Elenchus in the Meno
The Meno does. At the beginning of this dialogue Meno asks Socrates if he knows how virtue is acquired. Socrates says that he is so far from knowing how virtue is acquired that he does not know what virtue is, and further that he never has met anyone who did. Meno, shocked at this admission, offers to explain the nature of virtue to Socrates, but fails in repeated attempts. In the process of refuting Meno Socrates gives a brief tutorial on what a good definition should look like. Finally, Meno gives up in disgust, stating his perplexity:
Socrates, before I even met you I used to hear that you were always in a state of perplexity and that you bring others to the same state, and now I think you are bewitching and beguiling me, simply putting me under a spell, so that I am quite perplexed. Indeed, if a joke is in order, you seem, in appearance and in every other way, to be like the broad torpedo fish, for it too makes anyone who comes close and touches it feel numb, and you now seem to have had that kind of effect on me, for both my mind and my tongue are numb, and I have no answer to give you. Yet I have made many speeches about virtue before large audiences on a thousand occasions, very good speeches as I thought, but now I cannot even say what it is. I think you are wise not to sail away from Athens to go and stay elsewhere, for if you were to behave like this as a stranger in another city, you would be driven away for practising sorcery.
(80a–b)
Meno's expression of frustration makes several interesting points. The first is that he believes that Socrates, like himself, is perplexed. Socrates reinforces this statement in his reply to Meno: “If the torpedo fish is itself numb and so makes others numb, then I resemble it, but not otherwise, for I myself do not have the answer when I perplex others, but I am more perplexed than anyone when I cause perplexity in others” (80c). The second point is that Meno admits that he is perplexed, but he does not draw the inference that he does not know what virtue is. Instead, and this is the third point, he accuses Socrates of somehow playing a trick on him, of numbing him so that he cannot define virtue. Socrates, he states, is like a magician. The implication is that Meno's perplexity is the result, not of his ignorance, but of Socrates’ trickery. Were it not for Socrates, he would be able to speak well about virtue before large audiences, as he has many times in the past. So far two familiar features of the elenctic dialogue have been found: Socrates admits his ignorance, and his interlocutor admits his (though in this case grudgingly and with a qualification). So far the dialogue has been a perfect example of an elenctic dialogue, with repeated refutations of attempted answers to the Socratic question, what is virtue? If the dialogue ended at this point, with both characters expressing their own ignorance, it would not be surprising. The Meno would be one more example of an elenctic dialogue ending in perplexity.
The Doctrine of Recollection
What happens next, however, is surprising. Socrates asks Meno to try again to explain the nature of virtue and Meno asks Socrates how he would know the nature of virtue if he actually encountered it. Socrates first compares Meno's question to a debater's argument, which states that one cannot search either for what one knows (because one already knows it) or what one does not know (because one will not know what to look for). He then offers an account of the possibility of learning, which he attributes to “priests and priestesses whose care it is to be able to give an account of their practices” (81a–b). What they say is that
… the human soul is immortal, at times it comes to an end, which they call dying, at times it is reborn, but it is never destroyed … As the soul is immortal; has been born often and has seen all things here and in the underworld, there is nothing which it has not learned; so it is in no way surprising that it can recollect the things it knew before, both about virtue and other things. As the whole of nature is akin, and the soul has learned everything, nothing prevents a man, after recalling one thing only – a process men call learning – discovering everything else for himself, if he is brave and does not tire of the search, for searching and learning are, as a whole, recollection.
(81b–d)
The Examination of the Slave
Socrates illustrates this theory by examining a slave of Meno's. Meno assures Socrates that the slave has not been taught geometry. Socrates asks the slave how to construct a square double the size of an original square. The slave gives two answers, first that the new square should have a side twice as long as the original one, and second, that it should have a side one and a half times as long. Socrates refutes both answers, and the slave admits that he does not know the answer. Socrates comments to Meno that the slave is now aware of his ignorance. “He thought he knew, and answered confidently as if he did know, and he did not think himself at a loss, but now he does think himself at a loss, and as he does not know, neither does he think he knows” (84a–b). Socrates then asks Meno whether the slave has been harmed by being questioned, made perplexed and numbed, as by a torpedo fish, and Meno answers that he does not think so. Socrates continues: “Indeed, we have probably achieved something relevant to finding out how matters stand, for now, as he does not know, he would be glad to find out, whereas before he thought he could easily make many fine speeches to large audiences about the square of double size and said that it must have a base twice as long” (84b–c).
