as regards justice through not softening because of ill repute and the consequences thereof. But let him hold on his course unchangeable even unto death, seeming all his life to be unjust though being just,
so that [in these extreme images] both men attain... to the limit, the one of injustice, the other of justice...
Such being his disposition the just man will have to endure the lash, the rack,
chains, the branding iron in his eyes, and finally, after every extremity of
suffering, he will be crucified...
The unjust man, as pursuing what clings closely to reality, to truth, and not regulating his life by opinion, desires not to seem but to be unjust. [He will get] first office and rule in the state because he has the seeming of justice, then a wife from any family he chooses, and the giving of his children in marriage to whomsoever he pleases. dealings and partnerships with whom he will, and in all these transactions advantage and profit for himself because he has no squeamishness about committing injustice. And so they say that if he enters into lawsuits, public or private, he wins and gets the better of his opponents, and, getting the better, is rich and benefits his friends and harms his enemies, and he performs sacrifices and dedicates votive offerings to the gods adequately and magnificently, and he serves and pays court to men whom he favors and to the gods far better than the just man, so that he may reasonably expect the favor of heaven also to fall rather to him than to the just.
A little further, Plato comments on this example:
If we discover what Rightness is, will we demand that the righteous man not differ from it in any way, or will we be satisfied if he comes close to it and participates in it...? It was for the sake of having a model [paradeigma] that we inquired about "What is Rightness Itself?" and if a man became perfectly Right, what kind of person he would be in becoming so -- [likewise with] the not-right, and the most not-right person -- so that looking toward the former... we might be compelled to agree in reference to ourselves that whoever is most like those [righteous men] we will have a kind of existence [moira] most like to theirs. It was not for the sake of proving that it is possible for these things to [actually] exist... Do you think an artist any less [an artist] if, having painted a model [paradeigma] of what would be the most fine man [kallistos] putting in the painting everything important for this, he would not be able to prove that it is possible for such a man to exist? We are [only] trying to create in words a model [paradeigma] [of Rightness]....
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This passage is important as an answer to the common objection that perfect Platonic Forms are useless, because "no one is perfect." Plato recognizes this problem, and addresses it by means of the concept of "participation." Perfect Platonic Forms are not goals to be achieved, but models or "paradigms" to resemble or "participate in" as much as possible. |
In the divine there is no shadow of unrighteousness, only the perfection of righteousness. And nothing is more like the divine than any one of us who becomes as righteous as possible. 176c
Evils can never be done away with [in this world]... they [do not] have any place in the divine world, but they must needs haunt this region of our mortal nature. That is why we should make all speed to take flight from this world to the other, and that means becoming like the divine so far as we can, and that again is to become righteous with the help of Wisdom. 176a
Although Plato does not explicitly mention the Forms in this passage, it is evident from other passages that the "divine" world he speaks of here is the world inhabited by the Forms. Note that "taking flight from this world to the other" does not mean trying to actually live in this other divine world rather than the present earthly world. It means taking perfect "divine" Platonic Forms as models for self-molding, trying to approximate these as closely as we can "becoming like the divine so far as we can." So "taking flight from this world" means in practice "becoming as righteous as we can with the help of Wisdom" -- "Wisdom" for Plato consists in knowledge of the Forms.
At the center of Platonic thought is the quest for the right criteria a person should use for self-evaluation. Plato thinks that only perfect virtue-concepts are suited to this purpose, because as he says "the imperfect is not the measure of anything." (Winemakers do not take imperfect wines as a measure to try to live up to, but a sense of what a perfect wine would be.)
One peculiarity of Plato's language in the Republic is his use of the word "Being" to refer to the full perfection of Platonic-Forms. What he means is that only the pure Platonic Form of Justice has the full being of the goodness of Justice. Concrete just actions and just people are never perfect in their justice, but in Plato's words "participate in" this perfect Form. So they are said in a later passage to "roll around between being and not-being" -- i.e. it's wrong to say that they fully lack the Being of Justice, but also wrong to say that they fully have the Being of Justice. This causes him sometimes to refer to the virtue-Forms themselves as simply "the Beings," and also describe them as "always Being" because they are pure and unchangeable in their goodness, unlike a virtuous person who is partly good and partly not good, and might change from being good today to being not good tomorrow.
This use of "Being" as interchangeable with "perfect" is illustrated in Republic 504c, where Plato says:
A measure of such things [as justice, sobriety, courage, and wisdom] that falls short in the least degree of being is not a measure at all, because the imperfect [ateles] is not a measure of anything, although it appears to some that they have already done enough and there is no need to seek further.
Here are some other passages illustrating this use of "Being" to refer to the Perfect Forms as perfect models to model oneself on.
Does it seem to you that those differ from the blind who lack knowledge of the Being of each being [the Platonic Essence of each virtue]
and contemplating it most
exactly about the beautiful and the just and the good. (484c-d) |
This passage describes the function of
Platonic Forms in the life of the ideal Platonist. They are models, or
"paradigms," and the ideal person tries to make her character resemble
them as closely as possible, as an artist tries to make her painting an
exact copy of the model she is painting. Ekeise is the normal Greek word for "over there," and its use in this passage illustrates well the vague way that Plato refers to the otherworldly character of the Forms -- not "here" in this world but "over there."
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Those of a philosophical nature the being of the always-being (tes ousias tes aei ouses), (485B)
[the Platonist philosopher is] the nature [i.e. the Form] of each [virtue] |
Plato's psychology makes a distinction between "lower" parts of the human mind, focused on concrete appearances, and a "higher" part of the mind capable of understanding the full Being of human Goodness. This more "otherworldly" part of the mind feels a kinship between itself and the otherworldly Forms, feels an innate love for them and wants to draw close and "mingle" with them as a person mingles with a group of friends. |
... the one who truly has his mind on the Beings
[ta onta] will not look below to the affairs of men and striving with them be filled with envy and hate but looking and contemplating those orderly things which always remain the same in all respects not wronging or suffering wrong from each other but all being harmonious and staying within reason. (kata logon echonta) |
The Forms are "divine." The ideal Platonic philosopher tries to become like them as much as is possible, and in so doing becomes as divine as is possible for human beings. |
This is the chief passage in Plato illustrating the positive relation between concrete perceptions and the grasp of abstract Platonic Forms, using the example of Beauty. Perceptions of individual concrete instances of beautiful things do not constitute knowledge of the perfect abstract Form of Beauty, but they are our only source of knowledge of perfect Beauty. In Plato's image, the perfect Form of Beauty lies at the top of a mental ladder, but perceptions of concrete beautiful bodies serve as the indispensable "bottom rungs" on this ladder. So in this passage, the one who wants to arrive at a grasp of the abstract Form of Beauty must begin by falling in love with one beautiful body. The positive role of concrete perceptions in arriving at abstract Platonic Forms, illustrated in Plato's ladder-image, must be complemented by the negative picture implied in the image of the Cave (see #8 below).
