Monday, May 13, 2019

1 Isocrates’ Against the Sophists and Plato’s Euthydemus


In Against the Sophists, Isocrates criticises contemporary philosophers for addiction to eristic (eristikos ‘fond of arguing’, ‘captious’). In the first paragraph he despises them for ‘devoting themselves to disputations’ (peri tas eridas diatribontȏn), in paragraph 20 he uses stronger language: they are ‘wallowing in disputations’ (peri tas eridas kalindoumenȏn).

In the Euthydemus Plato makes a sharp dividing line between eristic and philosophy. Eristic is represented by two brothers, Euthydemus and Dionysodorus. They profess to be ‘the finest and quickest teachers of virtue alive’ (Aretȇn hoiȏ t’ einai paradounai kallist’ anthrȏpȏn kai tachista, 273d8-9), but virtue as they understand it is being able ‘to refute any statement (exelenchein to aei legomenon), no matter whether it is true or false’ (homoiȏs eante pseudos eante alȇthes ȇ, 272a8-b1). Philosophy, viewed as a ‘practice of virtue’ (aretȇs epimeleia, 275a), is represented by Socrates, who argues that wisdom (sophia) is teachable (didakton), that it is the sole source of happiness to men (hoti monon tȏn ontȏn eudaimona poiein ton anthrȏpon), and that to get engaged in philosophy is therefore essential (anankaion einai philosophein, 281c8-d1).

Isocrates’ criticism in Against the Sophists is brutal; in the Euthydemus, Plato responses to it with a display of Socrates’ irony.

The discussion is narrated by Socrates to his friend Crito; it took place in Lyceum, a gymnasium frequented by Socrates and his friends. The young man admired by all is Cleinias, all his admirers want the best for him, and since the two brothers proclaimed themselves to be ‘the finest and quickest teachers of virtue alive’, Socrates asked them to show their wisdom (epideiknunai tautȇn tȇn sophian, 274a8) by having a discussion with Cleinias, persuading him to study philosophy under them. The ensuing discussion between the two and Cleinias is in itself a remarkable display of Socrates’ irony.

Socrates expresses again and again his admiration of the two brothers: ‘Now, Crito, I wonder how I might give you a fair account of what happened (Ta dȇ meta tauta, ȏ Kritȏn, pȏs an kalȏs soi diȇgȇsaimȇn;). I mean, it’s a colossal task (ou gar smikron to ergon) to recall and then recount (analabein diexionta) such an incredible amount of cleverness (sophian amȇchanon hosȇn).’ (275c5-7) – I am using Robin Waterfield’s translation, and here I must interrupt, for his ‘such an incredible amount of cleverness’ spoils the incisive irony. Socrates’ sophian amȇchanon hosȇn simply means ‘such an incredible amount of wisdom’.

Socrates continues: ‘I shall have to imitate the poets and invoke the Muses and Memory as I embark on my account (hȏst’ egȏge, kathaper hoi poiȇtai, deomai archomenos tȇs diȇgȇseȏs Mousas te kai Mnȇmosunȇn epikaleisthai, 275c7-d1).’

***
Watterfield notes: ‘Poets often invoked the Muse(s) at the end of a prologue and start of a main account – or, generally, at the start of some particularly difficult section of their work. Memory is said to be the mother of Muses.’

In this case, I believe, the invocation points to Phaedrus 237a: ‘Come then (Agete dȇ), you Muses (ȏ Mousai), assist the tale I tell’ (xum moi labesthe tou muthou).  In my preceding three posts (1-3 ‘The ancient dating of the Phaedrus as reflected in Isocrates’ Against the Sophists’) I argued that Isocrates in Against the Sophists was critically referring to the Phaedrus – ‘they pretend to search for truth (hoi prospoiountai men tȇn alȇtheian zȇtein), but straightway at the beginning of their professions (euthus d’en archȇi tȏn epangelmatȏn) they are engaged in telling lies (pseudȇ legein epicheirousin, 1)’ – while gesturing towards the praise, which Socrates towards the end of the dialogue bestows on young Isocrates. Isocrates’ main criticism was that the philosophers claimed that they can teach virtue, i.e. what to do in life, and that through this knowledge they will attain happiness. By referring to Phaedrus in his turn, Plato accepted the challenge; Socrates’ discussion with Cleinias is all about search for knowledge that leads to happiness.

