4 Isocrates’ Against the Sophists and Plato’s Euthydemus

When Socrates suggested military command as the art possession of which would bring happiness, and Cleinias rejected the suggestion, Crito asked: ‘But did you carry the search any further (alla meta touto eti tina ezȇtȇsate technȇn;), and did you find or didn’t you find the art (kai hȇurete ekeinȇn ȇ ouch hȇurete), for the sake of which you made your search (hȇs heneka ezȇteite; 291a7-9)?’ Socrates replied that after a long search: ‘At last we came to the kingly art (epi tȇn basilikȇn elthontes technȇn), and investigated it (kai diaskopoumenoi autȇn), whether that gave and caused happiness (ei hautȇ eiȇ hȇ tȇn eudaimonian parechousa te kai apergazomenȇ), and then we got into a labyrinth (entautha hȏsper eis laburinthon empesontes), and when we thought we were at the end (oiomenoi ȇdȇ epi telei einai), having bent around (perikampsantes) we found ourselves as if at the beginning of the quest again (palin hȏsper en archȇi tȇs zȇtȇseȏs anephanȇmen ontes), having still to search as much as ever (kai tou isou deomenoi hosouper hote to prȏton ezȇtoumen, 291b4-c2).’

Crito wanted to know how it happened and Socrates began to explain: ‘We identified the political art with the kingly art (edoxe hȇmin hȇ politikȇ kai hȇ basilikȇ technȇ hȇ autȇ einai) … To this art (Tautȇi tȇi technȇi), the art of the general and the other the arts (hȇ te stratȇgikȇ kai hai allai) entrust the control of the products which they themselves fashion (paradidonai archȇn tȏn ergȏn hȏn autai dȇmiourgoi eisin) on the grounds that it alone knows how to use them (hȏs monȇi epistamenȇi chrȇsthai). So we were certain (saphȏs oun edokei hȇmin) that this was the art which we were seeking (hautȇ einai hȇn ezȇtoumen) and the cause (kai hȇ aitia) of correct action (tou orthȏs prattein) in the state (en tȇi polei), and which may be described, in the language of Aeschylus (kai atechnȏs kata to Aischulou iambeion), as alone sitting at the helm of the vessel of state (monȇ en tȇi prumnȇi kathȇsthai tȇs poleȏs), piloting and governing all things (panta kubernȏsa kai pantȏn archousa), and making them all useful (panta chrȇsima poiein). (291c4-d3)

I’ll skip the labyrinthian search, and get to Crito’s comment on it: ‘Good heavens (Nȇ ton Dia), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), you apparently reached quite an impasse (eis pollȇn ge aporian, hȏs eoiken, aphikesthe).’ – Socrates: ‘And I for my part (Egȏge oun kai autos), Crito (ȏ Kritȏn), when I found myself trapped in this maze (epeidȇ en tautȇi tȇi aporiai enepeptȏkȇ), I began vociferously to resort to every kind of plea (pasan ȇdȇ phȏnȇn ephiein deomenos) and to call on the two visitors, as if they were the Dioscuri [Waterfield notes: ‘Castor and Polydeuces (Pollux), the Heavenly Twins. Dioscuri literally means ‘sons of Zeus’. They were protectors of those at sea: Plato continues the naval metaphor in “overwhelmed”.’], to save us (toin xenoin hȏsper Dioskourȏn epikaloumenos sȏsai hȇmas) – the lad and me (eme te kai to meirakion) – from being overwhelmed by the argument (ek tȇs trikumias tou logou). I asked them to make a very earnest effort (kai panti tropȏi spoudasai) and show us in sober earnest (kai spudasantas epideixai) what the knowledge is (tis pot’ estin hȇ epistȇmȇ) whose discovery would enable us to live finely for the rest of our lives (hȇs tuchontes an kalȏs ton epiloipon bion dielthoimen).’ (292e6-293a6)

It might be asked, why does Plato allow the search to end in Socrates’ habitual aporia (‘impasse’). For if, after all he achieved in his first, protreptic discussion with Cleinias, which ended with the youngster’s conviction that he must take up philosophy and thus gain happiness, his second talk with him ends in his ‘being trapped in the maze of argument’, doesn’t it confirm Isocrates’ view, expressed so strongly in Against the Sophists, that the philosophers of his day were promising their students promises they could not fulfil, ‘that (hȏs) if they will only 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)’?

