In the Apology, Socrates tries to convince the jurors that, if they kill him, they will only be harming themselves. This argument is part of Socrates’ larger defense of his actions as he seeks to avoid drinking the hemlock. Socrates makes two claims: (1) that the jurors cannot harm him, and (2) that by executing him, they will only be harming themselves. To strengthen his position Socrates relies on an idea of the universe as having an inherently rational order. This idea is at the foundation of many of the premises in his argument. Socrates requires us to accept his perspective of the universe if we are to validate his logic. Unless we take issue with his pre-conditions, there is no flaw in the logic of his argument. Thus while his argument is valid, it is not sound; the premises upon which Socrates builds his argument are faulty. (1)Socrates’ first claim — that the men of the jury cannot harm him – rests on the premise that a better man cannot be harmed by a worse one. It does not seem plausible to Socrates that the order of things would allow for evil to triumph over good; it would not be “permitted that a better man be harmed by a worse,” (Plato, Apology, 30d, p.35). Though this argument takes place in the Apology, the Phaedo gives more insight into why Socrates believes that the universe must be ordered so as to preclude evil from prevailing over good. Socrates states his belief that “it is the Mind that directs and is the cause of everything,” (Plato, Phaedo, 97c, p. 135). He finds the nature of the Mind to be such that it would require the universe to be rationally governed. As part of that rationality, the Mind would only allow for things to occur in “the way that was best,” (Plato, Phadeo, 97d, p. 135). According to this conception, good cannot triumph over evil because rationality tells us that it would not be “best.” It is this very intuition, from the Phaedo, which supplies the evidence for Socrates’ assertion in the Apology: that the nature of the universe is such that, just as evil cannot trump good, it would not be permitted “that a better man be harmed by a worse,” (Plato, Apology, 30d, p. 35). Once Socrates has established by his logic that a better man cannot be harmed by a worse one, Socrates claims that he is the better man, and as a result the jurors cannot harm him. The success of Socrates’ assertion that the jurors cannot harm him rests upon the validity of his claim to be a better man. Throughout his trial, Socrates denies the charges against him and argues that, rather than attempting to corrupt the youth, he has only been searching for truth. According to Socrates, his mission is god-given: “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,” (Plato, Apology, 30a, p. 35). So from his own perspective, Socrates has been pursuing the highest good. He is living the life that everyone should strive for. As such a man, sitting in front of a jury of men ready to convict him, Socrates considers himself to be the better man. As a result, the jurors cannot harm him because they cannot be better than him, and something that is “worse” cannot be harmed by something that is “better”.This conclusion, that the jurors cannot harm him, is applicable to Socrates’ later, broader claim that he has nothing to fear from death. Since the jury cannot harm him, Socrates has nothing to fear from any punishment it might invoke upon him. They could tar and feather him and they would still be unable to cause him harm. This is a position that Socrates explores further in the Phaedo. According this logic, death could never entail harm because harm is impermissible given the natural order of good over evil – the natural order that prevents a worse man from harming a better one. If Socrates’ reasoning in the Apology is sound, then he would, indeed, be correct in finding nothing to fear in the prospect of death.This final claim can be invalidated by taking a closer look at why Socrates believes that the jurors cannot harm him. Socrates believes that the jurors cannot harm him, the better man. His argument rests on two premises; that he is a better man than the jurors, and that there is some inherently rational order in the universe that requires better men to triumph over worse ones, and good always to prevail over evil. This first claim is weak, if only because it stands in direct opposition to the accusations he is facing on trial. Of course Socrates considers himself to be a good man – he is defending himself on trial! But it is not at all clear how he arrives at the conclusion that he is a better man than the jurors. His relies on the notion that his mission is god-given, and so inherently good. But the use of the words “better” and “worse” in his argument seem somewhat arbitrary because we don’t know how Socrates discerns that he is better than the jurors. The only justification for this intuition is Socrates’ assertion that he is following the gods. This is not sufficient, though, because we have no way of knowing that Socrates is actually following the gods. He could be lying. As a result, we lack a logically defensible understanding of how to qualify what is “better” or “worse.” Since we cannot arrive at these judgments without relying on Socrates’ intuition, his argument is not sufficient.The second premise Socrates uses to support his initial assertion (that the jurors cannot harm him) is that a better man cannot be harmed by a worse one. But this is not sufficient; even if we were to concede that Socrates is a better man than any of the jurors, this does not prove that he could not be harmed by them. This intuition comes from Socrates’ belief in a rational, orderly universe in which good would not be allowed to triumph over evil. He describes this intuition when he asserts that the Mind “would direct everything and arrange each thing in the way that was best,” (Plato, Phaedo, 97c, p. 135). Socrates believes the Mind to operate based upon pure rationality. Rationality dictates that good must always triumph over evil. But Socrates’ conviction is mere intuition. He does nothing more than describe those convictions which cause him to believe in a rationally ordered universe, and never tries to justify them. Socrates provides no proof that “the Mind” must operate in such a way. We have no more reason to believe in Socrates’ vision of the universe than to believe in one that sees the world as inherently arbitrary and unfair. We can wonder if Socrates’ belief in a rationality that is “good” is based upon his belief in the gods. Perhaps he is confidant that the gods would only order the universe in such a way so as to ensure that good always wins over evil. But this is merely Socrates’ belief. It is not something for which there is any kind of proof. Ultimately, then, his argument that the jurors cannot harm him is valid, but not sound, because the structure of its argument is logical, but he does not provide compelling evidence to justify his premises. The arguments that Socrates employs to defend his assertion that the jurors cannot harm him are intuitively valid but not logically sufficient. Socrates seems to see a natural order in the universe, and seeks to use it as justification for his case. For him, good always trumps evil and rational people always do what is best. But Socrates does not reach these conclusions through any sort of logical argument; they are purely intuitive. It is not clear whether Socrates relies on anything other than that intuition when he asserts that the Mind arranges everything such that evil could not triumph over good. He claims first that the Mind “would direct everything and arrange each thing in the way that was best,” (Plato, Phaedo, 97c, p. 135). Socrates believes the Mind to operate purely based upon rationality. And he does not see it as rational that the Mind would allow evil to trump good. But this is nothing more than an intuition; Socrates provides no proof that the Mind must operate in such a way. And even if we grant him the assumption that the Mind is purely rational, it is still not clear how rationality necessarily demands such an ordering of good and evil. We can wonder if Socrates’ belief in a rationality that is “good” is based upon his belief in the gods. Perhaps he is confidant that the gods would only order the universe in such a way so as to ensure that good always wins over evil. But this is merely Socrates’ belief. It is not something for which there is any kind of proof. Still, Socrates stands firm with conviction, and proceeds with his argument without justifying his intuitions. Neglecting to justify the premises of his argument causes it to collapse under the weight of critical analysis. Consequently it is impossible to confirm the logical soundness of Socrates’ conclusions. (2)Socrates’ second main claim is that the jurors will only be harming themselves if they kill him. This claim relies on a similarly feeble premise that can also be easily discredited. Socrates argues that, though the jurors “might kill [him], or perhaps banish or disenfranchise [him]” they will ultimately be harming themselves, (Plato, Apology, 30d, p.35). He sees himself as a great asset to the city, and believes that Athens would be mistreating “god’s gift” if they condemned him, (Plato, Apology, 30d-e, p. 35). Socrates’ assertion is that, contrary to popular opinion, he has been doing the people of Athens a great service, and they will be greatly harming themselves by removing him from their presence. In addition to harming themselves by eliminating a source of truth, convicting Socrates would also be an act that would harm the jurors because they would be condemning a good man. Since, according to his own calculation, Socrates is better than the jurors, they will be incapable of causing him harm. This second claim is again valid, but also unsuccessful because it relies on premises that Socrates does not prove. We have no reason to believe that Socrates is the god-driven truth-seeker he claims to be. We cannot test whether or not god ordained that Socrates should act as he does. Because it is not necessarily the case that Socrates is who he says he is, it is also not necessarily the case that he is better than the jurors. Consequently, Socrates’ argument that the jurors will only be harming themselves by executing him is logically valid, but not necessarily the case that its premises are true. These arguments from the Apology are ultimately thwarted by Socrates’ unjustified conviction in the natural, rational order of the universe. It is difficult for us to imagine the conviction with which Socrates must have declared his truth-seeking mission to be god-given. But in the days of Athens, the gods were the ultimate authority. Socrates is able to avoid having to justify some of his intuitions by cleverly appealing to this authority. Though it may have been a useful rhetorical tactic against a group of jurors who shared his religious conviction this method is ultimately insufficient to prove the arguments Socrates sets out to make. His characterization of the consequences to the jurors of putting him to death is untenable. Still, Socrates stands firm with conviction. And even if, as readers, we can see the invalidity of his rationale, Socrates takes his arguments with him to the grave. Works CitedPlato. Five Dialogues: Euthyphro, Apology, Crito, Meno, Phaedo. Trans. G. M. A. Grube. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., 2002.
