(Continuum Studies in Ancient Philosophy) Rebecca Bensen Cain - The Socratic Method - Plato's Use of Philosophical Drama (Continuum Studies in Ancient Philosophy) (2007, Continuum) PDF

THE SOGRATIC METHOD
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THE SOCRATIC METHOD
Plato's Use of Philosophical Drama
REBECCA BENSEN CAIN
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© Rebecca Bensen Cain 2007
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For Jim
Contents
Preface ix
Abbreviations xi
Chapter 1: The Socratic Method of Dialectic 1

Introduction 1
A Psychological Model 3
Vlastos' Epistemological Model 5
The Moral Aim 8
Examples from the Texts 10
Overview of the Three Functions 12
The Moral Aim Defended 14
Aporia and its Psychological Effects 16
Aporia and the Elenctic Function 17
Sincerity and Integrity 18
Sincerity and Sincere Assent 21
Socratic Method and Shame 23
The Psychological Principle of Eudaimonism 26
Conclusion: A Constructive Approach 28
Chapter 2: The Protreptic Function 32

Introduction 32
The Elenctic and Protreptic Functions 33
The Use oiEndoxa 39
The Protreptic Function and Three Endoxical Premises 43
Socratic Interlocutors 46
Examples of Protreptic Discourse 48
Conclusion: Protreptic Themes and Arguments 55
Chapter 3: Ambiguity and Argumentation 57

Introduction 57
The Epistemic Function 59
viii Contents
A Detour to the Phaedrus 63

Ambiguity 67
Terminology 68
Making the Meaning Clear 69
Two Examples from the Texts 71
Refuting and Persuading Polemarchus 76
Polus and the Desire for Power 85
Conclusion 92
Chapter 4: Ambiguity and Drama 94

Introduction 94
Historical Background 95
Creative Use of Ambiguity 101
Perspectives on Refutation 104
The Normative Use of Technique 106
Dialectical Conduct and Conflict 109
The Drama and the Method 111
Notes 112
Bibliography 125
Index 133
Preface
The book is about Plato's use of drama in his dialogues and the philosophical
method of Plato's Socrates. In my study of Plato, I am drawn inexorably to
the idea that the way to read his dialogues is to read them as literature and as
philosophy at the same time. I developed a great respect for the method of
Socrates for several reasons which have to do mainly with self-education and
self-knowledge. I came to realize both how nearly impossible it is to practice
as a method of teaching and learning, and that there really is no way to teach
or learn philosophy, other than to adopt some version of it.
Though I am not able, in this book, to give full reference to the long line of
traditional thinkers who have written profoundly on Plato but have missed
the limelight in Platonic studies, so to speak, I am indebted to all of them for
teaching me how to read the dialogues. In writing the book, I have
approached the secondary literature in Platonic scholarship gingerly so as
not to get bogged down with issues that I would not be able to treat with
adequate care and consideration. I do not give great attention to the
many-headed problems of interpretation of the Platonic dialogues. My cita-
tions are intended mainly to be a useful guide to other works on the subjects I
discuss. In citing sources, I have minimized commentary on what other
authors have said in order to keep the book accessible and intelligible to
the non-specialist reader. Since the book is the intellectual heir to my
dissertation thesis (Bensen 1999) in which I have given copious notes
and tireless care to the current issues that surround the topics of Plato and
Socratic method, I am comfortable with having to forego much of the heavy
weather now. I will refer the reader to the dissertation wherever this
is appropriate.
I acknowledge my appreciation to the philosophy department at Okla-
homa State University for having me as a member of their entourage.
Above all, I wish to express personal gratitude to Jim, my husband, philoso-
pher and confidant. The colleagues and professors who have helped to
see me through my ideas are Voula Tsouna and Nick Smith, to whom I
owe special thanks, and Herbert Garelick, Charles McCracken, Hubert
x Preface
Schwyzer, Matthew Hanser and Richard Hall. I am grateful to the people
at Continuum for their receptivity and support in producing the book,
especially Jim Fieser, Philip de Bary, Adam Green, Sarah Douglas and
Slav Todorov.
R.B.C.
June 2006
Abbreviations
Plato
Ale. I. Alcibiades I
Ap. Apology
Chrm. Charmides
Cr. Crito
Crat. Cratylus
Eud. Euthydemus
Eu. Euthyphro
Grg. Gorgias
HMaj. Hippias Major
HMin. Hippias Minor
La. Laches
Ly. Lysis
Men, Menexenus
Parm. Parmenides
Phd, Phaedo
Phdr, Phaedrus
Phil, Philebus
Prt. Protagoras
Rep, Republic
Sym. Symposium
Tht, Theaetetus
Soph, Sophist
St.. Statesman
Ti, Timaeus
Aristotle
Metaph, Metaphysics
NE Nicomachean Ethics
Rh, Rhetoric
SE Sophistici Elenchi
Top, Topics
Chapter 1
The Socratic Method of Dialectic
Introduction
In this study, I propose a psychological model of Socratic method (SM).

I argue for this model in five ways. I claim that (i) the principal aim of the
method is moral improvement through self-knowledge and there are three
functions which serve this aim; (ii) the experience of aporia, the demand for
sincerity, and the motivating effects of shame are the basic psychological
features that contribute to self-knowledge; and (iii) the main presupposition
on which the method rests is a claim about human nature: all humans, by
nature, desire the good where 'good' is understood as happiness or that
which conduces to happiness. This view is called 'psychological eudaimon-
ism'. As part of the model, I offer a constructive interpretation of Socrates'
moral position that involves two additional claims about his methodology:
(iv) he makes use of regulative endoxa, the common or reputable opinions,
as a dialectical strategy; and (v) he uses verbal ambiguity in his reinterpre-
tation of the agreed-upon regulative endoxical premises. I show that the
combined use of regulative endoxical premises and verbal ambiguity pro-
vides Socrates with a way to refute and to persuade the interlocutor, and
gives him a basis for arguing for his own moral position as represented in
the dialogues.
This chapter is concerned with the first three claims and presents the
moral-psychological features of the method. In explaining the psychological
model, I attempt to clarify Socrates' moral aim, identify the three functions
and discuss their relationship to the aim. I defend the moral aim briefly and
discuss a number of critical questions that surround the topic of Socrates'
practice of philosophy and Plato's dramatic presentation of the method.
In the next chapter, I introduce the idea of regulative endoxa, which forms
a part of claim (iv), and further discuss the three functions. I focus on the
protreptic function and examine several versions of Socrates' protreptic
style of argument taken from the texts.
2 The Socratic Method
I address claim (v) in Chapter 3, which begins with a discussion of the

epistemic function and introduces the concept of ambiguity. I sort out the
terminology that is relevant to the arguments and fallacies that Socrates
constructs. Then I turn to key passages in the Euthydemus and Protagoras to
explain the basic moves involved in the fallacy of equivocation. Next, I
show how Socrates uses ambiguity based on his own moral and psychologic-
al beliefs to persuade the interlocutors to change their beliefs, desires and
values, and to care above all about the soul and virtue. The refutations of
Polemarchus in Republic I and Polus in the Gorgias are discussed at length.
The fourth chapter blends together the topics of ambiguity and drama in
Plato and the ancient Greek literary tradition. The chapter provides histor-
ical background on ambiguity and fallacy in Aristotle and the Stoics and
contrasts their approaches with the creative use of ambiguity. I suggest
that a broader treatment of refutation and fallacy than is ordinarily pre-
supposed is appropriate to the dialectical format in which Socrates and the
Sophists operate and use their techniques. Developing the idea of the proper
use of technique, I describe the relevant contrasts between SM and the
methods of rhetoric used by the Sophists. Finally, I discuss Plato's use of
drama in portraying the method. As part of my project I intend to show
that Plato, as a philosopher and a dramatist-poet, is deeply concerned with
the use and misuse of language and argumentation. His concerns are
revealed in the dramatic context of the dialogues as well as in the arguments.
His approach to the problems of language is revisionist; this revisionist
approach is at the core of SM and it is expressed in the discourse of SM.
Plato's art is everywhere in the dialogues and in SM. Plato's art is manifest
through his use of poetic and dramatic elements to portray character and
the psychological attributes of character in highly animated philosophical
conversation. He builds these elements into the philosophical themes of
the dialogues in a way that causes a fit between the logical and psychological
components of SM.
The overall line of argument for the psychological interpretation of SM
which I offer is this. There are five aspects of SM that must be included and
explained in order to make the method intelligible and give it a justification
it would not otherwise have. The first three show its moral purpose and psy-
chological impact, and the last two show its logical and rhetorical underpin-
nings. These aspects cannot be explained unless the drama of the dialogues is
taken fully into account. My interpretation gives the method an informal
structure and motivational content. This content is grounded in the aim of
moral self-improvement which is itself based on Socrates' psychological
eudaimonism. On my reading of the dialogues, both Socrates as character
and Plato as author believe that there is no such thing as a value-neutral
The Socratic Method ofDialectic 3
method of inquiry into moral truths and the meaning of the good life.
It seems to me that an appropriate way to begin a study of SM is with a con-
cern for what motivates Socrates and how his moral and psychological
beliefs support the method.
A Psychological Model
In the model, I propose three main dialectical activities of SM: refutation,

truth-seeking and persuasion. The familiar Socratic 'elenchos' identified
with the refutation or cross-examination of interlocutors is considered to be
only one function of the method which I call the 'elenctic' function. The
Socratic search for knowledge, usually construed in terms of seeking defini-
tions of the virtues by asking the 'what is it' question, I call the 'epistemic'
function. The persuasive attempts that Socrates makes to lead the inter-
locutor toward a Socratic moral position, I call the 'protreptic' function.
I argue that the protreptic function has a significant role to play in how
Socrates constructs his elenctic arguments. What I mean by the word 'func-
tion5 is that Socrates does something with the arguments he constructs;
that is, he engages in argumentative modes of discourse which direct him
towards his goal.
From the standpoint of this model, the term 'elenchos' which is most com-
monly used to refer, either broadly or narrowly, to Socrates' method is not
sufficient; it is confining and misleading. The term I use to refer generally to
the method is 'dialectic' which at its most fundamental level means 'conver-
sation', 'talk' or 'discourse'. To define SM broadly as a dialectical method is
to regard it as a philosophical conversation or discussion which proceeds by
question and answer. In referring to SM in the strict sense, I use the phrase
'Socratic dialectic' to mean Socrates' method of reasoned inquiry, in the
form of a philosophical conversation usually between two people, conducted
through question and answer, and structured by the goal of moral self-
improvement. l
In the grandest outline, to study SM is to study the nature of dialectic in
the form that is most pervasive in the Platonic corpus, even as it is trans-
formed into what is called 'Platonic method' or 'Platonic dialectic'. What I
mean here is that the discursive features of SM are still identifiable within
other conceptions of dialectic which Plato uses in the 'middle' and 'later'
dialogues. In the cumulative body of Plato's works, SM becomes part of
newer structures and modes of inquiry, such as the method of hypothesis
introduced in the Meno. SM evolves into a composite methodology which
includes the 'second-best' method used in the Phaedo that follows upon
Socrates' narrative of his changing point of view. A distinctively metaphys-

