Copyright 1997, 1999 by Tad Beckman, Harvey Mudd College, Claremont, CA 91711
Other sources include Aristophanes, who wrote a comedy called "The Clouds," in which Socrates appears. Since this was first produced in 423 B.C., it is the only piece actually written about Socrates during his lifetime; however, its accuracy and interpretation are not clear. Next to Plato, Socrates was known best by Xenophon, who was in his twenties when Socrates died, and Xenophon wrote about Socrates in his "Memorabilia" almost forty years later. Aristotle described Socrates in several parts of his works, but Aristotle's knowledge of Socrates was all second hand and highly influenced by Plato.
Socrates was born around 470 B.C. and died in 399 B.C. He was a native of Athens. His father was Sophroniscus and was of the deme (family group or tribe) Alopeke. His mother was Phaenarete. His father was a stone mason (but may have been a stone sculptor) and his mother was a midwife. Socrates may have practiced his father's profession, as a young man, though we don't hear anything about it. He did profess to practice his mother's profession, though metaphorically, on people's minds. We know that he did participate in three battles during the Peloponnesian Wars and that his courage and determination were noteworthy. He was in his late forties. We know also a little about his political life. First, he did not seek political influence, though he accepted political obligations when thrust upon him. Second, he refused on at least two occasions to violate law or principle even though they were popular democratic causes. And third, he had a dim view of democracy. Socrates was married and had three sons. His wife, Xanthippi, had the reputation of being "the most troublesome woman of all time."
The Socrates that we know was a man in his sixties. He was apparently rather ugly (though in a "attractive way"). He had chosen a very simple existence (if not poverty) voluntarily, and he spent most of his time discussing issues of the day, usually among young men of wealth and ,hence, potential political power. In many respects, Socrates was a Sophist; however, the constant opposition to the Sophists in which Plato illustrates him makes clear that he was different from other Sophists in at least two respects. First, he did not take money for his teaching. Second, rather than rejecting tradition and adopting rhetorical language, he taught his friends to discover the meaning of tradition through a better understanding of language.
There is a story to the effect that one of Socrates' devoted young admirers, Chaerephon, went to Delphi to ask the oracle whether Socrates was the wisest of men. The oracle is reported as saying that, indeed, Socrates was the wisest. This had to have happened prior to the period addressed in the Dialogues since Chaerephon is illustrated as being a terribly enthusiastic admirer of Socrates in "The Clouds" (423 B.C.). At any rate, both Plato's and Xenophon's reports suggest that this news may have set Socrates off on his mission of later life, questioning people about the nature of wisdom. Socrates, it is said, denied his own wisdom and could understand the oracle only to say that "he must be wisest who knows his own lack of wisdom." Socrates was especially inclined to question powerful people who had a reputation for wisdom and to do this (embarrassingly) in front of enthusiastic young men. One can begin to understand why his presence wasn't always welcomed by the rich and famous of Athens!
Finally, while Socrates was not an outwardly religious person, he seems to have maintained an inner religious faith and, in fact, believed that some benevolent god made periodic contact with him through a sign, or daimonion. Through Plato, we are told that the sign is only negative, informing Socrates when he is about to go wrong. While it is not explicitly mentioned, it is probably the cause of Socrates' abrupt reconsideration, in Lysis (211e), where he says, "But then a most unaccountable suspicion came across me, and I felt that the conclusion was untrue."
The Socratic Method is essentially a serious discussion that seeks to discover the truth about some issue that has been identified. it was called Dialectic. It is in effect a "logic," a pattern of reasoning, older than the famous logical forms suggested by Aristotle, in the next century. The Dialectic is an iterative pattern; that is, overall it never ends, merely coming back to a new understanding of the place from which it began. As Hegel was to point out, many centuries later, the dialectic begins with a thesis which is clarified in discussion, usually by trying to illustrate it through examples or applications. As this process of illustration continues, the negative content of the thesis emerges, becoming the antithesis, everything that is wrong about the thesis under study. But the thesis viewed through its antithesis allows us to see a new direction of inquiry, the synthesis. The focus is on language. Do we know the meanings of the terms we use? Hence, if we say (as in the Dialogue "Lysis") we are pursuing friendship, do we really know what we are saying, hence, doing? Contrary to the Sophists's teaching, the emphasis is not on merely using language to persuade but rather it is on using language correctly, that is, in a way that is mutually satisfying to people of good will who are committed to a thorough understanding. Socratic Method is considered the birthplace of philosophy because it is a model of how wisdom should be loved.