The Socratic method of investigation, the elenchus, is explained by example in Plato’s Five Dialogues. In Euthyphro, Apology, and Crito, Plato’s character of Socrates employs the elenchus as a way to challenge interlocutors. If an Athenian claims to be knowledgeable about a subject, Socrates sets out to prove that this knowledge is unfounded. With the elenchus, Socrates analyzes the incongruities of widespread beliefs. By doing so, he achieves his goal of rendering his interlocutors incapable of making unyielding conclusions about their wisdom, which frustrates and embarrasses them. However, Socrates does not aim only to publicly shame the interlocutor, but more importantly to scrutinize unexamined beliefs and to prove that these beliefs are often platitudinous. What ultimately comes of the elenchus is not a revised definition of unexamined beliefs, but rather an understanding that humans are ignorant beings, and cannot provide concrete knowledge on every subject. Through his depiction of Socrates, Plato bestows upon us an erudite ignorance. Once we understand that we lack knowledge, we no longer must live according to hollow, contradictory beliefs. Instead, we can start questioning beliefs for ourselves; we can live more meaningful, valuable, and happy lives.We first encounter an exposition of the elenchus when Socrates meets Euthyphro at the courthouse in the dialogue Euthyphro. While discussing his indictment with Socrates, Euthyphro claims to “have accurate knowledge” of the divine (5a). This is an example of an empty knowledge claim that Socrates will not let go unquestioned. In order to engage Euthyphro in the elenchus, Socrates asks him to explain “what is the pious, and what the impious” (5d). It is found within the following discussion, during which Socrates questions the contradictions within each of Euthyphro’s definitions, that part of the nature of the elenchus is to attempt to identify ambiguous concepts using “one form” (5d). Socrates wants Euthyphro to encompass the nature of piety into one form that can be applied to all situations to determine whether or not something is pious. The result is that Euthyphro becomes frustrated, as he says to Socrates, “whatever proposition we put forward goes around and around, and refuses to stay put where we establish it” (11b). This is an aim of the Socratic method of investigation; it brings the interlocutor to a realization that his or her knowledge claim is in fact flawed and unsound, so as to expose the interlocutor to aporia, or divine confusion.In Apology, Socrates stands before the court and defends his method of imparting his wisdom on Athenians by illuminating its origins and intentions. He first refers to “the god at Delphi as witness to the existence and nature of [his] wisdom,” who apparently said that no man was wiser than Socrates (21a). Socrates is thought to be wise because “he understands that his wisdom is worthless” (23b). This means that Socrates knows that humans are not capable of fully understanding the world; wisdom of morals, values, and the divine is beyond our reach. Since humans only have concrete knowledge of what is fleeting, human knowledge is not of great use. Socrates grasps this concept, and he attempts to pass it along to other Athenians by engaging them in the elenchus. Even though his intent is to help bring this realization to the citizens of Athens, Socrates’ method of questioning their beliefs ultimately turns the citizens against him. They are humiliated when Socrates uses the elenchus to make them look unintelligent in public and they are not willing to accept that their beliefs are so easily questioned. As a result, Socrates is brought to trial and sentenced to death.Crito attempts to persuade Socrates to escape this death sentence in the dialogue Crito. Here, Socrates uses the elenchus again, this time with a good friend. Socrates has already made up his mind about how a person should behave when sentenced by the state, and he is determined to adhere to these convictions, not letting vanity persuade him to change his mind because he finds himself in a compromised position. This is an application of the “form” idea that he first mentioned in Euthyphro. Socrates believes that all people, including him, should carry out their sentences, because all citizens are subject to the laws of the state to which they belong. Since Socrates believes that a tacit social agreement between citizen and state always exists, and that just agreements should be fulfilled, he must fulfill his sentence for the sake of his character and posterity. He uses the elenchus, again involving very complicated and multilayered rationalization, to prove to Crito that he must honor this principle, even when his own life is at stake. By synthesizing these examples, we can identify the mechanics of the elenchus. In an ideal investigation, Socrates begins by having the interlocutor assert his “knowledge” on some sort of moral conundrum. Then, using reason and a series of irrefutable questions, Socrates has the interlocutor assert a contradictory statement. When both statements are juxtaposed, the inconsistencies of the belief are uncovered, causing the interlocutor to be led to aporia. It is traditionally problematic to be confused, but to reach aporia or to possess Socratic wisdom is a different kind of confusion; it can be of great benefit to the soul. In Apology, Socrates is said to have thought that “it is the greatest good for a man to discuss virtue every day… for the unexamined life is not worth living for men” (38a). To examine life is to be completely truthful with yourself and to fortify your integrity, which provides you with a better, more fulfilling life. By questioning supposedly intractable beliefs using the elenchus, Socrates enlightens people, and does them a great service; he teaches people that, because they are ignorant, they should question and examine their beliefs more often so that they do not continue to believe fallacies. Even though it does not always provide a distinctive definition to concepts, the elenchus at least proves that the conventional definitions of these concepts are erroneously crafted and should no longer be considered truths. Furthermore, learning the depths of your own ignorance by spending time examining your beliefs is not only important because it exposes the fallacies behind them, but it also gives you insight as to why you actually believe them. For example, why do so many people believe that some higher being decides which action is right and which is wrong? Instead, could actions be inherently right or wrong, independent of a higher being? If yes, then why do we hold this being’s opinion on the matter in such high regard? It is examination questions like these that lead people to have a truer understanding of their beliefs, and a truer understanding of themselves. Seeking this identity will lead to happiness and success, and therefore, the Socratic method is not a waste of time, but an invaluable, fruitful use of it.In order to reap the benefits of examining life, a person must allow him- or herself to be vulnerable to embarrassment and confusion. If a person is willing to appear unwise at first to later understand and appreciate the good life, then he or she should apply the Socratic method to his or her beliefs whenever possible. In doing so, even if it takes time and stirs up confusion, the person will take a step towards becoming happy and fulfilled, which is worth the challenge in all respects. In his Five Dialogues, Plato helps us understand how Socrates used his method of investigation by providing examples of the elenchus in application. From them, we can extract that the elenchus confronts interlocutors’ knowledge claims to prove that they are inconsistent and fallacious. The nature of the elenchus in name is that it seeks to redefine ambiguous, abstract concepts in terms of a form that can be applied to any situation. However, in practice, the elenchus does not aim to actually offer an intractable definition. Instead, it offers a new perspective on what we thought was certain.The fact that the interlocutors’ beliefs are proven incongruent and that they are publicly embarrassed makes them react with hostility toward Socrates. However, they should instead be grateful that the elenchus delivers them to the valuable realization that they cannot possess wisdom regarding vague, intangible, conceptual things. Using the Socratic method to examine life is worth the time and effort, because it helps us appreciate our ignorance. Once we have examined our beliefs, we can then approach the world in a new way, which ultimately leads to a better understanding of ourselves and a more meaningful life.
There are several parallels between the ideas presented in the Socratic dialogue Meno by Plato and the ideas suggested by Walt Whitman’s poetry in the first edition of his work Leaves of Grass. Though the Meno is presented as a work of philosophy, and the 1855 edition Leaves of Grass (Leaves) is a work of poetry, the ideas presented within each have certain commonalities with the other. Gay Wilson Allen has characterized Leaves as a “program poem” (Allen 120), meaning that the poet had a set of ideas to communicate. Though Allen quotes Whitman as saying that the poems were written out of “unconscious or mostly unconscious intentions” , the poet was also not aiming at “art or aestheticism” (120) either, so the ideas presented within the poems may be analyzed in a light not only poetic, but philosophical.In the Socratic dialogues, a central thought that Plato puts forth is rather abstract, called in Greek anamnesis (Silverman, bibliography). It is the recollection of knowledge from some source other than what can be learned in this life. It is, essentially, an assertion that earthly knowledge has an unearthly, other-worldly, or, at least, immaterial source. Plato recounts that Socrates first and most cogently explains this in the dialogue called Meno, named for the prominent Thessalian to whom Socrates addresses most of his arguments. The topic of this dialogue was originally virtue, but through the process of elimination the speakers have agreed that virtue is a kind of knowledge or wisdom. The question which remains, however, is how that knowledge or wisdom can be obtained. Socrates and his companions agree that “virtue will be acquired neither by nature nor by teaching. Whoever has it gets it by divine dispensation without taking thought,” (Hamilton, Cairns, 383). Another question is how is this divine dispensation obtained? This leads to a central philosophical thought that Plato and Whitman share; namely reincarnation. Socrates has stated his belief in reincarnation earlier in the Meno, referring to a slave boy who has happened upon some principles of geometry, not by being taught it, but has been led to it by careful questioning by Socrates. “Either then he has at some time acquired the knowledge which he now has, or he has always possessed it. If he always possessed it, he must always have known; if on the other hand he acquired it at some previous time, it cannot have been in this life,” (370)This idea recurs throughout the 1855 Leaves of Grass. Whitman refers to reincarnation more or less obliquely several times, but he states it bluntly in the “Song of Myself” section. “And as to you, life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths,/No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before”(The Library of America 86). At the very end of “Song of Myself”, the poet proclaims “If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles” (88). At the end of “The Sleepers”, when the poet has flown all through the night and the day, using the day and the night as metaphors for death and for life, he says “I will duly pass the day O my mother and duly return to you;/Not you will yield forth the dawn again more surely than you will yield forth me again,/ Not the womb yields the babe in its time more surely than I shall be yielded from you in my time” (117). But how does this link up with the idea of Socrates that, during death (or, by the same token, before birth) the soul of the human being has communion with all true knowledge, and therefore needs only to “recollect” it during his or her lifetime?The answer lies in how Whitman believed somewhat in Transcendentalism. Allen