Note that whereas the English word "beauty" has strong associations with visual beauty, the Greek word Plato uses is kalos, which has a broader meaning of "fine," or "refined." This is why Plato can refer to "beautiful laws and institutions," and also regard "beauty" (to kalon) as a personal "virtue" (arete).
[To learn about beauty, one should] start when young by pursuing beautiful bodies. First... he will love one beautiful body... then he must realize that the beauty attached to one body is kin to [the beauty] attached to another body, so if it is necessary to pursue beauty in Form, it is great folly not to regard as one the beauty found in all bodies. Realizing this he must make himself a lover of all beautiful bodies...
After this he must realize that the beauty in souls is of much more value than the beauty in the body, [so that] if there is a soul with a little bloom [of beauty] beginning in it, he will love and care for it...
Contemplating [many specific] beautiful things rightly and in due order... he will suddenly have revealed to him something wonderful...
This [the Form of Beauty] is something always-being, not coming into being and perishing, not increasing and decreasing... It is not partly beautiful and partly shameful, nor now [beautiful] now-not [beautiful], nor in some respects beautiful and in some respects shameful... Nor will the beautiful appear to him as a face, or hands, nor any other part of the body... nor something existing in something else... but always being something single-formed having its own being with itself in itself... All other beautiful things participate in this, in such a manner that, while these other things come into being and perish, this thing becomes neither greater nor lesser...
Beginning from those beautiful things, always ascending upward for the sake of The Beautiful, like someone using the steps of a ladder, from one to two, and from two to all beautiful bodies, and from beautiful bodies to beautiful institutions, and from institutions to beautiful learnings, and from beautiful learnings... to that learning which is none other than the learning concerning The Beautiful...
What would you think if it happened to someone to see The Beautiful, exact, pure, unmixed... [What if] he were able to see unique Divine Beauty? Does it seem to you a trifling life for a man to lead, looking ‘over there,' contemplating it the way it should be [contemplated]?...
Seeing The Beautiful through what is visible, [he will] bring forth not images of virtue [aręte], since he is in touch not with images [of virtue] but with true [virtue]... When he has brought forth and reared true virtue he is destined to become God-pleasing.
In the following passage from one of his letters, Plato says that it is possible to arrive at something like a knowledge of pure and perfect Goodness. But this is something that might require a long time. It is also something that each person must do for herself, since this is not the kind of knowledge that can be conveyed in words from one person to another.
The occasion for this passage is that someone claims to have written an essay on "Plato's Idea of the Good."
One statement... I can make in regard to all who have written... with a claim to
knowledge of the subjects to which I devote myself... Such writers can in my
opinion have no real acquaintance with the subject. I certainly have composed no
work in regard to it nor shall I ever do so in future, for this
subject matter [pragma] is by no means capable of spoken expression like
other subjects... rather, after prolonged being-with and living-with the
subject matter, suddenly, like a light kindled by a leaping spark, having come
into being in the soul, it then nourishes itself. (341c-d)
Later he continues
... to learn as much as possible the truth about virtue and vice... it is necessary to pursue learning... with all effort and for a long time. By difficult comparing of each thing with other things, examining names and phrases (logoi), and sense-perceptions [aisthesis]... using every effort available in the capabilities of men, wisdom and understanding will light up. (344b)
Platonic Forms are not only abstract
general concepts. They are also inspiring because they are "transcendent" in
their goodness. A personal grasp of a separated Platonic Form not only solves
problems connected with contradictions uncovered by Socratic inquiry. In the
ideal case it would also be uplifting and "soul satisfying." This makes sense of
an otherwise puzzling passage in Republic Book 6:
Regarding "the right" and "the beautiful," many would prefer the seemings [ta dokounta] not the reality. Likewise with doing and possessing and seeming those things. But regarding Goodness [ta agatha], possessing things that have the seemings [ta dokounta] satisfies no one, but they seek things that have the reality [ta onta]. Everyone here disregards seeming [doxa]. [What has the reality is] that which every soul seeks, and on account of this does everything, having a sense of what it is [ti einai], but puzzled and unable to adequately get what it is, or have a trustworthy belief about it as of other things, and because of this not able to obtain what is [truly] beneficial in other things.
Interpretation: Individuals like to impress others with their virtue, and in this case the reputation or external "seeming" or "impressions" [doxa] of rightness and beauty serves as well or better than the actual possession of these virtues. (Earlier in the Republic Plato (see #1 above) speaks at length of those who prefer the seeming of rightness, and the difficulty of preferring the reality to the seeming.) But in this passage "the good" [agatha] stands for what is actually deeply satisfying to the possessor herself - a better English translation in this passage might be "what is meaningful," or "what makes life meaningful." This makes for a plausible claim: That every individual ("every soul") does whatever she does in hopes of making her life a more meaningful life, and that no one is satisfied with merely appearing to have a meaningful life. Every individual does what she does in hopes that what she does in life will make her life more meaningful. But most people are confused and puzzled about this, and ultimately unsatisfied, because concrete-mindedness makes them attracted to the external and concrete "seeming" (doxa, ta dokounta) of meaningfulness, and they don't apprehend the Platonic Forms which contain its full reality (ta onta), the full reality of meaningfulness, which alone is really soul-satisfying.
The next passage quoted below presents Plato's central ideas regarding the Forms. Here he uses all the key terms explained in a previous essay: "Always the same," "Essence," "Being," "Appearances," "Sense-perception," "Mental Understanding" and so on. This passage itself is somewhat difficult -- I've given a fuller explanation in a separate essay for those interested. Here I will introduce this passage with some shorter comments summarizing the main points:
The central problem for Plato is formulating ideal virtue-concepts that
will invariably make a person a more and more admirable person as she comes
closer to realizing these ideals. Problems arise because of the common
tendency to conceptualize virtue in terms of concrete, easy-to-understand
visualizable images. Using such concrete images as a guide will sometimes lead
to genuinely admirable actions, and sometimes lead to actions that are clearly
not admirable. This is in contrast to the Forms which are unchanging in their
ability to represent something good and admirable.
"Concrete image" is my way of describing something Plato
refers to in various other ways in the passage quoted below:
- These are images of conduct that can be perceived by the
physical senses (aisthesis), primarily the sense of sight. These are images of
conduct that can be visualized. The Forms, by contrast, cannot be visualized,
and so grasping them requires developing a mental capacity (noesis) able to
think in concepts separated from anything concretely visualizable.