There is in fact a profound difference between the kind of ‘impasse’ in which Socrates was ending discussions in dialogues written during his lifetime, in which he recoiled into not-knowing in response to knowledge expressed in the Phaedrus through his mouth, the not-knowing that Plato did his best to combat, and in dialogues in which he used Socrates’ not-knowing as a means with which he points to knowledge (beginning with the Meno, written during Socrates’ life-time, prior to Meno’s participation in the campaign of Cyrus against Artaxerxes in March of 401, reported in Xenophon’s Anabasis) – the knowledge of the Forms. Let me mention just the first two of the former, which I recently discussed: on my website the Charmides and on my blog the Hippias Major.

The Charmides was written during the early days of the Thirty, before their rule turned into abject tyranny under the leadership of Critias. In those days Plato’s great desire was to enter politics, he was well aware that he needed Socrates as an ally, but even more importantly, he was deeply convinced that the Thirty needed Socrates as an ally if they were ‘to administer the State by leading it out of an unjust way of life into a just way’ (ek tinos adikou biou epi dikaion tropon agontas dioikȇsein tȇn polin, Seventh Letter 324d4-5, tr. Bury), as he hoped they would, but Socrates’ professed ignorance was an unwelcome complication. So, at the end of the dialogue Plato let Socrates’ aporia resound to the full: ‘Do you see (Horais oun), Critias (ȏ Critia), how all this time I had good reasons to be apprehensive (hȏs egȏ palai eikotȏs ededoikȇ) … Something that is agreed to be the most admirable of all things (ou gar an pou ho ge kalliston pantȏn homologeitai einai) wouldn’t have seemed to us to be of no benefit (touto hȇmin anȏpheles ephanȇ) if I had been any use (ei ti emou ophelos ȇn) at making a proper investigation (pros to kalȏs zȇtein). As it is now, we’re defeated on all fronts (nun de pantachȇi gar hȇttȏmetha).’ (175a9-b3)

Socrates goes on to enumerate the main points of their investigation that ended in the impasse, and then turns to Charmides: ‘I do think (oiomai) … that self-control is a great good (sȏphrosunȇn mega ti agathon einai), and that if you do possess it (kai eiper ge echeis auto), you are blessed (makarion einai se). See whether you do possess it (all’ hora ei echeis te) … because if you do possess it (ei gar echeis), I’d advise you (egȏge soi sumbouleusaimi) to consider me a fool (eme men lȇron hȇgeisthai einai), incapable of investigating anything in a reasoned argument (kai adunaton logȏi hotioun zȇtein), and yourself (seauton de) the more self-controlled you are (hosȏiper sȏphronesteros ei), the happier to be (tosoutȏi einai kai eudaimonesteron).’ (175e5-176a5). But Charmides brushes Socrates’ aporia: ‘I don’t really believe you at all, Socrates’ (egȏ mentoi ou panu soi peithomai, 176b1). And so he insists on being educated in self-control by Socrates ‘day by day (hosai hȇmerai), until you say I’ve had enough’ (heȏs an phȇis su hikanȏs echein, 176b3-4). After some protests, Socrates gives in and accepts the task of educating Charmides.

The Hippias Major was written in the latter days of the Thirty, when Plato, disgusted with their misdeeds and crimes, temporarily abandoned his desire to do politics and withdrew himself from the evils of those days up into the realm of true being. In that situation he let resound the philosophic ignorance, to which Socrates withdrew after Plato let him focus his eye on true Beauty (kallos alȇthes, 24d5) in the Phaedrus. In the dialogue it is Socrates’ critical self that chastises him for his ignorance and for his recent pronunciations on Beauty while being ignorant of what Beauty is.