In the end, as we will read in Apology, Socrates was charged with corrupting the youth and teaching other gods. One can well imagine that his trial was not before a friendly or sympathetic audience. Social critics are rarely popular! Condemned to death, Socrates was forced to remain in prison for a period of time, which is the stage for Crito and Phaedo.
Lysis nicely illustrates what Socrates was all about. It shows him in an informal setting with bright young men and boys of Athens, leading them in a serious discussion about something that has come up as a topic or issue. In this case, the topic is friendship and it has come up because Hippothales is a suitor for the friendship of Lysis. However, Lysis is already a great friend of Menexenus. At the moment, Hippothales is being laughed at for composing poetry and songs to Lysis, putting him on a pedestal, so to speak. Socrates chides him for indirectly singing his own praise and foolishly risking the embarrassment of rejection.
When the discussion gets underway (at bottom of 207d), Socrates engages Lysis in a conversation. His focus is on the relationship between Lysis and his mother and father. Socrates' point is to demonstrate that, just because Lysis is their son, they do not allow him full reign over their estate. The way he is treated by family and friends is surely determined by his growth and acquisition of knowledge. At the end of this conversation, Socrates wants to tell Hippothales that this is the way he should talk to Lysis, rather than inflating him, but Socrates is interrupted in the process by Menexenus' return. Now, Lysis wants Socrates to engage Menexenus in discussion. It should be noted here that, while Lysis is friends with Menexenus, he wants Socrates "to put him down" because Menexenus has a reputation for being "pugnacious," having been tutored by a Sophist. In a subtle way, this raises the general question of what friendship really is, as well as the particular question of whether Lysis and Menexenus really are the friends they think they are. Socrates facetiously contrasts his own unsuccessful longing for good friends with the apparently early success of Menexenus and Lysis coming together as best of friends. Socrates proceeds, then, to quiz Menexenus on the meaning of friendship (211e).
From here to 218c, Socrates pursues a confusion of questions and terms that aim at distinguishing lovers, friends, and enemies, as well as the relations of being loved, befriended, or hated. It begins with the thesis that, among lovers, "either may be the friend of either." And it continues through the advice of several traditional poets --- first, that "like attracts like" and, then, that "like artisans always wind up arguing with their fellow artisans." This entire part of the dialogue is an example of Sophistic argument and it is done intentionally because of Menexenus' connection with the Sophist Ctesippus. Socrates demonstrates how the Sophists twist meanings and the direction of arguments by using words irresponsibly and not attending to meanings, as we should. At the end, mimicking the Sophist's thirst for aggressive argument, Socrates says that he delights like the hunter at the end of the chase.
No sooner has he said this but Socrates receives a "certain suspicion" that their conclusions are not true. This is Socrates' daimon which keeps him on the path to truth. At this point (218d), the Socratic argument begins. In effect, Socrates suggests that, rather than just pursuing a verbal argument for the benefit of winning, we need to discover some first principles that lead us to the true meaning of friendship, principles that can help us truly judge when friendship happens. These principles are rarely very far away from traditional wisdom as conveyed to us by the poets. The issue is one of learning how to hear and understand the poets. The Sophists teach a way of using the poets to one's advantage; Socrates encourages us to seek the ways that they have always been understood.
What if we remove the influence of evil, will friendship die? And since it does not, mustn't it be that friendship, in truth, comes out of a positive desire for something and not just by repulsion? This allows Socrates to introduce a new term, "congeniality." Perhaps friends are attracted to each other because they are congenial and not merely because they are like one another? They must now explore the potential differences that the term "congenial" introduces into the discussion; but this is where the discussion ends. Note, when the focus turns from likeness to congeniality, that Lysis remains silent and disturbed. He is beginning to find the troublesome problems within his "friendship" with Menexenus.