- These concrete images are the external appearances, the
"seeming" (doxa) of true virtue. It is incorrect to say that they represent
nothing of the "being" of true virtue, but they do not represent the full
being of virtue either. For the person able to grasp the Form containing the
full being of a particular virtue (what it is that makes this virtue admirable),
these external appearances will appear to lie between not-being-admirable-virtue
and fully-being-admirable-virtue. Grasping the full "Being" of a virtue again
requires kind of knowing opposite knowing-appearances (doxazein), which Plato
calls in this context episteme, or gnosis (the equivalent of noesis).
- No single concrete image will represent every instance of a
particular virtue (e.g. there are many other "right actions" besides the action
of giving back a person what belongs to him). So the person who thinks only in
terms of concrete images will tend to conceive each virtue under multiple forms,
and so will lack the unified and concentrated focus for moral commitment which
Forms provide for the ideal Platonist. This is the main point of Plato’s
contrast between "the one and the many" in this passage (e.g. "many right
actions" and "one Form" of Rightness.)
Shortly before the passage quoted here, Plato contrasts his true philosopher with young men in Greece who travel around to all the Dionysiac festivals. They love the "beautiful sights" at the theater-plays and parties that accompany these festivals, i.e. sense-perceptions (aisthesis) of the external "appearances" or "impressions" about beauty, here called doxa, in contrast to true Platonic "Knowledge" of Beauty Itself, here called episteme or gnosis. This context of theater and party-going is important for a proper understanding of the word doxa, often mistakenly translated as "opinion" (as though the contrast is between different theories about Beauty, some theories constituting uncertain, subjective "opinion," whereas other theories constitute thoroughly reliable, rationally established, objective "Knowledge.")
Here is Plato's passage:
Since "the beautiful" is the opposite of "the shameful," they
are two... Since they are two [concepts], each is one [concept]. And in respect
to "the right" and "the not-right," "the good" and "the bad," and all the
Forms... each is one, but because of mingling with bodies and actions and each
other, each appears everywhere under many appearances.
I make a distinction like this: I set apart... the sight-lovers [philo-theamones]
and lovers of skill and action, and separate them from those whom our talk
concerns, who alone are rightly called lovers of wisdom [philo-sophous].
The lovers of sound and sights delight in beautiful tones and
colors and shapes, and everything that artful skill creates out of these, but
their thought is unable to see and take delight in the nature of the Beautiful
Itself. [Those are] few who are able to approach Beauty Itself, and see it by
itself.
[So we have one kind of person] who attends to beautiful
actions, but does not attend to the Beautiful Itself, nor is able to follow when
someone tries to guide him to the knowledge of it.
[And then there is the person who is] the opposite of these:
someone who recognizes the Beautiful Itself, and is able to see both it and what
participates in it, and does not mistake what participates in it for it itself,
nor mistake it itself for what participates in it...
479a
[Suppose there is] a person who does not think there is the
Beautiful Itself, or any Idea of Beauty Itself always remaining the same, but
who attends to many beautiful things - - the sight-lover, I mean, who cannot
endure to hear anybody say that the beautiful is one and the just one, and so of
other things.
Is there any one of these many beautiful things that will not
appear shameful? And of the right things, that will not seem not- right? And of
the holy things, that will not seem unholy?
And again, do the many double things appear any the less
halves than doubles? And likewise of the long and the short things, the light
and the heavy things - - can these things be said of them [any more than] the
opposite?...
So in regard to each of these many things: "Is" it more than
it "is- not" whatever one might say it is?
It is like those who pun on double meanings at banquets, or
the children's riddle about the eunuch and his hitting the bat - - what they say
he hit it with and as it sat on what. [See footnote [1]
for an explanation of this riddle.]
These things too are double-meaninged, and it is impossible
to conceive firmly any one of them to "be" or "not-be," or both, or neither.
[There is not] a better place to put them than that midway
between being [ousia] and not being [me einai]. For we
shall surely not discover a darker region than not-being [me on],
that something should "not be" still more, nor a brighter region than being [on],
that something should "be" still more.
We would seem to have found, then, that the many conventions
of the many people about the beautiful and other things are tumbled about in the
mid-region between what "is-not" and what exactly "is."
Anything of this kind... must be called "what one has
impressions about" [doxaston] not what is Known [gnoston], the
wanderer between being caught by this in-between [mental] capacity [i.e. doxa].
Those who see many beautiful things, but do not see The
Beautiful... and see many right things but not The Right, and everything like
this - - we should say they "have impressions" [doxazein] about
everything, but do not Know what they have impressions about.
What about those who see each of those things, the things
that always are the same? [We should] say they "Know," not that they "have
impressions" [doxazein"].
[We should] say that those who take delight in and love those
things about which there is Knowledge, the others [take delight in and love
those things] about which there are "impressions" [doxa]... These love
and give their attention to beautiful sounds and colors and similar things, but
cannot bear the Beautiful as something that "is". [We should] call them "lovers
of impressions" [philo-doxous] rather than "lovers of wisdom" [philo-sophous]...
Those who delight in the "being" of each thing [hekaston
to on] should be called "lovers of wisdom" [philo-sophous]
not "lovers of impressions" [philo-doxous].
****
The above passage is also important for showing how invisible Platonic Forms are derived by abstraction from perceptions of concrete visible behavior, and also how this mental abstraction serves to solve problems raised by Socratic questioning. Understanding this point requires connecting this passage to a later passage in Republic Book 7. What follows explains this connection.
Begin with what Plato says in one part of the above passage:
Is there any one of these many beautiful things that will not appear shameful? And of the right things, that will not seem not-right? And of the holy things, that will not seem unholy? And again, do the many double things appear any the less halves than doubles? And likewise of the long and the short things, the light and the heavy things - - can these things be said of them [any more than] the opposite?... So in regard to each of these many things: "Is" it more than it "is-not" whatever one might say it is?
These comments associate the contrast between "right" and "not-right" with the contrast between "long" and "short." this association connects this passage to the passage in Book 7 of the Republic which speaks more at length about "long" and "short" as abstract concepts. In this latter passage in Book 7, Plato asks us to consider a person looking at three fingers on a hand, the little finger, the ring finger, and the middle finger. Is the ring finger short or long? Answer: It is short in relation to the middle finger, but long in relation to the little finger.