ical and Platonic method of hypothesis through dialectic is offered in
the Republic; this is the method by which philosophers are able to know the
Forms which culminates in a vision of the Form of the Good. Socrates says
that he would 'give the name dialectician to the man who is able to exact an
account of the essence of each thing' (534b).2 And finally, there is the
method of collection and division introduced in the Phaedrus, and developed
in the Pkilebus, Statesman and Sophist.
As a discursive method of reasoning, SM has limitations which are intrin-
sic to its specific form, normative content and scope. Broader boundaries are
set by the dramatic elements created by Plato as the author. Plato casts the
character of Socrates as the protagonist or philosophical hero, and
he is set on a stage with a host of characters who are his interlocutors with
their assigned roles to play. The silent presence of the audience of listeners
and by standers from within the dramatic context puts a literary frame
around the dialogues. Add to this mix Plato's readership of a given time
period and the multiple perspectives provided by generations of inter-
preters, and the delightful result is two distinct layers of meaning from
which to discuss Socratic argumentation in the dialogues. One may look at
Socrates' speech, his way of conducting himself and how he treats his inter-
locutors from the internal perspective of the dramatic action and character-
ization, and become fully engaged with the arguments on this level, or one
may pull back and look at the dramas from the external, textual perspective
in which Plato, the author, communicates with his readers.
It is necessary and important for the purposes of this study to recognize
that interpreting the dialogues as dramatic, artistically bound texts enables
a reader to make fruitful use of both perspectives or layers of meaning.
Hence, I distinguish between two frames or orders of reading the dialogues:
the first-order reading I refer to as the 'internal frame' or 'dramatic level',
and the second-order reading I refer to as the 'textual frame' or 'literary
level'. As readers, we may engage ourselves at either level or on both at the
same time. Once we step beyond the internal frame of the dialogue and
recognize the hermeneutic aspects of the Platonic text, it will be possible to
consider what Socrates says and does as involving us in Plato's literary pur-
poses, his critical motivations, his artistic creativity and resourcefulness of
imagination, and his magical play of language. Outside of the internal
frame, it will be easier for readers to see how we are involved as students of
Plato and become a part of his pedagogical intentions. This distinction will
facilitate my efforts to explain and justify the complex psycho-dynamics
of SM. As readers we are members of Socrates' and Plato's audiences.
We listen to Socrates speak and we read Plato. As listeners, we judge the
The Socratic Method of Dialectic 5
interactions, speeches and arguments from within the internal frame of the
dialectic and we are expected to question the value of SM; we will want
to know what benefits the method has and what harm it incurs. As readers
of Plato's text, we may criticize or praise a dialogue for its literary style,
dramatic composition and formal structure, its use of imagery, the presenta-
tion of characters, and for the philosophical depth and the levels of
meaning it offers.
There are context-sensitive features which fill in the drama of Socrates as
dialectician practicing his art. Such features are the historical background
which infuses the dialogue and its characters with a situation, the attitude of
a specific interlocutor and the attending psychological factors, for example
the desire to compete and win, and feelings of pride, shame, confusion, con-
tempt, frustration, impatience and anger, all of which clearly affect the force
and the direction of the argumentation Socrates uses. The recognition that
these contextual aspects are squarely within the dialectical context rather
than extraneous to it, and that the dialectical context is part of the dramatic
world of Plato, is central to my interpretation. The specific attention given
to how these aspects fit into a particular dialogue constitutes one of the
major differences between the psychological approach to SM which I
adopt and the standard models based on an epistemological approach.
What I call the 'epistemological model5 of SM focuses on Socrates' philo-
sophical views conceived in terms of his search for moral knowledge through
definitions. The dialogues are mainly interpreted as sources of Socratic
or Platonic doctrine. Philosophical problems about what Socrates knows or
believes, and how he establishes or fails to establish certain moral truths
associated with Socratic ethics, are pursued through logical analysis of pro-
positions and arguments. Broadly speaking, such models are represented by
the works of Richard Robinson, Gregory Vlastos, Gerasimos Santas and
Terence Irwin who offer a logic-centered, doctrinal analysis of methodology
in Socrates' and Plato's thought.3 My approach will contrast strongly with
these authors and with several prominent scholars who write on the topic of
SM.4 These scholars, while critical of the views of the aforementioned
authors, belong to the doctrinal or analytic tradition and adopt a similar
framework of assumptions.5
Vlastos' Epistemological Model
Before I present the psychological model of SM, I give some initial consid-
eration to the view put forth by Gregory Vlastos, whose influence on all mat-
ters concerning the Platonic Socrates is inexhaustible.6 Vlastos identifies
SM with the Socratic practice of cross-examination known as the elenchos.

The elenchos is identified with a logical device Socrates uses for refuting the
interlocutor by testing his alleged knowledge, or a set of beliefs, for consis-
tency. The interlocutor puts forward a thesis that he thinks is true.
By means of a series of questions and answers, Socrates is able to draw the
opposite conclusion of the interlocutor's thesis from premises the inter-
locutor accepts. With this formal procedure in mind, Vlastos defines the
Socratic elenchos as 'a search for moral truth by adversary argument in
which a thesis is debated only if asserted as the answerer's own belief, who
is regarded as refuted if and only if the negation of his thesis is deduced from
his own beliefs'.7
According to Vlastos, the goal of the elenchos is moral knowledge; it is pur-
sued primarily through the search for the essential nature, or true definition,
of virtue. As I interpret Vlastos' model, his analysis focuses almost exclu-
sively on the epistemic function of SM. Vlastos is concerned with how
Socrates gets at the truths he seeks, what conceptions of truth are operating,
what kind of knowledge Socrates has, what kind of knowledge Socrates lacks
and what methods he uses to justify his own beliefs. Socrates' method is
regarded as a 'search for moral truth' by means of the elenctic arguments
which refute the various theses of Socrates' interlocutors in Plato's 'early'
group of dialogues. Vlastos' view of the elenchos is called 'constructivist'
since he sees the elenctic arguments as yielding positive results from which
Socrates' moral views can be derived. He rejects those views of the Socratic
elenchos which construe it purely as a negative method for falsifying or
destroying the interlocutor's thesis, and removing the interlocutor's conceit
of wisdom. Rather, Vlastos argues that Socrates seeks to discover and
establish the truth by means of the elenchos.
Vlastos does acknowledge that the elenchos is 'pervasively negative in
form', but its form contrasts sharply with the content of Socrates' aim
which, he claims, is 'strongly positive: to discover and defend true moral
doctrine'.10 I agree with Vlastos that SM is constructive and seeks to know
truth, but this truth-seeking activity is extremely indirect and subject to the
qualifications placed on it by the conversational format of the argumenta-
tion. Socrates' way of searching for the truth is by means of a 'joint inquiry'
(koine skepsis)}1 His method is influenced by a moral ideal of human good-
ness which is inspired by a conception of divine wisdom. Because the mean-
ing of truth is directed by a moral ideal, the truth-seeking activity is a
normative function and not the goal of the method. To say that it is a 'nor-
mative' function means that it serves to improve others morally simply by
engaging in this activity. The truth-seeking activities, though they involve
both inductive and deductive forms of reasoning, do not serve to establish
truth directly through demonstration from true premises and first prin-
ciples. Socrates does search for a true account of virtue and the search is
grounded on rational principles and definitions which regulate the activ-
ities. However, by denning the primary objective of SM in terms of 'true
moral doctrine5 and treating such doctrine as the conclusions of deductively
valid arguments, Vlastos has formalized and simplified an informal and
multi-dimensional method.
The dialectical context for the truth-seeking activities relies on an
exchange between two people and what can be agreed between them, and
this indicates the need to limit the meaning of what it is to arrive at the truth
of a conclusion deductively. In its truth-seeking function, the method starts
out with some common agreement about what is true. Socrates is concerned
with how the interlocutor stands in relation to the truth of his own beliefs
and the search for truth is governed, to a large extent, by what he is willing
to admit given the topic at hand. In light of this qualification, the truth-seek-
ing activity is part of a dialectical method which includes both elenctic and
protreptic functions. The protreptic function is involved in the Socratic pro-
cess of interpreting what the truth of a belief means, and what it implies for
the interlocutor, as well as for Socrates.
Given that Socrates constructs elenctic arguments as a means of testing
the interlocutor's thesis for its truth value, Vlastos' interpretation generates
a problem which he calls the 'problem of the elenchos'}2 This is the problem
of how a method which tests only for consistency between an interlocutor's
beliefs can discover moral truth. The problem poses an interpretive obstacle
for the constructivist view which holds that there is a definitive moral posi-
tion to be attributed to Socrates in the 'early' dialogues. If the elenchos tests
only for consistency and there is no other independent means by which
Socrates arrives at his positive moral principles, then it is difficult to figure
out how Socrates grounded his beliefs and is so convinced of their truth. This
is a puzzle which Vlastos poses and tries to solve. His solution to the problem
attributes an epistemological assumption to SM that is implausibly strong,
and requires that Socrates use only true premises in the elenctic arguments
he constructs. However, the texts show Socrates relying upon premises
which he appears not to accept, working from the truth of ordinary conven-
tional opinions (endoxa), and using faulty logical reasoning in the elenctic
arguments. Hence, Vlastos has not been successful in resolving the issues
which his 'problem of the elenchos' has raised.
Vlastos' account of the elenchos and the critical responses to his views con-
stitute an enormous amount of the scholarly literature on the topic of SM.
His position covers many topics in Platonic scholarship and it is too complex
to be managed within this study. I am concerned with only a small part of
the package Vlastos offers. With respect to the cons true ti vis t side of his
approach which involves how to derive the positive results of the Socratic
moral position from elenctic arguments, I believe that Socrates' position
cannot be properly assessed through Vlastos' model because it relies upon
an interpretive approach which de-contextualizes passages and isolates the
elenctic arguments from the dialectical context of the dialogues.
The elenctic arguments by themselves cannot provide a direct source for
the assessment of Socrates' moral position because they are constructed
from the beliefs of the interlocutor and geared to his specific character.
Moreover, the elenctic arguments are enmeshed within the drama that
Plato creates. The Platonic dialogue is a unified collaboration of philosoph-
ical and literary elements which makes the argumentation and the inter-
action between the participants all the more exciting and realistic. The
contextual features of the dialectical exchanges are not drawbacks but an
aesthetic advantage for the interpreter who seeks to understand how
SM operates.
The personal and particular aspects that infuse the dialogues give the SM
its unique W hominem' and existential dimensions. The ad hominem aspects
involve the specific attributes of the character of the interlocutor who feels
the pressure of being questioned and is forced to express his beliefs openly in
public. The interlocutor may think he is being personally challenged or
attacked and the argumentation targets his interests and emotional reac-
tions. The three psychological components, aporia, the sincerity demand
and shame, are the ad hominem effects of SM. In general, the existential
dimension refers to the fact that the questions that Socrates poses to the
interlocutor are directly concerned with how he lives his life. As I inter-
pret the existential import of SM with regard to the dialectical con-
text, it means that the interlocutor is faced with a choice, in the dramatic
moment, about what to believe and what standpoint he will take. Socrates'
method of dialectic is inherently critical about whatever views are at
issue, whether they purportedly belong to Socrates, or the particular inter-
locutor, or to the poets, or the Athenian majority, the demos. If Socrates has
done his job properly, it will not be possible to extract from the elenctic
arguments Socrates' own beliefs as conclusions generated from the premises
of such arguments.
The Moral Aim
The first step in explaining the psychological model of SM is to clarify