In the final analysis, we should recall that the wisdom of the poets (i.e., tradition) was that the gods are always drawing like toward like. Here, as in so many cases, Socrates winds up very close to the wisdom of tradition, but with a new spin. Doesn't it say a little something more when we say that two people are congenial than it does when we say they are like one another? The answer to the question of the dialogue lies in articulating this difference; but this is exactly where the dialogue ends.
The dialogue Euthyphro is less dramatically complex than Lysis so the argument is more formal and direct. Euthyphro and Socrates are both involved in suits and both suits involve the issue of piety. Euthyphro, as it turns out, is bringing suit against his father on a charge of murder and this gives Socrates the opportunity to question him since he must be very wise and pious to bring suit against his own father, especially under the circumstances.
Euthyphro begins (5d -- Greek text) with the thesis that "piety is doing as I am doing; that is to say, prosecuting anyone who is guilty of murder, sacrilege, or of any similar crime." He connects this idea with various stories about the gods; in some sense and in this particular expression of piety, he is modeling his action after these stories. But Socrates suggests that he wanted a different kind of definition --- not just a couple of examples but, rather, the "general idea" of piety. These are important points because, first, they point out that traditional cultural training is based on a narrative tradition and, second, that people are guided anecdotally by this tradition. Socrates' response demonstrates his belief that we should try to secure action in general principles, though he allows that these may already reside implicitly in the narrative tradition.
To satisfy Socrates, Euthyphro comes forward with a new definition (7a). "Piety, then, is that which is dear to the gods." Socrates agrees that this is the sort of definition he was looking for so, now, the dialectic process can begin. Socrates proceeds to uncover the negative content of this thesis, in his typical way, by bringing it into examples where Euthyphro will no longer want to hold onto it. In effect, what sorts of issues do the gods (and men) agree upon and what sorts, disagree? Certainly, justice and the good are things that men bicker about all the time, and our stories tell us that the gods differ angrily about many of these things as well. Logically, then, won't the gods disagree angrily about justice and the good?
Euthyphro sees the necessity of amending his definition and so (9d) he suggests that piety is what ALL the gods love, impiety is what ALL the gods hate, and the rest is ill determined. This offers Socrates a new avenue of approach. In effect, should one love something because someone else loves it or becomes it is an appropriate object of love. Hence, is something holy or sacred because the gods love it or because it is holy or sacred and, hence, intrinsically to be loved? Euthyphro is reduced to confusion.
Socrates attempts to push the questioning further himself by offering a new thesis about piety, but this is a thesis about the concept and not about the gods. "Is not that which is pious necessarily just?" (11e) --- in effect, Socrates suggests that piety is contained in the concept of justice. Socrates clarifies the notion by showing Euthyphro that what he means is that justice is the larger concept and that piety is to be found within the concept of justice. This is the high water mark of the dialectic in the sense that this is the closest Socrates gets the discussion in the direction of truth. As we see, below, Euthyphro is not able to follow further and the dialectic begins to deteriorate.
Which portion of the concept of justice, then, is piety? (13) Euthyphro begins by suggesting that it is that portion of justice which attends to the gods, as opposed to that portion that attends to men. But what do we mean by "attention?" Socrates uses a strategy, at this point, that is typical of him. He places this notion of "attention" in the context of an art or craft. So does our attention to the gods improve them in the way, say, that our attention to horses improves them? Euthyphro sees the problem and suggests, instead, that our attention to the gods is a service, or ministration, more along the lines of helping the gods to perform their good works. But this, of course, is taking the discussion back to a previous issue -- is something holy or sacred because the gods love it or because it is holy or sacred. Hence, are "good works" good because they belong to the gods or because they are good in themselves and ought to be ministered to anyway?
