Socrates and the beginnings of moral philosophy
Socrates and the beginnings of moral philosophy
Hugh H.Benson
INTRODUCTION
Cicero in Tusculan Disputations famously tells us that
Socrates first called philosophy down from the sky, set it in cities and even
introduced it into homes, and compelled it to consider life and morals,
good and evil.
(V.4.10)1
Again in the Academica he attributes to Varro the following view:
It is my view, and it is universally agreed, that Socrates was the first person
who summoned philosophy away from mysteries veiled in concealment by
nature herself, upon which all philosophers before him had been engaged,
and led it to the subject of ordinary life, in order to investigate the virtues
and vices, and good and evil generally, and to realize that heavenly matters
are either remote from our knowledge or else, however fully known, have
nothing to do with the good life.
(I.5.15, trans. Rackham)
Here we have two of the clearest statements of a tradition that stretches from
perhaps as early as Aristotle2 to the present day:3 moral philosophy begins with
Socrates.
Nevertheless, this tradition should strike us as odd. In this very volume we
have seen instances of moral philosophy—or at least a reasonable facsimile of it
—predating Socrates. The Pythagoreans appear to be committed to something
like a moral philosophy, while many of the so-called ‘natural philosophers’
appear to have moral commitments as only a quick glance at their fragments
makes clear. Moreover, a number of philosophers flourishing virtually
contemporaneously with Socrates would seem to have an equal claim to
fathering moral philosophy. The sophists—Protagoras, Gorgias, et al—certainly
seem to have moral views that rival Socrates’, while the fragments of
Democritus exhibit a moral theory.
Of course, part of the difficulty here is that the notion of having or practising a
moral philosophy is quite vague. Does it suffice merely to entertain moral
propositions? If so, then moral philosophy began long before Socrates. On the
other hand, if it requires something else, what else? Answering this question is
both difficult and perhaps uninteresting. But even if we were to answer it, we
would still be a long way from confirming or disconfirming the Ciceronian
tradition. To do this we would need to rehearse the entire history of philosophy
up to Socrates focusing on whether any of Socrates’ predecessors or
contemporaries had or practised a moral philosophy so defined. Such a task is
obviously well beyond anything that can be accomplished in an essay of this son.
Consequently, I will not attempt it. Instead, I propose to focus on a characteristic
feature of Socratic moral philosophy, a feature that may have motivated the
Ciceronian tradition. For morality, according to Socrates, is a knowledge or
expertise to be practised and studied just like any other knowledge or expertise.
What distinguishes it from other instances of knowledge and expertise is its
object: roughly, the good. This is the message at the core of Socratic philosophy,
a message Socrates believed he was called upon to spread. Whether such a
message is new to the intellectual scene of fifth century Greece, or if so, whether
that justifies crediting Socrates with the origins of moral philosophy, I leave for
others to decide. My goal here is to come to grips with the substance of Socratic
moral philosophy, whatever its intellectual ancestors and contemporaries may
have been.
THE SOCRATIC PROBLEM
Before beginning this task we must address an issue that all discussions of
Socratic philosophy must face: Whom am I referring to when I use the name
‘Socrates’? The question arises because the historical individual that goes by this
name (and who was the mentor of Plato, an associate of Xenophon, Alcibiades
and Chaerephon, and general pest on the streets of Athens in the latter part of the
fifth century BC) apparently wrote nothing. Our knowledge of the philosophical
views of this individual derives primarily from four distinct sources:
Aristophanes, who wrote a comedy entitled the Clouds in which Socrates is a
major figure;4 Xenophon, who wrote a variety of Socratic works, perhaps the
most important of which is the Memorabilia which purports to be a record of a
number of Socratic conversations5; Plato, who wrote twenty dialogues in which
Socrates is the primary speaker6; and Aristotle, who refers to Socrates over forty
times throughout his corpus.7 This alone would pose no problem; we think we
know quite a bit about Themistocles or Pericles and yet we possess none of their
writings either. The problem arises because the portraits of Socrates painted by
our first three sources are so different.8 According to Aristophanes, Socrates is a
sophistic natural philosopher who was willing to teach anyone who would pay for
it how to make the weaker argument the stronger and who denied the existence
of the gods of common opinion. According to Xenophon, Socrates was an
unexciting didactician, who was quick to give advice concerning the most
common matters and who was a paragon of common morality and religious
practice. And according to Plato, Socrates was a non-dogmatic, perhaps even
sceptical, moral philosopher, who examined and exposed others’ pretenses to
wisdom, denied that he taught anything, and espoused such non-traditional, in
some cases even paradoxical, theses as ‘no one ever does wrong willingly’, ‘it is
wrong to harm one’s enemies’, and ‘knowledge is necessary and sufficient for
virtue’. The problem, then, is to decide which of these three portraits accurately
represents the actual historical Socrates who walked the streets and frequented the
gymnasia of fifth-century Athens.
Perhaps the clearest and currently most widely accepted solution to this
problem9 can be found in Gregory Vlastos’s last book Socrates: Ironist and
Moral Philosopher [9.93].10 According to Vlastos, our three principal sources are
Plato, Xenophon and Aristotle. He dismisses the Aristophanes portrait as the
comic caricature that it is,11 and then goes on to maintain that the Platonic
portrait is more equivocal than I have let on. Vlastos argues that there are at least
two distinct portraits of Socrates in the Platonic dialogues: one to be found in the
early dialogues and another to be found in the middle and late dialogues.12 The
argument proceeds by detailing ten theses each consisting of two parts. One part
contains a feature or view attributable to Socrates in the early dialogues; the
other part contains a feature or view at odds with that of the first part and
attributable to Socrates in the middle dialogues. For example, according to
Vlastos, the Socrates of Plato’s early dialogues is exclusively a moral philosopher,
while the Socrates of Plato’s middle dialogues is a ‘moral philosopher and
metaphysician and epistemologist and philosopher of science and philosopher of
language and philosopher of religion and philosopher of education and
philosopher of art’.13 Vlastos concludes from this that in the Platonic dialogues
Socrates maintains two philosophical views ‘so different that they could not have
been depicted as cohabiting the same brain throughout unless it had been the
brain of a schizophrenic. They are so diverse in content and method that they
contrast as sharply with one another as with any third philosophy you care to
mention.’14 Next, Vlastos argues on the basis of the testimony of our other two
sources—Aristotle and Xenophon—that the philosophical view maintained by
Socrates in the early dialogues is the philosophical view of the historical
Socrates. For example, Vlastos argues that the Socrates of the middle dialogues
advances a theory of separated Forms, while the Socrates of the early dialogues
does not, and then points to Metaphysics 1078b30–2 where Aristotle
distinguishes between Plato and Socrates precisely on the grounds that the
former did, while the latter did not, separate the Forms.15 Finally, Vlastos
maintains that Plato’s overriding concern in composing his dialogues—the early
ones as well as the middle and late ones—is always philosophy. Consequently,
‘in any given dialogue Plato allows the persona of Socrates only what he (Plato)
considers true’.16
The conclusion of Vlastos’s argument results in an interpretation of the
Platonic portrait of Socrates that can be summed up in the following three theses:
1 The philosophical views advanced by Socrates in the early dialogues are
distinct from the philosophical views advanced by that character in the
middle dialogues (interpretation derived from Vlastos’s ten theses).
2 The philosophical views advanced by Socrates in the early dialogues
represent the philosophical views of the historical Socrates (thesis based on
the independent testimony of Aristotle and Xenophon).
3 The philosophical views advanced by Socrates in the early dialogues
represent the philosophical views of Plato before he adopted the classical
Platonism of the middle dialogues (thesis based on Vlastos’s grand
methodological hypothesis).
I believe that this interpretation of the Platonic Socrates is generally correct.17
Consequently, my answer to the question with which this section began is as
follows. When I use the name ‘Socrates’ in the course of this essay I am referring
to the actual historical individual who goes by that name, was the mentor of
Plato, an associate of Xenophon, Alcibiades and Chaerephon, and a general pest
on the streets and in the gymnasia of fifth-century Athens. I take as my primary
source of evidence for the philosophical views of this individual the early
dialogues of Plato, but I also take these views to be confirmed in part by the
portraits of Aristotle and Xenophon.18 This is the Socrates of this essay.
FOLK MORALITY
We can now turn to the task with which this essay began: coming to grips with
Socratic moral philosophy. Since according to the Ciceronian tradition Socrates
is doing something very unusual in advancing a moral philosophy, we can begin
by turning to those views with which Socrates contrasts his own: common or folk
morality and sophistic morality. Let me begin with folk morality and a passage in
the Protagoras (319b3–319d7).
The main conversation in the Protagoras begins when Socrates asks
Protagoras what he professes to teach. When Protagoras answers that he
professes to teach virtue (aretē), Socrates expresses surprise.19 He had always
believed that virtue could not be taught—or so he says —and one of his arguments
for this is that the Athenians are wise, but they don’t think that virtue can be
taught.20 Evidence that the Athenians don’t believe that virtue can be taught is
derived from their behaviour in the Assembly. When they are faced with a
decision regarding the building of temples, the building of ships, or any other
technical matter (en technēi), they are unwilling to listen to the advice of anyone
other than the relevant experts: temple-builders, shipwrights, etc. But when they
are faced with a decision regarding the management of the city they are willing
to consider the advice of anyone, ‘be he carpenter, smith or cobbler, merchant or
ship-owner, rich or poor, noble or low-born’ (319d2–4, [9.82]).