explains, “… the message he is trying to convey by the arrangement of his poems and his group titles is that all physical life rests on an unseen but strongly felt spiritual world (a major doctrine of the American Transcendentalists),” (69). Since there is reincarnation of souls, and a “strongly felt” and influential spiritual world, could not all knowledge, or at least some knowledge and intuition, be gained in that passage between life and death?Whitman talks of transcendental experiences in life, where he accesses some special knowledge or wisdom. This is a Platonic idea, that wisdom is “elicited by experience, although not directly derived from experience” (Russell 136) This is the wisdom or knowledge that Whitman is gaining by having experiences with the transcendent, not necessarily with the interaction with the world itself. It may be prompted by the world, but Whitman shows that the world is what draws him into this transcendent experience, not that what he learns is from the actual material world.While Whitman is definitely in love with experiences of the material world, he appears to suggest that these experiences and the reasoning of the world are not what wisdom is. Rather, they are the clues of wisdom, something Plato would call it “recollection” (Hamilton, Cairns 370). Through a kind of memory of the crucifixion of Christ (though he does not state Jesus’ name) Whitman shows that not only will he be reincarnated in the future, but that he has been others in the past. “That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion and bloody crowning!I remember….I resume the overstaid fraction,The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it … or to any graves,The corpses rise….the gashes heal….the fastenings roll away.I troop forward with replenished power, one of an average unending procession” (71)Whitman has started this saying that he had been “stunned” (70). This experience, or flashback, to a previous life, has left him with “replenished power”. We are to assume that this is some kind of a transcendental or mystical experience, in which Whitman remembers a past life, or perhaps someone else’s past life. Is this the same as Socrates assertion that true knowledge or wisdom is gained outside of life, and only remembered in it? It’s not as clear in Whitman, but he does suggest transcendent wisdom prompted by sensory experience “Swift wind! Space! My Soul! Now I know it is true what I guessed at; What I guessed when I loafed on the grass, What I guessed while I lay alone in my bed….and again as I walked the beach under the paling stars of the morning.” (59)This problem of the source of knowledge Whitman addresses near the end of “Song of Myself”. “It is time to explain myself…let us stand up./ What is known I strip away….I launch all men and women forward with me into the unknown./The clock indicates the moment…but what does eternity indicate?” (79), but then he addresses the question of knowledge gained in the after- or pre-life more directly.Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, the vapor from the nostrils of death,I know I was even there….I waited unseen and always,And slept while God carried me through the lethargic mist,And took my time….and took no hurt from the foetid carbon.Long I was hugged close….long and longImmense have been the preparations for me,Faithful and friendly the arms that have helped me (80)Here, Whitman is describing the time before his birth, perhaps after his previous life’s death. He is describing a time when he “slept” and “All forces have been steadily employed to complete and delight me” (80). This is similar to the slaves at auction sequence (123-124), when the poet maintains that the “globe lay preparing” for quintillions of years to create this man or this woman. His idea of the universe having a will does not include the universe imparting that knowledge to him, either during this life or between lives, however. The most Whitman will say is “Pleasantly and well suited I walk,/Whither I walk I cannot define, but I know it is good,/The whole universe indicates that it is good.” (106). Whitman does not, it appears, at least in the 1855 Leaves of Grass, agree with Plato that all knowledge is gained in the state between life and death, and remembered during life. The most Whitman will commit to is the possession of a kind of transcendent knowledge, gained from the universe, and obtained by being prompted by the material world into a state where that knowledge can be gained. This is an important distinction between the two belief systems. Whitman may claim to possess “the origin of all poems” (28), implying that he has some universal and important knowledge, but he does not tell us from where this knowledge came. Nor will he explain how it is derived exactly, simply that Nature is the vehicle for the knowledge. The most he will say is that “You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself” (28)In fact, in an interesting parallel between the Meno and Leaves of Grass, both Socrates and Whitman address children and discuss the nature of knowledge. The parable of the slave boy is presented as proof of Socrates’ argument of anamnesis, by the slave’s new understanding of geometric truths through being questioned, rather than by being taught (described above). The child and the grass sequence in Whitman’s poem, (“A child said, What is the grass? Fetching it to me with full hands;/ How could I answer the child?….I do not know what it is any more than he.” (31)) shows Whitman’s unwillingness to pin knowledge down, and illustrates a main difference between Plato and Whitman. Both share the idea of an important spiritual world and recurrence of multiple lives for each soul. Plato and Whitman might have had similar cosmic worldviews, but epistemologically they were very different. Though Plato and Whitman agree that the “soul must be immortal” (Hamilton, Cairns 371) and “Is it wonderful that I should be immortal? As everyone is immortal” (The Library of America 141), they do not agree on what happens during the time between life and death. Neither do they agree on how, or if, knowledge is gained or lost during that time.There are several other, less central ideas that recur in both the Meno and in Leaves of Grass. One is the interesting verbal recurrence of “virtue” and “manly”. “Manly” occurs six times in the 1855 Leaves of Grass, including the preface. It is usually, interestingly, in conjunction with a description of something good or virtuous. The root of the word virtue is the Latin vir, meaning “man” (Skeat 546). The word came into the English language specifically describing “manly” things, which was an accepted explanation of virtue at the time. To adhere to the qualities of manliness was to have vir-tue, and be virtuous. (Note, however, in the text of Plato, the Greek word for virtue is of a completely different origin.)The whole of the Meno is concerned with defining virtue. Socrates even goes so far to explain that different types of virtue are better in men rather than women. “…the virtue of a man consists in managing the city’s affairs capably, and so that he will help his friends and injure his foes while taking care to come to no harm himself. Or if you want a woman’s virtue, that is easily described. She must be a good housewife, careful with her stores and obedient to her husband” (Hamilton, Cairns, 355). How does Whitman address the different types of male and female virtues? Whitman does take the time, like Socrates, to describe the differences in virtue between men and women. In “I Sing the Body Electric” Whitman mentions several times different things he admires in men and women.The male is not less the soul, nor more . . . . he too is in his place, He too is all qualities . . . . he is action and power . . . . the flush of the known universe is in him, Scorn becomes him well and appetite and defiance become him well, The fiercest largest passions . . bliss that is utmost and sorrow that is utmost become him well . . . . pride is for him, The fullspread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul; Knowledge becomes him . . . . he likes it always . . . . he brings everything to the test of himself, (122)The active, powerful, and aggressive virtues are becoming to the male. Even “scorn”, a usually negative word, is considered a virtue. Contrast this with the female who also contains “all qualities” but “tempers them” (121). The adjectives he uses to describe the female are in direct opposition to those of the male. Socrates and Whitman agree, largely, on the difference in virtues desirable in male and female.When Whitman first uses the word “virtuous” in Leaves, it is in describing a young man, whom he loves, but who is not virtuous in the traditional sense of the word. The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived power but in his own right, Wicked, rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear,Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak,Unrequited love or a slight cutting him worse than a wound cuts,First rate to ride, to fight, to hit the bull’s eye, to sail a skiff, to sing a song or play on the banjo (The Library of America 83)If this passage is analyzed and compared to Socrates’ comparison of sex-specific virtues above, some of the same manly virtues of Socrates are mentioned within the description of this boy, also. Whitman’s boy-man is somewhat bellicose, as Socrates describes his virtuous man, and both men have the ability and propensity to protect themselves from the “slights” of other men. This defense against other men seems to be an important part of masculinity for both Socrates and Whitman. In addition, self-determination, or self-reliance, appears as a virtue for both Socrates and Whitman. Whitman’s boy “becomes a man not though derived power but in his own right”. Socrates’ virtuous man manages city affairs, and, importantly, helps friends and injures foes and defends himself. Self sufficiency is an agreed-upon masculine virtue for both Plato and Whitman.The next time Whitman uses “virtuous”, however, he is using a poetic conceit. In “A Song for Occupations” (89) he is comparing the efficacy of the message of his poetry to the works of a “head teacher or charitable proprietor”. “Were I to you as the boss employing and paying you, would that satisfy you?/ The learned and virtuous and benevolent, and the usual terms;/A man like me, and never the usual terms.” He is asking his readers what they are trying to get out of him. He is not asking for the readers to gain “educations practical and ornamental”, but rather to take him as they find him. He is telling his readers that he will be “even” with them. He is contrasting himself with the “virtuous” here. He is just a man, and not the usual kind, making his poetry for people to read. He is not holding himself up as “virtuous”, as a schoolteacher coming to a new town might hope to be described. In both instances in the 1855 Leaves Whitman has referred to virtuousness (which has a slightly different connotation than virtue, which he mentions briefly in “Song of Myself” in conjunction with evil) in a negative light. Like Socrates in the Meno, Whitman offers no set definition for virtue. He only tells us what it is not, or gives us examples of not being virtuous. This is very much like the arguments about virtue in the Meno. The group, (Socrates, Meno, and Anytus) have finally, through many arguments about the definition of virtue, decided, “While the nature of virtue as a whole is still under question, don’t suppose that you can explain it to anyone in terms of its part, or by any similar type of explanation; you say this and that about virtue, but what is it?” There is no definition of virtue in the Meno. Both Socrates and Whitman seem able to recognize it, such as when Whitman says that the “universe says it is good”, but they cannot, and do not attempt to exactly describe virtue. Manliness, as related to virtue and separate from it, shows up more often in the 1855 Leaves than virtue does. Whitman mentions the word “manly” four times in the poetic text, and three out of the four times it is referring to something good. While “manly” has a generally good connotation in English, it appears that for Whitman is it a far easier quality to admire than the vague idea of “virtue”. The fact that the words have similar root meanings may have significance to Whitman, and he applies the word “manly” in constructions where the word “virtue” or “virtuous” could well suffice. In “Song of Myself” he describes the “manly wheat” as something he could worship (51). In this section, it is clear that strong and healthy things of nature are to be revered for Whitman, but also things with masculinity, both in a general and a sexually referential way, are to be admired. Similarly, in a “Song for Occupations” Whitman admires the “manly exercises” (97). At the end of “Song of the Answerer” Whitman asks You think it would be good to be the writer of melodious verses,Well it would be good to be the writer of melodious verses;But what are verses beyond the flowing character you could have?