Euthyphro becomes confused when Socrates questions about the gods' good works, though, and (14b) he reverts to his beginning position. "Piety is learning how to please the gods in word and deed." The dialogue is over, in effect; Euthyphro has completely dropped the direction in which Socrates' questioning was going.
What has Socrates shown? Euthyphro, like so many young Athenians, under the influence of traditional stories and mores, has a concept of pious behavior that is loosely connected with tradition. But he is impulsively applying this notion of piety in a specific case. Does he really know what he's doing? Socrates' point is that piety belongs to some central concepts. Can we know something about what is sacred and is it sacred merely because it is embraced by the gods or because it just is sacred? In effect, what role do the gods play in the sacred. Perhaps they help us find the pious by example. But we become pious through the gods by allowing their example to help us find the pious in our own lives. It is a principle that we all seek.
In the Apology we take up the issues brought against Socrates and judged before the Athenians. The dialogue begins right after the prosecution has rested its case against Socrates; the entire dialogue is Socrates' defense as he proposes it.
We begin with a contrast between the style of discourse and argument of Socrates' accusers (as well as the court of Athens itself) and that of Socrates. The former is eloquent and sophisticated rhetoric, the kind of emotion-tapping and elegant discourse that Sophists teach young men to use. It is the kind of talk that wins the day in the contemporary political arena. But is any of it true? Socrates begs them to hear him out in a different tongue (perhaps almost as different in the Athens of his day as a foreign tongue) which, in his view, conveys the truth and enables just judgment. (Some things never change! Consider the awesome rhetoric going on in any of our national campaigns, these days.)
The dialogue divides into three main parts. In the first part, Socrates considers a group of accusations that date from past time; in fact, they were probably made by Socrates' contemporaries. Much of the present audience grew up hearing these accusations; they are, in that sense, the most dangerous. In the second part, Socrates considers the contemporary charges brought against him. In the third part, he discusses suitable punishments for what he has done with his life.
The ancient charges against him are summarized as "Socrates is an evil doer, and a curious person, who searches for things under the earth and in heaven, and he makes the worse appear the better cause; and he teaches the aforesaid doctrines to others." In some respects, this is the comic picture of Socrates that we see in Aristophanes' play "Clouds." Socrates denies this on two counts. (He could scarcely deny that he is a curious person, of course, and that is probably the true origin of the accusations!) First, he is being confused with the speculative philosophers (those we call the "pre-Socratics") but he doesn't engage in speculation about the nature of matter and such. Second, he is also being confused with the Sophists, who do profess to teach and, indeed, charge money for their services. But he does not profess to possess knowledge or teach in the formal sense. But where did such ideas come from?
Socrates now relates the old story of Chaerephon, his admirer, going to the Oracle at Delphi and asking whether there is anyone wiser than Socrates and to which the Oracle responded that there was no man wiser. (We note of course that this response does NOT say that Socrates is wise since it can mean that no man, including Socrates, is wise.) As Socrates recalls this period of his life, he doubted the god and went about, interviewing men who had large reputations for wisdom. Unfortunately, though, what Socrates discovered on questioning men was that their reputations were greatly inflated and that they were not wise; but they deeply resented having this pointed out to them, especially, as it was, in front of their friends. Socrates was beginning to believe that his greater wisdom, if he possessed it, was his knowledge that he was not wise; meanwhile, he had made a number of enemies in powerful positions. His travels took him first to politicians, then to the great poets, and then to artisans and craftsmen. But all failed to demonstrate wisdom; mostly they could not even understand the bases of their own works and skills. As personal resentments mounted, Socrates himself was taken to task on false grounds in order to save face.
This section comes to an end on 24b and Socrates takes up the newer accusations brought against him. These are the specific accusations of Meletus and they are represented as saying that "Socrates is a doer of evil, who corrupts the youth; and who does not believe in the gods of the State, but has other divinities of his own." Socrates now cross-examines Meletus. First of all, if he is a corrupter of youth, who can properly instruct the youth? Socrates observes the irony in Meletus' reply that all Athenians are proper instructors. But if Socrates is, indeed, the only corrupter of youth, Meletus must either be wrong about this or Socrates was unintentional about it because, as Socrates argues, to intentionally corrupt the youth makes no sense --- since no one intentionally does that which harms himself. And in either of the possible cases, Meletus should have dealt with the situation differently.