The dialogue ends in Socrates’ soliloquy: ‘I wander about in unending perplexity (planȏmai kai aporȏ aei), and when I lay my perplexity before you wise men (epideiknus tȇn emautou aporian humin tois sophois), you turn on me and batter me with abuse as soon as I have explained my plight (logȏi au hupo humȏn propȇlakizomai, epeidan epideixȏ). You all say (legete gar me) just what you, Hippias, are now saying (haper kai su nun legeis), how foolish and petty and worthless are the matters with which I occupy myself (hȏs ȇlithia te kai smikra kai oudenos axia pragmateuomai); but when in turn I am convinced by you (epeidan de au anapeistheis hupo humȏn) and repeat exactly what you tell me (legȏ haper humeis), that the height of excellence is the ability to produce an eloquent and beautiful speech (hȏs polu kratiston estin hoion t’ einai logon eu kai kalȏs katastȇsamenon) and win the day in a lawcourt or any other assembly (perainein en dikastȇriȏi ȇ en allȏi tini sullogȏi), I am called every kind of bad name by some of the audience, including especially that man who is always cross-questioning me (hupo te allȏn tinȏn tȏn enthade kai hupo toutou tou anthrȏpou tou aei me elenchontos panta kaka akouȏ).’ (304c2-d3)

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I must interrupt Socrates’ flow of words to make a few explanations. With the words ‘what you, Hippias, are now saying’ Socrates refers to Hippias’ great eulogy on rhetoric pronounced in his last entry. Plato let Hippias pronounce the eulogy after he exposed him throughout the dialogue as a pompous intellectual humbug. But Socrates’ words – ‘when in turn I am convinced by you and repeat exactly what you tell me, that the height of excellence is the ability to produce an eloquent and beautiful speech and win the day in a lawcourt or any other assembly, I am called every kind of bad name by some of the audience, including especially that man who is always cross-questioning me’ – shouldn’t be dismissed on that account. There are two points to consider: 1/ what do the words ‘that the height of excellence is the ability to produce an eloquent and beautiful speech and win the day in a lawcourt or any other assembly’ refer to?  2/ To whom refer the words ‘I am called every kind of bad name by some of the audience’?

On the dating I propose the view in 1/ reflects what Socrates said in the Phaedrus on rhetoric. The rhetoricians maintain ‘that there is absolutely no need for the budding orator to concern himself with the truth about what is just or good conduct (hoti ouden alȇtheias metechein deoi dikaiȏn ȇ agathȏn peri pragmatȏn), nor indeed about who are just and good men whether by nature or education (ȇ kai anthrȏpȏn ge toioutȏn phusei ontȏn ȇ trophȇi). In the lawcourts nobody cares a rap for the truth about these matters (to parapan gar ouden en tois dikastȇriois toutȏn alȇtheias melein oudeni), but only about what is plausible (alla tou pithanou), and that is the same as what is probable (touto d’ einai to eikos, 272d4-e1).’ To make this point even clearer, Socrates gives word to Tisias, a leading theoretician on rhetoric, who maintains ‘that if a weak (hȏs ean tis asthenȇs) but brave man (kai andrikos) is arrested for assaulting a strong but cowardly one, whom he has robbed of his cloak or his garment (ischuron kai deilon sunkopsas, himation ȇ ti allo aphelomenos, eis dikastȇrion agȇtai), neither of them ought to state the true facts (dei dȇ t’alȇthes oudeteron legein); the coward should say that the brave man didn’t assault him single-handed (alla ton men deilon mȇ hupo monou phanai tou andrikou sunkekophthai), and the brave man should contend that they were only two of them (ton de touto men elenchein hȏs monȏ ȇstȇn), and then have recourse to a famous plea (ekeinȏi de katachrȇsasthai tȏi) “How could a little fellow like me (Pȏs d’ an egȏ toiosde) have attacked a big fellow like him (toiȏide epecheirȇsa)”.’ (273b4-c2)