….or beyond beautiful manners and behaviour?Or beyond one manly or affection deed of an apprenticeboy?..or and old woman? Or man that has been in prison or is likely to be in prison” (132)Here Whitman is using the adjective “manly” to refer to the importance of what he would term the good deed (could it be a virtuous deed?) of an apprenticeboy. In it he includes an old woman being capable of manly acts. Manly is, to Whitman, a term not only applicable to men. Finally, in “There Was a Child Went Forth”, Whitman describes a domestic scene, and includes the only negative mention of “manly” in the poem. It is to be assumed that this family scene is describing, at least in part, the poet’s own family. The mother at home quietly placing the dishes on the supper table, The mother with mild words . . . . clean her cap and gown . . . . a wholesome odor falling off her person and clothes as she walks by: The father, strong, selfsufficient, manly, mean, angered, unjust, The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the crafty lure, (139)Whitman is describing, perhaps in a remembrance of his own father, an instance of the negative aspects possible within the state of manliness. He implies by the juxtaposition of the words (“strong, selfsufficient,” two alliterative words with positive connotations, then “manly, mean” another alliteration both with negative connotations, and the line rounded out with the almost-assonance of “angered, unjust”, also with negative connotations) the limitations of manliness. He puts the father, whom the reader may imagine sitting sourly at the table, in direct contrast with the “mild” mother, performing a graceful household chore, and it becomes apparent that, though the poet has earlier admired manliness, it is not always considered a faultlessly positive attribute to the poet.The Meno, a very famous and widely read work of philosophy, was possibly read by Whitman and referred to in his poetry. While there are similarities between the two works, it appears that the outgrowth of the ideas in it, begun twenty-three hundred years before Whitman wrote, were expanded and had variations made on them by him. This is in no doubt due to Whitman’s belief in Transcendentalism, which shares some ideas with Platonism.The two writers, Plato and Whitman, would have agreed on reincarnation, the importance of the spiritual world, the immortality of the soul, and the practice, if not the nature, of virtue. However, Whitman has less precision in expressing his ideas, as is proper in the work of a poet rather than a philosopher, and his ideas have many more possible meanings than those set forth in the Meno. Works CitedAllen, G. W. 1997. A Reader’s Guide to Walt Whitman. New York: Syracuse University Press. Hamilton, E., & Cairns, H. (Eds.). 1961. The Collected Dialogues of Plato. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Perseus Project. (06, September 20). Meno 70a. Retrieved September 20, 2006, from Perseus Digital Library Project. Ed. Gregory R. Crane. Updated daily. Tufts University. Web Site:
Former Supreme Court Chief Justice Earl Warren once said, “Mere unorthodoxy or dissent from the prevailing norms is not to be condemned. The absence of such voices would be a symptom of grave illness in our society.” This message combined with the government position of its speaker reveal the belief that challenging the political system benefits humanity as a whole. While both Plato and John Stuart Mill recognize the nature and importance of dissent in a philosophical discussion, they disagree on its implementation within a political system. Through Plato’s Crito, dissent is perceived as a detriment to society because a citizen has an obligation to maintain political order, rather than destroy it by disobeying the laws. To purposefully act contrary to that system is to weaken its power and organization, thus deteriorating the cohesion of society. Mill, however, believes that the ideal forum for dissent is the political system because politics is the collaboration of individual ideas. To ignore one opinion entirely is to weaken the system, in his eyes. With these fundamentally similar definitions of dissent applied in entirely different fashions, the dilemma between political and personal obligation is uncovered in the writings of Plato and Mill.Throughout the dialogue between Socrates and Crito, Plato reveals his stance concerning the importance of dissent within a healthy society. Plato’s perception of dissent, as revealed by this work, is an expression of individuality within a society that preaches conformity. While dissension is a healthy form of personal expression, there are limitations to the extent with which it can be beneficially pursued. Plato sees opposition as the crux of philosophical debate because it forces people to look beyond their perceptions and welcome foreign concepts. Through the expansion of linear thought, people are able to see life and society in different ways. Politically, however, there must be established laws by which all citizens are expected to abide. Without the compliance found within this doctrine, a state “in which the decisions of the law have no power but are set aside and trampled on by individuals” cannot possibly subsist and “not be overthrown.” (Plato 54) Because humanity is social by nature, there is no hope for man’s survival in an apolitical world. Socrates understands that the Athenian civilization relies on the basis of obedience among all of the citizens. In an attempt to maintain that structure, Socrates sacrifices his opportunity to escape from execution because he is unable to justify “trying to escape without the consent of the Athenians” (Plato 53). Without that consent, Socrates is obligated by his duty to his country to follow through with the sentence. Socrates finds value in laws of social order and therefore refrains from utter dissension. Summarily, while Socrates believes strongly in the importance of philosophical dissent, he recognizes the political limit and decides to act with social propriety. Throughout Mill’s discussion concerning the freedom of speech in his On Liberty, he reveals his opinion concerning the topic. He perceives dissension as the expression of original ideas in a society diluted with blind acceptance. He depicts his value of opposition both philosophically and politically through examining the principles in a life of silenced opposition. To silence dissent is to assume that the laws in place have a sense of infallibility. No individual can ever claim to have attained complete understanding of the world and cannot, therefore, determine what is true and what is false. People are fallible by nature and must therefore allow for change within their political systems. Furthermore, stifling dissent stilts the intellectual process because people believe some value without analyzing its nature. Moreover, to silence dissent reduces the truth to prejudice. Opposition forces people to deeply analyze their beliefs, therefore reinforcing or abolishing those principles. Dissension, in essence, challenges the perceptions of normalcy by presenting a “clearer perception and livelier impression of truth.” (Mill 210) These challenges, in turn, force people to reconsider their stances on an array of topics because any belief “unless suffered to be, and actually is, vigorously and earnestly contested” is “deprived of its vital effect” (Mill 210) Along these lines, dissent is closely linked to the government in Mill’s eyes because even the “best government has no more title to it than the worst.” (Mill 209) To silence the minority in favor of upholding public opinion is equally as (if not more) offensive as government acting against the public’s will. Politics are the ideal forum for disagreement because it offers an opportunity to refine the old laws and generate new ones. To challenge a political system is to question the modes of society and attempt to better its policies. Government is capable of great good and great evil. The result depends on its citizens’ ability to change the policies that act against man’s nature. Therefore, in Mill’s perception, dissent is critical to both philosophical and political institutions.From my Americanized perspective, I find much truth in both arguments but I am more inclined to side with Mill’s advocacy of dissension within everyday political life. Within the democracy of the United States of America, citizens have both the right and obligation to challenge the sometimes narrow and antiquated laws governing such a diverse population. Without dissension, I believe that we as citizens are in danger of becoming complacent in our current society. Complacency is a state to be avoided because it evokes a concept of blind acceptance of the will of the majority. I personally fear and abhor the will of the majority in many situations and am not afraid to state my opinion. The majority is often ill informed and unwilling to admit to it. To sacrifice one’s opinion and beliefs to perpetuate the structure of society seems a weak attempt to avoid conflict. I believe that some situations call for the change of society’s policies rather than the change of the individual’s convictions. Granted that there will be times wherein the individual will be wrong, there still must be that opportunity to evaluate that opinion fairly rather than have it automatically silenced. As author Tryon Edwards once said, “he that never changes, never corrects his mistakes, and will never be wiser one the morrow than he is today.” If society never reevaluates its policies, the standard of living will become static and eventually antiquated. Therefore, I am inclined to agree with Mill’s belief that dissension should be an integral aspect of both philosophical and political debate.While Mill and Plato disagree on the specific applications of dissension, they both agree that it is critical to the development of human beings in some form. Although Plato believes firmly in the sustenance of the political institution, he realizes that dissent is critical to its foundation. However, he feels obliged to perpetuate society rather than destroy the institution with political defiance. He was created by this system and must therefore support it. Mill, on the other hand, believes that dissent is the basis of healthy human growth. Without challenging and being challenged, people become blind followers of their beliefs and political systems. In a sense, they become apathetic drones, following orders. Dissent allows man to explore not only the nature of society, but also his own foundations. To question is to seek knowledge. Knowledge and reason are the basis of human nature. Therefore, to question is to be true to one’s instincts and avoid blind submission to the tyranny of the prevailing opinion. In essence, dissent is the antidote to the delusions of the majority.Works CitedMill, John Stuart. On Liberty, as reprinted in Philosophy published by the McGraw-Hill Company, copyright 2003Plato. Crito, as reprinted in Philosophy published by the McGraw-Hill Company, copyright 2003