Having said this, Socrates attempts to explore how Meletus could possibly claim that he is a corrupter of youth and teacher of false gods. And he gets Meletus to simplify his charge to simple atheism; here, Socrates maintains, he has found Meletus in a contradiction. How could Socrates both be an atheist and teach gods of any sort. After some questioning that simply draws out the impossibility of contradictions of this sort, Socrates drops the matter (28a) and goes on to a much more general thesis. [In effect, Socrates gets through this argument way too easily. Meletus has been impulsive in allowing the accusation to be trivialized as atheism. Meletus is probably correct that Socrates has an unusual position relative to the gods, and the dialogue would be substantially more interesting and informative if Socrates had to actually define and defend his religious belief.]
At this point (28e), Socrates begins a lengthy exploration of his life and motives. A person must choose what seems right and good and follow that life even if this causes problems or even untimely death. Goodness of life comes before longevity. Socrates, in his own view, has chosen the good path in life; in fact, the gods have commanded him to follow this path. His resolve in this is sufficient, indeed, that even if the Athenians were to condemn him over and over for what he does, he would still choose this path. In fact, it is the right/good path for Athens, too, and if they harm him, or stop him, they can only harm themselves by removing this good influence from their midst. But why did he not enter public service, if his life was supposedly devoted to public service? Socrates argues that his kind of critique could never last long from within; a person like himself must remain outside.
At 34b the formal arguments have ended and Socrates reflects on the trial itself. He recognizes that he has handled himself different from most people and, indeed, that tradition is for people to corrupt the court with emotion-grabbing displays and rhetorical devices that seek to sway the judges beyond reason. But Socrates sees himself as having lived the rational life, a life based on consistent seeking of wisdom and improvement of the state, not on further corruption of the state, even if that is the tradition. He must, then, live as he has even if this may now mean his life.
At the top of 36, there has been a break for the vote and we find Socrates returning to answer to his verdict, which is condemnation. The question that remains is his sentencing. Socrates, somewhat arrogantly, in the face of his verdict and the recommendation for death sentence, suggests that what he actually deserves is maintenance in the Prytaneum (sort of a national center for great people) since his service to the state has been consistently for the best and since he has received nothing for it. But, finally, since he sees that he must pay some penalty, he suggests 30 minae, banking on the idea that some of his supporters present will give him credit.
In the end, the sentence of death is decided and Socrates has the floor for some final remarks. It is ripe ground for Plato to summarize much of Socrates' philosophical character in some eminently quotable quotes. "The unexamined life is not worth living." "I would rather die having spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live." "The difficulty, my friends, is not to avoid death, but to avoid unrighteousness." "They too go their ways condemned by the truth to suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong."
In the end, Socrates reflects on the fact that his daimon, or sign, did not, at any time, warn him that he was proceeding in the wrong direction; hence, he can only believe that he has done the right thing.
This dialogue follows the Apology and finds Socrates in prison awaiting the time when he will be executed. (Actually, it was the custom to ask the prisoner to take a draft of hemlock and, thus, in effect, poison himself.) Crito is a wealthy friend who comes to urge Socrates to avoid the death penalty by following the simple and rather traditional procedure of bribing the jailers and accepting voluntary exile. Crito is considerably concerned that his reputation will be damaged if Socrates does not escape since people will think that Crito and others did not help Socrates escape when they clearly could have done so. Socrates could continue his life elsewhere, making new friends and taking care of his family. But this, in fact, is the issue. Can Socrates "continue his life elsewhere" or is it fastened in some fundamental way to Athens?