If this is supposed to provide evidence that the Athenians fail to believe that
virtue can be taught the idea must be something like this. The Athenians
distinguish between those decisions that require virtue and those that do not. In
the case of those that do not, the Athenians permit only the experts to be heard.
In the case of those that do, the Athenians permit any and everyone to be heard.
Thus, the Athenians do not regard virtue as an expertise, and so do not believe it
can be taught. When Protagoras responds to this first Socratic argument, he does
not deny that everyone—or at least everyone in a political community—
possesses virtue sufficient for giving advice about such matters. Instead,
Protagoras denies that virtue—so understood—fails to be an expertise.21
Protagoras maintains that the Athenians believe that virtue is an expertise
possessed by all the citizens to some degree or other. This, however, is
apparently not how Socrates understands their view.
Here then we have Socrates’ conception of common Athenian morality.
According to Socrates, the common or folk view is that virtue is not an expertise
—at least, if by expertise one has in mind some sort of special or unique ability.
Instead virtue is something possessed to one degree or another by everyone; it is
easily or automatically acquired; and everyone is a competent adviser concerning
it. Thus, if Socrates contrasts his own moral view with this folk view, he must
believe that virtue is an expertise like temple-building, ship-building, and the
rest; not something possessed by everyone; nor easily acquired. For Socrates,
decisions that require virtue require the advice of an expert. But why should we
think that Socrates contrasts his own moral view with this folk view? Doesn’t
Socrates put this view forward not only as the common view, but also as his own
in contrast to Protagoras? Yes he does, but there are a number of reasons to
doubt that Socrates is genuinely committed to the view he attributes to the
Athenians in this passage.22
First, at the end of the Protagoras (361a5–c2) Socrates expresses his dismay
that he and Protagoras appear to be arguing for the opposite of what they had
maintained at the beginning. Immediately prior to this passage they had been
discussing the relationship between courage (andreia) and wisdom (sophia).
Protagoras maintained that the two are altogether different on the grounds that
many men are ignorant yet courageous. Socrates argued on the contrary that
courage is wisdom (sophia) about what is to be feared and what isn’t (360d4–5),
and so those who are ignorant cannot be courageous. Socrates concludes by
noting that while he had earlier maintained—presumably at 319b3–d7 —that
virtue is not knowledge (epistēmē) and so cannot be taught, he is now arguing
that it is knowledge, on the basis of the claim that all the virtues—courage,
justice, temperance and piety—are nothing other than knowledge. Protagoras on
the other hand had maintained that virtue was knowledge and so could be taught
and now he is arguing that it is not knowledge.23 Exactly how to take Socrates’
position here at the end of the Protagoras is a difficult question,24 but however
else we take it we can no longer rest secure in the thought that Socrates accepts
the view he attributes to the many at 319b-d.
Second, outside the Protagoras there are other passages in which Socrates
testifies to his rejection of the folk view. In the dialogue named for him, Crito
urges Socrates to escape from prison in part on the grounds that the many
apparently believe that it is the proper thing to do. Socrates responds by asking
whether one should pay attention to the views of everyone or rather only to the
views of the wise (tōn phronimōn). For example, Socrates asks, in the case of
physical training should one pay attention to the views of anyone and everyone or
to the views of the expert—the doctor (iatros) or the physical trainer
(paidotribēs)—the instructor and one who knows (tōi epistatēi kai epaionti)?
When Crito replies that it is the advice of the expert that ought to be heeded in
this case, just as the Athenians in the Protagoras would maintain, Socrates
continues that the same point holds in other cases, but especially in the case of
matters concerning justice or injustice, the shameful and the fine, the good and
the bad, that is, matters of the sort they are presently considering (47a-d).
According to Socrates in this passage in the Crito, it is not the advice and
opinion of the many that ought to be heeded in facing the decision whether to
escape, but rather the advice and opinion of the one—if there is one—who
knows. Thus, while Socrates does not explicitly say that when faced with
decisions concerning (and so requiring) virtue, one should not consider the views
of just anyone, but only the views of the expert, he does say that in these
circumstances one should only pay attention to the one who knows and the
analogy with the doctor and physical trainer suggests that the knowledge
involved is expertise.25
In another passage Socrates’ rejection of the folk view that virtue is not an
expertise is more explicit. The Laches begins with two fathers soliciting the
advice of two Athenian generals—Laches and Nicias— concerning the proper
education of their sons. In particular, they want to know whether they should
enrol their sons in a particular form of military training. When the two generals
offer incompatible advice, Laches recommending against the training, Nicias
recommending in its favour, one of the fathers turns to Socrates for his vote to
decide the issue. Socrates responds that this is no way to reach a decision. Again
he points to the example of physical training and maintains that in this case we
would not heed the advice of the majority, but rather the advice of the one who
had been trained under a good physical trainer (paidotribēi)—again, just as the
Athenians in the Protagoras would maintain. As Socrates puts it, ‘for I think that
it is necessary to judge by knowledge but not by number if one intends to judge
well’ (Laches 184e8–9). Thus, Socrates continues, the proper way to decide the
issue that faces the fathers is to heed the advice of the expert (tecknikos)
concerning that thing about which they are currently seeking advice. After
determining that the thing concerning which they are now seeking advice is the
proper care of the soul, Socrates concludes that in order to decide whose advice
ought to be heeded—Socrates’, Laches’, or Nicias’—they must determine which
of the three is an expert concerning the care of the soul (185e1–6). When
Socrates forswears his own expertise concerning this matter, Laches and Nicias
permit their expertise to be tested. Rather than asking the generals whom they
have made better or who their teachers have been (189d5–e3), Socrates indicates
that another way to test their expertise concerning this matter is to determine if
they know what virtue is (190b7–c2). Since this may be too large a task, Socrates
narrows the question to whether they know what a part of virtue is—that is,
whether they know what courage is (190c8–e3). This is the question that occupies
the remainder of the Laches. Thus, Socrates here explicitly maintains that when
faced with a decision that the Athenians would acknowledge requires virtue we
should not heed the advice of everyone. Rather it is only the advice of the expert
that should be heeded. Socrates here identifies the virtue required to give such
advice with some form of expertise and the expertise itself appears to amount to,
or at least require knowledge of the nature of virtue.
Finally, this passage in the Laches points us to a further consideration in favour
of Socrates’ rejection of folk morality: Socrates’ elenctic mission. In testing the
expertise of Laches and Nicias, Socrates is engaging in his elenctic mission, a
mission he claims in the Apology derives from Chaerephon’s trip to the Delphic
Oracle. According to Socrates, Chaerephon once asked the oracle at Delphi
whether anyone was wiser (sophōteros) than Socrates, to which the oracle
responded that no one was. When Chaerephon reported this episode to Socrates,
he was at loss as to what the oracle could mean. On the one hand, Socrates ‘knew
that he was wise concerning nothing great or small’ (Apology 21b4–5),26 and yet
on the other hand, the oracle could not lie. Socrates, thereupon, set out to test the
oracle by trying to uncover someone wiser than he. First, he went to the
politicians, all of whom believed themselves to be wise but were shown not to be
(Apology 21c3–e2). Next, he went to the poets. Not only did the poets think
themselves wise concerning their poetry, but were not, but the poets also took
themselves to be wise about other matters, concerning which they were not
(Apology 22a8–c8). Finally, Socrates turned to the manual experts
(cheirotechnas).27 These, he discovered, did indeed know many of the fine things
they were reputed to know, but unfortunately this knowledge of theirs
encouraged them to believe that they were wise concerning other very great
things (ta megista) when they were not (Apology 22c9–e5). Socrates concludes
from this investigation of the oracle that,
the god is wise and that his oracular response meant that human wisdom is
worth little or nothing, and that when he says this man, Socrates, he is
using my name as an example, as if he said: ‘This man among you,
mortals, is wisest who, like Socrates, understands that his wisdom is
worthless.’ So even now I continue this investigation as the god bade me—
and go around seeking out anyone, citizen or stranger, whom I think wise.
Then if I do not think he is, I come to the assistance of the god and show
him that he is not wise.
(Apology 23a5–b7; trans. Grube.)
Here then Socrates once again contrasts his own view with that of the average
Athenian citizen. The average Athenian citizen—be he a politician, a poet, a
manual expert, or anyone else—thinks himself wise about the great things, but is
not. Such wisdom or expertise is not as easy to come by as they suppose. Socrates
lacks this wisdom as well, but he also lacks the false conceit that he has it.
Herein lies Socratic wisdom: recognition of his ignorance concerning the great
things— recognition, that is, of his lack of moral knowledge or expertise.28
Unlike the average Athenian, Socrates does not take himself to be in the position
to give advice concerning decisions that require virtue. This is the role of a moral
expert, something that Socrates, unlike the average Athenian, realizes he is not.