Up to this point the Socratic examination of the slave has the structure of a typical Socratic elenchus. But the examination doesn't end there. Socrates leads the slave, through a series of further questions, to see that it is the square drawn on the diagonal of the original square that is double its area. Though Socrates’ questions are indeed “leading,” Meno agrees that the opinions expressed by the slave are all his own. The conclusion Socrates draws is that “the man who does not know has within himself true opinions about the things that he does not know” (85c). These opinions must have always been in his soul, needing only the right questions to be awakened. Further, “These opinions have now just been stirred up like a dream, but if he were repeatedly asked these same questions in various ways, you know that in the end his knowledge about these things would be as accurate as anyone's” (85c–d).
Are the questions that Socrates asks the slave, which lead him to the correct conclusion part of the elenchus of the slave? This is a difficult question to answer. They are part of the continued examination of the slave, and they do elicit from the slave answers to Socratic questions, answers that express what the slave believes; but it is not the slave who puts forward the key to the answer to the problem. It is Socrates who introduces the concept of the diagonal, and shows the slave how to construct a square on that diagonal. The hypothesis that solves the problem comes from Socrates and not from the slave, though the slave agrees with Socrates when he presents it. It is not typical for Socrates to put forward his own answers to his questions in the elenchus. It is also not typical – in fact this is the only case we find in the elenctic dialogues – for any character, whether Socrates or an interlocutor, to put forward an answer that survives the elenchus and is regarded by everyone involved as true. However we decide this question whether the continued examination is a case of the elenchus, though, it is clear that the first part of the examination, in which the slave puts forward answers to the geometric problem that Socrates refutes, is an example of the elenchus. The justification of the elenchus that this discussion gives is that the elenchus identifies the false beliefs of the interlocutor, the beliefs that make it impossible for him to discover the truth, and leave the way open for the true answer to be recollected. The elenchus thus has a positive, as well as a negative function. The doctrine of recollection does not explain how we are to know which answers are false and, perhaps more importantly, which answers are true. It does justify faith, however, that repeated applications of the elenchus may lead eventually to the discovery of truth.
The Apology vs. the Meno
Thus we have, in the Apology and the Meno, two very different justifications of the elenchus. According to the Apology, the elenchus show
s people that they do not know what they think they know, because no one knows the answers to Socrates’ questions. According to the Meno, the elenchus helps in the process of eliciting the correct answers to Socrates’ questions, which everyone knows, at least implicitly. The account of the elenchus given in the Apology explains the structure of the typical Socratic dialogue, in which repeated applications of the elenchus lead to perplexity. It is an explanation that accounts for the fact that Socrates, like the people he examines, does not know the answers to his questions. The justification of the elenchus given in the Meno explains something that I have not commented on until now. Along with the constant refutation in the typical Socratic dialogue, there are, on occasion, hints dropped by Socrates that suggest certain answers to his questions. Socrates does not explain where these hints come from; at times he seems unaware that he is dropping them. Sometimes it is not clear whether they are intended as positive contributions to the answers to his questions or not. The doctrine of recollection in the Meno explains how Socrates might have answers, or partial answers, to his questions.
Two Faces of Socrates in the Elenctic Dialogues
Socrates thus behaves in the elenctic dialogues in two different ways. On the one hand, he behaves like an ignorant inquirer, seeking answers he does not have. On the other, he behaves like a philosopher with a positive account of the answers to his questions. Many interpreters prefer the first Socrates; they like to see him as an ignorant inquirer. But the other Socrates is present, too. He is not just present in the Republic and Phaedrus, where he expounds a theory of the tripartite soul, or in those dialogues wherein he expounds the theory of separate Forms. He is present, as we shall see in later chapters, in the Protagoras, where he has a theory of virtue that identifies it with knowledge, and in the Gorgias, where he defends the philosophical life. He is present too, though less obviously, in the Euthydemus, Euthyphro, Laches, Meno, and the first book of the Republic, and perhaps in other dialogues as well. In all of these works Socrates not only refutes his interlocutors, but suggests possible ways of going right where his interlocutors go wrong. How can he do this, if he is as ignorant as he professes to be? That is a question I shall address in the next chapter.