Plato analyzes this observation about the short-and-long finger in a very odd way. He imagines the sense of sight reporting to the mind contradictory things about the same single finger. It reports the single finger to be both long and short, confusing the mind. The sense of sight itself is unable to resolve this contradiction, but there is another mental capacity noesis, mental understanding, which is able to resolve the contradiction. Noesis can do this because it has the ability to understand concepts which are not tied to any concrete material objects.
As Plato pictures it the mind is confused because the sense of sight sees "finger," "long," and "short" all mixed together as though they were one thing. Only noesis, as purely mental understanding, is able to resolve this contradiction, because, unlike sight, it is able to mentally "separate" (abstract) the two contradictory concepts "long" and "short" from each other and from the concrete finger.
In Plato's words
[In the case of the ring finger] the sense of sight sees "long" and "short," but not as separate, but as mixed together [in one finger]. So in order to clarify this, mental understanding [noesis] is compelled to see "long" and "short" not as mixed together but as separate, the opposite way from sight.
And it is from some such circumstances that it first occurs to us to ask, "What is ‘the long', and again of ‘the short'?'' And so we call these [latter] things "mentally understood" (noeton) and the other things "visibly seen" (horaton.)
Some among our sensory perceptions [aisthesis] do not call upon noēsis to examine them... Others certainly summon the help of noēsis to examine them because aisthesis/sense-perception produces nothing sound. They do not call for help...if they do not at the same time signal contradictory perceptions [enantian aisthesis]; I describe those that do as calling for help whenever the sense perception does not point to one thing rather than its opposite.
In these cases we need to call upon... noesis, to examine whether each of the things announced to it is one or two...
These comments about long and short fingers are very odd and implausible in themselves. (Who is ever actually puzzled by this supposed problem?) They are important because of the way they connect to the contradictions uncovered in Socratic questioning, and what they suggest about Platonic Forms as a way of resolving these contradictions. Socratic questioning shows that the human habit of representing virtue by means of concrete visible images does generate contradictions which are a frequent source of moral confusion. For example, if I try to represent "rightness" by means of the visible image of one person returning property to its owner, then Plato's story of the weapons-owner gone insane will be a source of some confusion. Here it is plausible to say that I will see the same action "giving to each what is his" as being both right (on some occasions) and not-right (on other occasions).
As he said in an earlier passage in the Republic (331c), attempting to define "rightness" as "giving to each what belongs to him," would mean that doing "the same things" (auta tauta) would amount to "sometimes acting rightly and sometimes not rightly" (auta tauta estin eniote men dikaiōs, eniote adikōs poein).
In a different passage in Book 5, Plato himself connects the observations about the long/short contradiction in the case of fingers, and the right/not-right contradiction in the case of the weapons-owner gone insane described in Republic Book 1.
He says in one passage (479b)
What about the many things that are "double"? Are they any less "half" than "double"? So with things "long" and "short", - - can these things be said of them [any more than] the opposite?...
No... Each of these things partakes of both opposites.
In the immediately preceding passage (479a) he uses the same ideas to describe contradictions that arise in relation to virtue-concepts:
Is there any one of the many "beautiful" things that will not appear "shameful"? or any one of the many "right" things that will not [appear] "not-right"? Or any one of the many "holy" [things that will] not [appear] "unholy"...
Here also Plato uses the same imagery of contradictory forms somehow getting "mixed together" in single concrete things or images:
Since "the beautiful" is the opposite of "the shameful," they are two... Since they are two [concepts], each is one [concept]. And in respect to "the right" and "the not-right," "the good" and "the bad," and all the Forms... each is one, but because of mingling with bodies and actions and each other, each appears everywhere under many appearances.
The Form of Beauty, mentally understood (by noesis) as something separate from concrete bodies and concrete actions, is something single containing no contradictions within itself, pure Beauty. But when we perceive beautiful bodies and beautiful actions, we are not perceiving this single Form as single and pure, but as mingled with other Forms, sometimes with opposite Forms. (The plays that theater-goers see show things partly beautiful and partly not-beautiful.) This "mixing" with other Forms in concrete visible behavior is what makes the single invisible Form "Beauty" present itself to us under many diverse visible appearances.
Our habitual concrete-mindedness, letting our thought be determined by concrete images of visible reality, always presents reality to us in "gray areas," a mixture of the good and not-good, in which things are constantly changing from being good and admirable to being not good and not admirable. A person seeking pure goodness in this mixed concrete reality will always be confused, just as Plato pictures the mind confused by the fact that a single visible finger appears to exemplify two contradictory concepts, "long" and "short." The confusion about the finger can only be resolved by treating "long" and "short" as abstract concepts, separated from each other and from the visible finger. In the same way, the confusion caused by trying to define "rightness" in terms of concrete behavior can only be resolved by mentally separating the abstract concept of "rightness'" from any image or rule depicting concrete visible "right" behavior.
At the same time, this passage also illustrates the fact that sense-perceptions of concrete visible reality are the ultimate source of our knowledge of abstract Platonic Forms. We do not learn the concepts "long" and "short" by direct intuition of the concepts themselves, but by abstracting these concepts from our perceptions of concrete, visible, long and short objects. In the same way, we cannot directly intuit the Platonic Form of rightness, but must derive this from our perception of concrete visible behavior we perceive to be right and not right.
The ladder-image in the Symposium passage quoted in #4 above pictures the positive relation between concrete reality and the abstract Platonic Forms. Concrete beautiful bodies serve as imperfect but easily accessible "bottom rungs" on Plato's ladder which serve as necessary starting points for understanding the much less easily accessible perfect Forms at the top of the ladder.
The parable of the Cave quoted below pictures the negative relation between concrete reality and the Forms. Human concrete-mindedness makes people tend to mistake concrete visible actions and results of goodness for the invisible reality of goodness itself. Plato compares this to an imagined situation in which prisoners are chained in a cave only able to face forward to a wall in front of them. People behind a wall in back of the prisoners invisible to the prisoners carry statues of men and animals back and forth, casting shadows on the wall in front of them. The cave-dwellers, who have never seen the real world, mistakenly think that these shadows [the concrete appearances of goodness] are the real world [are true Goodness itself]. "These men are like us" says Plato.
In Plato's parable, the individual who manages to climb out of the Cave represents the ideal Platonist philosopher. This is the very purpose of philosophy in Plato's mind: to raise our minds beyond the imperfect concrete visible appearances of goodness (cave shadows) to grasp the abstract essence of perfect Goodness itself (the '"real world" outside the cave).
Plato has the parable end rather drastically: the individual who got free tries to return to the cave to free his companions. But they are so attached to the world of the cave shadows, and so threatened by the idea that this is not the real world, that they want to kill him. Again it seems likely that this parable is Plato's way of representing the life and death of his ideal philosopher, Socrates.
