The Argument with the Many: Moral Weakness vs. Cognitive Error
At this point Socrates does a strange thing. He launches into an argument designed to show that “the many” are wrong about moral weakness. This is strange because it violates the normal practice of the elenchus. Normally, when Socrates’ interlocutor has agreed with him about the acceptability of a premise, that is sufficient for Socrates to continue the argument. Socrates does not normally bring in a third person or persons to the discussion. Protagoras asks why he does so in this case: “Socrates, why is it necessary for us to investigate the opinion of ordinary people, who will say whatever occurs to them?” (353a; this is a strange thing for the man who has defended the wisdom of ordinary people in his Great Speech to say.) Socrates’ answer is that “this will help us find out about courage, how it is related to the other parts of virtue” (353b).
What ordinary people believe, according to Socrates, is that people choose immediate pleasures over long-term pleasures, though they know that the long-term pleasures are greater. To cite a common modern example, they choose to take drugs, in order to experience an immediate “high,” though they are aware that doing so may ruin their lives and even kill them. But this phenomenon is in fact the result of an error of judgment. Ordinary people discount the consequences of their actions because they think of them as occurring in the distant future, and these future consequences appear smaller than they really are. Ordinary people, in misjudging the relative pleasure of the immediate over the long-term pleasure make an error in judgment, brought about by what Socrates calls “the power of appearance,” which “makes us wander all over the place in confusion, often changing our minds about the same things and regretting our actions and choices with respect to things large and small” (356d). The antidote to the power of appearance is “the art of measurement,” which “would make the appearances lose their power by showing us the truth, would give us peace of mind firmly rooted in the truth and would save our life” (356d–e). The art of measurement corrects for the distortion produced by the power of appearance. What the many think of as moral weakness is in fact cognitive error. Socrates calls this cognitive error ignorance. There is no such thing as moral weakness, choosing the lesser good over the greater in the face of knowledge of the greater. There is such a thing as choosing the lesser good when in fact there is a greater good available; but there is no such thing as choosing the lesser good in the face of knowledge of the greater good. Later in the argument Socrates extends the strength of knowledge principle to include belief:
no one who knows or believes there is something else better than what he is doing, something possible, will go on doing what he had been doing when he could be doing what is better. To give in to oneself is nothing other than ignorance and to control oneself is nothing other than wisdom … No one goes willingly toward the bad or what he believes to be bad; neither is it in human nature, so it seems, to want to go toward what one believes to be bad instead of to the good.
(358c–d)
When this result is applied to the case of courage, it shows that no one knowingly and willingly goes toward what he believes to be bad. Courageous people who willingly go to war do so in the belief that this is “honorable and good” (360a); cowards, who don't willingly go to war, refuse to do so in the belief that it is not good. Assuming that the courageous are right and cowards are wrong, cowardice is the result of false belief, or ignorance, whereas courage is the result of wisdom. Wisdom is sufficient for courage; it is all the courageous person needs. There is no such thing as an ignorant courageous person, which is what Protagoras had asserted earlier. Protagoras has to admit that he has been defeated: “I think that you just want to win the argument, Socrates, and that is why you are forcing me to answer. So I will gratify you and say that, on the basis of what we have agreed upon, it seems to me to be impossible” (360e). It is at this point that Socrates says that the discussion has shown that both of them are “ridiculous” (361b). Socrates had earlier said that virtue could not be taught, but now he has been arguing that virtue is knowledge, in which case it could be taught; Protagoras had earlier stated that virtue could be taught, but now he has been arguing that “hardly any of the virtues turn out to be knowledge” (361c). He concludes that “we have gotten this topsy-turvy and terribly confused” (361c–d). Rather than continuing the discussion, however, Protagoras brings it to an end with praise of Socrates: “Socrates, I commend your enthusiasm and the way you find your way through an argument. I really don't think I am a bad man, certainly the last man to harbor ill will. Indeed, I have told many people that I admire you more than anyone I have met, certainly more than anyone in your generation. And I say that I would not be surprised if you gain among men high repute for wisdom” (361e).