But this is not the end of the story. Socrates has found in his investigation of
the oracle a mission29—the elenctic mission I referred to above.30 Socrates does
not merely test an individual’s claim to moral wisdom and when he finds it
lacking abandon him. Rather, as the passage quoted above indicates, when
Socrates discovers that the individual lacks the knowledge he thinks he has,
Socrates attempts to show him that he lacks it. But why? Socrates assumes that
such moral knowledge is desirable. All of us—average Athenian and everyone—
desire to possess it. Indeed, Socrates believes that such expertise is so desirable,
that to encourage us to possess it, all Socrates needs to do is show us that we lack
it. Consider how Socrates redescribes his elenctic mission following the jury’s
hypothetical order to cease philosophizing:
Gentlemen of the jury, I am grateful and I am your friend, but I will obey
the god rather than you, and as long as I draw breath and am able, I shall
not cease to practice philosophy, to exhort you and in my usual way to
point out to any one of you whom I happen to meet: ‘Good Sir, you are an
Athenian, a citizen of the greatest city with the greatest reputation for both
wisdom and power; are you not ashamed of your eagerness to possess as
much wealth, reputation and honours as possible, while you do not care for
(epimelēi) nor give thought to wisdom or truth, or the best possible state of
your soul (phronēseōs de kai aletheias kai tēs psuchēs hopōs hōs
beltistē)?’ Then, if one of you disputes this and says he does care
(epimeleisthai), I shall not let him go at once or leave him, but I shall
question him, examine him and test him, and if I do not think that he has
attained the goodness (aretēn) that he says he has, I shall reproach him
because he attaches little importance to the most important things and
greater importance to the inferior things. I shall treat in this way anyone I
happen to meet, young or old, citizen or stranger, and more so the citizens
because you are more kindred to me. Be sure that this is what the god
orders me to do, and I think there is no greater blessing for the city than my
service to the god. For I go around doing nothing but persuading both
young and old among you not to care for (epimeleisthai) your body or
your wealth in preference to or as strongly as for the best possible state of
your soul (hōs tēs psuchēs hopōs aristē estai).
(Apology 29d2–30b2; trans. Grube).
Here then we have the first moral philosophy or moral perspective against which
Socrates contrasts his own—the common or folk view. According to folk
morality, virtue is something everyone—or nearly everyone31—already
possesses. It is not an expertise—at least if by expertise one has in mind some
sort of special or unique ability. Consequently, it is fairly easy to come by32 and
everyone is in a position to give advice concerning those affairs that require
virtue. For Socrates, however, things are otherwise. Virtue is an expertise, like
physical training, temple-building, and the rest. It is not easy to come by33 and few
—if any—people possess it or are in a position to give advice on matters that
require it. But it is valuable, and we should all make it our business to obtain it.
SOPHISTIC MORALITY
For Socrates virtue appears to be an expertise. But how, then, does Socratic
morality differ from the moral perspective of the sophists? Don’t the sophists—
in so far as we can characterize their view generally —believe that virtue is an
expertise possessed by relatively few individuals? Indeed, don’t they profess to
be able to teach this expertise to anyone willing to pay for it? And aren’t many
apparently willing to do so34 because of the sophists’ claim that those who
possess this expertise will become eminently more successful in public affairs—
that is, at being virtuous—than those who do not possess it? Whether or not this
accurately characterizes the sophistic position,35 it is clear that this is how
Socrates would characterize it. Moreover, it is equally clear that he rejects it.
Recall that in the Protagoras Socrates characterizes Protagoras’ position as the
claim to teach ‘political expertise’ (ten politikēn technēn) and to make men better
citizens (politas)36 which he later characterizes as the claim to teach virtue
(aretē).37 Moreover, Protagoras does not deny it. Rather he only denies—
somewhat unsatisfactorily—that every member of the political community fails
to already possess what he teaches.38 Again in the Hippias Major, Socrates
describes Hippias’ wisdom (sophia)—the expertise of the sophists (ten tōn
sophistōn technēn)39—as ‘the sort that makes those who study and learn it stronger
in virtue (aretēn)’ (Hippias Major 283c3–4; Woodruff trans.). In the Gorgias,
Socrates sums up Gorgias’ position on rhetoric—Gorgias’ expertise—as the view
that the rhetor will not give advice in the Assembly on matters relating to health,
ship-building, wall-building or the military. On these matters, the rhetor will
accede to the advice of the relevant expert. Rather, it will only be on matters
concerning the just and the unjust that the rhetors will give expert advice.40
When Gorgias objects that the rhetor will be best able to persuade concerning all
matters that face the Assembly,—not merely the just and the unjust, but shipbuilding,
wall-building and the rest, he is forced to concede that it is only on
matters concerning the just and the unjust that the rhetor genuinely gives expert
advice—a concession that ultimately leads to Gorgias’ downfall. Finally, in the
Euthydemus, the two eristic experts —the brothers, Euthydemus and
Dionysodorus—claim to be the best teachers of virtue alive.41 But in the
Euthydemus, especially, there can be no doubt that Socrates rejects this claim.
Nevertheless, in rejecting the sophistic moral perspective Socrates need not be
rejecting the sophistic view that virtue is an expertise. He may instead reject the
view that virtue is the particular expertise that the sophists proclaim it is. And
indeed, this is precisely what he does, as the Euthydemus makes clear.42
Following the eristic brothers’ claim to teach virtue, Socrates asks them to
display their expertise at persuading the young Cleinias to pursue the love of
wisdom (philosophian) and the care for virtue (aretēs epimeleian).43 The next
portion of the dialogue consists of two pairs of displays: first the eristic brothers’
display (275c–277c), then Socrates’ example of what he had in mind (277d–
282e), another eristic display (282e–286b), and then again another Socratic
example picking up where the first left off (288b–292e). The two Socratic
displays are frequently referred to as the first and second protreptics.
In the first protreptic Socrates maintains that everyone seeks happiness or to
fare well (278e3–279al)44 and that in order to be happy or fare well one must
possess goods (279al–4). Next, Socrates argues that the only genuine good is
knowledge or wisdom, all other prima facie goods are good only in so far as they
are guided by knowledge (279a4–281e5).45 Consequently, Socrates concludes
that everyone should seek to become as wise as possible (282a5–6). Socrates
asks whether one should ‘acquire every sort of knowledge (epistēmē) or whether
there is one sort of knowledge which it is necessary for the one who is happy and
a good man to possess, and if so what it is’ but the question is not pursued until
the beginning of the second protreptic.
In the second protreptic Socrates argues that not just any knowledge or
expertise is the one necessary for happiness or faring well. The relevant
knowledge or expertise is one which combines ‘making something and knowing
how to use what it makes’ (289b5–6). This eliminates lyre-making (luropoiikē)
and pipe-making (aulopoiikē), since these expertises fail to know how to use
what they make. But it also eliminates perhaps more plausible candidates: the
speech-making expertise (logopoiikēn technēn), the military expertise (strategikē)
and the political expertise or the expertise of a king (hē potitikē kai he basilikē
technē). The first two are eliminated because they fail to know how to use what
they make;46 the last is rejected because what it makes is too difficult to
determine. In each case, Socrates rejects an expertise as the one required to make
us happy—that is, he rejects an expertise as virtue—but it is not because it is an
expertise, but because it is an expertise of the wrong sort. What sort of expertise
is required can, however, be gleaned from elsewhere.
Consider first the Laches. When Laches proposes wise endurance as the
proper definition of courage (192d10–12), Socrates enquires whether he thinks
that those who endure the relevant dangers with the expertise of horsemen, or the
expertise of the sling, or the expertise of the bow, or the expertise of well-divers,
or any other expertise of this sort are more or less courageous than those who
endure without the relevant expertise (193b9–c8). Laches answers that they are
less courageous, and so abandons his definition. The suggestion is that whatever
the proper definition of courage may be, it appears not to be wise endurance
when wisdom is understood as these sorts of expertise.47 Moreover, when
Socrates turns to Nicias’ definition that courage is knowledge of fearful and
daring things, he asks Nicias whether knowledge of fearful and daring things is
anything other than knowledge of future goods and evils. Nicias responds that it
is not. Next, Socrates asks whether it belongs to the same knowledge to know
future, past and present things. When Nicias answers that it does, Socrates points
out that it follows on Nicias’ view that courage is knowledge of all goods and
evils, which is the whole of virtue and not its part, contrary to Nicias’ initial
claim that courage is part of virtue. Again, whatever we take Socrates’ view to be
concerning the proper definition of courage, the suggestion here seems to be that
in so far as courage is defined as knowledge of the good and the bad it will be
identical to virtue, not a part of it.48 Virtue, according to Socrates in the Laches,
appears to be knowledge of the good and the bad. Here, then, we have a hint of
Socrates’ answer to the question with which we were left at the end of the second
protreptic of the Euthydemus. The knowledge or expertise that is virtue—that is
necessary to make us happy and fare well—is not a knowledge or expertise like
horsemanship or well-diving, but the knowledge or expertise of the good and the
bad.
Finally, we can turn to the Charmides. The last half of this dialogue consists
of a long, complicated, and often tortuous discussion of Critias’ definition that
temperance is knowledge of oneself (164d3–5). By 173a this definition has been
modified to mean that temperance is knowledge of what one knows and does not
know (172c9), and as Socrates conceded earlier, life in accordance with that
knowledge would be free from error (171d6–172a3). Now Socrates relates a
dream in which temperance—understood as knowledge of what one knows and
does not know—rules (archoi he sōphrosunē). He grants that in such a situation
one would live according to knowledge and so be free from error, but he
wonders whether one would fare well and be happy (eu an prattoimen kai
eudaimonoimen). Ultimately, Socrates and Critias agree that one would not. After
denying that it is the knowledge of draught-playing (petteutikon), calculation
(logistikon), or health— presumably medicine—that makes one fare well or be
happy, Critias asserts that it is knowledge of the good and the bad (174b10). This
leads Socrates to ask whether the doctor is any less successful in producing
health or the shoemaker is any less successful at making shoes when knowledge
of the good and the bad is lacking. Critias responds that they are not and Socrates
concludes that it is the production of these things ‘well and beneficially’ that is
removed when the knowledge of the good and bad is lacking (174c9–d1). This
contrast recalls a similar contrast in the Euthydemus between making and
using.49 Once again, Socrates distinguishes between those expertises that do not
make one happy and fare well, and the one expertise that does: the ruling
expertise he was searching for in the second protreptic of the Euthydemus.