Socrates’ invocation of Muses is not the first reference to the Phaedrus in the Euthydemus. At the beginning of the latter Socrates narrates that he was about to leave the Lyceum ‘but when I got up (anistamenou de mou), my regular supernatural signal occurred (egeneto to eiȏthos sȇmeion to daimonion), so I sat down again (palin oun ekathezomȇn), and not long afterwards (kai oligȏi husteron) those two, Euthydemus and Dionysodorus, entered (eiserchesthon toutȏ, ho t’ Euthudȇmos kai ho Dionusodȏros 272e3-273a2).’ In Phaedrus 242b8-9 Socrates was about to leave, having made his first speech on Eros, but was stopped: ‘At the moment when I was about to cross the river, dear friend (Hȇnik’ emellon, ȏgathe, ton potamon diabainein) there came to me my familiar divine sign (to daimonion te kai to eiȏthos sȇmeion moi gignesthai egeneto).’ Socrates realised that he must atone for his blasphemous first speech.

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Socrates continues: ‘So, Euthydemus started from roughly this direction (ȇrxato d’ oun enthende pothen ho Euthudȇmos), I think (hȏs egȏimai): “Cleinias (Ō Kleinia), which men are those who learn (poteroi eisi tȏn anthrȏpȏn hoi manthanontes), those who are wise or those who are ignorant (hoi sophoi ȇ hoi amatheis;)? – Here I take again liberty with Waterfield’s translation and won’t mention it, when I do so again. In this case it is his ‘clever’ for sophos that made me do so)

‘Faced with this momentous question, the lad (Kai to meirakion, hate megalou ontos tou erȏtȇmatos) blushed (ȇruthriasen te) and looked at me in puzzlement (kai aporȇsas eneblepsen eis eme). I saw that he was flustered (kai egȏ gnous auton tethorubȇmenon) and said: “Don’t worry (Tharrei, ȇn d’ egȏ), Cleinias (ȏ Kleinia). Just pluck up courage and give whichever answer you think is right (kai apokrinai andreiȏs, hopotera soi phainetai). Remember, you’ll probably benefit enormously (isȏs gar toi ȏphelei tȇn megistȇn ȏphelian).”

‘While I was saying this (Kai en toutȏi), Dionysodorus had leaned over to me (proskupsas moi pros to ous) with a big grin (panu meidiasas tȏi prosȏpȏi). “In fact (Kai mȇn), I can tell you now (soi prolegȏ) that whichever answer the lad gives (hoti hopoter’ an apokrinȇtai to merakion), he will be proved wrong (exelenchthȇsetai).”’ (275d2-e6)

I shall skip Euthydemus’ refutation, suffices to say that when Cleinias answered that ‘the wise people are those who learn’ Euthydemus pointed to him: you learned what you did not know: it is ignorant people who learn, not wise people. Then Dionysodorus took over and proved that wise people learn, not ignoramuses. Then again Euthydemus questioned the lad, ‘turning his questions back around the same spot’ (dipla estrephe ta erȏtȇmata peri tou autou), and asked: “Do those who learn learn what they know, or what they do not know?” Dionysodorus had again a brief word in Socrates’ ear: “This is another one like the first (Kai tout’ heteron toiouton hoion to proteron); all our questions are of this sort (panta toiauta hȇmeis erȏtȏmen), one can’t escape being trapped (aphukta)”. (276d6-e5)