Hedonism and Moral Weakness
As Socrates presents it, the argument with the many turns on the fact that the many are hedonists. Socrates asks the many, rhetorically, if they have any other theory of the good than hedonism, and at one point he says to them, “even now it is still possible to withdraw, if you are able to say that the good is anything other than pleasure or that the bad is anything other than pain” (355a). Now the strength of knowledge principle establishes that no one will knowingly choose a lesser good over a greater, whatever the good may be; but the problem is that the many do not accept this principle. Socrates’ argument with the many is designed to show that, if they accept hedonism as their theory of the good, then their position is “ridiculous”: knowingly to choose a lesser, immediate pleasure over a greater, but more distant pleasure, is to choose to do “what is bad, knowing it is bad, when it is not necessary to do it, having been overcome by the good” (355d). If the many are not hedonists, on the other hand, their position will not initially appear so ridiculous. They could argue that one might choose what one knows to be bad (less admirable, say, less kalos) because one is “overcome by pleasure.” This seems intelligible; it seems, in fact, to be an everyday experience. But is it really so? If being “overcome by pleasure” refers to psychological compulsion, then the one who is overcome by pleasure does not really have a choice in the matter. Moral weakness is choosing the lesser good over the greater when one has, and knows that one has, the possibility of choosing the greater. Psychological compulsion is not the same as moral weakness. If, on the other hand, one does have a choice, is it really possible to choose a lesser good over a greater, whatever the good might be? Wouldn't such a choice inevitably be the result of cognitive distortion, brought on by the power of appearance? Does the person who chooses to become a drug addict really have a clear understanding of the future life he or she is giving up by this choice? Does he or she see the value of such a life? Knowledge, the result of the art of measurement, puts an end to cognitive distortion and enables us to see clearly what is good. In this case, too, knowingly choosing a lesser good would seem to be impossible. Socrates’ argument may not depend on the many's acceptance of hedonism after all.
Virtue as Practical Wisdom
This argument, complex though it is, clarifies something left unclear in the Laches: the kind of knowledge that virtue is. It is what results from the use of the art of measurement. It is understandable that, if one chooses on the basis of the power of appearance, one might make a mistake and choose a lesser good that merely appears greater at the moment. If one does the necessary calculation, however, so that one has knowledge of the better course of action, then it is not so clear that one might choose the worse over the better course of action. The kind of knowledge that is involved here is not abstract, general knowledge of good and evil, but practical wisdom, phronēsis, knowledge of what to do in any given situation. It is this kind of knowledge that Socrates equates with virtue. Virtue is the psychological capacity to determine what one should do in any situation.
The Meno
This conception of virtue as practical wisdom is first defended, then criticized in the Meno. The Meno may be divided into three parts. The first part i
s a typical elenctic dialogue, like the Charmides, Euthyphro and Laches. In the middle part Socrates introduces the doctrine of recollection, discussed in Chapter 2. In the third part, Socrates puts forward the hypothesis that virtue is knowledge, then criticizes that hypothesis. The dialogue ends with the claim that virtue is right opinion. It is the third part of the dialogue that will primarily concern us in this chapter. In dramatic structure, the Meno is one of the simplest of the elenctic dialogues. It is a conversation between Socrates and Meno, with a brief appearance by Anytus, who later became one of Socrates’ accusers. As noted above, I assume that the Meno was written after the Laches and Protagoras. The dialogue as a whole seems to provide a commentary on the elenctic dialogues, explaining the Socratic search for definitions and offering, as we saw in Chapter 2, a new justification for the elenchus, the doctrine of recollection, which gives to the elenchus a positive role in the discovery of truth.
What is Virtue?
The dialogue begins abruptly, without the usual introductory conversation, with Meno asking Socrates whether virtue can be taught, to which Socrates replies, “I am so far from knowing whether virtue can be taught or not that I do not even have any knowledge of what virtue itself is” (71a). He refers to his “complete ignorance about virtue,” and adds, “If I do not know what something is, how could I know what qualities it possesses?” (71b) This question seems to be a particular case of the priority of definition principle, discussed in Chapter 3, which states that if one cannot define a thing, one cannot know anything about that thing. Socrates persuades Meno to explain to him the nature, that is the definition, of virtue. Meno tries three times and fails each time. His first definition, that there are distinctive virtues for a man, woman, child, a free man vs. a slave, is shown to be the wrong kind of definition, just as the initial attempts of Euthyphro and Laches had been mistaken. His next attempt, that virtue is the ability to rule over others, fails to apply to all cases of virtue. Both definitions fail to assert that what is done virtuously must be done justly.
Definition and Form
Throughout the discussion Socrates is carrying out a tutorial on the nature of definition. He begins the tutorial by making an analogy between the nature of virtue and the nature of bees, in which he says that, even if bees differ from each other in various respects, there is a single character in virtue of which they are all the same, a common nature in virtue of which we call them all “bees.” He then says, “the same is true in the case of the virtues. Even if they are many and various, all of them have one and the same form which makes them virtues, and it is right to look to this when one is asked to make clear what virtue is” (72c–d). Socrates here uses the same language he used in the Euthyphro to explain the intended object of his definition. He wants a Form, the common nature that is the cause of all the many and various virtues being one. Socrates explicitly admits that the virtues may be “many and various,” that is, that there may be differences among the virtues, in spite of which they have a common character that makes them all virtues. Socrates makes it clear that the unity of the virtues is a generic unity, one that allows for specific differences. Socrates continues the idea that virtue is a generic unity in the next two terms he shows Meno how to define: color and shape. Both are generic terms: there are many specific shapes and colors, but all have a common nature or Form that makes them all shapes or colors.