Socrates engages Crito in a discussion about the issue, and the prelude to the argument is the question of whose opinion we should value. Crito has couched his position, to some degree, under the position that he fears what people will say, when they realize that he could have paid for Socrates' escape but evidently did not. This offers Socrates an opportunity to expand on the issue of wisdom of the few versus the collective opinion of the many. Anyone who loves wisdom will surely not adhere to mere opinion. Socrates makes it clear that only a few are actually wise and that wisdom should be valued above all else. This offers an implicit connection between wisdom and virtue; that is, living rightly is living by what we can reason out.
The remainder of the argument divides into two parts. Is it always wrong to do evil even if it is in response to evil done to us? And does anyone have a right to damage the state that has nurtured him/her from infancy? The discussion of the first question goes swiftly. It is never right to do evil and we cannot afford to do evil just because we feel that evil has been done to us. Our obligation is always to do what is best. Probably most people will agree with this.
The second question is far more controversial in our own social context. Socrates takes the position that the state always stands in a paternalistic relationship to the citizen and that, in some sense, the state always has the right to dispose of the citizen as it sees fit. To act against the state's will seems, to Socrates, to be an act of destruction to the state and, since we owe our lives to the state, this is not owed and, in fact, is evil. Socrates even suggests that there are "covenants and agreements" implicit between the citizen and the state. In his own situation, while he can see himself as a victim of evil men, he is not a victim of an evil state. The state's system of justice has worked as it should. How then could he act in a way that simply destroys the state, merely to spite the evil men who have placed him where he is?
Throughout the dialogue the image of Socrates is one of patience and peace-of-mind. He sleeps well and he talks of his death without emotionalism. It is a picture of one who has lived well and who intends to die well.
As a piece of literature and historical biography, the Phaedo completes Plato's account of the life of Socrates. From Socrates' typical dialectical inquiry with Euthyphro outside of the court, to his own passionate defense of his gadfly existence in Athens, to his reasoned arguments against taking law into his own hands and escaping his sentence, finally, to his peaceful acceptance of death, Socrates is consistently portrayed as a man for whom the life of the mind is central and a man who gains great strength, confidence, and peace from that life.
Nevertheless, the Phaedo is probably one of Plato's most confusing dialogues to interpret. While the picture of Socrates and his friends carrying on a serious discussion right up to the very point of taking the hemlock is undoubtedly true to Socrates' character (if not to historical fact), the rationalization of Socrates' great peace of mind is rather clearly an introduction to Plato's own philosophical program. Phaedo is not an early work, as were Euthyphro, Apology, and Crito; rather it was written midway in Plato's philosophical development, along with Phaedrus, Republic, and Symposium. In many respects Plato is giving us his own answers to these questions and has departed significantly from Socrates himself. Symbolically, Plato makes this clear by suggesting that he was not present at the time, thus absenting himself from an exact replication of the discussion.
The discussion up to 69e may accurately represent Socrates' own beliefs and state of mind. Socrates assumes that the living individual is made up of both a body and a soul and that these two are separated at death. He assumes that the soul is immortal and that the good person has been moving toward this separation even in life. The person who has been devoted to love of the body has much to lose in death; on the contrary, the person who has been devoted to love of the mind, truth, and wisdom should have much to look forward to. If Socrates himself were really asked to defend these assumptions, he would likely site traditional mythic wisdom.
At 69e the participants challenge Socrates' assumptions --- perhaps impolite or insensitive, in view of the fact that Socrates is about to test his hypothesis, but very much in keeping, nevertheless, with Socrates' own devotion to dialectic. Perhaps the soul also dies. Do we have any reasons for believing in its immortality? Presumably, one should not be so complacent about facing death if there is no reason to believe it is anything other than complete personal extermination.
Plato gives us three arguments, from 69e to 72e, 72e to 78b, and 78b to 84b. The first argument is a traditional position, the Doctrine of Reincarnation. In advancing this argument, Plato is guided by a number of pre-Socratic philosophers as well as by myth and custom. The argument is based on the premise of a universal law. All coming-to-be proceeds from opposites into their opposites. The universe is an eternal dynamic of oppositions. The Greek word for coming-to-be includes both changes of things that exist as well as the processes of apparently coming into existence (70e). As the argument proceeds, life and death are suggested as an obvious opposition; thus, the conclusion is that life moves into death and death moves into life. But is this an eternal process or just a "linear process" that eventually runs to an end? Plato's answer, here, is that, were it a linear process, everything would ultimately wind up dead; and that seems counter-intuitive to the participants.