Imagine men living in an underground cave-like dwelling place, which has a way up to the light along its whole width, but the entrance is a long way up. The men have been there from childhood, with their neck and legs in fetters, so that they remain in the same place and can only see ahead of them, as their bonds prevent them turning their heads. Light is provided by a fire burning some way behind and above them. Between the fire and the prisoners, some way behind them and on a higher ground, there is a path across the cave and along this a low wall has been built, like the screen at a puppet show in front of the performers who show their puppets above it.
See then also men carrying along that wall, visible over its top, all kinds of artifacts, statues of men, reproductions of other animals in stone or wood fashioned in all sorts of ways.
[These men] are like us.
Such men could not see anything of themselves and each other except the shadows
which the fire casts upon the wall of the cave in front of them? And is not the
same true of the objects carried along the wall?
If they could converse with one another, do you not think that they would
consider these shadows to be the real things? Such men would believe the truth
to be nothing else than the shadows of the artifacts.
Consider then what deliverance from their bonds and the curing of their ignorance it would be if something like this naturally happened to them:
Whenever one of them was freed, had to stand up suddenly, turn his head, walk, and look up toward the light, doing all that would give him pain, the flash of the fire would make it impossible for him to see the objects of which he had earlier seen the shadows. What do you think he would say if he was told that what he saw before was foolishness, that he was now somewhat closer to reality and turned to things that existed more fully, that he saw more correctly? If one then pointed to each of the objects passing by, asked him what each was, and forced him to answer, do you not think he would be at a loss and believe that the things which he saw earlier were truer than the things now pointed out to him?
If one then compelled him to look at the fire itself, his eyes would hurt, he would turn round and flee toward those things which he could see, and think that they were in fact clearer than those now shown to him.
And if one were to drag him thence by force up the rough and steep path, and did not let him go before he was dragged into the sunlight, would he not be in physical pain and angry as he was dragged along?
When he came into the light, with the sunlight filling his eyes, he would not be able to see a single one of the things which are now said to be true.
I think he would need time to get adjusted before he could see things in the world above; at first he would see shadows most easily, then reflections of men and other things in water, then the things themselves. After this he would see objects in the sky and the sky itself more easily at night, the light of the stars and the moon more easily than the sun and the light of the sun during the day.
Then, at last, he would be able to see the sun, not images of it in water or in some alien place, but the sun itself in its own place, and be able to contemplate it.
After this he would reflect that it is the sun which provides the seasons and
the years, which governs everything in the visible world, and is also in some
way the basis of those other things which he used to see.
What then? As he reminds himself of his first dwelling place, of the wisdom there and of his fellow prisoners, would he not reckon himself happy for the change, and pity them?
And if the men below had praise and honors from each other, and prizes for the
man who saw most clearly the shadows that passed before them, and who could best
remember which usually came earlier and which later, and which came together and
thus could most ably prophesy the future, do you think our man would desire
those rewards and envy those who were honored and held power among the
prisoners, or would he feel, as Homer put it, that he certainly wished to be
"serf to another man without possessions upon the earth" and go through any
suffering, rather than share their opinions and live as they do?
If this man went down into the cave again and sat down in the same seat, would
his eyes not be filled with darkness, coming suddenly out of the sunlight?
And if he had to contend again with those who had remained prisoners in recognizing those shadows while his sight was affected and his eyes had not settled down - and the time for this adjustment would not be short - would he not be ridiculed? Would it not be said that he had returned from his upward journey with his eyesight spoiled, and that it was not worthwhile even to attempt to travel upward?
As for the man who tried to free them and lead them upward, if they could somehow lay their hands on him and kill him, they would do so.
This whole image... must be related to what we said before [about the perfect Forms of Goodness]. The realm of the visible should be compared to the prison dwelling, and the fire inside it to the power of the sun. If you interpret the upward journey and the contemplation of things above as the upward journey of the soul to the realm of Understanding, [ton noeton topon] you will grasp what I’m suggesting.
In the realm of pure Understanding, the Form of the Good is the last to be seen [horasthai], and with difficulty. When seen it must be reckoned to be for all the basis [aitia] of all that is right [orthos] and beautiful, to have produced in the visible world both light and the fount of light, while in the realm of Understanding it is itself mistress of truth and understanding [nous], and he who is to act intelligently in public or in private must see it.
Do not be surprised that those who have reached this point are unwilling to
occupy themselves with human affairs, and that their souls are always pressing
upward to spend their time there, for this is natural if things are as our
parable indicates.
Is it at all surprising that anyone coming to the evils of human life from the
contemplation of the divine behaves awkwardly and appears very ridiculous while
his eyes are still dazzled and before he is sufficiently adjusted to the
darkness around him, if he is compelled to contend in court or some other place
about the shadows of justice or the objects of which they are shadows, and to
carry through the contest about these in the way these things are understood by
those who have never seen Justice itself?
Anyone with intelligence would remember that the eyes may be confused in two ways and from two causes, coming from light into darkness as well as from darkness into light. Realizing that the same applies to the soul, whenever he sees a soul disturbed and unable to see something, he will not laugh mindlessly but will consider whether it has come from a brighter life and is dimmed because unadjusted, or has come from greater ignorance into greater light and is filled with a brighter dazzlement. The former he would declare happy in its life and experience, the latter he would pity, and if he should wish to laugh at it, his laughter would be less ridiculous than if he laughed at a soul that has come from the light above.
If these things are true, [then] education is not what some declare it to be; they say that knowledge is not present in the soul, and that they put it in, like putting sight into blind eyes
Our present argument shows that the capacity to learn and the organ with which to do so are present in every person's soul. It is as if it were not possible to turn the eye from darkness to light without turning the whole body; so one must turn one's whole soul from the world of becoming [gignomenon] until it can endure to contemplate reality and the brightest of realities [to on kai tou ontos tou phanotaton], which we say is the Good.
Education then is the art of doing this very thing, this turning around, the knowledge of how the soul can most easily and most effectively be turned around; it is not the art of putting the capacity of sight into the soul; the soul possesses that already but it is not turned the right way or looking where it should. This is what education has to deal with.
The virtue of Understanding [phronesis] belongs above all to something more
divine [theios], which never loses its capacity but, according to which way it
is turned, becomes useful and beneficial or useless and harmful.
Have you never noticed in men who are said to be wicked but clever, how sharply
their little soul looks into things to which it turns its attention? Its
capacity for sight is not inferior, but it is compelled to serve evil ends, so
that the more sharply it looks the more evils it works.