Socrates' moral aim. Socrates is interested in moral truth and the method
can be understood initially as an inquiry into moral truth, but Socrates'
search for wisdom should not be interpreted in a deductive framework
which conceives of argumentation as simply a way to prove true conclu-
sions from true premises. In my interpretation, to say that Socrates aims at
moral truth is to say that his method has a function of seeking the truth indir-
ectly through dialogue with others, using their assumptions, agreements
and inferences based on their moral beliefs and social values. The subjects
of inquiry about which Socrates seeks to know the truth with his interlocu-
tors are simultaneously philosophical/theoretical and personal/practical;
they have everything to do with how each of us is to become a better
human being.
Socrates is sometimes very explicit about his motive in questioning others,
which is that he always aims at the good of the souls of whomever he meets
and at his own good (Chrm. 166c-e; Grg. 505e; Prt. 348c-e). Of course, the
emphasis on the 'soul' (psucKe) of the interlocutor puts an entirely different
perspective on the meaning of the 'good' as the object of desire which he
aims to bring about. This point of emphasis concerns the kind of moral bene-
fit that Socrates takes himself to be offering and will be discussed later. For
the present, it should be noted that there exists an enormous potential
for ambiguity and miscommunication between Socrates and his interlocu-
tors, with regard to ordinary usage and the conventional meaning of pairs of
terms such as good/bad and beneficial/harmful which the interlocutor will
assume, and the meaning which Socrates will assign to these terms. As I
hope to show later in this study, Socrates will often initially go along with
the interlocutor and sometimes assume the interlocutor's conventional
meaning of good, when it suits the argument he wishes to make, and some-
times he will assume his own special, Socratic meaning of'good' as 'morally
good' or 'good for the soul3.
The aim of SM is moral improvement as it pertains to Socrates himself
and to his interlocutors, but more needs to be said about the role of the inter-
locutor because the way in which Socrates hopes to improve the interlocutor
morally has to do with Socrates' concept of self-knowledge. Improving
the interlocutor morally through self-knowledge means that the interlocu-
tor must take the initiative to improve himself, and that the improve-
ment takes place psychologically within the interlocutor's soul, which for
the time being may be understood broadly in terms of the mental life
of the interlocutor: his beliefs, emotions, and desires. The moral aim of
the method both explains and justifies the personal, or ad hominem, nature
of the elenctic function and the particularized, subjective nature of the
truth-seeking function. If Socrates always attempts to make the inter-
locutor a better man, then he must tend to the individual needs of the
interlocutor's soul and construct the argument accordingly. SM is not
simply a method of reasoned argument, but a method of constructing an
argument to refute and persuade an interlocutor with an individual person-
ality. The emphasis on the personal dimension of doing philosophy through
dialectic restores the proper meaning to the method as an inquiry into
moral truth that mutually affects the questioner and the answerer, and aims
to benefit both.
Examples from the Texts
The controversy over whether Socrates, as he is presented in Plato's dia-

logues, corrupts or improves his associates is a central question which any
account of SM must address. It is the premier concern of the Apology, given
the political nature of Socrates' practice, the negative image of the intellec-
tual given to him by Aristophanes in the comedy, Clouds, and the notorious
reputations of his former associates, Critias and Alcibiades. None the less,
Plato dramatizes Socrates' integrity; he is unwavering in his own opinion
about the benefits of refutation and philosophical inquiry. When examining
Meletus, Socrates takes the line of reasoning that no one would ever know-
ingly corrupt his associates, for to do so would be to harm oneself (25e-26b).
In defending his activities, he says that he has devoted himself to conferring
upon each man individually 'what I say is the greatest benefit, by trying to
persuade him not to care for any of his belongings before caring that he
should be as good and as wise as possible' (36c5-6, trans. Grube). And
he declares that 'the greatest good for a man is to discuss virtue every day'
(38a3-4). With characteristically shameless arrogance from the point of
view of his fellow Athenians, Socrates compares himself to Achilles and to
an Olympian victor. He tells the jury, 'The Olympian victor makes you
think yourself happy; I make you be happy' (36el).
He believes that being cross-examined is a great service because it
is through this activity that one can learn to recognize one's ignorance.
In order to learn about one's ignorance, one must first find out what one
believes. This is mainly the way that the elenctic function of the method
facilitates self-knowledge. The elenctic function is beneficial because it
roots out a special type of self-deception or self-ignorance. In the Protagoras,
Socrates is questioning the Sophists as a group, about the meaning of moral
weakness which had just been explained as doing what is worse contrary to
what one knows (or believes) is better. Moral weakness is caused by self-
ignorance, where 'ignorance' is 'having a false belief and being deceived
about matters of importance' {peri tdnpragmaton tbnpollou axidn; 358c7-9).
In the Euthydemus, Socrates urges Cleinias to submit himself to the eristic

Sophist, Euthydemus, for questioning and says, 'Have no fear, Cleinias;
answer bravely, whichever you think it is: for perchance he is doing you the
greatest service in the world' (275dlO-e2). Socrates assures Gorgias that he
does not mind being refuted and that it is better than refuting, 'insofar as it is
a greater good to be rid of the greatest evil from oneself than to rid some-
one else of it. I don't suppose that any evil for a man is as great as false
belief about the things we're discussing right now' (Grg. 458a-b, trans. Zeyl).
In the Hippias Minor, Socrates asks Hippias to help him figure out whether it
is better to err voluntarily or involuntarily, and tells him, 'for you will be
doing me much more good if you cure my soul of ignorance, than if you
were to cure my body of disease' (372e). Later, in the Euthydemus, Socrates
tells Ctessipus that he is willing to allow Dionysodorus 'to do to me whatever
he pleases: only he must make me good' (285c7).
Clearly Socrates believes that SM improves the interlocutor's soul but
it takes only a reading of a few dialogues for a reader to wonder whether
SM is truly beneficial and whether Socrates succeeds or fails with his inter-
locutors. It is part of my project to address these questions. The project is a
self-reflexive one because Plato asks the reader to rethink the meanings of
benefit/harm and success/failure in light of what Socrates says and does.
With particular regard to the elenctic function, I argue that benefits and
harms cannot be adequately explained or appreciated without considera-
tion of the protreptic function and how it works with the elenctic function
to achieve the moral aim. Regarding the moral aim, Socrates thinks that
whatever a person does is done, and should be done consciously, for the
sake of the good (Grg, 499e-500a). His aim is expressed by a teleological
principle of morality known as 'moral eudaimonism'. This principle holds
that the aim of all action is happiness and that an action gets its value
from the intention of the agent and the ends which the action serves
(Grg. 467c-468e; La. 185a-186c; Ly. 219c-220b). Throughout the dialogues,
Socrates focuses on the soul of the interlocutor, directs his questioning
towards the product or ergon of an activity in order to explain its value, and
is explicitly concerned with making others as good as possible.13
A dialogue that dramatizes Socrates' moral/psychological eudaimonism
and its relation to his protreptic discourse is the Euthydemus. Socrates
requests that the eristic brothers display their talents by persuading the
young Cleinias to pursue wisdom and virtue since they agree that it
is by the same art that one can teach virtue and persuade others to
learn it. Cleinias is at the delicate age of being impressionable and could
easily be corrupted or improved by his associates. Socrates says, 'I and all
of us here are at this moment anxious for him to become as good as possible'
(275a8-9). After giving his own protreptic speech (protreptikon logon: 282d9)
as an example for the brothers to follow, Socrates emphasizes the point
again and says 'it really is a matter of great moment to us that this youth
should become wise and good5 (282el0-283al).
Overview of the Three Functions
In this section, I introduce the three modes of discourse of SM briefly with

respect to Socrates5 moral purposes. In Chapter 2, I discuss these modes or
dialectical functions in connection with Socratic argumentation and
develop these connections. Socrates5 goal of moral self-improvement is
what ultimately justifies his method and the means he uses for educating
the interlocutor. His means is rational discourse and argumentation, and
the education is a therapeutic process of making an individual philosophic-
ally self-aware, that is to say, the individual becomes aware of his self-
ignorance and his psychological or moral inconsistencies. Socrates is
always in the mode of dialectical discourse, and while each mode has a
specific function and immediate aim, all three modes of discourse, refuta-
tion, truth-seeking and persuasion contribute to the ultimate goal of self-
knowledge. Any increase in self-knowledge is moral improvement because it
increases the interlocutor5s chances for understanding virtue and human
goodness in himself and others. Each function serves the aim in a different
way. The epistemic function provides the impetus for Socratic dialectic
to begin. It was introduced as part of the critical discussion of Vlastos5
epistemological model.
The elenctic function occurs as soon as Socrates critically examines the
interlocutor's beliefs for inconsistency. Socrates engages the interlocutor
in the activities of expressing his beliefs, recognizing his own ignorance,
figuring out why he was refuted, discovering the meaning of the concepts
he uses and realizing what premises he is ultimately committed to in
making his moral judgments. With the persuasive or protreptic function,
Socrates hopes to persuade the interlocutor to care for his soul by enga-
ging in philosophical activity, and seeking the wisdom that he lacks.
Socrates works to reorientate the interlocutor's value system. He does
this directly by exhortation and protreptic argumentation. He also
does this indirectly, by means of elenctic argumentation which allows
him the opportunity to replace the interlocutor's false beliefs with true
beliefs through conceptual revision.
A major part of my thesis is to argue that Socrates uses ambiguity, in

the interpretive process of constructing an argument, and show how he
attempts to change the meaning of the beliefs the interlocutor already has
by conceptual reorientation. I shall argue that placing the proper emphasis
on the protreptic function is the best explanation of Socrates' use of ambigu-
ity, and his corresponding attempt to find common ground on which to base
his arguments. In order to change the way the interlocutor perceives his
moral experience, Socrates draws upon that experience, and explores the
ambiguities of the language which the interlocutor uses to describe it.
The elenctic and protreptic functions require that the interlocutor know
himself better than he does. These activities are 'self-educating' because
they are ways of educating the soul without the authority of a moral
expert. Socrates is not a moral expert; he denies having any knowledge of
virtue, and does not 'teach' in any conventional sense of the term. The dia-
lectical functions provide the grounds for the educational activities; how-
ever, it is up to the particular interlocutor to decide whether, and to what
extent, he will participate in them. Specifically, the interlocutor must play
an active role by stating his beliefs clearly and distinguishing between mean-
ings of the terms and concepts. The elenctic and protreptic functions of the
SM make strong demands on the interlocutor's intellect and require a con-
siderable amount of independent initiative and careful thinking from the
interlocutor, if he is to improve himself morally.
The method and its moral aim, as I've described it so far, are subject to
the objection that it is imprecise, open-ended and too flexible, allowing
just about any dialectical practices or policies to be followed as long as
they can be described as fitting under the Socratic rubric of increasing self-
knowledge, benefiting his interlocutors and himself in the process. For
instance, Socrates' elenctic discourse involves an ungracious style of ques-
tioning that forces the interlocutor into a corner, trapping him with a net of
wordy questions and then pushing him to answer truthfully, as if this kind
of pressure tactic lends itself to an honest response on the interlocutor's part.
Related to this pressure tactic is Socrates' habit of imposing himself
upon the interlocutor in the name of truth and mutual inquiry, when he
is clearly moving his agenda forward rather than drawing out the interlo-
cutor's considered opinions and actually securing a genuine agreement.
The pressure tactics are offensive; they frequently have a negative effect
on the interlocutors and probably alienate the observers, as well as
making many of Plato's readers cringe. The negative impact of the
method has a psychological and a logical dimension and both dimensions
pose problems for appreciating SM.
The Moral Aim Defended
The personal dimension, quick adaptability and lofty moral intentions