What does Socrates do to refute them? This: ‘In point of fact, Tisias, we have for some time before you came on the scene been saying (ȏ Teisia, palai hȇmeis, prin kai se parelthein tunchanomen legontes) that the multitude get their notion of probability as the result of a likeness to truth (hȏs ara touto to eikos tois pollois di’ homoiotȇta  tou alȇthous tunchanei epigignomenon); and we explained just now that these likenesses can always be best discovered by one who knows the truth (tas de homoiotȇtas arti diȇlthomen hoti pantachou ho tȇn alȇtheian eidȏs kallista epistatai heuriskein). Therefore if you have anything else to say about the art of speech (hȏst’ ei men allo ti peri technȇs logȏn legeis), we should be glad to hear it (akouoimen an); but if not (ei de mȇ) we shall adhere to the point we made just now (hois nundȇ diȇlthomen peisometha), namely that unless the aspirant to oratory can on the one hand list the various natures amongst his prospective audiences (hȏs ean mȇ tis tȏn te akousomenȏn tas phuseis diarithmȇsetai), and on the other divide things into their kinds (kai kat’ eidȇ diairȇsthai ta onta) and embrace each individual thing under a single form (kai miai ideai dunatos ȇi kath’ hen hekaston perilambanein)’ – which is the function of dialectic – ‘he will never be an expert in the science of speaking (ou pot’ estai technikos logȏn peri) as is within the grasp of mankind (kath’ hoson dunaton anthrȏpȏi.’ (273d2-e4, tr. Hackforth). – In other words, without dialectic one cannot become a truly successful orator.

2/ The words  ‘I am called every kind of bad name by some of the audience’ can be elucidated with the help of Xenophon’s Memorabilia. He says that when the Thirty took power, Critias was drafting laws with Charicles and ‘inserted a clause which made it illegal to teach rhetoric’ (en tois nomois egrapse logȏn technȇn mȇ didskein, I. ii. 31) Xenophon says that he did so because of his long-festering grudge against Socrates; but he could have done so only if his view that teaching of rhetoric should be banned was broadly supported in the aristocratic circles. When the democracy turned into aristocracy of the Thirty, there must have been a number of critics of the section on rhetoric in the Phaedrus. Plato himself realized that in an aristocratic society, if it is well run, each member of that society does what he is best at, which is what he knows; there is no place for rhetoric in that society (cf. Charmides 171d-172a).

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Let me return to Socrates’ soliloquy in the Hippias Major. I interrupted it at the point where he for the last time brought into discussion his critical self, which he throughout the dialogue presented as an ardent critic of his, leaving Hippias in the dark of the real identity of that critic. For the reader he identified the critic as ‘the son of Sophroniscus’ at 298b11. Now, keeping the fiction of the critic’s being a different person, he intimates his closeness to himself: ‘He is a very close relative of mine (kai gar moi tunchanei engutata tou genous ȏn) and lives in the same house (kai en tȏi autȏi oikȏn), and when I go home (epeidan oun eiselthȏ oikade eis emautou) and he hears me give utterance to these opinions (kai mou akousȇi tauta legontos) he asks me (erȏtai) whether I am not ashamed (ei ouk aischunomai) of my audacity (tolmȏn) in talking about a beautiful way of life (peri kalȏn epitȇdeumatȏn dialegesthai), when questioning makes it evident (houtȏ phanerȏs exelenchomenos) that I do not even know what beauty itself is (peri tou kalou hoti oud’ auto touto hoti pote estin oida). “And yet, how can you know (Kaitoi pȏs su eisȇi),” he says (phȇsin), “whose speech is beautiful (ȇ logon hostis kalȏs katestȇsato) or the reverse (ȇ mȇ) – and this applies to any action whatsoever (ȇ allȇn praxin hȇntinoun) – when you have no knowledge of beauty (to kalon agnoȏn)? And so long as you are in this way (kai hopote houtȏ diakeisai), do you think it is better for you to live rather than be dead (oiei soi kreitton einai zȇn mallon ȇ tethnanai)?” (304d3-e3)