Yet if a soul of this kind had been hammered at from childhood and those excrescences had been knocked off it which belong to the world of becoming and have been fastened upon it by feasting, gluttony, and similar pleasures, and which like leaden weights draw the soul to look downward – if, being rid of these, it turned to look at things that are true, then the same soul of the same man would see these just as sharply as it now sees the things towards which it is directed.
There is a discussion of the virtue "courage" in Plato’s dialogue called the Laches (pronounced in English lah-kees) that illustrates the main aspects of Socratic inquiry I am focusing on in this class.
Socrates and Laches, a military man, are the two conversation partners in this dialogue, and both agree that courage is always something good and noble. On the present interpretation, this needs to be seen as an important assumption underlying the discussion. It is a discussion of what courage is as something good and noble. The question is not just, What is courage? but, What is good courage? What is courage as a kind of goodness? Even more precisely: What is the X that constitutes the goodness of good courage? A precise description of this X is what I think Socrates is after when he asks about the "essence of courage."
S=Socrates, L=Laches, a military man.
TextS: Suppose we...set about determining the nature of courage...L: I see no difficulty... He is a man of courage who does not run away, but remains at his post and fights against the enemy... |
CommentaryLaches' first response is the kind most people would give: He defines courage by recalling what to him is the most familiar concrete example of a courageous person: A soldier who bravely stands his ground.
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S: Very good...But I'm afraid I did not express myself clearly, and therefore you didn't ask the question I asked, but another.L: What do you mean? S: I will try to explain. You would call a man courageous who remains at his post and fights against the enemy...What would you say about a man who fights while running away, instead of remaining?...[This is how] the Scythians are said to fight, running away as well as pursuing... L: You are speaking of Scythian cavalry. Cavalry have that way of fighting, but the heavy armed soldier fights, as I say, remaining in his rank. S: And yet...you must make an exception of the Spartans at Plataea, who, when they came upon the light shields of the Persians, are said not to have been willing to stand and fight, but to have run the other way. But when the ranks of the Persians broke up, they turned upon them like cavalry, and won the battle of Plataea. L: That is true... |
Socrates brings up some counterexamples, to show the inadequacy of Laches' literal-minded definition of courage. It could not serve as a definition of courage that could be consistently applied to all circumstances. Courageous fighting on horseback is not the same as courageous fighting as a heavily armed infantryman. It is often smart tactics for a highly mobile horseback soldier to turn away from an enemy attack, fighting his pursuers as he runs. Further, it is even smart tactics for infantry to sometimes retreat, then regroup and attack. It is hard to say that everyone who runs the other way when an enemy attacks must be lacking in bravery. Being truly courageous is not a matter of consistently following the literal-minded rule: "Always stand your ground and never retreat."
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S: That's what I meant when I said that I was to blame for having put my question badly...I meant to ask you not only about the courage of the heavily-armed soldiers, but about the courage of cavalry and every other kind of soldier. And not only about those who are courageous in war, but those who are courageous in the face of dangers at sea, in the face of sickness and poverty, in or politics, or those who are courageous not only against pain or fear, but show strength in contending against desires and pleasures...There is also this kind of courage, is there not?L: Certainly S: Now all of these are courageous, but some have courage in the face of pleasures and some in the face of pain, some in the face of desires and some in the face of fears. And some are cowards under the same conditions... L: Very true. S: I was asking about courage and cowardice in general...What is that common quality which is common in all the above cases and which is called "courage"? Do you understand what I mean? L: Not very well. |
Here Socrates tries to make clearer the question he is trying to ask. There are many different kinds of situations in which we admire what a person does, and in which we use the word "courage" to express what it is we admire. This implies that there is something good that all these admirable actions have in common. The character of the action, literally described, might vary greatly from situation to situation. But each action has a meaning in its own situation that is like the meaning that other actions have in other circumstances. What is this meaning? If we knew what it was, we would know what it is that we ought to consistently adhere to if we want become truly courageous people. |
S: I mean this: I might ask what is that quality which is called "quickness," and which is found in running, playing the harp, speaking, learning...and in nearly every action that is worth mentioning, that we do with arms, legs, mouth, voice, or mind - wouldn't you apply the word "quickness" to all of them?L: Yes. S: And suppose I was asked by someone, What is that common characteristic which in all these activities you call "quickness"? I would say "The characteristic of accomplishing much in a little time... So now, Laches, try to tell me what is the common characteristic that is called "courage," and which includes all the various uses of the term, when applied both to cases of pleasure and pain, and all the other cases I referred to. |
Socrates illustrates this point by speaking of "quickness" as a general characteristic exemplified in many different kinds of activities. It turns out to be relatively easy to define neutral, non-moral qualities like this. "Whatever accomplishes much in a little time" seems to be a perfectly adequate general definition of the characteristic "quick," no matter what kind of activity we are talking about. Can we find a comparable way of describing the content of the general term "courage" (or rather, as we shall see, of "good courage").
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L: I should say that courage is a sort of tenacity of the soul, if I am to speak of the common essence which exists in all [the concrete examples of courage]... |
Laches now comes up with a decent hypothesis: He locates the essence of courage, not in any particular action, but in an internal quality. When he thinks of what all the above examples have in common, he thinks of a certain character trait manifest in a willingness to stick to some task in the face of difficulties, a "tenacity of soul." It is important to notice that, even though Socrates will show that this definition is not yet completely adequate, it is most certainly more adequate that the first definition he proposed. It applies to more cases of courage, and even among infantry fighters, it serves better to differentiate courageous from non-courageous conduct. But note also that, in order to improve on the definition, Laches had to locate true courage in something less easily visible. It is much easier for an external observer to tell whether someone is "standing their ground" than it is to know whether someone has "tenacity of soul."
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S: I cannot say that every kind of tenacity is... to be considered courage. Listen to my reasoning. I am sure, Laches, that you would consider courage to be a very noble quality.L: Most noble, certainly.
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It is very important to understand properly the comment that "courage is a very noble quality," and the role this kind of comment plays in Socratic discussion. If everything people might call courage were good and noble – or if everything a dictionary defines as "courage" were good and noble – then this whole discussion would be unnecessary. The fact that many things commonly called "courage" are not good is what makes Socratic inquiry necessary. "Courage is noble" states an assumption about the goal of Socratic discussion, which is to try to define that kind of courage which is always noble – which turns out to be quite difficult. The question guiding the discussion is not, then, "What is courage?" The question, stated more exactly, is "What is good courage?" What is the essential ingredient that makes any act of courage something truly good and admirable? If we knew what this ingredient was, then we could consistently adhere to this, and be assured that what we are doing exemplifies truly good courage, no matter how it appeared to other people.