Indeed, as in the Laches, Socrates suggests what it is: the knowledge or expertise
of the good and the bad.50
Much of this is necessarily speculative. We have at best hints, suggestions,
indications that Socrates takes the knowledge or expertise that makes us happy
and fare well as the knowledge or expertise of the good and the bad. But what is
not speculative is that Socrates takes the knowledge or expertise that makes us
happy and fare well to be virtue, nor is it speculative that that knowledge or
expertise is not the expertise the sophists claim to teach. It is not the eristic
brothers’ expertise in fighting with words, Gorgias’ expertise of persuasion,
Hippias’ diverse expertises, nor whatever Protagoras’ expertise is supposed to be.
For Socrates, virtue is an expertise—contrary to folk morality—but it is not the
expertise of the sophists.
A SKETCH OF SOCRATIC EXPERTISE
If, then, for Socrates virtue is an expertise, the obvious question that arises is,
What is an expertise for Socrates? Fortunately a considerable amount of energy
has already been devoted to this topic. Brickhouse and Smith, for example, list
the following conditions which an expertise must meet: rationality or regularity,
teachability or learnability, explicability, inerrancy, uniqueness, distinctness of
subject-matter, and knowledge or wisdom.51 Rather than merely rehearsing this
work, I propose to address this question from a slightly different angle. I propose
to ask what sort of thing an expertise is according to Socrates.
To begin an expertise appears to be a power or capacity (dunamis).52 Early on
in the Euthydemus, Socrates explains that all those present asked the two eristic
brothers to ‘demonstrate the power (dunamis) of their wisdom’ (274c6–d3).
Similarly, at the beginning of the Gorgias, Socrates beseeches Gorgias to teach
him ‘what the power (dunamis) of his expertise is and what it is he advertises and
teaches’ (447c1–3). In both passages the point is the same: in professing to
possess expertise, Gorgias and the eristic brothers are professing to have a power
or capacity, and Socrates wants to know what power or capacity they are
professing to possess. Socrates assumes that if a person possesses knowledge,
wisdom or expertise, that person possesses a power or capacity.53
That knowledge is understood as a kind of power or capacity is reinforced by
the Prometheus story in the Protagoras. As Protagoras tells the story, the gods
charged Epimetheus and Prometheus with distributing powers or capacities to
each of the mortal creatures as was fitting. Unfortunately, Epimetheus (who was
given the task of making this assignment, while Prometheus agreed to inspect it)
used up all the powers available to him (e.g. strength, speed, winged flight, size,
tough skin, thick hair) on the irrational creatures, leaving humans quite
unprovided for (321b6–c1). Prometheus, thereupon, stole the practical wisdom
(sophian) of Hephaestus and Athena—Hephaetus’ expertise (technēn) in
working with fire and Athena’s other expertise54—and gave them to humanity. In
this way, according to the story, humans acquired their practical wisdom, but not
yet their political expertise (politikēn). This latter was reserved for Zeus to
supply, who seeing that humans were able to obtain food and shelter, but were
unable to fight against the beasts and to come together in cities, sent Hermes to
distribute to all of humanity conscience and justice (aidō te kai dikēn) —the
political expertise (tēn politikēn technēn). According to this story, then, once
Epimetheus had doled out to the irrational creatures all of the powers fitting and
necessary for survival,55 other powers or capacities had to be obtained for humans.
Thus, Prometheus gave to them the power of practical wisdom, while Zeus gave
to them the power of political wisdom. In both cases, wisdom or expertise is
presumed to be a power or capacity.
Indeed, the idea that political wisdom or expertise, i.e. the virtues, is a power
or capacity is further supported by the question with which the remainder of the
Protagoras is preoccupied: whether or not the virtues are one. Following
Protagoras’ Great Speech, of which the Prometheus story is a part, Socrates asks
the question which will resolve the one ‘small’ remaining difficulty: are justice,
temperance, wisdom, piety and courage distinct parts of virtue or are they all
different names for one and the same thing (Protagoras 329c6–d1)? Protagoras
responds that this is an easy question to answer: virtue is one thing and justice,
temperance, piety, etc. are its parts. Socrates appeals to the analogies of the parts
of gold and the parts of a face (Protagoras 329d4–8) and asks his question again.
And does each of them [i.e. the parts of virtue] have its own separate
power [dunamin]? When we consider the face, the eye is not like the ear,
nor is its power [dunamis] the same, nor any other part like another in power
[dunamin] or in other ways. Is it the same with the parts of virtue, that
none is like any other, either in itself or in its power [dunamis]? Surely, it
must be, if it corresponds to our example.
(Protagoras 330a4–b2; adapted from Taylor [7.22])56
Socrates’ question, then, is—at least in part—whether, according to Protagoras,
political expertise is one power or more.
It may be objected, however, that this last passage especially indicates not that
virtue or political expertise is a power or capacity but that it is that in virtue of
which one has a power or capacity.57 The suggestion is that an eye stands to its
power just as courage—one of the virtues and so an expertise—stands to its
power. An eye is not the power to see. Rather, it is that in virtue of which an
individual has the power to see. The eye and its power are ontologically distinct.
If we take the analogy to the virtues and expertise strictly, then, we must take the
expertise to be ontologically distinct from its power. It is not a power; it is what
confers a power on its possessor.
While I cannot fully argue the point here, I believe that this is to take the
analogy with the parts of the face too strictly. Recall that the point of the
analogies is to get clear about what Protagoras is maintaining when he claims that
the virtues are distinct. Is he maintaining that they all are (or have) the same kind
of power but differ in some other way, or is he maintaining that their powers
differ as well? It is at least open to Socrates to maintain contrary to Protagoras
that they are (or have) the same kind of power, and so that they do not differ in
any essential way.58 Moreover, there is simply no organ analogous to the eye in
the case of expertise or the virtues. Surely, the possession of fully functioning
vocal chords does not suffice for the possession of the expertise of rhetoric, for
example. But to postulate some entity between the vocal chords and the power to
persuade that is rhetoric is simply to add an unnecessary ontological layer.
Indeed, it is to add an ontological layer that is not demanded by the text. None of
the passages that I have cited are incompatible with understanding expertise as
a kind of power in the way that knowledge—on a justified true belief model—is
a kind of belief. Perhaps most important, there are various passages in which
Socrates appears to use the word for power and the words for knowledge or
expertise interchangeably.59 At the very least these passages indicate that the
ontological distinction that the present objection presupposes is of little moment
for Socrates. For all these reasons, as well as others,60 I conclude that for
Socrates an expertise is some sort of power or capacity.
Saying this, however, only raises a further question: what according to
Socrates is a power or capacity? Surprisingly little attention has been devoted to
this question, but there are a few preliminary things we can say. First, a Socratic
power or capacity is typically associated with particular types of activities or
behaviours.61 For example, in the Laches Socrates defines quickness as ‘the
power to do many things in a short time concerning speech and running and all
other things’ (Laches 192b1–3). In the Hippias Minor he describes the one who
has power (the dunatos) as the one ‘who does what he wants when he wants’
(Hippias Minor 366b7–c1). And finally in the Ion, Socrates says,
What moves you [Ion] is a divine power [dunamis], like the power
[dunamis] in the stone which Euripides dubbed the ‘Magnesian’, but which
most people call the ‘Heraclean’. This stone, you see, not only attracts iron
rings on their own, but also confers on them a power [dunamin] by which
they do the same thing that the stone does.
(Ion 533d3–31; adapted from Saunders trans.)