At 278c7-d3 Socrates told the two: ‘Enough of your games (tauta men oun pepaisthȏ humin). For your next exhibition (to de dȇ meta tauta epideixaton), convince the lad (protreponte to meirakion) of the necessity of pursuing wisdom and virtue (hopȏs chrȇ sophias te kai aretȇs epimelȇthȇnai).’ To give them an example of questions he wanted them to ask, he began to ask Cleinias: ‘Do all men (Ara ge pantes anthrȏpoi), do we all want to do well (boulometha eu prattein;)? When Cleinias agreed that everybody wanted to do well, Socrates asked: ‘In what way would we be doing well (pȏs an eu prattoimen)? If we had plenty of good things (ar’ an ei hȇmin polla agatha eiȇ)?’ (278e3-279a3) … The simplicity of questions, with which Socrates lead Cleinias to the conviction that ‘wisdom’ (sophia, 279c1) – used synonymously with ‘knowledge’ (epistȇmȇ, 281a8) and ‘inteligence’ (phronȇsis, 281b6) – is the key to happiness, makes one wonder: how could it have happened to Isocrates that in Against the Sophists – after the presentation of his educational program presented as philosophy – he proclaimed confidently: ‘Now as for the sophists who have lately sprung up (Hoi men oun arti tȏn sophistȏn anaphuomenoi) and have very recently embraced these pretensions (kai neȏsti prospeptȏkotes tais alazoneiais), even though they flourish at the moment (ei kai nun pleonazousin), they will all, I am sure, come round to this position (eu oid’ hoti pantes epi tautȇn katenechthȇsontai tȇn hupothesin, 19)’?

Obviously, had the Euthydemus been already written when Isocrates opened his school in Athens, he not only would not have made such proclamation, he could not have written Against the Sophists. But there must be more to it; he must have had grounds for believing that virtue cannot be taught, grounds which the contemporary philosophers, all followers of Socrates, had to accept.

In the first place, he presumably believed that Plato could not defend his assertion made in the Phaedrus that ‘if (ean men dȇ oun) the victory be won by the higher elements of mind guiding them [the lover and his beloved] into the ordered rule of the philosophic life (eis tetagmenȇn te diaitan kai philosophian nikȇsȇi ta beltiȏ tȇs dianoias agagonta), their days on earth will be blessed with happiness and concord (makarion men kai homonoȇtikon ton enthade bion diagousin, 256a7-b1, tr. Hackforth)’. This momentous assertion was compromised by the prayer with which Socrates ended the Palinode. For he asked Eros to ‘turn Lysias to philosophy even as his brother Polemarchus has been turned’ (epi philosophian de, hȏsper h’adelphos autou Polemarchos tetraprai, trepson), so that Phaedrus can ‘live with him for Love in singleness of purpose with the aid of philosophical discourse’ (haplȏs pros Erȏta meta philosophȏn logȏn ton bion poiȇtai, 257b3-6, tr. Hackforth)’. When Plato wrote these lines – in 405, in democracy – all this appeared to be entirely appropriate. It all went wrong when in 404 the democracy was overturned and the Thirty tyrants put Polemarchus to death. It was a sordid affair, which Lysias depicts in Against Eratosthenes (17-20), the man directly responsible for Polemarchus’ imprisonment.