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S: But what would you say of a tenacity that is not smart? Isn't that, on the other hand, to be regarded as bad and hurtful?L: True. S: And is anything noble which is bad and hurtful L: I ought not to say that, Socrates. S: Then you would not admit that that sort of tenacity is courage – for it is not noble, but courage is noble? L: You are right. S: Then, according to you, only smart tenacity is courage? L: It seems so.
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What starts Socrates on this new line of argument seems to be the fact that it is obviously not always smart to be tenacious. For example, suppose a soldier is faced with overwhelming odds and almost certain defeat, but he could retreat, wait for reinforcements, and attack with better chances of success. A soldier who decides to literal-mindedly follow the rule "Always stand your ground," might be showing a certain kind of courage, but this is a kind of "dumb courage." The "smart courage" shown by the soldier who retreats and then counterattacks from a stronger position seems a more admirable kind of courage. One might be tempted to conclude from this that "doing the smart thing" is the essence of good courage.
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S: But as to the term 'smart' - smart in what? In all things small as well as great? For example, if a man shows the quality of tenacity in spending his money in a smart way, knowing that by spending he will acquire more in the end, do you call him courageous?L: Assuredly not. S: Or, for example if a man is a doctor, and his son or some patient of his has inflammation of the lungs, and begs that he may be allowed to eat or drink something, and the other is inflexible and refuses, is that courage? L: No, that is not courage at all, any more than the last. S: Again, take the case of one who shows tenacity in war and is willing to fight. He is smart - he calculates and realizes that there are others who will help him, and that there will be fewer and inferior men against him than there are with him, and suppose that he has also advantage in position. What would you say of such a person who shows tenacity with all this smart preparation? Is it he that is courageous, or some man in the opposing army who is in the opposite circumstances to these and yet tenaciously remains at his post? L: I should say that the latter was the braver. |
But Socrates now wants to go on and give examples that show this to be an inadequate generalization also. Courage cannot be merely a matter of acting on pure calculation of long-term results. Someone who sticks to his task amid some present difficulties simply because he is very skilled, the odds favor him, and he is practically sure that the results will favor him in the end - such a person is manifesting "smart tenacity." But somehow this is not as good an example of "good courage" as the person who is genuinely risking something -- sticking to his task at some risk to himself. |
S: But, surely, this kind of tenacity is not as smart as that of the other man.L: That is true. S: Then you would say that the person who is tenacious in an engagement of cavalry, being a skilled horseman, is not courageous as he who sticks to it even though he is not as skilled? L: So I should say... S: And he who descends into a well, and dives, and holds out in this or any similar action, having no skill in diving or the like, is, as you would say, more courageous than those who have this skill? L: Why, Socrates, what else can a man say? S: And yet men who thus run risks and endure are not as smart as those who do the same things having the skill to do them. L: That is true. S: But boldness and tenacity that was not smart appeared to us before to be inferior and hurtful? L: Quite true. S: Whereas courage was acknowledged to be a noble quality. L: True. S: And now on the contrary we are saying that tenacity that is not smart, which was before held in dishonor, is courage. L: So we are. S: And are we right in saying so? L: Indeed, Socrates, I am sure that we are not right... S: And is this condition of ours satisfactory? L: Quite the reverse. |
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S: Suppose, however, that we admit the principle which we are speaking, to a certain extent?L: To what extent and what principle do you mean? S: The principle of tenacity. If you agree, we must stick to it and persevere in the inquiry, and then courage will not laugh at our faintheartedness in searching for courage, which after all may frequently be tenacity. L: I am ready to go on, Socrates, and yet I am unused to investigations of this sort. But the spirit of controversy has been aroused in me by what has been said, and I am really upset at being thus unable to express my meaning. For I thought that I do know the essence of courage, but, somehow or other, she has slipped away from me, and I cannot get hold of her and tell her essence. S: But, my dear friend, should not the good hunter follow the track, and not give up?
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Most of Plato’s "Socratic dialogues" end inconclusively like this, with Socrates’ conversation partner remarking that he thought he understood the virtue under discussion, but now he feels confused and frustrated. Socrates does not draw the conclusion that the task is impossible, only that it is more difficult than one might think. Shaking people’s confidence that they already know what courage is is a necessary part of this process. If I think I already know what it is, then I will have no incentive to think more deeply about it. On the other hand, one needs to maintain a confidence that there is some kind of Goodness that the term "courage" refers to, and a strong desire to discover what it is, in order to persist in "tracking it down." |
These passages are important because they show that Socratic reasoning should not be an argument between two people, each arguing his or her own side. Even when it is done in conversation between two people, it must be an examination of a single person's ideas and perceptions - the other conversation partner must just help this single person articulate and critically examine his or her own ideas and perceptions. This means also that it is possible for one person to engage in this kind of discussion by herself, as a kind of self-critical self-exploration.
[Theaetetus 167e]
Socrates: Do not conduct your questioning unfairly. Unfairness here consists in not observing the distinction between a debate and a conversation. A debate need not be taken seriously and one may trip up an opponent to the best of one's power, but a conversation should be undertaken seriously. One should help out the other party, and bring home to him only those slips and fallacies that are due to himself or to his earlier instructors. If you follow this rule, your associates will lay the blame for their confusions and perplexities on themselves and not on you. They will like you and want your company. Embarrassed about themselves, they will turn to philosophy, hoping to escape from their former selves and become different men. But if, like so many, you take the opposite course, you will reach the opposite result. Instead of turning your companions to philosophy, you will make them hate the whole business.
[148e]
Theaetetus: I have often set my myself to study that problem... but I cannot persuade myself that I can give any satisfactory solution or that anyone has ever stated in my hearing the sort of answer you require. And yet I cannot get the question out of my mind.
Socrates: That is because your mind is not empty or barren. You are suffering the pains of childbirth...Have you never heard that I am the son of a midwife...and that I practice the same trade? It is not known that I possess this skill, so the ignorant world describes me in other terms: As an eccentric person who reduces people to hopeless perplexity...
The only difference [between my trade and that of midwives] is that my patients are men, not women, and my concern is not with the body but with the soul that is experiencing birth pangs. And the highest achievement of my art is the power to try by every test to decide whether the offspring of a young man's thought is a false phantom or is something imbued with life and truth.