which I attribute to SM will clash with what many readers find upon exam-
ining Socrates' practice in the dialogues. At first sight, Socrates appears
to be an unassuming, flexible and sincere person, but as it often turns out,
he shows himself to be uncompromising, harsh and ironically sincere.
In developing the psychological model, there will be a self-imposed demand
to defend Socrates' dialectical tactics in light of his moral aim to benefit
himself and others. I attempt to meet this demand with a justificatory
approach that is divided into two types. One type is the 'Socratic' justifica-
tion which belongs to the internal frame reading of the dialogues as dramas.
It situates Socrates as a philosopher with a moral purpose, in a specific set-
ting, with a certain set of characters within a given dialogue.
The other type is the 'Platonic' justification. It derives from the reader
taking Plato's literary purposes fully into account and letting the possible
reasons he has for writing the dialogues form a meaningful part of one's
interpretation of SM. Plato's use of dramatic contexts and multiple perspec-
tives in presenting Socrates' character and method provides an assortment
of philosophical themes and standpoints which suggest moral, aesthetic,
theoretical and pedagogical reasons for writing the dialogues. Looking at
SM from Plato's authorial perspective broadens the reader's appreciation
of the skill with which Plato adopts numerous styles and themes from
Greek tragic and comic poetry and puts their techniques to philosophical
uses. For example, the narrative style Socrates exemplifies when he tells the
myth of the water carriers using etymological puns {Grg. 493a-494a) is simi-
lar to the style of speech given by Tiresias in Euripides' Bacchae (272-97) , 14
By means of these techniques, he achieves a critical distance from the argu-
ments and attitudes of the characters, including Socrates; the authorial
standpoint also absolves Plato of any personal responsibility for the dialecti-
cal misconduct, pretenses, and paradoxical views wrought well by the var-
ious personae of Socrates.
To some extent, the Socratic justification relies on the personal and moral
character of Socrates, his ethos. There is an urgency that Socrates apparently
feels and exhibits in confronting the ordinary Athenian's conventional
morality which supports a tradition that he finds dangerous and harmful.
As Plato's readers, we ought to respect the personal commitment Socrates
makes to change Athenian educational practices and bring about moral
reform and understand the significance of Socrates' conception of philoso-
phy as rooted in truth, wisdom and virtue in contrast to the worldly advice
and teachings of the sophistic and rhetorical tradition of his day. Socrates is
being presented in strong opposition both to the conventional norms of his

culture and to the Sophists who represent the new education (paideia). The
best approach towards SM is one that takes into account the dramatic pic-
ture that Plato draws for us in all of its details. It is a picture that localizes the
character and critical role of Socrates as a philosopher in Athenian society at
a politically tumultuous time and place. I suggest that this attitude has the
best chance of making sense of Socrates5 moral character, his conduct and
his argumentation.
The reader needs to put great trust in the complicatedly rich portrait of
the character of Socrates as Plato presents him in the dialogues. A. A. Long
makes an interesting case for what he calls the 'plasticity of Plato's
Socrates5.15 Long argues that the many-sidedness of Socrates, and the
range of portraits which Plato offers his readers, make it possible for Plato
to develop Socrates and his methodology in progressively new ways. This
plasticity provides Plato with an all-purpose philosophical medium with
which to project the moral character of Socrates and defend his way of life.
The Socratic/Platonic justification I offer appeals to the idea of Socrates
as a chameleon philosopher who changes with each dialogue but remains
somehow the same. He is presented as an elenctic gadfly, a rhetorician,
sophist, philosopher-therapist or midwife, as Eros, as an ironist, a religious
seeker, an intellectualist, a moral reformer and a true educator. In every
case, Socrates is portrayed as the dialectician, but with many faces, who
can be disguised, molded and modified to fit different contexts and express
a variety of views. Readers may react to the plurality of images in untold
ways. For instance, if one feels that Socrates is overbearing, hubristic, fickle
or elusive, he is like the god, Eros; he has a great passion inside of him and he
attracts all types, many of whom he could not possibly convert to philoso-
phy. If one thinks that he is nurturing or paternalistic, he is a doctor or
therapist who cares too much for his patients and thinks it is his job to
administer painful psychological medicine. As a midwife, he is barren but
gentle and encouraging; as a gadfly, he is petty and bothersome; as an iro-
nist, he is mocking and bitter or acts like a fool; as an intellectualist, he puts
too much stock in reason; as a religious figure he puts too much faith in the
gods or the rewards of an afterlife.
In any case, it is all too obvious to readers who are sympathetic to the
moral aim of the Platonic Socrates that the majority of citizens in demo-
cratic Athens did not believe that the historical Socrates made his associates
morally better. Given the picture that Plato offers of his Socrates as a
moral reformer who never misses an opportunity to say over and over again
whatever he believed would make his fellow citizens better human beings,
it is not at all surprising that he was a constant source of irritation and
misunderstanding to his own community. This critical theme will be one
amongst several striking ironic elements that contribute to the dramatic
scenes that Plato presents to his readers.
Historically, there has been an abundance of favorable and unfavorable
responses to Socrates3 character and method comprising an interesting
backlog of criticism dating from his fellow Athenian citizens and a barrage
of humorous attacks by Aristophanes, the comedian, who satirized Socrates
as a foolish quack in The Clouds to the bitter condemnations of Nietzsche, in
the Twilight of the Idols, who vilifies Socrates' rationalism as decadent and
deceptive. From within Plato's dialogues, there is Callicles and Thrasyma-
chus who consider Socrates to be a pettifogger and openly question his
motives, and Alcibiades who lashes out at Socrates for rejecting his erotic
advances and accuses Socrates of hubris. The criticisms brought by Clito-
phon in the short dialogue named after him, though not attributed to Plato,
reflect an important challenge to Socrates' form of protreptic discourse.
In the next section, I discuss three psychological elements that contribute
to the adhominem aspect of SM. One is the experience of aporia, the second is
the demand for sincerity which generates the psycho-dynamics between
Socrates and the interlocutor, and raises the issue of integrity. The third ele-
ment is the feeling of shame that often accompanies the elenctic discourse.
Broadly speaking, shame is a kind of fear of the negative opinions of others.
All three elements target the interlocutor's sense of himself at the most per-
sonal level; they force him to confront his weaknesses and reflect on his com-
mitments. If the interlocutor does not express himself truthfully due to
shame or a lack of integrity, it may thwart the elenctic arguments, but the
process reveals the interlocutor to himself, none the less.
Aporia and its Psychological Effects
In general, elenctic arguments are constructed by the questioner to refute

the answerer by getting him to contradict himself. In Socratic dialectic, the
immediate purpose of the refutation is to induce the experience of aporia in
the interlocutor and cause him to wonder why he is confounded and per-
plexed about those things which he took himself to know so well. The
Greek term 'aporia9 translates in English as 'difficulty', 'perplexity', 'without
resources', or 'being at a loss'. The term may be applied in two ways
that are related to each other. The first has to do with the internal frame
and state of mind of the interlocutor. Socrates tries to bring about aporia
as quickly and directly as possible, so that the interlocutor will be ready
for philosophical inquiry. From the interlocutor's point of view, however,
the experience is negative: he has been silenced and defeated and does not
know why. He may withdraw, ask Socrates for help or blame Socrates
for bewitching him. Socrates sometimes tries to avoid negative reactions
and may reassure the interlocutor that he is not under attack, but this is
hardly enough to make a difference in the outcome, for an interlocutor
who is refuted rarely feels that he has been treated justly. In the drama
of the dialogue, if an interlocutor admits his ignorance openly, a definite
stage in the progress of SM is marked (Chrm. 162b-c; Cr. 50a; La. 194a-c;
I96b-c, Rep. 1334b).
The term is also applied to the end of a Platonic dialogue, in which case,
'aporia' refers to an apparently failed inquiry. To call a dialogue 'aporetic'
indicates that no positive solution to the search for a definition, or other
answers to Socratic questions, have been found.18 This type oi aporia has sig-
nificance for the relationship between Plato and his reader. The reader who
expects to find a solution to the problems Plato raises in the dialogue is left
without an answer and might feel at a loss. The total effect of such dialogues
is ambiguous. The endings allow for multiple interpretations of what has
been settled or achieved and many questions are left open for readers to
reflect on and decide for themselves. It is not certain what Plato intends his
readers to understand from the unresolved endings, but it is likely that he
wants his readers to feel something like the kind of aporia the interlocutors
felt in the drama. Clearly, Plato hopes to prevent readers from thinking
that there are formulaic answers to questions about virtue and the meaning
of happiness which could be summed up in a few parting words of wisdom
from Socrates.
Aporia and the Elenctic Function
In a refutation, there is usually a series of five identifiable stages. Socrates

must get the interlocutor to formulate an initial statement or thesis which
is then offered up for examination. In this initial stage, Socrates gives
some direction and encouragement to the interlocutor. In cases where a
specific definition is requested, Socrates provides some basic criteria, as in
the Euthyphro, or an example of what he's looking for, as in the Meno.
Often, since the precise meaning of the initial thesis or the subsequent
theses is unclear as formulated, Socrates revises the thesis in his own
words and puts it up for acceptance by the interlocutor. When the inter-
locutor accepts it, the thesis can be said, but only loosely said, to have
been proposed or asserted by the interlocutor.
The second stage of the refutation mainly consists of Socrates trying to get
the interlocutor to agree on a set of premises that may or may not seem
related to the original thesis. Once the interlocutor agrees to the premises,
where these premises entail the opposite of his thesis, the interlocutor is stuck
in a contradiction, and experiences aporia which is an indication of his ignor-
ance. The occurrence of aporia marks a third stage, and a formal turning
point in the process of moral inquiry because it testifies to the fact that the
interlocutor is ignorant and this ignorance puts him on the same epistemic
level as Socrates with regard to the truth about the subject matter. The
interlocutor naturally resists the feeling of aporia and rarely does he grant
that his ignorance has been shown. Yet, the fact remains that the interlocu-
tor contradicted himself by his own agreements and did not know how to
defend himself against the refutation. This turning point in the dialectic
marks a fourth stage which may be either subtly or noticeably constructive,
depending on the dialogue. A shift in the action and the discourse occurs,
which has Socrates taking the lead in the discussion and showing the inter-
locutor, albeit indirectly, a possible way out of the impasse. Frequently, a
fifth and final stage occurs. Socrates may deliberately obscure the positive
content he has offered, or the interlocutor may fail to follow, or something
else serves to throw the dialectic back into aporia.
If the interlocutor allows himself to feel the effects of aporia, he becomes
effectively aware of his ignorance. This awareness draws his attention
inward and makes him reflect on his beliefs and the limitations of his
knowledge. If the beliefs that the interlocutor expressed are genuine and
represent his real values, as in the cases of Laches, Lysis, Polemarchus,
Theaetetus, Simmias and Cebes, he is perplexed and tries to figure out
what has gone wrong. If the interlocutor's reputation is at stake, as in the
cases of Hippias, Gorgias, Polus and Protagoras, he associates aporia with
defeat and shame. If the interlocutor thinks he has been tricked, he
feels anger and blames Socrates as Callicles and Thrasymachus do. In any
case, the experience of aporia makes the interlocutor feel uncomfortable,
and some interlocutors will do whatever they can to avoid it.19 The occur-
rence of aporia, or the obvious refusal to admit the experience, is a standard
feature of SM.
Sincerity and Integrity