Novelist Rossiter Worthington Raymond once said, “Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.” A horizon, by definition, is no more than the range of one’s knowledge or experience. With this explanation in mind, death is no longer a destination to be feared, but rather an adventure to be explored, full of uncertainties.Long before Raymond ever put pen to paper, philosophical forefather Socrates devised a similar stance, concerning the actual relevance of fear of death for the living. Throughout the final speech of the Apology, Socrates claims that fearing the unknown is futile, especially when more realistic fears exist in one’s own nature. In Socrates’ opinion, death can only result in nothingness or the induction into another world, either scenario being preferable to a life of persecution. His argument does not rest solely on proving death an unworthy fear, but rather expands his case to claim that character flaws are far more detrimental to one’s spirit than man’s mortality. In essence, Socrates advocates practical and healthy fears for that which man can control, as opposed to resisting the inevitable death.Socrates first argues that the most seemingly depressing state of death is not as detestable as first envisioned. Assuming that “death is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness,” there is no actual loss for the deceased individual (Plato 45). In a state of nothingness, one neither exists nor realizes that existence continues without him or her. Therefore, to fear this numbness is to fear a “sleep undisturbed even by dreams,” likening death to that which man experiences nightly in a state of unconsciousness with no initial reservations or qualms (Plato 45). An undisturbed sleep is known as restful and peaceful. Dreams, however, represent the glimpses of reality that the individual is forced to encounter-some dreams pleasant and some nightmarish. This possible dichotomy begs the question as to whether the dream life (and therefore reality) is actually a worthwhile venture. The invasion of nightmares may in fact cause the sleep to be restless and unfruitful. A dreamless state of sleep, although lacking in fantasy, also lacks the element of fear and reality associated with dreams themselves. Without the disruption of these episodes, the rest is therefore more calming and fulfilling for the sleeper. Like this deep sleep, the unconscious state of death may be preferable to that of life because it is a purely quiet state, devoid of corruption by the outside world. Without these dreamlike encounters, the eternity of death is “only a single night,” of uninterrupted and extended sleep (Plato 45). Socrates argues that this state of numbness and detachment is preferable to the life of persecution for the incendiary philosopher. In death, Socrates claims that man simply ceases to exist-no negative element is involved.Oblivion is not the only option for the dead, according to Socrates. There may very well exist another realm attainable once man passes the horizon of life. In this other world, Socrates hopes to find the “true judges who are said to give judgment there” (Plato 45). In essence, he hopes to meet the profound thinkers and philosophers of times past who alone possess the right to share their “judgment” (or opinions) concerning theories and beliefs. In his passing, Socrates will find “infinite delight” in asking question of the intellectual equals and superiors from times past, thus enabling him to share his theories and benefit from theirs (Plato 45). Death is not a foe to be feared, but rather a threshold to realm where time is nothing, wherein brilliant minds can convene and discuss theories without fear of harassment or punishment by ignorant people. In dying in the mortal sense, he will live in the immortal realm. Such a “pilgrimage will be worth making” in Socrates’ eyes because he will find among his companions others like himself (Palamedes and Ajax), unjustly condemned to a similar fate during their time on earth (Plato 45). This postmortem vision mirrors the Christian perception of heaven because man is reunited with loved ones that have died, therefore revealing that a modern audience still clings to this vision. There is no strife in this utopian world because it is deemed a place of honor and achievement. In this respect, death will be a far greater blessing than a curse because a true “lover of wisdom” thrives in an environment of others with the same passion and vitality. Because Socrates argues against the existence of man’s greatest fear, he chooses to replace it with another, healthier fear-the fear of unrighteousness. Socrates advocates that he would “rather die having spoken after [his] manner, than speak in [the prosecutors’ and condemners’] manner and live,” revealing his true admiration for a man of principles (Plato 44). Through this belief, Socrates illustrates that he values courage and honesty over cowardice and weakness. In defending himself in the manner that his prosecutors prefer, he would lose his identity as a man of integrity but would retain his life. His acceptance of death before degradation of his values reveal that Socrates considers a life without beliefs and convictions a life not worth living. Unrighteousness is more difficult to avoid than death because it “runs faster than death” (Plato 44). A weak man knows how to flee from a fight by nature, but must summon his deepest morals and allegiance to the cause to fight a losing battle. Furthermore, his final requests for his sons at the conclusion of the piece reveal Socrates’ greatest fear for mankind in general. He pleads that the officials “trouble them…if they care about riches, or anything, more than virtue” and “reprove them for…thinking that they are something when they really are nothing,” again depicting that a virtuous and humble life is the only existence worth knowing (Plato 46). Only through such an existence of humility and morality, can man ever attain true harmony with himself and society. By illustrating that man remain strong in his integrity, virtue, and humility, Socrates states that a life devoid of these characteristics is more fearful than death itself.Beyond the level of sight, resting at the horizon, there is a destination to which every man must reach. Socrates claims that is it not the horizon, but rather the winding path that leads us to the destination that man must fear. The destination is a complete unknown and will remain as such until man inevitably reaches that plane of sight. Without actual experience, humanity can only imagine and anticipate life at that boundary. Fearing this great unknown is therefore futile, as man knows not if it is a good or bad alternative to life. Socrates claims that the path is all that man is able to control and must therefore be cautious on his journey to the horizon. Living each day morally and virtuously will make this mortal life worth living. Many paths lie before humanity-paths laden with integrity and unrighteousness. Man alone must cautiously decide the course. As Socrates said, “the hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways-I to die, and you to live. Which is better, God only knows” (Plato 46).Works CitedPlato’s Apology, as reprinted in Philosophy published by the McGraw-Hill Company, copyright 2003
The central argument in Euthyphro implies that the concept of ‘good’ must be independent of the concept of ‘God’ such that “God must love that which is good because it is good.” Grube argues that the implication of this is that God has no choice in the matter. To understand this conclusion, it is first necessary to evaluate how the concepts ‘good’ and ‘God’ can be independent of one another, since they seem to be synonymous in the sense that good is an integral element in the concept of God. This poses the first problem. If accepted, however, one still must confront the problematic argument that God has no choice in the matter. How could this be possible? There must be a set of rules that regulate what is good, independent of God’s opinion, that he has no control over. Although this statement appears to be absurd, it is possible that God has no choice in deciding what is good, but must adhere to rules that govern that which is good.The assumption that the concept of good is independent of the concept of God seems to be preposterous. If “God is good” is a synthetic statement, then the concept of good helps to characterize the concept of God. Good must be separate from God in order for it to be an attribute of God. If good and God were not independent of one another, the statement “God is good” would simply be saying “God is God,” which does not make sense. Most followers of God have a reason for following what God wants. If one is judging to follow God because he is good, then it appears that good must mean something other than God for the statement to make sense, and for people to follow him. Good must describe more than “what God loves” or else it would not mean anything. If good is independent of God, however, does that imply that God did not create good, and if so, who or what did? Did good create God? Perhaps God is just a manifestation of the qualities of good. Where, then, did humans get their concept of good? Although these questions remain, it would not make sense if God and good were not independent concepts.The alternative does not make sense, therefore the concept of God and good exist independently. This statement seems to imply that good existed prior to God and that he did not create good. If he has no choice in the matter and he did not create good, then could there be a power superior to God, forcing him to love what is good? Having a standard of good separate from God means that good existed before God. What is the concept of God without the concept of good to define it? He could not have existed before he created good because there would have been no way to understand what God is. It seems impossible to imagine that he created good before he himself existed, though. This seems to indicate that God did not create good.In order for a word to have meaning, there must be a consistent, unbreakable rule for using the word. One can assume that God loves everything in his world. However, this does not follow a standard, so it cannot be a rule. If he is to love that which is good, though, God must conform to a concept of good. If he did not, how would we know what God is and why would we think he is worthy of our praise and respect. If God had a choice in whether he loved good, he would still have to love by a standard. Therefore, he has independent criteria of good: a set of rules. God must follow these criteria. Since the concept of good exists independent of God, the definition of good is not determined by God. Good may define God, but God does not define good. God must therefore follow criteria that is not at his discretion. He has no choice in the matter. God will not love what is good unless it fits a predetermined standard of good. If it does fit this standard, then he must love it.God has no choice in the matter because his very essence is goodness and God does not control what goodness is. God is defined by goodness, or loving goodness. If that is what he is, then he cannot defy it and he cannot not love what is good. If he did, then he would no longer be God. This would indicate that God did not love anything that is bad. However, one would imagine that God can love bad things, such as inhumane people. This does not change the meaning of good, though. Just because God loves something, it does not change and become good. However, the statement does not say God cannot love bad, but he must love all things that are good. Therefore, God loves everything that is good, he has no choice, but just because God loves it does not mean it is good.
Socrates, the father of modern Western philosophy, once said, shortly before his own death that “[Those] who happen to have gotten in touch with philosophy in the right way devote themselves to nothing else but dying and being dead” (Phaedo 64A). In other words, Socrates believed that the life of philosopher should be centered on the preparation for death. While this may seem like a morbid reason for existence, Socrates argues that the body is holding back the soul from finding what is true through sense experience, needs and emotions, and the only release from this “prison” of sorts is death. Socrates furthers this argument by making the case that throughout his life he has been preparing for death and not to worry when it comes since the soul is eternal. In the Phaedo by Plato, Socrates views the body as “… impediment [in] the very attainment of thoughtfulness.” (Phaedo 65B) and therefore, the true philosopher’s soul must be separated from it to obtain true enlightenment.