I am like the midwife, in that I cannot myself give birth to wisdom. The common reproach is true, that, though I question others, I can myself bring nothing to light because there is no wisdom in me...Of myself I have no sort of wisdom, nor has any discovery ever been born to me as the child of my soul. Those who frequent my company at first appear, some of them, quite unintelligent, but, as we go further with our discussions, [some] make progress at a rate that seems surprising to others as well as to themselves, although it is clear that they have never learned anything from me. The many admirable truths which they bring to birth have been discovered by themselves from within...
The proof of this is that many who have not been conscious of my assistance but have made light of me, thinking it was all their own doing, have left me sooner than they should...and then suffered miscarriage of their thoughts through falling into bad company. They lost the children of whom I had delivered them by bringing them up badly, caring more for false phantoms than for the true...
Those who seek my company have the same experience as a woman giving birth. They suffer labor pains and by night and day are full of distress. My art has power to bring on these pains or alleviate them.
.....
[Later in the discussion, Theaetetus 157c:]
Theaetetus: I cannot make out whether you are stating [some ideas] as something you believe, or merely testing me.
Socrates: You forget that I know nothing of such matters and cannot claim to be producing any offspring of my own. I am only trying to deliver yours, and to that end uttering charms over you and tempting your appetite with a variety of delicacies from the table of wisdom, until by my aid your own belief shall be brought to light. Once that is done, I shall see whether it proves to have some life in it or not. Meanwhile, have courage and patience, and answer my questions bravely in accordance with your convictions...
....
[Further still, Theaetetus 160e]
Socrates: [Speaking of a conclusion Theaetetus has come to] May we say that this is your newborn child?...Here at last, after our somewhat painful labor, is the child we have brought to birth...We must now look at our offspring from every angle to make sure we are not taken in by a lifeless phantom...Can you bear to see him tested, and not be in a passion if your first-born shall be taken away?
Theodorus [the teacher of Theaetetus]: Theaetetus will bear it, Socrates, he is thoroughly good tempered. But do explain what is wrong with the conclusion.
Socrates: You take me for a sort of bag full of arguments, and imagine I can easily pull out a proof to show that our conclusion is wrong. You don't see what's happening. The arguments never come out of me; they always come out of the person I am talking with. I am only at a slight advantage in having the skill to get some account of the matter from another's wisdom and think of it with fairness. So I shall not give any explanation myself, but try to get it out of our friend.
.....
In Plato's Socratic dialogues, he very often pictures the person being questioned as becoming very frustrated. Psychologically speaking, it could be said that frustration is part of the process that must be tolerated and worked through in order to produce positive results. The frustration comes from realizing how difficult it is to find a definition of a virtue that will stand up in the face of Socratic questioning. People experiencing this frustration are tempted to give up and turn their frustration into a dislike for argument itself.
When we had heard them state their objections, we all felt were very much depressed... We had been convinced by the earlier part of the discussion, and now we felt that they had upset our convictions and destroyed our confidence... How can we believe in anything after this? Socrates' [earlier] argument was absolutely convincing, and now it is completely discredited....
[Socrates said] There is one danger that we must guard against... of becoming miso-logic... in the sense that people become misanthropic. No greater misfortune could happen to anyone than that of developing a dislike for argument. [Misos is "hatred" in Greek. Logos means here "rational argument".]
Miso-logy and misanthropy arise in just the same way. Misanthropy is induced by believing in somebody quite uncritically. You assume that a person is absolutely truthful and sincere and reliable, and then a little later you find that he is shoddy and unreliable. Then the same thing happens again. After repeated disappointments at the hands of the very people who might be supposed to be your nearest and most intimate friends, constant irritation ends by making you dislike everybody and suppose that there is no sincerity to be found anywhere...
The resemblance between arguments and people lies...in what I said before, that when one believes that an argument is true without measuring it by good logic, and then a little later decides rightly or wrongly that it is false, and the same thing happens again and again -- you know how it is, especially with those who spend their time in arguing both sides – they end by believing that they are wiser than anyone else, because they alone have discovered that there is nothing stable or dependable either in facts or in arguments, and that everything fluctuates just like the water in a tidal channel, and never stays at any point for any time...
Suppose that there is a path of reasoning which is true and valid and capable of being discovered, if anyone nevertheless, through his experience of these arguments which seem to the same people to be sometimes true and sometimes false, attached no responsibility to himself and his lack of the special skills needed, but was finally content, in exasperation, to shift the blame from himself to the arguments, and spend the rest of his life hating and criticizing them, and so missed the chance of knowing the truth about reality -- would it not be a deplorable thing?
That is the first thing that we must guard against. We must not let it enter our minds that there may be no validity in argument. On the contrary we should recognize that we ourselves are still intellectual invalids, but that we must brace ourselves and do our best to become healthy...
That is the spirit in which I am prepared to approach discussion... If you will take my advice, you will think very little of me, Socrates, and much more of truth. If you think that anything I say is true, you must agree with; if not, oppose it with every argument that you have. You must not allow me, in my enthusiasm, to deceive both myself and you....
A later Greek commentator explains Plato's mention of a story about a eunuch, full of double-meanings as a reference to an apparently familiar children’s riddle. In his translation of the Republic, Storey (p. 530-31) gives this explanation of the riddle and its answer:
The Riddle:
A man not a man
Seeing and not seeing
A bird not a bird
Sitting on a limb not a limb
Hit at it and did not hit it
With a stone not a stone.
The Riddle’s Answer:
A half-blind eunuch saw (a man-not-a-man, seeing-did-not-see)
a bat (a bird-not-a-bird)
perching on a reed (a branch-not-a-branch)
and threw at it a piece of pumice and missed (hit-at-it and did-not-hit-it with a stone-not-a-stone).
This explanation reinforces the present interpretation of Plato's use of the word "Being" not to refer to the unchanging "existence" of the Forms, but to the fact that they are able to represent the full essence of virtue, the essence of what it is that makes a given virtue admirable. A bat is not something only partially "existing," but something that only partially resembles a bird, but at the same time is not a full bird. In the same way, in Plato's mind, concrete courageous actions lie "between being and not being" -- i.e. they resemble and participate in the pure Form of Courage, but are not exact representations of the full essence of what makes courage admirable.
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Discuss connections between one or more of the above passages and the following topics treated in earlier essays:
- The nature of Socratic reasoning
- Difficulties that have to be overcome to do this reasoning well
- The Four principles of Socratic/Platonic reasoning
- How formulation of abstract Platonic Forms derives from knowledge of concrete visible reality, but resolves contradictions that Socratic questions shows to be inherent in moral norms cast in concrete terms.
- The character of Platonic Forms as transcendent and otherworldly
- The relation of abstract Forms to concrete visible reality
- The function of the Forms in the personal life of the ideal Platonist