Meno proves unable to discern this common character of all the virtues. His third attempt to define virtue is “to desire beautiful things and have the power to acquire them” (77b). Once again the Greek word translated “beautiful” is kalois, and once again this term does not mean simply, “beautiful.” Meno is not saying that virtue is simply having beautiful possessions, such as fine works of art. Rather, as in the phrase kalos kagathos, he regards such possessions as characteristic of a certain aristocratic lifestyle. Later in the argument he identifies what the virtuous person desires as “health and wealth … gold and silver, also honors and offices in the city” (78c). Now Socrates does not think that these are the things that characterize a life as virtuous. One is reminded of Socrates’ challenge to the Athenians in the Apology not to search for “wealth, reputation and honors,” but rather wisdom, truth and “the best possible state of your soul” (29e). He first urges Meno to replace “admirable” with “good” (77b), and argues that everyone desires good things. Meno's initial response is that only some desire good things, but Socrates argues that no one wants bad things for himself, because bad things are harmful and make people miserable and unhappy, and no one wants to be unhappy. Those who want things that are actually bad, mistakenly believing them to be good, actually desire good things. So no one desires what is bad.
This introduces an important element of Socratic intellectualism, the claim that everyone desires the good. Even those people who desire things that are actually bad, do so in the false belief that they are good. If I desire to smoke cigarettes, which is harmful to my health, I do not so desire because I believe smoking is unhealthy, and thus bad for me, but in the mistaken belief that the pleasure produced by smoking will outweigh any pain smoking is likely to produce. The ultimate object of my desire, in this and in all cases, is not the specific object, in this case smoking, but the end I seek to obtain by smoking, namely the good, happiness. (Socrates makes a similar claim in the Gorgias, at 468b and c.) If people desire things that are in fact bad for them, therefore, we know that it is not because they desire something that they believe to be bad for them, but because they have false beliefs about what is good. The proper cure for this condition is the replacement of the false belief with a true belief, and the method for doing this is rational argument. This is an important aspect of intellectualism: the claim that the therapy for bad desires is cognitive change, the change of true beliefs for false.2
If everyone desires the good, then what distinguishes the virtuous person from others, according to Meno's account, must be the ability to acquire such things. But these must be acquired justly and piously; in cases where it would not be just to acquire these things, the failure to acquire them would be virtue. This once again breaks virtue up into parts, for it tells us that what is acquired with a part of virtue is virtue, which is not helpful if we do not know what virtue as a whole is. Socrates asks Meno, therefore, to “answer me again then from the beginning: What do you … say that virtue is?” (79e)
Meno's Perplexity and Paradox; Recollection
It is at this point that Meno expresses his frustration and perplexity with his comparison of Socrates to the torpedo fish, which numbs those who touch it, as we saw in Chapter 2. Up to this point the Meno has proceeded like a typical elenctic dialogue. Meno has offered three definitions of virtue, and Socrates has refuted all three. Meno expresses perplexity, and if this were a typical elenctic dialogue it might end at this point, in perplexity. It is at this point, however, where Socrates introduces the doctrine of recollection and illustrates the doctrine with the examination of Meno's slave.
The Hypothesis that Virtue is Knowledge
At the end of the discussion of recollection Meno requests that Socrates return to his original question, whether “virtue is something teachable, or is a natural gift, or in whatever way it comes to men” (86d). Socrates now introduces the mathematical method of hypothesis and applies it to Meno's question: “let us investigate whether it is teachable or not by means of a hypothesis” (87b). The hypothesis he proposes is that virtue is knowledge: “is it plain to anyone that men cannot be taught anything but knowledge … if virtue is a kind of knowledge, it is clear that it could be taught” (87c).
The next step in the investigation is to establish that virtue is knowledge.3 Here is Socrates’ argument:
(1) Virtue is something good
(2) If there is something good “different and separate from knowledge” (87d) then virtue may not be knowledge
(3) If, on the other hand, there is nothing good but knowledge, then “we would be right to suspect that�
�� virtue is knowledge (ibid.)
(4) Virtue is beneficial
(5) Health, strength, beauty, wealth, and similar goods are sometimes harmful
(6) The same is true of “qualities of the soul” such as “moderation, and justice, courage, intelligence, memory, munificence, and all such things” (88a)
(7) Courage “when it is not wisdom” is a kind of recklessness, which is harmful; when “with understanding” it is beneficial (88b)
(8) Moderation and mental quickness “when they are learned and disciplined with understanding” (ibid.) are beneficial, but without understanding are harmful
(9) In general, “all that the soul undertakes and endures, if directed by wisdom, ends in happiness, but if directed by ignorance, it ends in the opposite” (88c)
(10) The conclusion is that “If then virtue is something in the soul and it must be beneficial, it must be knowledge, since all the qualities of the soul are in themselves neither beneficial nor harmful, but accompanied by wisdom or folly they become harmful or beneficial. This argument shows that virtue, being beneficial, must be a kind of wisdom” (88c–d)
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