But as many commentators have pointed out, for Socrates, a thing does not have
a power simply in virtue of the fact that it acts or behaves in certain ways. It does
not have a power simply in virtue of what it does. Rather, for Socrates, a thing
has a power in virtue of some state of the thing that occasions it in the
appropriate circumstances to do what it does. A power for Socrates is not the
mere tendency to perform a certain sort of activity, but rather the state of a thing
that results in such activity.62 Thus, for Socrates, the power is ontologically prior
to the activity the power is associated with. The activities are defined in virtue of
the power that produces them, not vice versa.63
Second, a power or capacity for Socrates is to be identified by its peculiar
object. For example, in the Charmides, after indicating that since temperance is
knowledge of knowledge it must be a power (dunamis), Socrates infers that it
must be ‘of something’ (tinos einai), citing as examples that the greater has the
power (dunamin) to be of the lesser (168b5–8) and the double the power
(dunamis) to be of the half. Thus, according to Socrates, if there is a double of
itself, then the double will be both double and half of itself. In general, he maintains
that ‘the very thing which has its own power (dunamin) applied to itself will
have to have that nature towards which the power (dunamis) was directed’
(Charmides 168c10–d3; adapted from Sprague trans.). He explains this with the
following examples: since hearing is of sound, hearing would have to be a sound
if it were to be of itself, and since sight is of colour, sight would have to be coloured
if it were of itself. While the details of these passages may be difficult to sort
out, the general idea appears clear enough. Associated with every power is an
object, property, nature or being (ousian). Thus, the powers of the greater, the
double, hearing and sight have as their respective objects the lesser, the half,
sound, and colour. Moreover, the power must always be of this object; if it were
of a different object, it would be a different power. It is only on this assumption
that Socrates can draw his conclusions that if the greater is of itself, then it must
be lesser (as well as greater), if the double is of itself, it must be half (as well as
double)64, if hearing is of itself, it must be a sound, and if sight is of itself, it
must be coloured.65
Thus, since virtue is an expertise, it is a power. As a power it must be
associated with a particular sort of activity and have a specific object. The
activity is evidently virtuous activity66, while the object appears to be the good
(and the bad) in light of our earlier discussion. But in saying this we have left out
the cognitive aspect of expertise. For expertise is not just a power; it is a
cognitive power. This cognitive aspect of expertise is manifested in Socrates’
view that expertise is infallible, inerrant or luck-independent.
Consider, for example, Socrates’ claim in the first protreptic of the Euthydemus
that having included wisdom in his list of goods necessary for happiness it would
be superfluous to add good luck; for ‘when wisdom is present no good luck is
lacking to the one for whom it is present’ (Euthydemus 280b2–3). The idea here
is that the person with wisdom or knowledge will invariably make decisions or
choices conducive to his or her happiness. Just as the expert ship pilot invariably
makes decisions or choices conducive to getting to the port safely, given the
circumstances she is in, so the wise or knowledgeable individual will invariably
make decisions or choices conducive to attaining happiness, given her
circumstances. Many scholars believe that Socrates takes these choices to be
sufficient for happiness;67 others maintain that Socrates takes other goods in
addition to be necessary for happiness.68 But most would agree that wisdom or
knowledge is sufficient for ‘getting things right’. It is in this sense that good luck
is not necessary for the wise individual. Just as the wise ship pilot does not need
to rely on lucky guesses in getting to the port safely (although she may need to
rely on luck in obtaining calm seas, which may or may not be necessary for
arriving at the port safely), so the wise individual need not rely on lucky guesses
in attaining happiness (although she may need to rely on luck in obtaining other
goods which may or may not be necessary for attaining happiness).69
Again, in so far as Socrates is inclined to identify wisdom or expertise with
definitional knowledge,70 Socrates’ request at Euthyphro 6e3–6 to be taught
what piety is ‘so that looking to it and using it as a paradigm, I can say that that
which is such as it, whether done by you or anyone else, is pious and that which
is not such as it, is impious’ is making a similar point: the individual with
definitional knowledge of piety will not make mistakes concerning which things
are pious and which are not. She will always ‘get things right’. Wisdom,
expertise, or definitional knowledge regarding piety somehow guarantees correct
judgements regarding piety.71
In fact, in the Gorgias Socrates apparently distinguishes between expertise and
knack with this very point in mind. At 464e2–465a7 and 500e3–501b1 this
distinction is drawn almost entirely on the basis of the fact that the former
possesses a logos of its object, while the latter does not.72 It is in virtue of the
possession of this logos73 that an expertise can reach correct judgements
concerning which things are good, for example, and so can say why each of the
good things are good. A knack on the other hand, lacking this logos must merely
guess at which things are pleasant, for example, and why they are. It is the
definitional knowledge of the object of the expertise that accounts for the
expertise’s infallibility with respect to its object.
While I have only just brushed up against the many issues surrounding these
passages, they all point in the same general direction: the cognitive aspect of an
expertise can be found in its infallibility for reaching correct judgements
concerning its object. An expert temple-builder always makes correct
judgements concerning temple-building.74 It is, indeed, for this reason that her
advice is heeded when considering temple-building. Thus, the characteristic
Socratic view that virtue is an expertise75 amounts to the view that virtue is a
power associated with a specific activity and a specific object. As a cognitive
power, virtue also infallibly produces correct judgements regarding its object.
We have seen some reason to suppose that for Socrates the object of the
expertise that is virtue is the good. Thus, virtue is an expertise that enables its
possessor infallibly to reach correct judgements regarding the good—whether, for
example, escaping from prison or setting out to defeat the Sicilians is good. To
learn more about the specific activities associated with virtue so understood, we
must turn to Socrates’ account of the good.
THE GOOD
A complete account of Socrates’ moral perspective must address the question of
virtuous behaviour or activity. Thus far our examination of the characteristic
feature of Socrates’ moral philosophy has focused almost entirely on the nature
of a virtuous person. I have been concerned to exhibit the cognitive power that
such a person possesses. Such a focus, however, might be thought to obscure
another way in which Socrates’ moral perspective is to be contrasted with that of
the sophists. For it is often thought that Socrates is a defender in some sense of
traditional moral behaviour against the supposed immoralism of the sophists.76 If
such a view is correct we should expect it to emerge out of Socrates’ account of
the expertise of virtue, since, as I indicated above, the activities associated with a
power or capacity are defined in virtue of the power associated with them and
not vice versa. To some extent our expectations will not be disappointed. But to
see this we must turn to Socrates’ account of the good.
In the Gorgias, Socrates indicates that the good is the rational end of all our
actions. It is for the sake of it that we do everything we do, and we do not do it
for the sake of anything else.77 In the Euthydemus, we saw that Socrates
maintains that happiness or faring well is the object of everyone’s rational
desires.78 It is reasonable to infer, then, that for Socrates the good is happiness or
faring well.79 Let us call this eudaimonism.80 Given eudaimonism, then, it would
appear that no one ever intentionally acts contrary to his or her own good.81
Since everyone rationally desires his or her own good, it is only mistaken beliefs
about what contributes to one’s good that could explain one’s acting contrary to
one’s good. Knowledge of which activities benefit one is sufficient for
performing those activities.82 This is not because Socrates fails to recognize the
necessity of desire for motivating action, but because for Socrates everyone
rationally desires his or her own good. Consequently, since for Socrates virtue is
the cognitive power whose object is the good and which infallibly produces
correct judgements about the good, the virtuous person will never act contrary to
his or her own good. Such a person will know which activities benefit him or
her, and given his or her rational desire, he or she will perform them. Such
actions will by definition be virtuous actions,—since actions are defined in virtue
of the power they result from. Thus, for Socrates, knowledge of the good is
sufficient for virtuous activity as well. No one ever acts viciously except out of
ignorance of the good.83
Thus the characteristic feature of Socratic morality, the view that virtue is the
expertise of the good—what we might call Socratic intellectualism—does have
the consequence that virtuous activities benefit the agent who performs the
activities. But as a defence of traditional moral behaviour it appears to be a
failure. For nothing in the account of Socratic virtue as I have described it
indicates that the moral expert will recognize those activities associated with
traditional morality as good or beneficial. If Socratic morality is not to be the
primarily amoral thesis that virtue is simply the cognitive power whose object is
the agent’s own good and that is associated with those activities that promote the
agent’s own good, whatever they happen to be, Socrates must believe that some
or most of those activities typically associated with traditional morality promote
the agent’s good.84 But where is the defence of this view?
There are various passages in which Socrates compares the good of the body
to the good of the soul and maintains that virtuous actions promote the health of
the soul and vicious actions make it sick.85 But as a defence of traditional
morality these passages are rather slight. Either Socrates is not referring
necessarily to traditionally virtuous behaviour or if he is the passages appear to
be merely stipulative. For while a defence of the position maintained in these
passages can be derived from the account of Socratic virtue I have been
proposing no part of that defence requires that the actions that promote the health
of the soul are traditionally virtuous activities. On the other hand, there appears
to be no independent defence in these passages for the claim that traditionally
virtuous activities promote the health of the soul.
Perhaps a more plausible defence can be derived from the longer passages in
which Socrates is arguing against the immoralism of Callicles in the Gorgias and
of Thrasymachus in the first book of the Republic. Certainly the argument against
Callicles, for example, purports to defend the claim that virtuous actions are
always more beneficial for the agent than vicious actions against Callicles’ claim
that unbridled pleasure-seeking is most beneficial for the agent. Whatever else
Socrates is attempting to do in this passage he appears to be arguing that at least
one sort of traditionally vicious behaviour harms the soul. While both of these
arguments against immoralism deserve serious further study, there remains
something unsatisfactory about them, a lack of satisfaction that Plato explicitly
notes at the beginning of the second book of the Republic.86 But it is in these
passages, if anywhere, that Socrates’ defence of traditional morality is to be
found.
CONCLUSION
Let us return briefly to the Ciceronian tradition with which this essay began.
According to this tradition moral philosophy in some sense begins with Socrates.
We have seen a sense in which such a tradition is justified. Socrates is unique, at
least among the average Athenian citizen and the sophists, in maintaining that
morality or virtue is a knowledge or expertise of the good. Against the folk view,
he maintains that morality or virtue is an expertise that is not possessed by
everyone, but which everyone should make it their business to obtain. It is not
easily obtainable, but it is obtainable none the less, and few of us are in the
position to give advice concerning it. Against the sophists, Socrates maintains
that it is not an expertise reducible to others. It is not rhetoric or antilogic or even
polymathy. It is its own unique branch of knowledge. It is knowledge or
expertise of the good.87 Nevertheless, in saying this Socrates has really only
supplied what might be called the formal features of morality or virtue. Socrates’
own claim to lack the expertise that is virtue88 prohibits him from supplying a
more substantive moral theory. Perhaps this is yet another way in which Socrates
stands at the beginning of moral philosophy. Many, if not all, of the subsequent
Greek moral philosophers may be seen as completing the work that Socrates
could only begin.