Recollection and the Elenctic Dialogues
As I have said, many interpreters prefer Socrates the ignorant inquirer to Socrates the philosopher with answers to his questions. They are especially suspicious of doctrines, such as the theory of the tripartite soul and the theory of separate Forms, that present rather grand explanations. This is part of the reason they are happy to follow Aristotle in assigning the theory of separate Forms to Plato rather than to Socrates. They are apt to assign the doctrine of recollection to Plato as well, with some reason. In the Phaedo Socrates connects the doctrine of recollection to the theory of separate Forms. Socrates identifies the objects of knowledge for which he is searching with Forms, and recollection explains how it is possible to have knowledge of them. One interpreter described the “two pillars” of Platonism as “the immortality and divinity of the rational soul, and the real existence of the objects of its knowledge – a world of intelligible ‘Forms’ separate from the things our senses perceive.”5 To which a later interpreter added that the architrave connecting these two pillars is the doctrine of recollection.6 It is surely correct that the doctrine of recollection becomes a feature of Plato's theory of knowledge; but it is also true that the doctrine of recollection answers a question which is suggested by the elenctic dialogues: how can the elenchus, which is a method of refutation, have a positive use in the discovery of truth? The answer expected from the Apology is, it can't. The Meno argues that it can. And the doctrine of recollection is introduced in an elenctic dialogue. If it becomes Platonic doctrine, it is nonetheless introduced to answer a question which is elicited by the Socratic method itself, the question raised by Meno: how can one search for something one doesn't know?
Notes
1 The best evidence we have for the dating of Plato's works comes from studies of Plato's style, begun in the late nineteenth century and continuing to the present. These studies tend to agree on a classification of Plato's works as early, middle, and late. There are controversies, based not on style but on the content of the dialogues, about the placement of some of the works within or between the three groups.
2 Richard Robinson, Plato's Earlier Dialectic, 2nd edn. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1953), 7. The account of the elenchus in this chapter generally follows Robinson's account. See also Hugh H. Benson, Socratic Wisdom: The Model of Knowledge in Plato's Early Dialogues (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), Part 1 (17–95).
3 Robinson, Plato's Earlier Dialectic, 10–15.
4 Ibid., 7.
5 F. M. Cornford, Plato's Theory of Knowledge (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, Ltd, 1935), 2.
6 R. E. Allen, “Plato's Earlier Theory of Forms,” in Vlastos, ed. The Philosophy of Socrates (Garden City, New York: Anchor Books, Doubleday & Company, 1971), 334.
3
Knowledge and Ignorance
In the last chapter we saw that Socrates presents two faces to the reader of Plato's works. The first face is that of an ignorant inquirer. The second is that of a man who seems to have answers to the questions he asks. In this chapter we shall discuss this contrast further. In the Apology Socrates concluded as a result of his examination of people who were thought wise that only the god was wise concerning “the most important pursuits,” and that human wisdom was limited to awareness of one's ignorance. We saw Socrates in the Charmides insist on his ignorance when Critias looked to him for agreement about the nature of temperance. In the Meno Socrates said that he was even more perplexed than other people concerning the answers to his questions. Many more examples could be given of this Socratic profession of ignorance; we shall see some in later chapters.