Secondly, in his discourse Isocrates virtually identified himself with Socrates who at his trial denied that he ever taught virtue and with biting irony pointed to Evenus who professed to teach virtue for five minas: ‘Happy is Evenus, I said to myself (kai egȏ ton Euȇnon emakarisa), if he really has this wisdom (ei hȏs alȇthȏs echoi tautȇn tȇn technȇn), and teaches at such a moderate charge (kai houtȏs emmelȏs didaskei). Had I the same, I should have been very proud and conceited (egȏ g’oun kai autos ekallunomȇn kai hȇbrunomȇn an ei ȇpistamȇn tauta); but the truth is that I have no knowledge of the kind (all’ ou gar epistamai, Plato, Apology 20b9-c3, tr. B. Jowett).’ Isocrates wrote in Against the Sophists that philosophers ‘are making greater promises (meizous poieisthai tas huposcheseis) than they can possibly fulfil (hȏn emellon epitelein, 1) … they attempt to persuade young men (peirȏntai peithein tous neȏterous) that (hȏs) if they will study under them (ȇn autois plȇsiazȏsin) they will know what to do in life (ha te prakteon estin eisontai) and through this knowledge (kai dia tautȇs tȇs epistȇmȇs) will become happy and prosperous’ (eudaimones genȇsontai, 3). More than that (kai), although they set themselves as masters and dispensers of goods so precious (tȇlikoutȏn agathȏn hautous didaskalous kai kurious katastȇsantes), they are not ashamed (ouk aischunontai) of asking for them a price of three or four minae (treis ȇ tettaras mnas huper toutȏn aitountes)! Why (all’), if they were to sell any other commodity for so trifling a fraction of its worth (ei men ti tȏn allȏn ktȇmatȏn pollostou merous tȇs axias epȏloun) they would not deny their folly (ouk an ȇmphȇsbȇtȇsan hȏs eu phronountes tunchanousi); nevertheless, although they set so insignificant a price on the whole stock of virtue and happiness (sumpasan de tȇn aretȇn kai tȇn eudaimonian houtȏs oligou timȏntes), they pretend to wisdom and assume the right to instruct the rest of the world (hȏs noun echontes didaskaloi tȏn allȏn axiousi gignesthai).’ (4)
But in the Euthydemus Plato displayed another side of the authentic Socrates. Aristotle says in the Nicomachean Ethics that Socrates thought that ‘all the virtues were practical wisdom’ (phronȇseis ȏieto einai pasas tas aretas, 144b19-20), and that all virtues ‘are forms of scientific knowledge’ (epistȇmas einai pasas, 1144b29-30, tr. W.D. Ross). Furthermore, in the Eudemian Ethics Aristotle maintains that ‘Socrates said’ (ephȇ Sȏkratȇs) that ‘all forms of knowledge (pasai hai epistȇmai), were good luck (eutuchiai ȇsan, 1247b14-15),’ which looks like a reflection on the Euthydemus, as will be seen.
When Cleinias agreed that all men want to do well (eu prattein), and that we would do well if we had plenty of good things (polla k’agatha), Socrates asked, what kind of good things: ‘Wealth’ (to ploutein)? ‘Health (to hugiainein), to be good looking (to kalon einai), and to have adequate physical characteristics’ (to sȏma hikanȏs paraskeuasthai)? ‘Good birth (eugeneiai), power (dunameis), and honours in one’s own land’ (kai timai en tȇi heautou)? ‘To be self-responsible (sȏphrona te einai), just (dikaion), and courageous’ (andreion)? (297a7-b5)
When Cleinias agreed that all those were good things, Socrates asked: ‘How shall we cast wisdom (tȇn de sophian pou chorou taxomen)? As good (en tois agathois), or what (ȇ pȏs legeis)?’ – Cleinias: ‘As good (En tois agathois).’ – Socrates: ‘Now, make sure (Enthumou dȇ) that we aren’t overlooking anything good (mȇ ti paraleipȏmen tȏn agathȏn) – at least anything worth mentioning (hoti kai axion logou).’ – When Cleinas replied that nothing was overlooked, Socrates ‘remembered’ (anamnȇstheis): ‘Good heavens (Nai ma Dia), we are in danger (kinduneuomen ge) of missing out the greatest good of all (to megiston tȏn agathȏn paralipein)! Good luck (Tȇn eutuchian), Cleinias (ȏ Kleinia), which is unanimously (ho pantes phasi) – even by pretty uneducated people (kai hoi panu phauloi) – held to be the greatest good of all (megiston tȏn agathȏn einai).’ – Cleinias: ‘You’right (Alȇthȇ legeis).’ – Socrates: ‘Then I had another afterthought and said (Kai egȏ au palin metanoȇsas eipon hoti): ‘You and I, Cleinias, have just come very close to making ourselves objects of our visitors’ [i.e. Euthedemus’ and Dionusodorus’] derision (Oligou katagelastoi egenometha hupo tȏn xenȏn egȏ te kai su).’ – Cleinias: ‘Why (Ti dȇ touto;)?’ – Socrates: ‘Because our inclusion of good luck in the list is redundant.’ [Waterfield’s translation of this line is neat; I shall attempt to get closer to the original: ‘For it is ridiculous, you know (Katagelaston dȇpou), to put that, which is already in the list, in again (ho palai prokeitai touto palin protithenai), and to say the same twice (kai dis t’auta legein).] – Cleinias: ‘What are you getting at (Pȏs touto legeis;)? – Socrates: ‘Wisdom is good luck, you know (Hȇ sophia dȇpou eutuchia estin); this is something even a child would appreciate (touto de k’an pais gnoiȇ, ‘even a child would know this’).
‘And Cleinias was surprised (kai hos ethaumasen) – a sign of his youth (houtȏs eti neos) and naivety (kai euȇthȇs esti, 279d7-8) – and because I recognized (k’agȏ gnous) that he was surprised (auton thaumazonta), I said: ”Surely you’re aware (Ara ouk oistha, ephȇn), Cleinias (ȏ Kleinia), that as regards good performance in pipe-playing (hoti peri aulȇmatȏn eupragian) the pipe-players (hoi aulȇtai) have the best luck (eutuchestatoi eisin;)?’ He agreed (Sunephȇ). “And that the same goes for scribes,” I went on, “as regards reading and writing (Oukoun, ȇn d’ egȏ, kai peri grammatȏn graphȇs te kai anagnȏseȏs hoi grammatistai;)?” “Yes (Pany ge).” “Moreover (Ti de;), surely, you wouldn’t expect anyone to have better luck, when faced with maritime dangers (pros tous tȇs thalattȇs kindunous m’ȏn oiei eutuchsterous tinas einai), than wise helmsmen (tȏn sophȏn kubernȇtȏn), generally speaking (hȏs epi pan eipein;)?” “Of course not (Ou dȇta).” “And would you prefer to face military risks and hazards (Ti de; strateuomenos meta poterou an hȇdion tou kindunou te kai tȇs tuchȇs metechois) in the company of a wise or an ignorant commander (meta sophou stratȇgou ȇ meta amathous)?” “A wise one (Meta sophou).” “And would you rather take your chances with a wise or an ignorant doctor when you’re ill (Ti de; asthenȏn meta poterou an hȇdeȏs kinduneuois, meta sophou iatrou ȇ meta amathous;)?” “A wise one (Meta sophou).” “Isn’t it (Ar’ oun),” I said (ȇn d’ egȏ), “because you think that you will have better luck in your affairs (hoti eutuchesteron an oiei prattein) if you are attended by a wise man (meta sophou prattȏn) rather than an ignoramus (ȇ meta amathous;)?” He agreed (Sunechȏrei). “In every walk of life, then, wisdom causes luck (Hȇ sophia ara pantachou eutuchein poiei tous anthrȏpous): wisdom can never fail at all (ou gar dȇpou hamartanoi g’ an pote ti hȇ sophia), but must do right (all’ anankȇ orthȏs prattein) and attain its goal (kai tunchanein). Otherwise it would no longer be wisdom (ȇ gar an ouketi sophia eiȇ).” The long and short of it was that we finally agreed (Sunȏmologȇsamen teleutȏntes) – I don’t know how (ouk oid’ hopȏs) – that if wisdom is present (en kephalaiȏi houtȏs touto echein, sophias parousȇs), whoever has it (hȏi an parȇi) has no need of good luck (mȇden prosdeisthai eutuchias).’ (279c1-280b3)
One may wonder, why this elaborate proof is introduced by Socrates’ insistence that ‘even a child would know that wisdom is good luck’. I believe that this is an example of Socrates’ ‘irony’ (eirȏneia), which underlines the fact that Plato presents here a piece of thinking, which is emphatically Socrates’ own, and is of great importance. I put ‘irony’ in quotation marks, for this is not how Socrates’ irony is normally understood. But Aristotle in Nicomachean Ethics defines ‘those who use irony’ (eirȏnes), as ‘those who disclaim qualities that bring reputation (houtoi ta endoxa aparnountai), as Socrates used to do’ (hoion kai Sȏkratȇs epoiei, 1127b22-26).’

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