NOTES
1 From Guthrie [9.33]. Other translations are my own unless otherwise noted.
2 See Aristotle The Parts of Animals 642a28 and Metaphysics 987b1–4 and
1078b17.
3 See the title of the present essay. See also Guthrie [9.33], 97–105. Indeed, much of
what I have to say here in the introductory section regarding this tradition and the
puzzle it raises follows Guthrie’s remarks. My response to this puzzle, however,
diverges significantly from Guthrie’s.
4 Socrates is also mentioned in the Frogs and the Birds.
5 His other Socratic works are the Apology, Symposium and the Oeconomicus.
6 Not counting those dialogues which are generally considered spurious. The
Alcibiades I and the Cleitophon have recently garnered some supporters; for the
former see Annas [9.1] and for the latter see Roochnik [9.75]. If they are genuinely
Platonic, then 22 of the dialogues feature Socrates as a primary speaker.
7 Not counting the occasions in which he uses Socrates as an example in various
arguments.
8 Aristotle’s portrait agrees in most essentials with the Platonic portrait.
9 I am hedging here because I am well aware that there are many first-rate Socratic
scholars who do not accept Vlastos’s solution. See, esp. Kahn [9.40], [9.41], [9.
42], [9.43], [9.44], [9.45], [9.46], and [9.47]. Moreover, even among those scholars
who accept the substance of Vlastos’s approach, few would accept it in all of its
detail. Nevertheless, Vlastos’s well-deserved scholarly reputation, the plausibility of
the approach, and the characteristic clarity and force of his argument will likely
make his approach the paradigm for years to come. In any case, I believe the basic
outline of the approach to be correct.
10 Vlastos [9.94] was published posthumously under the editorship of Myles
Burnyeat.
11 Actually, Vlastos’s dismissal of Aristophanes is made explicitly only in Vlastos [9.
91]. I am somewhat more sympathetic to Aristophanes’ portrait than is Vlastos.
12 The Platonic dialogues have traditionally been divided into three groups,
corresponding to their supposed order of composition: the early dialogues (in
alphabetical order): Apology, Charmides, Crito, Euthydemus, Euthyphro, Gorgias,
Hippias Major, Hippias Minor, Ion, Laches, Lysis, Menexenus, Protagoras,
Republic I; the middle dialogues (in alphabetical order): Cratylus, Parmenides,
Phaedo, Phaedrus, Republic II–X, Symposium and Theaetetus; the late dialogues
(in alphabetical order): Critias, Laws, Philebus, Politicus, Sophist, Timaeus. (I have
excluded the Meno from these three groups, because it is commonly taken to be
transitional between the early and middle periods, containing elements of both.)
While more fine-grained orderings have been proposed, they have never received
the general support that this coarse-grained ordering has. Nevertheless, I should not
be taken to suggest that everyone would agree with this method of dividing up the
dialogues. Kahn (see earlier note) argues for a different division among the
dialogues, while unitarians of various sorts have long argued against the utility of
reading the dialogues with reference to their supposed order of composition. See
most recently, Nails [9–59].
13 Vlastos [9.93], 48. The other nine theses that Vlastos lists are roughly: (2)
Socratesm (henceforth the Socrates of the middle dialogues) has an elaborate theory
of separated Forms; Socratese (henceforth the Socrates of the early dialogues) does
not; (3) Socratese seeks knowledge elenctically and denies that he has any;
Socratesm seeks demonstrative knowledge and claims to have it; (4) Socratesm has
a tripartite model of the soul; Socrates, does not; (5) Socratesm is a mathematical
expert; Socratese is not; (6) Socrates, is a populist; Socratesm is an elitist; (7)
Socratesm has an elaborate political theory; Socratese does not; (8) Socratesm has a
metaphysical grounding for his homoerotic attachments; Socratese does not; (9) For
Socratese religion is practical and realized in action; for Socratesm religion is
mystical and realized in contemplation; (10) Socratese has an adversative
philosophical method, Socratesm a didactic one.
14 Vlastos [9.93] 46.
15 The other theses Vlastos considers in this regard are (3) and (4).
16 Vlastos [9.93], 117 and n. 50. See also [9.93], 49–53. Vlastos labels this his ‘grand
methodological hypothesis’.
17 Each of these theses has had its detractors. Graham [9.29] has recently objected to
the third thesis. Kahn [9.46], Nehamas [9.65], and Beversluis [9.11] have all
objected to the second thesis, primarily because of their scepticism about the
reliability of the Aristotelian testimony. Finally, two different sorts of objections
have been raised to the first thesis. Kahn [9.46] and Nails [9.60] have objected to
seeing any significant difference between the views advanced in the early dialogues
and those advanced in the middle dialogues. Kraut [9.52], Irwin [9.37], Taylor [9.
83] and others have objected to seeing the difference to be as radical as Vlastos
sees it. I find only this last objection to be persuasive, and so would modify
Vlastos’ approach along the lines advocated by Kraut, Irwin and Taylor.
18 Indeed, to some extent by Aristophanes as well. The moral philosophy that can be
found advanced by Socrates in Plato’s early dialogues—as we will see— can easily
be confused with the moral philosophy (if that is the correct name for it) advanced
by the sophists, at least as Socrates/Plato understood the sophists.
19 I am here running roughshod over a number of subtleties of the text that I believe
are peripheral to my present concern. Socrates does not actually ask Protagoras
what he professes to teach, but rather how Hippocrates would be improved or
benefited if he became Protagoras’ pupil. Nor does Protagoras actually answer that
he teaches virtue. Rather Protagoras says that if Hippocrates becomes his pupil,
every day he will go away being better at political expertise (tēn politikēn technēn)
or at being a citizen (politēs); see Socrates’ summation of Protagoras’ answer and
Protagoras’ approval. Nevertheless, Socrates clearly takes Protagoras to be
professing to teach virtue. See Protagoras 320b4–c1.
20 The other argument is that those who possess virtue are unable to pass it on;
Protagoras 319d7–320b3. Another version of this argument can be found at Meno
93a5–94e2.
21 See 322b5–C3, where Protagoras appears to identify the political expertise
(politikēn teamēn) with conscience and justice (aidō te kai dikēn) which Zeus
distributes among all the members of the community.
22 See Seeskin ([9.79], 121) who takes this passage as evidence that for Socrates
virtue is not an expertise.
23 Note the apparent interchangeability of expertise (technē), wisdom (sophia), and
knowledge (epistēmē) in these passages. At 319b3–328d2, Socrates had indicated
that virtue was not an expertise (technē), while Protagoras had indicated that it
was. At 361a5–c2, however, Socrates decribes his earlier view as the view that
virtue is not knowledge (epistēmē), and Protagoras’ as the view that virtue is
knowledge (epistēmē). Again, the argument from 349d2–360e5 has the conclusion
that courage is wisdom (sophia), which Socrates describes at 361a5–c2 as leading
to the view that virtue is knowledge (epistēmē). Protagoras uses knowledge and
expertise interchangeably at 360e–351a and Socrates uses them interchangeably at
357b.
24 Taylor ([7.22], 213–14) and Vlastos ([9.93], 124) apparently take the expression of
inconsistency to be insincere or illusory. The argument that has intervened between
319 and 360 is taken to suffice to reject the folk view. Brickhouse and Smith ([9.17],
99), however, apparently take this to be an expression of a genuine failure or
inconsistency in Socrates’ position. Seeskin ([9.79], 143) and Guthrie ([9.33], 114
n. 1) would seem to agree. See also Irwin [9.39] and Santas [9.78].
25 Note also that in the Protagoras, at least, Socrates was unconcerned to distinguish
knowledge and expertise. See n. 23.
26 For the debate concerning the translation of this passage see Vlastos ([9.93], 237),
Annas ([9.2], 44) and Woodruff ([9.96], 62 n. 3).
27 Socrates has in mind here not simply experts in general—technikoi—but experts in
various manual pursuits: sculptors, painters, cobblers, etc. A more natural
translation of cheirotechnas would be ‘craftsmen’ or ‘artisans’, but that conceals
the distinction between technikos and cheirotechnas.
28 For the connection between knowledge or wisdom of the great things and moral
wisdom or expertise see Brickhouse and Smith [9.17], 34. For a similar
interpretation of Socratic wisdom see Irwin [9.39], 27–8.
29 On how Socrates derives a mission from this oracular pronouncement see Reeve [9.
73], 24–28 and Brickhouse and Smith [9.12] and [19.15], 87–100.