The demand for sincerity in dialectic requires that the interlocutor be
honest about what his beliefs actually are and that he agree only to premises
which he truly accepts.20 Socrates depends on the interlocutor's sincerity
because it is the only way that the method will have the personal effects on
the interlocutor that Socrates intends it to have.21 Clearly the interlocutor
must stand behind what he says if the elenctic argument Socrates constructs
to refute him is to have any therapeutic value or persuasive force. Further, to
assert what one sincerely believes entails that one is willing to act upon the
belief. Underlying the relation between a person's actions and beliefs, as
represented by their speech, is a person's moral integrity.
Sincerity in speech is always preferred and expected but it is not abso-
lutely demanded. Socrates tries to set dialectical standards but these are
allowed to bend, as the drama illustrates in the Protagoras (331b-d), Gorgias
(497a-c) and Republic I (346a-b). Socrates is able to deal with interlocutors
who are unwilling to be sincere. Sincerity connotes that one ought to mean
what one says. A person who lacks sincerity in his speech gives himself away
whether he wants to or not, for sincerity indicates integrity or the lack
thereof. Integrity connotes that a person is willing to do what he says and
not hesitate to act upon his values and beliefs. Both sincerity and integrity
depend upon the interlocutor's ability to understand how his beliefs are
related to each other and to his actions. This kind of understanding results
from actively engaging in dialectic and is a form of self-knowledge. So, in
SM, there is not just a 'saying-believing' criterion at work but a 'saying-
doing' criterion as well.
Vlastos takes note of the way in which the elenchos tests lives and not
merely propositions and he refers to this as the 'existential dimension' of
SM.22 But his account of the nature of sincerity as an existential demand on
the interlocutor is limited due to his concern with the formal method-
ology of the elenchos rather than with the dialectical method as it is shown
through the drama and its psychology. What I understand by the 'existen-
tial' dimension of SM is that the interlocutor must choose at a given moment
which way he will go in answering Socrates' questions. Either way he
chooses, whether he will be sincere in his responses to Socrates or not, reveals
his moral character.
There is a notable difference between testing for sincerity in terms of
logical consistency which is expressed by a given proposition and its
negation, and testing for sincerity as a sign of integrity. The most impor-
tant way that one can show one's commitment to the truth of a belief is if
one is willing to act upon it. How else can Plato show us this aspect of
SM except through the details of the drama: the characters interacting
in the conversation? What makes a belief more than a mere proposition
is that the belief can be expressed in other ways. In literature this
happens through character portrayal, and in Plato's dialogues it is con-
veyed also by the dramatization of SM.
Both Nicias and Laches make the same point, in different ways, about the
psychological impact of SM. Nicias5 comments are often quoted because he
emphasizes that Socrates will sooner or later get around to testing a man's
life even if he starts out testing the man's thesis {La 187e-188c). What Laches
says is that he is willing to learn from and be refuted by someone, only if the
person to whom he submits himself is a good person. Laches says he will
submit to Socrates because Socrates' words and deeds are in harmony. For
Laches, this harmony is the only measure of the truth which a person speaks
(188c- 189c).
A standard of morality and truth is presupposed and depicted in the
drama of the discourse; it is not legislated as a formality from outside of
the discourse. Sincerity is a moral quality of character that emerges from the
interactions between Socrates and the interlocutors, and it is used to gauge
the interlocutor's integrity and to guide Socrates in how to proceed. The
idea that a person speaks the truth only if his words are backed up by deeds
goes beyond the sincerity demand. In this sense, it is a psychological feature
which makes SM a normative rather than a purely formal method. Socrates
says to Callicles by way of advice and reproach: 'if you catch me agreeing
with you now but at a later time not doing the very things I've agreed upon
{me tautaprattonta haper Komologesa), then take me for a stupid fellow and don't
bother ever afterward with lecturing me, on the ground that I'm a worthless
fellow' {Grg. 488a9-b2, trans. Zeyl).
In refuting Meletus, Socrates illustrates not only that Meletus is easily
caught in a contradiction, but that he is an irresponsible man who brings
accusations against Socrates which he cannot explain and that he does not
care about the youth {Ap. 24d, 25c, 26b, 27a). In the Euthydemus, the broth-
ers are portrayed as self-defeating and ridiculous because what they say,
their logoi, in claiming to teach virtue is not only belied by their argument
that no one is ignorant or speaks falsely, it is betrayed in the way they
treat Cleinias and Socrates. In the Gorgias (449a-461a), Socrates refutes
Gorgias by deliberately driving him to an insincere belief, which Gorgias
asserts out of shame because he cannot admit that he does not care whether
his students know the difference between right and wrong. Socrates does
this so that Gorgias will recognize the contradiction within himself that
manifests, in medical terminology, as the disease of saying one thing and
doing another.
To dispel the idea that Socrates is always stubborn and forceful in his
sincerity demand, and to show why the dialectical context is relevant,
a passage from the Theaetetus is helpful. Socrates poses a trick question
of the type that Protagoras might ask, in a debate, about relative predicates,
for example in size, the taller and shorter; in number, the lesser or greater:
'can anything become greater or more without being increased?' (154c8).
Plato has Socrates elaborate on the problem of relative predication: we
put six dice next to four and we say the six dice are greater but when we put
six dice next to twelve we say they are lesser. The problem, as Plato perceives
it, is a matter of language: 'that's the only way our language allows us to
putit'(154c6).
Theaetetus' response is openly 'insincere' for he considers whether to
answer 'no' and then 'yes' in order to avoid inconsistency in his statements.
First, Socrates ironically congratulates Theaetetus for giving a fine answer,
but then compares it to the response Hippolytus gives when he considers
changing his mind about what he will do after having sworn to the Nurse
not to divulge Phaedra's secret desire for him.25 The point Socrates makes
is that although the 'tongue is safe from refutation', the heart is not. Socrates
takes the time to explain why it is important to say what one thinks, in terms
of a contrast between his dialectical style which seeks to examine 'the con-
tent of [our] hearts' and the eristic or contentious style that seeks to 'put each
other to the test' and 'make a contest out of it, as sophists do, and meet, with
great clashing of argument on argument' (154el-2). He goes on: '[W]hat
we are really looking at is ourselves, to see what these phantoms are which
lurk inside of us' (155al—2). To finish up: Socrates and Theaetetus agree
on several principles which apparently conflict with our way of expressing
relative predicates, and Socrates asks Theaetetus' opinion again. Theaete-
tus expresses curiosity and admits aporia in the form of 'dizziness'. Now,
Socrates utters what could be the most encouraging thing to say to someone,
like Theaetetus, who has the character of a prospective student of philoso-
phy: 'this feeling - a sense of wonder - is perfectly proper to a philosopher:
philosophy has no other foundation, in fact' (155d2-4).
Sincerity and Sincere Assent
The sincerity that an interlocutor brings to the discussion determines the

benefit that he can expect to receive from it. Socrates cannot force the inter-
locutor to be sincere. He may choose to work with what the interlocutor
gives him, or he may decide to impute beliefs to the interlocutor which the
interlocutor must either accept or deny. When Socrates conducts a refuta-
tion, he tests three things: the thesis, the man and the internal coherence that
exists between them. I suggest that one reason why Socrates sets aside
the sincerity demand, in certain cases, is that he is interested in testing
all three aspects, and because he understands how the three aspects are
connected, if he is unable to test one, he will test the other.26
Socrates is interested in the interlocutor's moral beliefs mainly because
such beliefs reveal the condition of his soul. His aim is to improve the inter-
locutor's soul. The best way he knows to do this is to use the elenctic function
to reveal contradictions in the interlocutor's belief set, and allow the inter-
locutor to discover for himself which belief needs to be eliminated to restore
consistency. However, Socrates tries to further this process by leading the
interlocutor indirectly to the view that Socrates thinks is correct. This will
be the work of the protreptic function.
There is a crucial distinction to be made between 'overt' and 'covert'
beliefs which is relevant to sincerity.27 An overt belief is one that the inter-
locutor consciously recognizes as his own and a covert belief is one that he
does not recognize he has; there are any number of reasons why he may
not recognize this. Covert beliefs would include any beliefs entailed by the
belief expressed of which the interlocutor is unaware. The distinction is
relevant to the sincerity issue because if'believe' is taken in an covert sense,
then Socrates can target certain beliefs the interlocutor has regardless of
whether he thinks he holds them or not. This extension of meaning auto-
matically compromises the sincerity demand and deserves more attention
than Vlastos gives it.
For instance, Polus has claimed in all sincerity to believe the thesis/?, doing
injustice is better than suffering it. Socrates tells Polus that Polus does
not really believe/>, and claims that he can show not only that Polus believes
the opposite, not-p, but also that everyone else believes not-p. In other words,
while Polus overtly believes jfr, he covertly believes not-p. Socrates is confi-
dent that he can show this because Polus will admit, as Polus is about to do
at 474c7-9, that he overtly believes the premise q, doing injustice is more
shameful. If Polus overtly believes q, and admits this, then Socrates is sure
that he can show that Polus covertly believes not-p because Socrates has a
way of showing that q implies not-p. Hence, Polus covertly believes that
doing injustice is not really better than suffering injustice.
If it is legitimate for Socrates to refute the interlocutor by drawing upon
beliefs that the interlocutor is not consciously committed to, either because
the interlocutor does not know what his beliefs imply or because he has not
considered himself well enough to recognize what he truly believes, then the
sincerity demand must be qualified to reflect this type of exception. Callicles
later points out that, in his view, Polus was not sincere when he agreed to q
(doing injustice is more shameful than suffering it), but Polus was too
ashamed to admit that he did not believe it (482e). Callicles might be
right, but it could also be the case that Polus was not sharp enough to realize
what he was admitting to when he agreed to Socrates' interpretation of the
meaning of admirable and shameful. If Socrates can impute a belief to an
interlocutor, in this extended sense, then it seems to make no difference ulti-
mately whether or not the interlocutor is sincere. This example shows how
the psychological implications of the sincerity demand alter the dialectic
and affect SM.
For Socrates, there is, at least, one belief which is true regardless of what
the interlocutor claims to be the case because it belongs to human nature -
this is the belief that all people want what is really good. For Socrates, this is
a deep psychological truth about human nature that is substantially differ-
ent from the endoxical premise that all people want the apparent good, or
want what they think is best. The distinction between the psychological
truth which Socrates maintains and the endoxical premise that Polus
argues for is illustrated in the first refutation of Polus (466b-468e). The psy-
chological point that Socrates tries to make with Polus is not about what
Polus says he sincerely believes, or the implications of what he believes, but
about what the soul actually desires. This highly unusual sense of'believe' is
pursued further and explicitly addressed by Socrates in the second refuta-
tion of Polus (474b-475c).
With Polus, and Callicles, the question of sincerity is superseded because
the point Socrates wants to make with them is not relevant to what they think
they believe, whether or not it is sincere. For instance, Callicles sincerely
believes that he is not someone who caters to the whims of the Athenian
demos, yet Socrates will argue that Callicles' position on power and rhetoric
actually commits him to this belief. The overall point Socrates labors to
make is that what is actually in accordance with human nature and the
desire for the good is incompatible with the kind of life and values which
Polus and Callicles espouse. What supports this Socratic standpoint is what
I identify as the major presupposition of the method. In the next two sec-
tions, I give a very brief account of shame and then present the psychological
principle of eudaimonism which shows that the SM is founded on what
Socrates believes is true about human nature.
Socratic Method and Shame