For example, Socrates claims that the body “… deprives us of leisure on thousands of occasions [and get in the way] of our hunt for what is.” (Phaedo 66C). Ultimately, the highest desire for a philosopher is the search and attainment of the truth yet the body impedes its’ search due to necessities, such as food, shelter and security, and through emotions such as love, desire and terror. Through desires, necessities, greed, and other impulses, the body perverts the soul’s desire for wisdom into the “desire for money and the desire for honor” as if the soul were enslaved to the wants of the body (Phaedo 67E). Socrates then goes onto argue that “…any man making a fuss at the prospect of dying was not a lover of wisdom but a lover of the body.” (Phaedo 68C). Philosophy itself comes from the Ancient Greek ‘philo-’, meaning love and ‘-sophia’, meaning wisdom (Mark). Together the two terms, mean “lover of wisdom” and is defined as “the study of the most basic and most profound matters of human existence.” (Mark). Socrates furthers this argument by stating that there exist simple, unchanging ideas in life that exist such as justice, beauty and good, that will never be understood through sense experience (Phaedo 65D).
Previously in the text, Socrates provides examples of how, throughout his life, he has distanced himself from the desires of the body in order to better prepare him for death such as the rejection of indulgences relating to food, drink, clothes, sex and honor (Phaedo 64C) in exchange for thoughtfulness, which was the only thing of true value and cleansed all impurities (Phaedo 69C). In conclusion, Socrates makes the claim that once the soul is freed from the body, it will finally be prepared to attain truth and enlightenment. Once Socrates establishes that the body and soul are separate entities and the desires of each vary, the two other philosophers in the dialogue question Socrates’ confidence in the eternal life of the soul and whether his time preparing for death was a waste. In response, Socrates gives two separate arguments for the everlasting nature of the soul continuing in life “among the Gods.” (Phaedo 69E). The first of these arguments is the “Argument for the Contraries” and Socrates states that opposites seem to seek out each-other such as the “contrary to being asleep is to being awake” (Phaedo 71C). Therefore, since opposites exist due to each-other, whether pain to pleasure or weak to strong, there exists an opposite state to life which is death. However, since people are in a state of living now, “living things come to be from the dead.” (Phaedo 71D) just as the strong come to be from the weak and pleasure comes to be from pain. Essentially, Socrates is stating that life is a circular process and the only thing that connects the two phases is the soul which much exist before life (Phaedo 72E).
The second of these arguments is the “Argument for Recollection” which begins with Socrates showing that recollection of information can be done with the association of similarities (Phaedo 73A-74A). Socrates then uses an example with similar sticks and stones that appear to be equal but are only associated with the true form of equal since no sticks and stones can be exactly equal (Phaedo 74B-74C). The conclusion being drawn upon, states that since there is no true example of equal here on Earth, yet people know the true notion of equal, it must’ve been obtained before the body came to being. In conclusion, Socrates makes convincing logical arguments for the eternalness of the soul during some of his last moments on Earth in order to show that his time preparing for death was not wasted. While it may be morbid thought to the rest of society, Socrates spent his life living close to death in order further his hunger for knowledge. The rest of his contemporaries may have wept for the fact that Socrates was wrongfully punished for his actions, Socrates was prepared to go if it meant that he stood by his teachings and actions.
While it may have been a therapeutic conversation for those in his chamber or if Socrates was convinced of his teachings, the world may never know. Socrates must have come to a celebratory acceptance of his own death, however as he did request that “his debt of a cock be paid to Asclepius”, (Phaedo 118) the God of healing, leading some to believe that Socrates felt as if his death was being healed from the real world. Socrates, finally, made the most of his life in the agora and made an even bigger impact in the world today, one that was probably beyond even his conception.
In the prior conversations, Cebes proposes that even though the soul is long-lasting, it can be worn out and destroyed (91d). In response to that, Socrates investigates the cause of generation and destruction (96a) and proposes his final argument for the immortality of the soul.
Before coming to his final argument, Socrates recounts his own experience in searching for the cause of things and introducesthe theory of Forms, which will later serve as an important hypothesis for his argument. First, Socrates recalls his exploration in natural science when he was young and describes his investigation of how things come and cease to be (96b). However, when Socrates uses the old method of investigation for natural science, he feels himself becoming more ignorant in the process (96c). As it is explained by natural science, a man grows from small to large bulk because food adds proper parts to his body (96d). Natural science also explains “by a head” as the cause of being taller and addition of two as the cause of ten being more than eight (96e). However, Socrates is not satisfied with those explanations. For instance, he does not think two ones being brought together is why one plus one equals to two. He wonders why when ones are separated, each of them is one, but when they are brought together, they suddenly become two (97a). Neither is he convinced that division cause something divided to become two (97b). Socrates rejects those explanations of how things come to be, perish or continue to exist.
Socrates continues to explore the cause of all things, and he encounters the theory proposed by Anaxagoras. According to Anaxagoras, Mind is the cause of everything (97c). At first, Socrates was pleased by this explanation. However, after closely examining Anaxagoras’s work, Socrates finds his theory problematic and contradictory. Socrates states that if Mind is cause of all, it should direct things to the best states possible. In this way, directed by the Mind, one should find what it is best for him to be (97d). Therefore, Socrates assumes that Anaxagoras would tell him, for example, whether the earth is flat or round and show him why it is best for the earth to be in a certain condition (97e). He also thinks Anaxagoras would describe a common good as the general cause for all (98b). If so, Socrates would be satisfied. However, after reading Anaxagoras’s work, Socrates realizes that Anaxagoras gives no such accounts but focuses on some strange things (98c). Then, Socrates uses an example to clarify the inconsistencies within Anaxagoras’s theory. On the one hand, Anaxagoras would say Socrates’s actions are caused by his Mind. On the other hand, he would say the cause of Socrates’s sitting in the prison is the compositions and positioning of his bones, sinews, and muscles. In the same manner, Anaxagoras would explain the cause of Socrates’s talking as sounds, air and hearing (98d). However, the true reason why Socrates is sitting in the prison is his sentence by the Athenians. Moreover, it is actually best for his bones and sinews to escape, but Socrates decides to remain due to his pursuit of honor and justice (98e). Therefore, Anaxagoras’s claims about causation seem ridiculous. Socrates points out that things like bones and sinews are necessary conditions for people to act in a certain way, but they cannot be the real causes of these actions (99b). By showing the contradictions and problems in Anaxagoras’s work, Socrates disapproves it as an alternative explanation ofthe cause of things. After rejecting those two propositions, Socrates states that it is better for them to examine the causes of all things by means of words rather than facts (100a). Therefore, he decides to formulate a hypothesis by himself and this is where the theory of Forms comes forth.
Socrates proposes that Forms can explain the cause of everything. Also, he intends to establish the theory of Forms as an important hypothesis for his final argument for the immortality of the soul. Socrates assumes the existence of Forms, which means something like Beauty itself, Goodness itself and Greatness itself (100b). Then, Socrates indicates that anything, other than Beauty itself, is beautiful only because it shares in the Form of Beauty (100c). Socrates rejects any other cause like shape or color and maintains the only cause that he concerns about is the presence of or sharing in the Forms (100d). For example, big things are big only because they share in the Form of Bigness, and small things are small only because they share in the Form of Smallness (101a). Socrates strengthens this theory of Forms by refuting the alternative explanation. For instance, Socrates points out, when we compare sizes, the statement that one is bigger or smaller by a head is problematic in two ways. First, when we say one is bigger by a head, we can also say the other is smaller by a head. In this way, the same cause, “by a head”, shows opposite results. Second, it seems contradictory that we say someone is made big by a head, which is something small (101b). Due to those problems in the alternative explanation, being bigger or smaller can better be explained by its sharing in the Form of Bigness or the Form of Smallness. In this way, this theory of Forms can explain the questions raised by Socrates earlier during his discussion about the causes in natural science. For example, ten is more numerous than eight not “by two” but due to the Form of Numerousness. One plus one equals two not because of addition of ones but because two shares in the Form of Twoness (101c).
After proposing the hypothesis stating that Forms are the cause of everything, Socrates gives some suggestions for their further investigation of the immortality of the soul. He states that they should stick to this hypothesis and ignore any attack of it until they examine the consistency of consequences derived from it (101d). Socrates encourages the propositions of other hypotheses in the course of coming to a satisfactory decision. He also warns against discussing the hypothesis and its consequences at the same time (101e).