We should certainly ask how much this argument shows. Even if we accept the premise of universal opposition, does this convince us that the soul remains unaffected throughout? Also, do we have any warranted intuition that human life will continue indefinitely?
The second argument begins at 72e where Cebes refers to "that theory you're always putting forward, that our learning is actually nothing but recollection." (The theory is very much Plato's and not Socrates'.) The Doctrine of Recollection suggests that what we truly know cannot be found in sense experience, in life, and is available to us only in so far as we remember it (or are reminded of it) from before life. Plato often used examples drawn from mathematics --- equality, geometrical ideas, etc. This suggests that the soul, clearly identified here as the "knowing faculty," must have existed prior to life (its clumsy combination with body) so that it could know these things. When the soul moves from death into life, its knowledge is clouded and confused, thus human knowledge is always a shadowy recollection that happens in the dialectical process by subtle reminders of what was once known. The theory refers backward to what Socrates said, at the beginning, about the philosopher being a person who loves wisdom by withdrawing from the distractions and confusions of body to embrace the knowledge of the soul. Obviously, if there is reason to believe in this theory, then it seems to be strong evidence for the independent and immortal existence of the soul. We will have several opportunities, in other dialogues, to discuss the basis of this theory critically. This is a theory that obviously had a strong influence on early Christians in the Hellenic (Alexandrian) world; and, as we will see later, it is also the basis of so-called "Platonic love."
A critical point in this argument is the assertion that the objects of true knowledge are absolute realities (77a). If this is so, then intuition seems to suggest that the soul, as knower of these realities, must also be an absolute reality. That is, the soul and the Ideas (as Plato called them) are actually the only realities; everything else is ephemeral. The fact that we know anything demonstrates, in this way, our eternal relationship with the Ideas.
In the final argument, Plato takes a somewhat independent path and begins by addressing what we fear in death, the dispersal of the soul. At 78c Plato suggests that there are two kinds of things --- composite and non-composite (elemental) things. Then, the sort of thing that is likely to fall apart and disperse is the composite thing; the elemental thing remains invariant. When we look around us, it seems clear that the body and other sensed objects are all composites which fall apart and disperse eventually. The soul, however, is most closely associated with elemental realities that are uniform and changeless. In short, the soul cannot be that sort of thing that will disperse.
This is an important argument since it clarifies considerably the first argument about reincarnation. By making the soul an elemental reality, Plato excludes it from processes of change, hence, of having an opposite. Thus, the argument of life to death to life, again, does not imply any change into a soul-opposite; instead, the soul moves as a constant throughout the physical process of life to death to life.
But are there further reasons, other than pure intuition, that compel us to believe that the soul is this kind of thing? At 80a Plato begins the final thrust of this argument. The assertion is that, in life, the soul (mind) rules and orders the body. This is analogous, as Plato sees it, to the divine gods ruling the physical order of things. Thus, not only is the soul the same kind of thing as the Ideas, but it is also the same kind of thing as the divine.
By the end of these three arguments, most of those present are convinced and satisfied but some doubters remain, Simmias and Cebes, in particular. Simmias advances an analogy between the soul and the tuning of a lyre (86); Cebes worries that, in spite of the prior existence of the soul, entrance into the body may be the beginning of the soul's decomposition and death. How do we really know that, when the body decomposes, the soul will not also disappear? There is an interlude from here to 91c.