Shame is a painful and negative feeling, similar to fear, that occurs in
response to being seen or caught doing, or saying, something that is wrong,
or something that violates ordinary standards of decency. In contrast to
this type of outward-directed shame associated with the conventional view
is the inner-directed shame that Socrates endorses; a third type of shame is
the 'natural* shame that Callicles represents which is strongly opposed to the
conventional moral shame. In Plato's dialogues, the interlocutor's sense of
shame and Socrates' awareness of his own shame contribute to the aura
of the dialectic that takes place between them. In the Gorgias, the idea is
central and the contrast between the three types of shame is part of the
29
argumentation.
As a general rule, the interlocutors wish to avoid shame and they feel
ashamed at being defeated in a refutation. Socrates, on the other hand,
believes that they ought to be more ashamed of avoiding refutation and
remaining in a state of perpetual ignorance about themselves. Socrates is
portrayed as someone who does not feel shame based on what other people
think. In the Crito, Crito appeals to Socrates' sense of shame in trying to con-
vince him to escape from prison (46a-b), on the one hand, and, on the other
hand, the personified Laws appeal to shame when they warn Socrates that
he will bring shame upon himself if he breaks the law and escapes (53d-54c).
The dilemma is an example of the tensions and incongruities that surround
the meaning of shame in Athens in the late fifth century.
The issues raised between Socrates and Crito, or Socrates and Polus, for
example, are at the heart of what is known as the 'nomos/phusis' debate. The
clash between old and new values intensified due to the political conflicts
caused by the pressures of the Peloponnesian War. The traditional norms
of moral behavior and the language used to express these values were
challenged by a new political perspective, which used the language of self-
interest. These changes were reflected in the split between nomos, the social/
moral values of the community which regulate conduct, and phusis, the
values of the self-interested agent who seeks to govern his conduct according
to a standard set by human passions and desires. Callicles explains the
antithesis quite well: by nomos, it is just for everyone to settle for equal
shares and shameful to try to get more for oneself; by phusis, it is unjust to
settle for equal shares since those who are stronger, by nature, deserve
more, and so it is not shameful for them to do what they can to satisfy their
desires (Grg. 482c-486d).30
The difference in attitudes is represented, on the one hand, by Protagoras
who argues for the conventional idea that shame/respect (aidos) and justice
(dike) are necessary for cities to exist (Prt. 322c-323c).31 According to his
version of the myth of Prometheus and Epimetheus, shame/respect and jus-
tice were distributed to all humans by Zeus so that they may live together in
peace and prosperity, abiding by the laws. On the other hand, there are
individuals like Alcibiades who pursued his political ambitions despite the
harm he caused to Athens and the disrepute that he suffered for his deeds.
Also, there is Antiphon, the speech-writer, politician and Sophist, who
wrote a set of forensic speeches giving model arguments for both the defense
and the prosecution called the Tetralogies. In his work, On Truth, he gives the
argument that one need only do just deeds when witnesses are present,
otherwise there is no real shame involved in doing injustice.
References to what is admirable, noble or beautiful (kalon) and what is
shameful, base or ugly (aischron) occur so regularly in the dialogues, it
is easy to overlook the importance of these terms.33 The dramatic action
shows in subtle ways the continuous motivation on the part of the interlocu-
tors to avoid what they perceive as shameful behavior. They often explain
themselves using the emotionally charged language of kalon and aischron. For
instance, Hippocrates admits he would be ashamed to be thought of as a
Sophist even though he seeks to learn from Protagoras (Prt. 312a4-5).
Lysias and Melisias are ashamed of their failures and blame their fathers
for not doing more to ensure their honor and success (La. 179c8). Alcibiades
speaks openly of the shame feelings he experiences only when he is in
Socrates' presence (Sym. 216a-c). Phaedrus and Pausanias gives speeches
on love (eros) which show their extreme sensitivity to shame with regard to
various homoerotic behaviors (Sym. 178d, 185a-b). When Socrates asks Pro-
tagoras whether he thinks that an unjust action might also be considered
temperate, he says he would be 'ashamed ... to admit that, in spite of what
many people say' (Prt. 333cl-2).
With regard to SM, commentators agree that, in some cases, Socrates
makes use of the interlocutor's sense of shame at crucial moments in the refu-
tations. But they disagree on the legitimacy of this type of appeal. On first
impression, it looks like Socrates merelyfindsthe shame-based weaknesses of
the interlocutor to trap him and bring him down to his knees. If this is how
Socrates draws upon shame to get an interlocutor to accept a premise he
might not otherwise accept, then it smacks of rhetoric and sophistry. How-
ever, this way of characterizing Socrates' use of shame as 'shame tactics'
oversimplifies Socrates' motivations and flattens out the scale of values that
shame represents.
As I mentioned earlier, there are different kinds of shame and, given
Socrates' commitment to the value of self-knowledge, the chances are
that Socrates pries into the interlocutor's psychological states to raise his
awareness of his moral commitments. Self-based, inner-directed shame is
constructive; it forces an awareness of one's relation to one's own moral stan-
dards and ideals. If the standards are derived from what other people think
and this alone, then the interlocutor will be made to see that this is the
source of shame. However, Socrates does think that there are legitimate
shame feelings, not just the other-directed, conventionally based shame.
So his approach is multi-leveled. Though I cannot pursue the issue in any
further depth, the interlocutor's relationship to shame is one of the keys

to moral improvement through self-knowledge. Socrates wants the inter-
locutor to persuade himself, and if he can use the interlocutor's shame to
facilitate this, he will not hesitate to do so. It is up to the interlocutor to go
further, however. If the interlocutor's sensitivity to shame is a sore spot, and
the drama of the dialogue indicates that this is a barrier to self-awareness,
then one would do well to follow where this leads.
The Psychological Principle of Eudaimonism
The general principle of eudaimonism is a normative, teleological principle

which holds that all actions are done for the sake of the final good which is
happiness (Grg. 467d-468e; cf. 499e, 509e; La. 185a-186c; Ly. 2190220b).
Psychological eudaimonism is a claim about human nature which holds
that human beings desire the good, or what is conducive to their final good,
or happiness. Psychological eudaimonism can also be expressed by the
Socratic paradox that no one does evil knowing that it is evil. In the Meno,
for instance, when Meno proposes the definition that virtue is the desire and
ability to obtain good things (77b-c), Socrates asks Meno, 'Do not all men
... desire the good?' {(on agathon epithumein). When Meno replies that he
thinks some men desire evil knowing that it is evil, Socrates gets Meno to
admit that no one wants (bouletai) to be miserable, and then asks, ' . . . for
what is being miserable but desiring evil and obtaining it?' (78a9). Meno
concedes, 'It seems that what you say is true, Socrates, and that nobody
desires evil' (oudeis boulestkai ta kaka). The refutation rests on the Socratic
premise that the desire for good 'belongs to our common nature' (78b6-7).
In the Apology (25e-26a), Socrates argues that he does not intentionally
corrupt his associates because to do so would mean that he wanted to harm
himself. He implies that no one would want this. Socrates puts the point in
extreme terms, when he asks Meletus if Meletus thinks that he is i n ' . . . such
a depth of ignorance that I do not even know this, that if I make anyone [sic]
of my associates bad I am in danger of getting some harm from him, so that I
do this great evil voluntarily, as you say? I don't believe this, Meletus, nor
do I think anyone else in the world does ...' (25e3-8). In the Protagoras, the
premise that no one knowingly goes towards evil is said to be true because 'it
is not in human nature, apparently, to do so' (358dl-2; cf. 358eT0, 345d-e).
This premise, couched in the hedonistic terms that no one would go after
what he knew to be painful, secures the refutation of Protagoras, and sup-
ports the Socratic view that all of the virtues are one and the same thing,
knowledge. In the Euthydemus (278e4-5), psychological eudaimonism is
treated as obvious, 'Do all we human beings wish to prosper? ... for I sup-
pose it is stupid merely to ask such things, since every man must wish to pros-
per' (boulomethaeuprattein).35
The truth of the claim that all humans desire the good is fundamental to
the philosophical progress of the SM. Socrates always supposes that despite
whatever the interlocutor may think is happening to him as a result of his
refutation, the refutation is a good thing. If refutation is a good thing, then
the interlocutor's soul really desires it, that is, in the Socratic sense, where
'desire' indicates a 'lack of something which belongs to that thing by
nature5.36 In the Socratic view, there is a tacit assumption always operating
that what is good for the interlocutor is what is good for his soul. Evidence
for this assumption is explicit in some dialogues, and sometimes the assump-
tion accompanies the principle of psychological eudaimonism. For instance,
in the Gorgias, after getting Polus to agree t h a t ' . . . the one paying what is
due has good things being done to him', and is 'being benefited', Socrates
asks, 'Is his benefit the one I take it to be? Does his soul undergo improve-
ment if he is justly disciplined?' Polus says that it is likely (477a-b).
In my view, the Socratic method is justifiably the proper method for
educating the soul, given the Socratic psychological principle that it is
in the nature of the soul to desire the good and it operates in conjunction
with the Socratic moral belief that virtue is always good, or beneficial, to
the soul. The pattern of reasoning constitutes a 'protreptic argument'
which I will discuss in detail in the next chapter. In general, it runs like
this. If the only thing that is truly good is the knowledge of how to use
subordinate goods, then this knowledge is the proper object of human desire.
Human well-being, or happiness, depends on the knowledge of how to
benefit the soul. The knowledge of how to use subordinate goods to benefit
or care for the soul is the knowledge that Socrates believes everyone desires,
and philosophers consciously seek. The subordinate goods are the means
that are good or bad only in accordance with how they are used (cf. Eud.
278e-282d; Meno 87e-89a). Knowledge of proper use of the subordinate
goods is knowledge that is guided by a moral purpose to improve oneself
and others.
This knowledge is both prudential and moral. It is prudential because
having this kind of knowledge is in the interest of the soul, and the soul is
the moral source of one's well-being. The strong conceptual connection
that exists between prudential and moral domains which Socrates plays
upon has to do with motivation and desire. In Socrates' view, 'desire for
the good5 is not the same as the 'desire for the apparent good5, defined as a
matter of what an individual agent thinks he wants. Like Polus, an agent may
think he wants power and pleasure, or he may think that he does not want to
be refuted. He is wrong because he does not know the nature of his soul and
that the true object of his soul's desire is the goodness which is wisdom.
Conclusion: A Constructive Approach
The central disagreement I have with Vlastos5 account is his attempt to