The impasse in which Socrates finds himself in the Euthydemus is very different. On closer look, it is not really an impasse: ‘we got into a labyrinth, and when we thought we were at the end, having bent around we found ourselves as if at the beginning of the quest again, having still to search as much as ever (291b7-c2).’ The direction of this putative new quest is indicated by Cleinias’ reference to dialecticians as those to whom the geometricians, astronomers, and mathematicians hand over ta onta (‘the things that are’) they discover, for they themselves don’t know how to use them (290c1-7). In view of the ancient dating of the Phaedrus ta onta of the geometricians, astronomers, and mathematicians recall ta onta ontȏs (‘things that truly are’) of the Palinode, while emphasizing the profound difference between the two. In the Phaedrus the soul in it’s pristine, pre-incarnation state ‘discerns justice, its very self (kathorai men autȇn dikaiosunȇn), and likewise temperance (kathorai de sȏphrosunȇn), and knowledge (kathorai de epistȇmȇn), not the knowledge that is neighbour to becoming (ouch hȇi genesis prosestin) and varies with the various objects to which we commonly ascribe being (oud’ hȇ estin pou hetera en heterȏi ousa hȏn hȇmeis nun ontȏn kaloumen), but the veritable knowledge of Being that veritably is (alla tȇn en tȏi ho estin on ontȏs epistȇmȇn ousan, 247d5-e2).’ Speaking of dialecticians as those to whom the geometricians, astronomers, and mathematicians hand over ta onta they discover indicates that dialecticians enjoy the scenery of true being described in the Palinode, and that with the help of ta onta handed over to them by scientists they lead their students to this beatific vision.

Cleinias’ pointing to dialecticians recalls ta onta ontȏs in the Palinode, which the true philosophers can see, but it can’t be pointing to ta onta of which Socrates speaks in the second part of the Phaedrus, which is devoted to the outline of rhetoric as a scientific discipline. For these onta are the things of which the orator wants to persuade his audience (peithȏ hȇn an boulȇi paradȏsein, 270b8-9). It is in order to be truly, scientifically persuasive, that the orator of Plato takes recourse to dialectic ‘dividing things into their kinds (kat eidȇ diaireisthai ta onta) and embracing each individual thing under a single form (kai miai ideai dunatos ȇi kath’ hen hekaston perilambanein, 273e1-3)’.

The situation and the task in front of which the scientifically operating rhetorician stands in the Phaedrus is that of the orators in democracy. Socrates: ‘What is it that the opposing parties in the law-courts do (en dikastȇriois hoi antidikoi ti drȏsin;)? Isn’t it just speaking in opposition to each other (ouk antilegousi mentoi;)? – Phaedrus: ‘Just that (Tout’ auto).’ Socrates: ‘On the subject of what is just and unjust (Peri tou dikaiou te kai adikou;)?’ – Phaedrus: ‘Yes (Nai).’ – S.: ‘So the man who does this scientifically (Oukoun ho technȇi touto drȏn) will make the same thing appear (poiȇsei phanȇnai to auto) to the same people (tois autois) at one time just (tote men dikaion), but at any other time he wishes (hotan de boulȇtai), unjust (adikon)?’ – P.: ‘Certainly (Ti mȇn;).’ – S.: ‘And in public addresses (Kai en dȇmȇgoriai dȇ) he will make the same things appear at one time good to the community (tȇi polei dokein ta auta tote men gatha), at another the opposite (tote d’ au t’anantia;)?’ – P.: ‘Just so (Houtȏs).’ (261c4-d5, translation C.J. Rowe)

Cleinias’ reference to dialecticians in the Euthydemus indicates that Plato had liberated dialectic from its connection to rhetoric and progressed far on his road from the Phaedrus to the Republic.