Then, Socrates starts to put forth his final argument for the immortality of the soul in the light of the theory of Forms. The first point he makes is that opposite will never admit opposite. Socrates illustrates this point through an example. He invites his followers to compare heights among Phaedo, Simmias and himself, and he states that Simmias is taller than him but shorter than Phaedo (102b). Under the assumption that Forms are the cause of everything, Simmias is taller than Socrates is because Simmias shares in the Form of Tallness compared to the Shortness of Socrates. Likewise, Simmias is shorter than Phaedo because Simmias shares in the Form of Shortness compared to the Tallness of Phaedo (102c). Although there are both Tallness and Shortness in Simmias, the Tallness in him will never become Shortness (102e). When Tallness is approached by its opposite Form, Shortness, it will not admit it but either retreat or be destroyed. Therefore, Socrates proposes that any Form will never admit or become its opposite (103a). Then, Socrates clarifies a question saying that this claim seems to contradict with the earlier statement that opposite comes from opposite. Socrates explains that what they discuss before are things that have opposite qualities, but here they are talking about the opposite Forms (103b). Opposite things do come from each other, which is the cyclical argument. However, opposite Forms will never admit each other.
The second point Socrates makes is that there is always something which shares in the characteristic of some Forms. Just as a Form itself will never admit its opposite Form, the thing sharing in the Form will also never admit the opposite Form. For example, Snow is different from cold, but it has the characteristic of Coldness. Fire is also different from hot, but it has the characteristic of Hotness. According to Socrates, like Coldness, the snow will never admit Hotness. When snow is approached by heat, it will either flee or perish. The same thing will happen with fire approached by cold (103d). Also, the number three, though different from odd, has the characteristic of Oddness and hence will never admit the Form of Evenness. Although two and three are not opposites, three’s sharing in the Form of Oddness causes it to never admit two and any other even numbers because those even numbers share in the Form of Evenness. When three is approached by an even, facing the Form of Evenness, it will either retreat or perish. This is why three is uneven (104e). In this way, Socrates concludes that not only opposite Forms do not admit each other but also the things sharing in the Form will not admit the opposite Form (105a). When approached by the opposite Form, the thing either goes away safely or fails to exist.
Then, Socrates uses this conclusion to reach his final argument for the immortality of the soul. First, Socrates gives some examples of things that share in and bring along the Forms. According to Socrates, fire brings along the Form of Hotness, fever brings along Sickness, and the number one brings along Oddness (105c). In the same manner, Socrates proposes that soul brings along the Form of life (105d). In other words, soul gives life to the body it occupies. The Form of Life has its opposite, which is the Form of Death. Previously, Socrates has concluded that the thing which shares in a Form will not admit the opposite Form. Therefore, the soul, which shares in the Form of Life, will never admit the Form of Death. Just as something that does not admit even is called as uneven, and something does not admit just as unjust, the soul, which does not admit death, is deathless (105e). If the soul is approached by Death, it will either retreat safely or be destroyed. To prove the immortality of the soul, Socrates has to show that the soul will retreat safely rather than cease to exist.
To build his argument, Socrates assumes that if uneven is said to be indestructible, this would imply that three, being uneven, is also indestructible (106a). Likewise, if deathless is agreed to be indestructible, soul, being deathless, can also never be destroyed and therefore immortal (106b). Then, Socrates asserts that deathless is indeed the only thing that can resist destructions, and he points out that all men agree that something deathless, such as the gods and Form of Life itself, are indestructible (106d). Given that something deathless cannot be destroyed, the soul is therefore indestructible and immortal. When death comes to a man, his body, the mortal part, is destroyed, and his soul, the immortal part, goes away safely and dwells in the underworld.
Socrates offers his final argument under an important hypothesis of the existence of Forms and reaches the conclusion that soul is immortal. However, after critically examining Socrates’s argument and dialogues, I discovered one inconsistency in his final argument. In 106d, Socrates states that the immortality of the soul can be proved by saying that deathless is indestructible. Here, Socrates seems to associate the state of death with destruction. Soul, which does not admit death, will therefore never admit destruction. However, in the previous dialogues in Phaedo, Socrates defines death not as destruction but as a separation of the body and the soul: “Do we believe that death is this, namely, that the body comes to be separated by itself apart from the soul, and the soul comes to be separated by itself apart from the body? Is death anything else than that? No, that is what it is” (64c). Here, Socrates argues that death is nothing but a separation of the soul from the body. Following the theory of Forms, it can be concluded that soul never admit death. Then, according to Socrates’s own definition of death, the statement would become that soul never admit its separation from the body. However, in his final argument for the immortality of the soul, Socrates claims that when death approaches the body, soul will separate itself from the mortal body and retreats safely (106e). Therefore, the two statements Socrates proposes in his final argument that soul never admits death and that soul will retreat from the immortal body are inconsistent with each other. This leads Socrates to contradict himself and weakens the validity of his final argument for the immortality of the soul.
A seemingly excited lad initiates Plato’s Meno. Meno appears to have learned what virtue is and is eager to share this knowledge with the renowned Socrates. Thus, Meno tactically lays out calculated questions to Socrates: “…is virtue something that can be taught? Or does it come by practice? Or is it neither teaching nor practice that gives it to a man but natural aptitude or something else?” Meno’s enthusiasm to discuss virtue is immediately seen. Also, behind Meno’s sincere, keen interest lies a somewhat arrogant desire to prove his knowledge to Socrates. But does Meno actually know that which he thinks he knows?
On the other hand, we see a skeptical Socrates. He is very wary of agreeing to certain opinions, regardless of how sensible they might appear to be. Socrates blames Gorgias for acclimating Meno to the habit of answering questions confidently, as is appropriate to the ones who know: “ὥσπεr εἰκoV touV εἰδότας.” Socrates frequently uses various forms of the verb “οἶδα” in this part of the dialogue while referring to the knowledge of what virtue is. According to the Middle Liddell Lexicon, “εἰδότaV” is the perfect participle of “οἶδα”—translated in the present tense—meaning “the ones who know.” Also, “oἶδα” is related to “oraw” which means “to see or look.” Hence, “oἶδα” tends to deal with that which is known by being seen, and not only by being thought. The process of “seeing” or “knowing” implied by using “oida” could be literal or metaphorical. In the figurative sense, the thing in question could be perceived by the mind’s eye, reflected upon, and maybe eventually known. For this reason, “oida” could mean “to know by reflection or perception.” In light of this figurative definition, perhaps, Socrates is referring to those “people who know”— touV εἰδότας—as people who have an insight into the being of something, in contrast to those who merely claim to know—even though they really do not know.
Socrates sarcastically tells Meno that Meno speaks as though he knows, thus distinguishing Meno from those who actually know. These people who merely claim to know a thing do not actually see the thing in its entirety. They only see the different parts of a thing and suppose that, by seeing the parts, they have seen the whole. This happens to be the case in Meno’s analysis of virtue. Meno lists various examples of virtue but does not pinpoint what virtue is. Socrates, therefore, says to him: “…don’t suppose that you can explain it to anyone in terms of its parts, or by any similar type of explanation. Understand rather that the same question remains to be answered; you say this and that about virtue, but what is it?” Meno is expected to stop evading the question of interest and to identify virtue wholly. Still, it looks as though Meno is struggling, and is doing the best he can.
It is important to note that Meno starts off this virtue inquiry in a very promising way. He does not appear thick-headed as is mostly thought of him. The atmosphere at the beginning of the dialogue is optimistic. The investigation of virtue did not seem difficult. Meno, with ease, makes his first attempt to tell what virtue is. In summary, according to Meno, a man of virtue must be capable of managing the affairs of the city and a woman of virtue must be a good housewife. His second attempt is still just as enthusiastic: “it must be simply the capacity to govern men.” After Socrates refutes Meno’s definition for the second time, Meno appears to lose some of his confidence. He begins to realize that he might not have possessed the knowledge he thinks he has. Though Meno might not often be seen as a smart lad, he embodies the virtue of perseverance. This positive attitude of Meno towards understanding the ‘being’ of virtue is what keeps the dialogue going. It appears that Meno’s difficulty in defining virtue is not due to stupidity but due to the natural tendency to jump to multiplicity while discussing virtue. It could also be that virtue is somewhat immaterial, such that it is not definable in the way a material thing may be.
In the course of their dialogue, Socrates and Meno come across several analogies, such as the analogy of the swarm of bees, the analogy of shapes, etc. At first, these analogies appear to be helpful in the quest for virtue. However, despite the apparent usefulness of these analogies, Meno finds it difficult to map these analogies appropriately onto virtue itself. That is, relating these analogies to virtue without generality. He knows how to approach virtue while discussing the analogies, but again goes into plurality while referring to virtue. What, then, makes a precise characterization of virtue more difficult than an analogical description? In other words, is virtue too broad for definition? It appears that analogies do not guarantee comprehension. However, analogies attempt to bring the reader closer to the meaning of a thing, and maybe, facilitate the understanding of that thing. Plato seems to be accentuating the limitations of analogical thinking in philosophy.
A thought-provoking alteration in vocabulary is seen as Socrates introduces “gignwskw” alongside “oida.” Socrates asks Meno if somebody who does not know Meno would be able to describe him: “…ὅστις Mένωνα μὴ γιγνώσκει to παrάπαν ὅστις estin, τοῦτον εἰδέναι εἶτε kaloV….” Just like “οἶδα”, “gignwskw” also means “know.” It is, therefore, difficult to flesh out the connotative difference between these two words. The Liddell and Scott Lexicon defines “gignwskw” with different words including observe, understand, discern, distinguish, recognize, etc. Considering the subtle distinction Socrates tries to make, however, it appears that “gignwskw” has to do with discernment in observation, whereas “oida” has to do with reflection on observation. Socrates tries to show that one must be able to observe—gignwskw—Meno’s personality in order to know or see—οἶδα—his attributes. Thus, if someone is not able to distinguish Meno from some other male, that person would also not be able to characterize Meno.