force the SM into a deductive framework, and to discuss the shortcomings
of the method as a failure to meet a demonstrative criterion of truth which is
inappropriate for the method. Vlastos also relies on this framework in his
claim that the elenchos is the sole support for Socrates' substantive views.
What underlies this claim is that if Socrates is unable to establish the truth
of his doctrine demonstratively, then Socrates is some kind of dogmatist who
puts forth doctrine without proper justification. Except for the Gorgias,
Socrates rarely presents his views in a dogmatic way, and given the context
and characters of the Gorgias, his forceful approach is warranted. On this
interpretation, if Socrates does not derive his views from argumentation
similar to that given in the 'early' dialogues, there is no other way he could
establish them as true.
To explain how Socrates is none the less justified in holding the premises
true and the conclusions of his arguments established, Vlastos is driven, in a
roundabout way, to an inductive explanation, and to the concept of elenctic
knowledge. In this way, Vlastos finds that demonstrative certainty cannot
be the kind of truth which Socrates aims at in his philosophical activity.
However, demonstrative certainty could have been eliminated as a possible
criterion of truth in the method simply by reference to what Socrates says in
the Apology about the value of human wisdom in comparison to the divine
(20d-e, 23a-c). Once complete and certain knowledge is ruled out and
assigned to the gods, dialectical argument and irrefutability seem to be the
best test a human being can have for truth. This second-best criterion of
truth provides the framework for understanding why mutual agreement
and consistency play such an important role in the elenchos.
Although it is not plausible to hold that individual elenctic arguments are
the direct source for the truth of Socrates' moral beliefs, it might be plausible
to give an inductive explanation of how Socrates justifies the confidence he
has in his beliefs.39 On this line of reasoning, Socrates validates his views by
the experience of examining and defending them in continuous dialectical
arguments with various interlocutors. This experience shows him that no
one so far has succeeded in refuting his moral position, and this is a fair indi-
cation that Socrates maintains a consistent set of beliefs. Socrates is por-
trayed as debating with those who are considered the wisest of his time, and
his success bolsters his confidence, yet he can never be certain that he has the
truth, so he must always continue to examine others and himself. This explan-
ation only goes so far because irrefutability in dialectical argument depends
upon personal and psychological factors, and not merely upon the logic of
the arguments.
Regardless of how many times the arguments are put to the test, if
Socrates' arguments depend on the use of ambiguity, reinterpreted regula-
tive endoxical premises and tacit assumptions, and if he appeals to the inter-
locutor's shame to weaken the interlocutor's position, then Socrates'
arguments are not valid. This means that the irrefutability that is achieved
through the method has a qualified meaning, and cannot be used directly to
judge the soundness of Socrates' moral position. So although my interpreta-
tion of the SM is compatible with the inductive explanation of Socrates'
confidence in his views, the inductive explanation loses its logical force as a
way of justifying Socrates' moral beliefs.40
In my interpretation, Socratic moral principles are made clear in a
number of ways, though the exact justification for the truth of these prin-
ciples is left unexplained, for the most part.41 Nevertheless, a Socratic moral
position can be reconstructed from a clarification of the functions and
goal of the method, from the tacit assumptions Socrates makes throughout
the dialogues, from the direction the arguments take once he begins to
lead, from the reinterpreted regulative endoxical premises which he uses
and from those occasions when he simply expresses his view. Socrates' dia-
lectical conduct, including his irony, is another source for understanding his
values. Once it is recognized that Socrates' substantive views must be
obtained through sources other than the conclusions of individual elenctic
arguments, an abundance of textual material emerges for reconstructing a
Socratic moral position.
I propose a constructive approach which addresses the interpretive prob-
lem of how to understand Socrates' moral position by attending carefully
to Socrates' dialectical argumentation and Plato's dramatic art which
shows us how Socrates argues indirectly for his views. In arguing for this
approach, I am not so much concerned with extracting Socratic doctrine
from the texts or formulating a Socratic ethics. Rather, I wish to make a
strong case about the coherence between Socratic method and Socratic
moral views; in other words, there is a reciprocal relation between what he
does and what he says and believes. My interpretation relies upon a very
strong assumption about Socratic integrity.
I also rely upon my intuitive sense of Plato as a consummate artist.
My perspective, from reading Plato's dialogues, is that by dramatizing
SM with extraordinary subtlety and intensity, Plato shows an overriding
concern to present Socrates as a paradigm of someone who is morally and

psychologically consistent. It is not just Plato's artistic talents which I
credit for this but his philosophical acuity and psychological insight into
the meaning of Socratic integrity and the model that this will provide
for future philosophers. In response to the integrity that he must have
perceived in the historical Socrates, Plato is inspired to fashion the drama of
his dialogues in a way that will match the philosophical ideas which he
wishes to convey.
As I have outlined in this chapter, the approach is to identify the aim and
the functions of the method, its principal presupposition, and the strategies
needed to make it work. I take the positive results of SM, and their con-
nection to the Socratic moral position, in the way that Socrates appears to
take them. The positive results are connected to what he believes to be the
moral improvement of the interlocutor because this is his primary objective.
I think that it is within the context of this objective that the justification of
Socrates' method and moral position can be found rather than through an
account that relies upon a direct deductive or inductive explanation of the
elenctic arguments.
My approach is constructive because I think it is possible to understand
what Socrates' moral position is by means of the elenctic-protreptic argu-
ments in conjunction with the dramatic elements which Plato offers to his
readers. No straightforward deductive or inductive explanation is adequate
without recognizing the dialectical strategies at work which attenuate the
logical force of the arguments. Keeping this qualification in mind, I believe
that his moral position can be determined by giving the elenctic arguments a
protreptic reading. To give an elenctic argument a protreptic reading
requires (1) offering a revised Socratic interpretation of one or more of the
regulative endoxical premises, (2) giving the ambiguous terms in the regu-
lative endoxical premises a precise Socratic meaning, and (3) making sev-
eral of Socrates' assumptions explicit. This is how I believe an interpreter
can discover the truths which underlie the Socratic moral position, and this
process has to do mainly with the protreptic function of the SM.
My constructive approach is new because it gives proper attention to the
moral and psychological values which surround Socrates' construction of
the arguments, and accounts for his actual dialectical behavior. In the next
chapter, I develop my constructive approach by explaining the protreptic
function of the method. I have yet to provide an explanation for the fourth
claim (iv) that Socrates makes use of regulative tndoxa, as a dialectical strat-
egy. I will devote the next chapter to an explanation and defense of the fifth
claim (v) that Socrates makes use of verbal ambiguity in his reinterpretation
of certain regulative endoxical premises.
I have brought together a number of features which show that the SM is

inextricably bound to, and clearly illustrative of, Socratic beliefs on both the
moral and psychological levels. In order to understand the SM, it is import-
ant to understand how the method makes use of Socrates' moral position.
I will continue to make it clear how the Socratic moral position is related to
the method in my discussion of the protreptic function in the next chapter.
I have not tried to justify the method in this chapter or show that the method
succeeds in achieving its aim. I have presented an interpretation which puts
the SM into a different framework for understanding how it can be justified
and whether it does succeed.
Chapter 2
The Protreptic Function
Introduction
In the first chapter, I have offered an interpretation of SM which makes it a
normative method with moral and psychological content and an informal
structure. The moral content given by Socrates' aim is to improve himself
and others through self-knowledge. There is a set of dialectical functions
which serve the aim. The interpretation is predominantly psychological
due to the existential and personal features ofaporia, sincerity and shame as
well as Socrates' reliance on the principle of psychological eudaimonism
that all humans desire the good (hereinafter referred to as the 'eudaimonist
principle'). This principle has great significance in my account of SM since
it presupposes a view of human nature and motivation; it raises semantic
questions about the meanings of the terms 'good', 'desire' and the con-
cept of efos. Further, the principle includes Socrates' tacit assumptions
about the soul: the soul is rational, it is the locus of desire, and the highest
source of value.
In this chapter, I show that SM is revisionist and involves a persuasive
strategy which makes use of three regulative endoxical premises and ambi-
guity. This type of strategy enables Socrates to carry out the functions of
refuting and persuading the interlocutor at the same time. The plan of the
chapter is to clarify the nature of this strategy by examining the themes, dis-
course and lines of argument related to Socratic protreptic. By 'Socratic
protreptic', I mean all of the dialectical activities Socrates brings to bear to
motivate his interlocutors to reorientate their values, pursue wisdom/virtue
and live the philosophical life.
The chapter begins by developing more fully two modes of discourse
and their function in argumentation with an emphasis on the protreptic
function. I discuss the concept ofendoxon (pi. endoxa) — common or reputable
opinion — and show its relevance to SM as a method of persuasion. The
interlocutors are classified into four major groups as a way of showing
which type of character is most receptive to Socratic protreptic and likely
The Protreptic Function 33
to benefit from it. Then, I examine the dialogues to illustrate the themes of
Socratic protreptic and discuss several passages which best exemplify the
protreptic lines of argument. Finally, I single out three endoxical premises
which Socrates uses in his elenctic arguments and suggest how these endox-
ical premises are transformed into protreptic premises.
The Elenctic and Protreptic Functions
The Elenctic Function

It is part of my project to explain how the elenctic and protreptic aspects of
the method coexist and function in cooperation with each other in Socrates'
practice of philosophy. I think that this cooperative dialectical activity
is what makes SM a unique and very complicated philosophical method.
To begin this section, I review briefly the logical structure of the Socratic
elenchos, which I have designated the 'elenctic function' of SM. In elenctic
argumentation, Socrates usually refutes the interlocutor's thesis p by show-
ing that/> is inconsistent with other premises, q, r, s, the truth of which the
interlocutor accepts and is unlikely to give up. On this basis, Socrates is able
to conclude not-p. I maintain that, in most cases, the interlocutor's thesis is
not genuinely refuted because the argument Socrates constructs is typically
invalid due to his use of ambiguity of the key terms which occur primarily in
the agreed-upon premises.
As I interpret SM, the interlocutor often accepts a premise q, r or s,
because it is endoxical and he takes the meaning of the terms conventionally
as they would be used in everyday discourse. In the process of the argumen-
tation, the meaning of the premise changes because a Socratic sense is given
to the terms. The premise becomes ambiguous and is subject to two very dif-
ferent interpretations. One interpretation represents the interlocutor's
belief and another interpretation represents Socrates' belief, in which case
it will be interpreted morally. There are three endoxical premises (to be
introduced shortly) which occur with sufficient regularity in the elenctic
arguments to warrant a special dialectical status. These same endoxical
premises are given a Socratic interpretation and will be alternatively con-
strued and designated as protreptic premises. 'Protreptic premises' are
those which correspond to premises which are prima facie endoxical but
when turned around in meaning come to represent Socrates' moral posi-
tion. l Such premises are called 'protreptic' because they are imbued with a
Socratic meaning and projected ideally on to the interlocutor as what he
would believe if he knew himself better.
Clearly, there is more to the elenctic function than its logical structure.
Moreover, the refutations Socrates conducts do not occur as isolated activ-
ities. The elenctic function has an immediate aim, aporia, which must be
understood in light of the larger aim of SM. It also involves a characteristic
mode of discourse and a number of identifiably distinct stages. First,
Socrates asks questions and formulates an interpretation of the interlocu-
tor's intended meaning which gives philosophical content to a proposed
thesis. Second, the thesis is attributed to the interlocutor on the basis of his
responses. Third, he secures the interlocutor's agreement to a set of pre-
mises, one or more of which are endoxical, i.e. those which reflect popular
opinion or derive from a commonly accepted authority. Fourth, using the
interlocutor's agreement to the premises, Socrates constructs an elenctic
argument which results in a conclusion that contradicts the original thesis.
Fifth, the interlocutor experiences some degree of aporia. Once this takes
place, there is a shift in the inter-personal dynamics of the conversation
and the dialogue takes a positive direction.
What happens next depends on the structure of the dialogue. If the dia-
logue has a single interlocutor, then Socrates' role in leading the discussion
becomes more explicit and he may openly contribute his own views. There is
a general feeling that progress is being made towards solving the problem
which caused the aporia of the dialogue. If there is a second or third inter-
locutor, the drama intensifies and the dialogue advances to a more complex
level of questioning. In either case, near the end of the dialogue, an obstacle
is created which prevents closure, and success is, in my view, deliberately
subverted, but only after some strong suggestions have been implanted as
to how to conceptualize the problem. The drama ends, perhaps, with
Socrates' ironic humor or hortatory remarks about continuing the investi-
gation. Examples of the first pattern occur in the Euthyphro (He), Meno
(81a), and when Crito agrees to set the majority view aside (Cr. 48b-49b).
Examples of the second are when Critias takes over for Charmides (162c),
and with Critias himself, a step is advanced when Socrates grants the
point that knowledge of knowledge may be possible (Chrm. 169d), and
moves on to question whether it is beneficial. Nicias takes over from
Laches; Polemarchus becomes the heir to the argument from Cephalus.2
Once Polemarchus is refuted, Thrasymachus takes over the discussion.
A similar type of dialectical movement occurs in three stages with Gorgias,
Polus and Callicles. In conjunction with the elenctic mode of discourse,
there is another mode of discourse that is required because Socrates must
interpret the interlocutor's meaning as he constructs the argument. This is
how the protreptic function operates.
The Protreptic Function