Socrates’ Profession of Ignorance
What is it that Socrates means by this profession of ignorance? First of all, Socrates means to deny that he possesses wisdom or knowledge. We would distinguish between these two terms, but the ancient Greek philosophers, and in particular Socrates, tended to use them interchangeably. When Socrates denies that he possesses wisdom, he does not mean to deny that he possesses what we might call “garden variety” knowledge. He knows his way home from the gymnasium or the market-place. He knows whether it is night or day. The wisdom that he denies having concerns what in the Apology he called the most important pursuits. This includes knowledge of how to live. In the Apology he encourages the Athenians to pursue, not wealth, power, and honors, but wisdom, truth, and the best state of their souls. The best human life would be the life in which one's soul was in its best state. The name given to that state in Greek philosophy is eudaimonia. The word is often translated “happiness,” but this translation, though useful, is somewhat misleading. The Greek philosophers did not mean by eudaimonia a life that was merely subjectively pleasing, but a life that was objectively good as well. In Chapter 1 I mentioned the Greek phrase kalos kagathos, “admirable and good,” as a brief description of the best human life. To say that a life was eudaimōn was to say not just that it was pleasant, but that it was admirable and good as well. But what was eudaimonia? What made a life admirable and good? This is one of the things that Socrates said he did not know. We also saw that Socrates was especially concerned with virtue and with the individual virtues: piety, justice, temperance, courage, and wisdom. As Socrates understands virtue, it is a trait of character that contributes to the eudaimonia of a person. But if one does not know what eudaimonia consists in, how can one know what virtue is?
The Nature of Knowledge
When Socrates says that he lacks knowledge or wisdom concerning the best human life, he means that he is not in the highest possible cognitive state with respect to that life. By a “cognitive state” I mean a mental condition that concerns one's attitude toward the truth of a given proposition or set of propositions. Consider, for example, my cognitive state with
respect to the location of my favorite pen. I am, as an absent-minded professor, always mislaying this pen. Sometimes my cognitive state with respect to its location is ignorance: I don't know where it is. Sometimes, when I don't know where my pen is, I may have an idea about where it might be, and sometimes this idea may produce the cognitive state of belief or conviction. But my belief may be mistaken; I may go to the place where I believe my pen is, only to find that it is not there. Sometimes my cognitive state may be only a guess, a hypothesis, about the location of my pen, but at other times I may be (subjectively) certain of its location. Even this subjective certainty may turn out to be mistaken, however: I may end up saying, “I was just certain that my pen was on my dresser, but when I looked it wasn't there.” If I have knowledge of the location of my pen, on the other hand, it is not just that I am subjectively certain of its location; the location is objectively certain. Knowledge is infallible; if I know I can't be wrong. It happens that, as I write this, my pen is beside me on my desktop, in plain sight. Philosophers have developed scenarios to indicate that even such a state is not infallible, but practically speaking, I know where my pen is when I see it before me. There is no higher cognitive state than knowledge, and knowledge entails truth.
Socrates contrasts this infallible state with his own. One feature of knowledge, which accompanies infallibility, is finality. If I know something, the discussion concerning it is over. If I know the location of my pen, then there is no further debate about its location. Socrates regards the questions he raises, however, as always subject to further discussion. They are open issues, not closed. Someone may always raise a new point that may lead him to revise his opinions. As he says at Gorgias 506a: “the things I say I certainly don't say with any knowledge at all; no, I'm searching together with you so that if my opponent clearly has a point, I'll be the first to concede it.” If he had knowledge, this would not be so. In addition, Socrates thought of knowledge not as having an isolated proposition or two as its object, but rather an entire body of propositions and practices. He often compared the knowledge of ethics that he sought to the various arts and sciences, such as mathematics. The mathematician does not know just some individual propositions, such as that 2 + 2 = 4 or that a square has four sides; he or she knows arithmetic or geometry. Nor does the mathematician know just a body of facts; he or she knows how to perform certain actions, such as how to add or subtract, or how to construct a square double the area of a given square. It is the existence of a body of mutually supporting propositions and practices that gives each individual proposition the status of knowledge. If Socrates had knowledge of the highest principles in ethics, he would not only know the definition of eudaimonia, but the definition of virtue and each of the individual virtues, and he would know how the other properties of the virtues followed from these definitions. In terms of the question raised by Meno at the start of the Meno, if Socrates knew what virtue was, he would know, and be able to explain to Meno, how virtue was acquired. Lacking knowledge of virtue, he says, he cannot explain to Meno whether virtue can be taught, or is acquired in some other way.
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