30 The method that Socrates practices in carrying out this mission is the elenchos
(which can be roughly translated as ‘refutation’, ‘test’, or ‘cross-examination’). Its
general form is the following: First, Socrates gets the interlocutor (the individual
whose claim to knowledge or expertise is being tested) to express some belief, p,
usually, but not always, concerning the definition of some moral concept. Next,
Socrates gets the interlocutor to express some other beliefs, q, r and s. Third,
Socrates goes on to show that these premisses entail the negation of the original
belief, i.e. the apparent refutand, p. Thus, the conjunction p and q and r and s is
false. Considerable debate, sparked in part by Vlastos’ classic ‘The Socratic
Elenchus’, concerns what Socrates concludes from such elenctic episodes. Some
take Socrates to conclude that p or one of the other premises is false; see Gulley [9.
31], Nakhnikian [9.61], Vlastos [9.88], Kraut [9.50], Polansky [9.72], and
McPherran [9.55]. Others take Socrates merely to conclude that the interlocutor’s
beliefs are inconsistent; see Stokes [9.81], Benson [9.3] and [9.8], and perhaps
Brickhouse and Smith [9.16] and [9.17], 3–29. For the difference between the
Socratic elenchos and the method of the sophists see Benson [9.4] and Nehamas [9.
64].
31 This depends on whether we accept Protagoras’ account of folk morality. If we do,
then according to Protagoras, the Athenians do not maintain that everyone
possesses virtue, but only those abiding within a political community.
32 In maintaining that virtue is fairly easy to come by they need not maintain that the
process is automatic or simple. The point is simply that it does not require any
special training—but just the sort of training the typical Athenian ‘gentleman’
provides his ‘sons’. See Anytus in the Meno at 92e–93a.
33 Although Socrates need not think that it can be taught in the way that the average
Athenian thinks that ship-building is taught. Indeed, Socrates may not believe that
it is an expertise that can be taught at all.
34 See, for example, Hippias’ boast concerning the riches he has made in this way at
Hippias Major 282d6–e8.
35 See the previous chapter.
36 Protagoras 319a3–5.
37 Protagoras 320b4–c1.
38 Indeed, this would seem to be Protagoras’ greatest challenge: to make coherent his
profession to teach virtue and his acceptance of folk morality. See the conclusion
of the Protagoras as well as Theaetetus 177e–179b.
39 Hippias Major 281d5. Note the interchangeability of expertise and wisdom
throughout this passage.
40 Gorgias 455a8–d5.
41 Euthydemus 273d8–9; see also 274e5, 285a2–b5, and 287a9–b1.
42 Socrstes’ distinction between knacks (empeiriai) and expertises (technai) at
Gorgias 463a–465d indicates that Socrates would also reject that what the sophists
practice is an expertise. But even if it were an expertise, like the expertises of
medicine and physical training, it would still not be virtue. Not because virtue fails
to be an expertise, but because virtue fails to be that particular expertise.
43 Note the interchangeability of wisdom and virtue here and at Euthydemus 278d2–3.
See also the Apology 2.9d2–30b2 quoted above.
44 See Irwin [9.36], Chance [9.18] and Brickhouse and Smith [9.17] for the
interchangeability of happiness (eudaimonia) and to fare well (eu prattein) at
Eutbydemus 278e–282d.
45 See Brickhouse and Smith [9.17], 103–12 for an excellent discussion of the various
subtleties surrounding this passage. See also Meno 87d–89a for a similar argument.
46 Actually the military expertise does not make anything either. Rather it captures or
discovers things. But Socrates does not reject it on these grounds, but on the
grounds that it fails to know how to use what it captures or discovers.
47 In indicating that this is the suggestion of this passage I do not mean to be claiming
that Socrates takes the elenchos in which these points are made to constitute a
proof that Laches’ definition is false. I have argued elsewhere that Socrates
understands his individual elenctic arguments as establishing no more than the
inconsistency of the interlocutor’s beliefs. See Benson [9.3] and [9.8]. My point
here is simply that Socrates’ views can be gleaned from this passage —in part
because they are repeated in other early dialogues—not that Socrates takes (nor
should we take) what he believes to be relevant to the results of this particular
elenchos.
48 Again, I do not intend here to suggest that this is the conclusion Socrates thinks he
has established by means of his elenchos with Nicias at the end of the Laches. See
previous note.
49 To see how Socrates may have taken these two contrasts to be the same consider
Socrates’ example of the miner who produces gold. This expert can produce gold
successfully lacking knowledge of the good and the bad. But he can’t produce it
beneficially—that is, produce it in a way that will benefit him—if he lacks the
knowledge of how to use it, that is, if he lacks the knowledge of the good and the
bad. If we are to take these two contrasts to be essentially the same and we are to
take the knowledge or expertise of the good and the bad as the knowledge or
expertise that makes us happy and fare well—that is, virtue—then what is the
product of this knowledge? The good. In taking virtue to be an expertise we may or
may not need to view it as essentially productive. For important discussions
surrounding this issue see Irwin [9.34] and Roochnik [9.76].
50 Again, however, I hasten to point out that I do not take this to be the ‘hidden
meaning’ of the Charmides or the conclusion Socrates takes his elenchoi in the
Charmides to establish. See previous notes on the Laches.
51 Brickhouse and Smith [9.17], 6–7. Note that they prefer to translate technē as
‘craft’ rather than ‘expertise’. See also Reeve [9.73], 37–53, Woodruff [9.96], 68–
81, and Irwin [9.34], 73–7.
52 See Brickhouse and Smith [9.17], 37, Penner [9.69], 197, Penner [9.68], 321–2,
Ferejohn [9.24], 383 n. 18, Ferejohn [9.23], 15 and Irwin [9.34], 296 n. 28.
53 See also Republic 346a1–3 and Charmides 168b2–4.
54 Taylor [9.82], 84 glosses this as perhaps spinning, weaving, pottery and cultivation
of the olive.
55 See Protagoras 320e2–3.
56 See also Protagoras 331d1–e4, 333a1–b6, 349b1–c5, and
57 I owe the clear expression of this objection to C.C.W.Taylor.
58 On Socrates’ position as contrasted with Protagoras’ here see the debate concerning
the Socratic doctrine of the unity of virtues: Vlastos [9.87], 221–70 and 418–23,
Penner [9.67] and [9.71], Taylor [7.22], Irwin [9.39], 31–52 and 78–94, Devereux
[9.20] and [9.21], Ferejohn [9.23] and [9.24], and Brickhouse and Smith [9–17].
60–72 and 103–36.
59 Hippias Minor 365d6–366a4, Gorgias 509d2–e1, and Hippias Major 296a4–6. See
also the Prometheus story mentioned above in which Protagoras sometimes has
Epimetheus doling out the powers, for example strength and speed, and sometimes
the things in virtue of which the creature has a particular power, for example thick
hair.
60 See, for example, Republic 477d7–61 where Plato—as opposed to the Socrates of
the early dialogues—explicitly identifies knowledge (epistēmē) and belief (doxa) as
powers or capacities.
61 I say ‘typically’ because it is difficult to say what activities are associated with the
powers of the greater, the double, the heavier, the lighter, the older, and the
younger in the Charmides (168b-d), for example.
62 See Irwin’s A-powers (‘x and y have the same A-power when each of them does F
(where F is some kind of behaviour); each of them has the power to F’) versus B-
powers (‘x and y have the same B-power when each of them is in the same state,
G, which causes their behaviour’) ([9.34], 44–46); Socratic powers are Irwin’s Bpowers.
See also Penner’s tendencies and motive forces or states of the soul ([9.
67]); Taylor’s dispositional quality versus permanent state ([7.22], no); Ferejohn’s
P1: ‘A has the power to do X if A intended to do X, and there were an occasion for
A to do X, A would do X’ versus P2: ‘A has the power to do x if there is some
unique (simple or complex) occurrent property P such that (i) A has P, and (ii)
anyone with P who intended to do X, and who had the occasion to do X, would do
X’ ([9.23], 18; [9.24], 382–83 and n. 18); and Vlastos’s tendencies versus
dispositions ([9.87], 434).
63 The issue here is complicated somewhat by the fact that Socrates appears to allow
that the same activity can be associated with different powers—for example, in the
Laches Socrates appears to allow that the activity of fleeing the enemy in the face of
danger which typically is associated with cowardice, can also be associated with
the power of courage—while at the same time indicating in the Republic that wageearning
activities can only be associated with the wage-earning power or expertise.
The resolution of this issue is to be found in recognizing that activities are
susceptible to differing descriptions. For Socrates, a perspicuously described
activity is properly associated with only one power. The perspicuity of the
description is tied to the power that produced the activity. But all of this goes
considerably beyond the issues with which I am currently concerned.
64 Socrates apparently takes these to be absurd or impossible consequences; see
Charmides 168e3–7.
65 One of the complications involved in this passage is the apparently equivocal use
of the genitive. On the one hand, the genitive is used to pick out the special object
associated with each power; on the other hand, it is used to pick out the power
itself when it is ‘of itself. Perhaps the best way to understand this is to distinguish
between the object of the power and what it can be directed toward. Thus, sight and
hearing can both be directed toward this bell since the bell both is coloured and
makes a sound. The idea might be put as follows: a power can be directed toward a
particular object just in case that object has the property associated with that
power. Thus, sight can be directed towards itself just in case sight is coloured.
Another passage that indicates that a power is to be identified by its object is
Gorgias 447c1–456a6; see Penner [9.68], 320–322. Unfortunately, there are a few
passages that suggest that distinct powers can have the same object; see Gorgias
451a–c and 464a–465d. This tension, however, can be resolved in a longer
discussion of this topic.