Another interesting use of “gignwskw”—but this time alongside “oiomai”—occurs in section 77 of the dialogue. Meno makes his third attempt to spell out what virtue is. In the words of a poet, Meno defines virtue as “desiring fine things and being able to acquire them.” Socrates, however, rejects this definition by pointing out that everyone, even the most unvirtuous, desires good things. Socrates illustrates that people only desire something that is bad when they mistake the bad for the good. No one, clearly seeing that something is bad, will proceed to want it. Before reaching this conclusion, Socrates asks: “οἰόμενοι ta kaka ἀγαθa εἶναι, legeiV, ἤ kai gignwskonteV ὅτι kaka estin ὅμως ἐπιθυμοῦσιν αὐτῶν;” This is translated in English as: “And would you say that the others suppose evils to be good, or do they still desire them although they recognize them as evil? Here, a contrast is made between blunt supposition—oiomai—and actual recognition—gignwskw. Socrates emphasizes that supposing something to be in a certain way is not enough to make one knowledgeable. Further, “oiomai,” according to the Liddell and Scott Lexicon is mainly translated as: “think, suppose and believe.” In contrast to “gignwskw,” mere thinking is distinct from actual understanding. Meno initially mistakes ‘thinking’ for ‘knowing’ in his quest for virtue. But this problem might not only be applicable to Meno. Is it easy to tell when one knows a thing from when one only supposes that thing? Is there something unique about true knowledge that marks it off from assumption and fallacy? Moreover, is there really anything like true knowledge?
Though Socrates and Meno do not finally spell out what virtue is in its entirety, their quest is not futile. Necessary clarifications are made about certain misconceptions. For instance, Socrates shows that not all people who assume they know are knowledgeable, it is seen that analogies are not always effective, Meno learns to discern what he believes—oiomai—from what he knows—gignwskw, etc. Notwithstanding, the challenge of distinguishing when we are ‘gignwskw-ing’ from when we are ‘oiomai-ing’ still stands. ‘Knowing,’ thus, appears to involve a two-way process. Inasmuch as we run the risk of mistaking mere assumption for knowledge, we also run the risk of disparaging true knowledge in thinking that we do not know.
 All citations to Meno are to the translation by W.K.C Guthrie in The Completed Dialogues of Plato (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1961 by section 70a)  70c2  Liddell and Scott Lexicon  Referring to virtue  79d6- 79de1  71e  73d1  71b5  77b3  77c 3-4
Aristotle’s definition of the virtue of high-mindedness in Nichomachean Ethics, and of what constitutes the excess and deficiency of this virtue, poses a problem when applied to Socrates’ in Plato’s Apology. On one hand, Socrates is high-minded when he accepts his death sentence, despite believing that he is serving an important function in Athens, and because he advises people without charging a fee. On the other hand, Socrates shows timidity because he does not spread his beliefs in public affairs or make distinctions between the rich and poor, which would be characteristics of the small-souled person. Aristotle’s criteria for high-mindedness gives us pause as to whether Socrates is consistently virtuous. During his defense speech, Socrates displays both the characteristics of high-mindedness and small-souledness, indicating a flaw in Aristotle’s definition of the virtue, since according to Aristotle, one cannot be virtuous and deficient of a virtue at the same time.
Socrates fits the definition of high-mindedness because he does not spare his life, despite believing that he does not deserve the death penalty. Even though he believes he was given a divine role to play in making Athens a better place, Socrates understands that the best thing for him to do is to accept his death sentence. He thinks that because he is “superior to the majority of men”, supplicating the jury by bringing in family members and begging for acquittal would be considered a disgrace (Plato 35a). He does not argue against his death sentence because getting condemned for standing by his beliefs would be a greater honor than being remembered for performing “pitiful dramatics in court” (Plato 35b). Aristotle’s definition of high-mindedness applies in this case because Socrates does not necessarily believe that the death sentence is what he deserves, but rather that it is a more honorable option than begging for mercy. According to Aristotle, there is “no honour worthy of total virtue” (Aristotle 1124a 7-8). By avoiding the disgrace of begging for mercy, Socrates is able to aim closer at the honor that he is worthy of. Aristotle also states that the great-souled person will not spare his life when facing great dangers (Aristotle 1124b 7-8). Socrates does not think his life is so great that he needs to save it. He tells the judges after his death sentence that he is still convinced he neither wronged anyone nor wronged himself (Plato 37b), yet he does not spare his life, because it is not worth being disgraceful by arguing for a different punishment.
Socrates’ willingness to help others without asking for payment in return is yet another reason why Socrates would fit Aristotle’s definition of high-mindedness. The high-minded person asks for nothing, or almost nothing, but is willing to help others readily (Aristotle 1124b 17-18). Socrates fits this statement because he argues that he does not “undertake to teach people and charge a fee for it” (Plato 19d). Spreading his beliefs is Socrates benefiting others, but he does not ask for anything in return. He questions others for the sake of stirring up the city because that is what he believes he was placed in the city to do. The high-minded person is also one whose “possessions are noble but unprofitable” (Aristotle 1125a 12). Socrates does not have many possessions, living in great poverty, since he does not charge for his occupation of questioning people to show them that they are not wise (Plato 23b). He is self-sufficient because he does not need material possessions to keep spreading his beliefs.
At the same time, however, Socrates would considered small-souled because he did not strive for greater honor by spreading his beliefs in public affairs. The small-souled person is someone who “deprives himself of what he is worthy of” and is similar to the timid rather than foolish person (Aristotle 1125a 22, 24-25). Socrates only goes around advising people in private affairs but refuses to venture out in public to advise the entire city because he believes he would have died a long time ago if he had tried taking part in public affairs (Plato 31c-e). Trying to advise the city by taking part in politics would have been foolish, because if he had died, Socrates would not have been able to spread his beliefs to anyone. Socrates took a more moderate approach by intervening only in private affairs, so he would not be considered vain, since the vain person is foolish for being ignorant of their worth (Aristotle 1125a 28). Taking this more moderate approach, however, would be considered small-souled and timid, because the small-souled person should have “striven for the things of which he was worthy” (Aristotle 1124b 26-27). There is a problem in this situation, because whether Socrates chose to advise the public or not, he would have been acting either foolishly or timidly. It seems that hitting the mean would be impossible, but Aristotle acknowledges that it is sometimes better to lean towards one excess than the other. In this case, acting foolishly would be closer to hitting the mean of high-mindedness because smallness of soul is more opposed to high-mindedness than vanity (Aristotle 1125a 32-3). Although Socrates did serve in public life twice, he did not actively spread his beliefs like he does in private affairs. When he served on the Hall during the Thirty, Socrates simply left when he and the rest of the Hall was ordered to bring in Leon from Salamis to be executed, something he considered unjust (Plato 32c-d). He was able to stay true to his beliefs of what he considered right and wrong by not participating, but he did not stay in public life to save Leon’s life or keep spreading his beliefs.
Another indication of Socrates missing the mark of high-mindedness is that he is equally ready to question anyone, whether they are rich or poor (Plato 33b). According to Aristotle, the high-minded person should be “dignified in his behavior towards people of distinction or the well-off, but unassuming towards people at the middle level” (Aristotle 1124b 18-20). Socrates does not distinguish between those who are well-off and those who are not. He uses the same method of questioning for everyone as long as they are willing to listen and is not interested in hierarchy. Superiority over the rich would be considered by Aristotle to be impressive, but superiority over the poor would not mean anything because it is easy (Aristotle 1124b 22-23). Since Socrates is exhibiting the same behavior to people of all types, he does not fit this definition of high-mindedness. He does not make a distinction between the poor and the rich; rather, he only differentiates between people who are willing to listen or not. Furthermore, Socrates tells the jury that he is accustomed to spending time at the marketplace by the bankers’ tables (Plato 17c). This shows that he spent more of his time interacting with the masses rather than with people of distinction or the well-off. Socrates is not unassuming towards those who are not distinguished, a characteristic of the high-minded person. This is another indication of him acting in a small-souled manner.
Many of the actions that Socrates describes during his defense speech and his acceptance of the death sentence would be considered high-minded; however, his actions are not always consistent, because some of them would be classified as small-souled. According to Aristotle, virtue is a kind of mean or target to reach, and any missing of the mark would be vice (Aristotle 1106b 25-27). This poses a problem for Aristotle because high-mindedness would be considered virtuous, but at the same time, Socrates exhibits a vice by acting small-souled. It would not be possible to be truly virtuous if one displays both virtuous and vicious actions because virtue and vice are opposites. The contradiction between Aristotle’s beliefs and Socrates’ actions lies in Aristotle’s definition of high-mindedness because Socrates fits into both the mean and the deficiency of this virtue when it appears that he is not consistently virtuous.
The high-minded person is one who “thinks himself worthy of great things – and is indeed worthy of them” (Aristotle 1123b 2-3). Although Socrates meets the criteria for this Aristotelian definition of high-mindedness, he displays small-souledness at the same time when he does not intervene in public affairs to spread his beliefs. Socrates consistently hitting the mean and missing the mark by acting both high-minded and small-souled presents a problem for Aristotle’s definition of the virtue of high-mindedness because one cannot be high-minded and small-souled at the same time.