During this interlude, Socrates warns against "misology," the danger being that careless use of arguments may lead us into a hatred of argument in general. Though the point takes up a trivial portion of the text, it is far from trivial. The roots are misew' and logos'. The former is the verb "to hate" and the latter is a noun of major significance, broadly understood as "word," "reason," or "discourse." It is not merely "argument" that is at issue here but rather "language" as such and humankind as "language-bearer/creator" in particular. Humans differ from other animals in three important ways. They are relatively hairless; they persistently modify their environments; and they possess language. Of these, language is the most important; many creation myths begin something like, "In the beginning was the word (logos)." In the Judeo-Christian myth, God speaks the creation --- "let there be light," etc. --- that is, language is connected with the power of creation. In the worldly, practical sense, it is through language that we communicate with others and through language that we think through our feelings, beliefs, and actions. We literally create our individual lives through (and within) language.
Nevertheless, in our society, we have not taken Socrates' advice; we trivialize the issue of word meanings; hence, we trivialize language use. On TV we watch "arguments" (talk shows, news commentary, public debates, etc.) which become anarchies of individuals, flailing at each other, using words as weapons of destruction. People interrupt each other; in the end, no one listens. True argument (dialectic) in fact does not exist in our society. At best, we find rhetoric, at worst, complete anarchy. Oddly enough, no one would treat numbers so carelessly! ("What d' ya mean you're paying me $30, this week?! Hey, they're just numbers, man!") We have a high regard for precision in the numerical. We have, in fact, become a society of misologists. But what does that say about our own inner worlds, our very thoughts and feelings?
Let us return, here, to Socartes; the interlude is over. At 91d Socrates reviews the beliefs that Simmias and Cebes have advanced. The view of Simmias is that the soul is a kind of "attunement" brought into existence by adjusting proper tensions among the bodily parts. It is pure and beautiful like the attunement of a lyre but it must be as fragile, when the tension is lost.
Plato begins by demonstrating that Simmias' attunement idea is inconsistent with the Doctrine of Recollection, which he had earlier accepted. Attunement requires the presence of the bodily parts to be tuned; hence, the soul's existence prior to the body's existence is impossible. Yet, we have a much stronger argument through the Doctrine of Recollection, Plato thinks, than we have for the attunement idea.
At 93a Plato takes another approach. Do we agree that there are good souls and bad souls? This is something that was discussed earlier and Simmias confirms his belief at 93c. Yet a soul remains purely and simply a soul, no matter how good or bad. A bad soul is not less of a soul. But if the soul is analogous to attunement, the soul itself becomes lesser or greater with the degree of attunement, leaving no way to explain the goodness or badness of souls as such.
Finally, at 94b, Plato makes a final point to the effect that we see the soul ruling over the body, taking command, as it were; and this does not seem consistent with the attunement model, where the bodily parts rule the tune through the adjustment of their tensions. Having disposed of Simmias, Socartes moves to Cebes.
Cebes accepts the arguments for the soul's prior existence but doubts the traditional belief in unending reincarnation. It is possible, then, that the soul's uncomfortable combination with body, in life, is the soul's last journey and that death will lead to the soul's destruction as well. This problem leads Socrates into a somewhat circuitous version of his intellectual life story, the latter portion of which is more Plato's than Socrates'. It is an opportunity to explore the inadequacies of natural science, according to Plato, and to assert the greater usefulness of Plato's Theory of Ideas (Forms). The portion of this that is historically most Socratic is the observation that the true cause of Socrates being in jail awaiting death is not likely the physico-chemical components and relations of his body; it is far more likely to be explained by Socrates' reasoned commitments to obey the will of Athens and suffer their elected punishment. If we wish to understand life, we must submit ourselves to a study of intelligence rather than to flesh and bones.
From this point forward, Plato advances the full breadth of his Theory of Ideas and its application to the world. The Ideas exist as such; we associate various worldly things with Ideas because they "participate" in the Ideas. But the Ideas do not merge into each other, neither opposite to its opposite, nor one nature into another. So, finally, Plato associates the soul with the bringing body to life. That is, the body participates in life through participation in soul. But soul, as this kind of thing, cannot merge into its opposite. The soul must be immortal. The argument ends at 107b.
The remainder of the dialogue contains a reflective myth regarding the passage of souls to Hades and the divisions among good souls and bad. Finally, Socrates approaches the moment of his death, which he takes with his characteristic calm, the model of one who actually believes what he has been arguing.