66 To some extent this is as uninformative and potentially problematic as we might
expect in light of the complication noted in n 63 above.
67 See, for example, Vlastos [9.93] and Irwin [9.36].
68 See Backhouse and Smith [9.17] and [9.14].
69 For a discussion of the argument on behalf of the luck-independence of wisdom in
the Eutbydemus see Chance [9.18], 60–62 and Irwin [9.36], 92–6. See also
Brickhouse and Smith [9.17], 119 n 31 for a similar account of the underlying idea
of this passage. The same point is made concerning knowledge at Charmides
171d6–172a3 and concerning expertise at Republic 340d8–341a4. In the
Euthydemus, while the first protreptic begins with frequent and consistent appeals
to wisdom (sophia), by the end wisdom (sophia) and knowledge (epistēmē and
phronēsis) are being used interchangeably.
70 I here forego the argument for such an identification, although Laches 184e– 190c
discussed above establishes that definitional knowledge is at least a necessary
condition of expertise. Dubbing this sort of knowledge ‘definitional knowledge’ is
potentially misleading because if what I am arguing is correct, knowledge of what
F—ness is is definitely not merely something like justified true belief of a
definitional proposition, although it may very well entail such a thing. Nevertheless
answers to Socratic ‘What is F-ness?’ questions have been for so long associated
with definitions, it is difficult not to understand the knowledge that such an answer
manifests as definitional knowledge. For more on Socratic ‘What is F-ness?’
questions, see Robinson [9.74], Nakhnikian [9.61], Beversluis [9.9], Nehamas [9.
62], Irwin [9.34] and [9.39], Benson [9.5], Kidd [9.49] and Taylor [9.84]. See also
Aristotle (Metaphysics 1078b17–19) who apparently sees a connection between
Socrates’ innovation regarding moral philosophy and his interest in definitions.
71 See also Protagoras 360e8–361a3. This raises a number of issues concerning the
relationship between definitional knowledge of virtue, for example, and knowledge
that someone is virtuous or that virtue is teachable. For more on the controversies
surrounding these issues see Geach [9.25], Irwin [9.34] and [9.39], Vlastos [9.90]
and [9.92], Nehamas [9.63], Beversluis [9.10], Woodruff [9.95], Benson [9.6],
Penner [9.70] and [9.71], and Brickhouse and Smith [9.17].
72 Dodds [9.22], 226 explains that the distinction between technai and empeiriai is
drawn in two ways: ‘by their aim, which is merely pleasure, and by their empirical
character, which means that they cannot give any rational account of their
procedure….’ He goes on to explain the connection between the two ways as
follows (228–229): ‘A technē differs from an empeiria in that it is based on a
rational principle (logos), and can thus explain the reasons for its procedure in
every case. This difference is connected with the one just mentioned [i.e. between
pleasure and the good]; for in Plato’s view to beltiston is in each case rationally
determinable, whereas to hēdu is not. Thus in matters of diet a doctor can predict
on general principles what will be beltiston, and give a reason for his prediction, if
he knows enough about the chemistry of nutrition; but the patient’s likes and
dislikes are not predictable.’ (Irwin [9–35] 209–10 appears to give a similar account.)
In both Irwin and Dodds the suggestion seems to be that it is the rationality of
technai that is basic. In aiming at pleasure rhetoric cannot be rational and so cannot
be a technē.
73 For the identification of definitional knowledge with the possession of the logos,
see Woodruff [9.96], 74–75 and Reeve [9.73] 42–43.
74 See Republic 340d8–341a4.
75 This, then, is how I understand one of the so-called Socratic paradoxes that
knowledge is (necessary and sufficient for) virtue. See, for example, Penner [9.71],
5, who writes ‘as if we needed evidence for the claim that ‘Virtue is knowledge’ is
Socratic!’ Penner here is objecting to Devereux [9.20] (see also Devereux [9.21]),
but even Devereux does not deny that the doctrine can be found in some of the
Socratic dialogues, e.g. the Protagoras. See also Kraut [9.51], 286: ‘The
credentials of (B) [Virtue is knowledge] as a genuine Socratic principle are
impeccable. He endorses it not only in the Protagoras (361b1–2), but in the Meno
(87c11–89a4) and the Laches (194d1–3) as well; in the Charmides (165c4–6) and
the Euthyphro (14c5–6), the search for temperance and piety eventually leads to the
idea that these qualities are forms of knowledge; and if we wish to look outside the
early dialogues, we can find Aristotle (Nicomachean Ethics 1144b28–30) and
Xenophon (Memorabilia III.9.5–6) attributing (B) to Socrates.’ Even Brickhouse
and Smith [9.17], ch 4 agree that for Socrates knowledge or wisdom is necessary
and sufficient for virtue. Indeed, it is because they accept Socrates’ commitment to
this doctrine that they are forced to distinguish between virtue—which knowledge
of the good is sufficient and necessary for —and virtuous actions—which
knowledge of the good is neither necessary nor sufficient for. See also Guthrie [9.
33], 130–39, and Taylor [9.84], 137, among others.
76 See Xenophon’s portrait of Socrates mentioned above. One way this issue is
sometimes put is that Socrates collapses the convention (nomos)/nature (phusis)
distinction that the sophists made so much of. (For the sophists’ view of this
distinction see, for example, Kerferd [9.48], 111–131, de Romilly [9.19], 113–116,
and Guthrie [9.32], 55–131.) The idea here is that Socrates is supposed to have
believed that activities enjoined by conventional or traditional morality are
essentially the same as those enjoined by nature.
77 See Gorgias 499e7–500a1. See also 467c5–468c1. See Irwin [9.35], 208 who
correctly points out that Gorgias 499e 7–500a1 really claims that the good is what
we should aim at, but what Polus and Socrates had agreed to earlier was that the
good is what we do aim at. I follow Irwin’s first reading of the latter passage.
78 See Euthydemus 278e3–279a1. The happiness involved here, like the good referred
to in the Gorgias, is the agent’s own. See Vlastos [9.93], 203 n.14, for example.
For the translation of eudaimonia as happiness see Vlastos [9.93], 200–3.
79 See Vlastos [9.93], 204 n 20, for example, who maintains that the identity of
happiness and the good is so obvious to Plato and Socrates that neither of them
feels compelled to argue for it. Vlastos cites their apparent interchangeability in
Socrates’ statement of Callicles’ position at Gorgias 494e–495b. See Irwin [9.36],
92 n. 12 for some reason to worry about this identity.
80 A number of different theses have been delineated under this general title. See, for
example, Vlastos [9.93], 203–9, Brickhouse and Smith [9.17], 103–4 and Irwin [9.
39], 52–3.
81 This is Santas’ prudential paradox; [9.78], 183–89. He cites on behalf of Socrates’
commitment to this principle Meno 77b–78b, Protagoras 358c and Gorgias 468c5–
7. To get the prudential paradox from Socratic eudaimonism we may also need the
claim that there are no non-rational desires or that non-rational desires always
succumb to rational desires.
82 I here sidestep the issues surrounding Brickhouse and Smith’s [9.17] denial that
virtue and so knowledge of the good is sufficient for happiness. Whichever side of
this dispute we favour, someone who acts contrary to his or her own good does so
unintentionally. It is either because the individual fails to know which action
benefits him or her or the individual through some misfortune or lack of non-moral
good is unable to perform the action. Henceforth, I will take Socrates’ position to
be the sufficiency thesis in order to simplify the explication.
83 This is Santas’ moral paradox: that ‘all who do injustice or wrong do so
involuntarily’; ([9.78], 183). He cites the following passages: Gorgias 460b–d,
509e5–7, Protagoras 345c and 360d3.
84 See Santas ([9.78], 190) and Taylor ([9.84], 149), who maintain that in order for
Socrates to get from the prudential paradox to the moral paradox Socrates must
contend that virtuous behaviour benefits the agent and vicious behavior harms the
agent.
85 See, for example, Crito 47d–e and Gorgias 477b–480a. For the identification of the
individual with the soul see Brickhouse and Smith [9.17], 101 n. 41.
86 See Irwin ([9.35], 193) who writes concerning the argument in the Gorgias,
‘Perhaps Plato believes that someone who rejects nomos and its conception of
justice as a whole can justify himself only by advocating the complete selfindulgence
supported by Callicles. Plato does not show that Callicles’ ground is the
only reasonable ground for a general criticism of nomos.’
87 Note that for Socrates the study of moral philosophy promotes one’s virtue.
88 See, for example, Apology 20b9–c3, 20d7–e3, 21b4–5, 23b2–4, Charmides 165b4–
c2, Laches 200c2–5, Hippias Major 304d4–e3, Gorgias 509a4–7.
Translations cited in this chapter, but not included in the bibliography, are:
Cicero De Natura Deorum and Academica, trans. H.Rackham, Cambridge, Mass.,
Harvard University Press, 1979.
Plato Five Dialogues: Euthyphro, Apology, Crito, Meno, Phaedo, trans. G.M.A. Grube,
Indianapolis, Ind., Hackett, 1982.
Plato Hippias Major, ed. and trans. P.Woodruff, Indianapolis, Ind., Hackett, 1982.
Plato Ion, trans. T.Saunders, in T.Saunders (ed.) Plato: Early Socratic Dialogues,
Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1987.
Plato Laches and Charmides, trans. R.K.Sprague, Indianapolis, Ind., Bobbs Merrill, 1973.
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