The protreptic function is a persuasive dialectical activity in the sense that
Socratic terminology and beliefs play an active role in how Socrates con-
structs the arguments. Socrates does not construct arguments simply to
refute the interlocutor or to test the truth of the thesis; he attempts to lead
the interlocutor to a Socratic moral position. That is to say, he tries to
influence the content of the interlocutor's beliefs. As I hope to show, he
does not do this by improperly 'exploiting' the ambiguity of evaluative lan-
guage for fun and games; rather, he puts the ambiguity to constructive use.
He utilizes the ambiguity in language, in a conscientious way, to revise and
expand upon the ordinary meaning of evaluative terms, as these terms are
accepted by the interlocutors in their current usage. In effect, Socrates
re-conceptualizes the meaning of key terms and gives them an expanded,
philosophical meaning while he constructs an elenctic argument or a series
of elenctic arguments.
There are two ways in which Socratic protreptic operates, directly and
indirectly. Socrates sometimes encourages the interlocutor directly through
simple exhortation. In some dialogues when Socrates meets the inter-
locutor, he must first encourage the interlocutor to begin the inquiry, for
instance with Charmides and, from the dramatic perspective, Crito who
least of all has time to consider reasons why Socrates ought to remain in
prison. In other cases, he has to urge the interlocutor to continue with him,
despite setbacks, and carry on the inquiry to the end. This kind of coaxing
occurs at crucial stages in the conversation.
For instance, at a critical moment when Polus must answer and admit
that he has been refuted, Socrates says, 'but submit yourself nobly (gennaids)
to the argument, as to a doctor, and reply yes or no to my question' (Grg.
475d9-10). After Meno has stifled the inquiry by raising his paradox of
learning (80d-e), Socrates speaks to him about 'the duty of inquiring after
what we do not know', saying that this 'will make us better and braver and
less helpless' (Meno 86b-c; cf. 81d-e). When Critias complains that Socrates
is simply trying to refute him (Chrm. 166c3-8), Socrates defends his motiva-
tion and says that his purpose is to examine the argument and discover the
truth about the matter at hand, for the 'common good' of everyone involved
(166c9-d7). Critias acknowledges Socrates' point; Socrates says, 'Then take
heart... and answer the question put to you ... without caring whether it is
Critias or Socrates who is being refuted: give the argument itself your atten-
tion and observe what will become of it under the test of refutation' (166d9-
e3). In the Laches, a dialogue about courage, Socrates says to Laches, 'let us
be steadfast and enduring in our inquiry' (194a 1-3). Socrates commends

Glaucon for his spirit in sticking with the inquiry {Rep. I 357a). In the Craty-
lus, Socrates exhorts himself not to 'play the coward5 (411a-b), and at the
end of a long debate he advises Cratylus, who is too willing to accept a Her-
aclitean theory of names, 'to consider courageously and thoroughly and not
accept anything carelessly5 (440d4-7).3
To carry on with the examples a bit further. Socrates gives Theodorus,
who retreats from taking active part in the dialectic, a suitable admonitory
exhortation:
Do not go on imagining that it is my business to be straining every nerve to

defend your dear friend while you do nothing. Come now, my very good
Theodorus, come a little way with me ... try a fall with me and we shall
both be the better (168e-169c, cf. 177b-c, trans. Levett).
At the dramatic level, the direct exhortations are often appropriate to the
attributes of the characters with whom Socrates interacts. At the textual
level, the exhortations are urgent calls to the mind, or the whole self which
is the soul, to engage critically in the practice of philosophy. At both levels,
the direct protreptic is needed for there is intellectual work involved. The
dialectic demands that one desires to learn and that one has the mental tena-
city to stick with the arguments in their worse moments. Plato dramatizes
the exasperation of the interlocutors and probably expects that his readers
will feel the same.
The forms of persuasion in the dialogues go far beyond the regular calls to
apply one's mind to the problem at hand. Plato's Socrates has another, more
intractable means to grab the attention of the intellect of those who try to
follow the argumentation and manage, perhaps, to find some problems
with the reasoning. This type of engagement is like working out a puzzle or
riddle; it is intellectually challenging, morally beneficial, and psychologic-
ally appealing to the minds of those listeners and readers who find construc-
tive ideas in the dialectical activity of the dialogues. The by-product of this
mental engagement is not neutral; it is infiltrated with Socrates5 moral posi-
tion and is 'indirectly5 protreptic. This indirect protreptic activity is my con-
cern for the rest of this discussion and throughout the book.
The indirect protreptic approach has to do with the persuasion that is
contained in the arguments that take place between Socrates and the inter-
locutor. The arguments which Socrates uses are meant to persuade the
interlocutor to change his moral views by means of a discovery of what is
implicit in the premises that he has already agreed to in the argument.
As Socrates leads the inquiry, he tries to move the interlocutor and the whole
framework of the discussion towards the consideration of a Socratic posi-

tion. This movement from a conventional moral standpoint to a Socratic
standpoint is a constant work-in-progress in the dialectic.
The protreptic function is indirect because it is governed by the question-
and-answer format and Socrates must work from within the interlocutor's
belief system to get his expressed agreement to the premises. The immediate
aim of the protreptic function is to get the interlocutors to realize how the
revised concepts and reconsidered premises can fit into their belief systems.
Socrates does this by suggesting a new evaluative context for making moral
judgments and guiding conduct; he promotes the soul as the proper frame-
work. I construe the SM as a revisionist method because it attempts to
change the meaning of the endoxical beliefs the interlocutor already has by
conceptual reorientation. This is an interpretive activity and it explains
the significance of Socrates' use of ambiguity, his use of regulative endoxa
and his attempt to find common ground on which to base his arguments,
because in order to change the way the interlocutors perceive their moral
experience, Socrates must draw upon that experience at its most funda-
mental level.
The protreptic function motivates Socrates' effort to find premises that
the interlocutor agrees to, which will also turn out be true on a Socratic
interpretation. For this reason, I think the Socratic use of ambiguity and
other fallacies has a legitimate role to play in SM. The protreptic discourse
involves not only the arguments that Socrates constructs to persuade the
interlocutor, but rhetorical techniques of persuasion as well. Such rhetorical
techniques are his direct exhortations, verbal irony, insincere praise and
exaggerated self-criticism, the appeal to the interlocutor's sense of shame,
the strategic maneuvers in directing the discourse and setting up the argu-
ments, and the power of his personal character.
Within the dramatic context of the dialogues, Plato shows the reader what it
is that Socrates does and the effects he has on his interlocutors. From time to
time, Socrates describes his methodology and comments on his motives for
engaging in dialectic. Although Socrates is ironic and indirect about his
motives, there are aspects of his methodology which can be gathered from
his repeated remarks to others about the nature of his practice and his
immediate aims. Socrates clearly refers to all three functions in the dia-
logues. In my view, Plato expects the reader to see how these functions exist
side by side, and I fervently believe that he expects the reader to recognize
that there are problems with the smooth operation of these functions. I men-
tion only a few examples here, but there will be ample opportunity for me to
present other cases and elaborate on the difficulties that are raised.
The elenctic and epistemic functions, for example, are mentioned in the
Protagoras. After the Simonides5 poem episode, Socrates rejects the idea that
the dialectical partners should invest their time and energy in interpreting
the poets. So, he says, 'It is the truth, and our minds, that we should be test-
ing' (348a4-5). Socrates openly claims that his motive for asking questions
and constructing arguments is to seek truth. The argument {logos) is some-
times depersonalized, 'The inquiry remains quite incapable of discovering
the truth5 {Chrm. 175dl-2; cf. 165b8-9, 166c8-e2), and sometimes personi-
fied, c[O]ur discussion, in its present result, seems to me as though it accused
and mocked us like some human person5 (Prt. 361 a-b).
References to learning and teaching are sometimes made ironically, as
when Socrates tells Euthyphro, 'the best thing I can do is to become your
pupil, and challenge Meletus before the trial comes on5 (Eu. 5a3-5).
Heavy-handed irony is used with regard to the education offered by the
Sophists in the Euthydemus (272bl-2, dl-3; 297b7, d6-7). Socrates gladly
assures Hippias about his good intentions, 'I am not ashamed to learn, and
I ask and inquire, and am very grateful to those who answer me ...
and when I learn a thing I never deny my teacher, or pretend that the lesson
is a discovery of my own5 (HMin. 3 72c 1-8; cf. 369el). Socrates asks Glaucon,
with reference to Thrasymachus, 'Do you wish us then to try to persuade
him, supposing we can find a way, that what he says is not true?5 (Rep. I
348a3-4). Laches is disgruntled and claims that Nicias is covering up his
own perplexity and talking nonsense. Socrates responds that it is best to ask
Nicias to explain what he means, 'and if we find that he means something,
we will agree with him; if not, we will instruct him5 (La. 196c3-4).
Numerous references to the activity of persuasion occur in the Apology,
Crito, Euthydemus and Gorgias due to their dramatic contexts. In his defense
speech, Socrates tells the Athenian jury that he will not stop engaging in
his investigations and in philosophy, nor will he 'stop exhorting you and
pointing out the truth to any one of you whom I may meet5 (Ap. 29d5-6).
He admonishes them because they do not care enough for their souls and
are preoccupied with money and honor. He says that they ought to be
ashamed for not caring about 'wisdom and truth5 and the best possible
state of their souls (29el-2). Socrates says:
and if any of you argues the point and says he does care, I shall not let him
go at once, nor shall I go away, but will question and examine and cross-
examine him; and if I find that he does not possess virtue but says he does,
I shall rebuke him for scorning the things of most importance and caring
more for what is of less worth (Ap. 29e3-30al).
Socrates is engaging in what he considers to be 'care of the soul' (epimeleia fes
psucKes) or 'therapy for the soul5 (therapeuesthai de fen psucKen) . 5 S. R. Slings
calls Socrates' emphasis on care of the soul 'the central concept of Socratic
exhortation'. He points out that Socratic protreptic involves an 'accusatory'
aspect which can be seen in the above passage and in what follows.6
Given the chance to propose a counter-penalty rather than be put to
death, Socrates continues with his protreptic style of speech:
And what do I deserve to suffer or to pay, because in my life I did not keep
quiet, but neglecting what most men (hoipolloi) care for - money making
and property, and offices and plots and parties that come up in the state -
and thinking that I was really too honorable to engage in those activities
and live, refrained from those things by which I should have been no use
(medan ophelos einai) to you or myself and devoted myself to conferring
(euergetein) upon each citizen individually what I regard as the greatest
benefit (ten megisfen euergesian)? For I tried to persuade [pethein) each of
you to care for himself and his own perfection in goodness (beltistos) and
wisdom (phronimotatos) rather than for any of his belongings and for the
state itself rather than for its interests . . . (Ap. 36b4-c8).
It is clear that SM has a protreptic function that is grounded in his con-
cern for the condition of the interlocutor's soul. Socrates attempts to per-
suade the interlocutor that he ought to care for his soul by pursuing virtue
and loving wisdom.
Other examples with regard to persuasion are as follows. Socrates says
to Protagoras, 'Come then, and join me in the endeavor to persuade the
world and explain what is this experience of theirs, which they call "being
overcome by pleasure"' (Prt. 352e9-10). Socrates tells Lysimachus that
he will first listen to what Laches and Nicias have to say, 'and then, if I
have anything else to suggest as against their remarks, I might try to explain
it and persuade you (didaskein kai peithein) and them to take my view'
(La. 181d8-9). In the Apology, Socrates uses the same locution (didaskein
kai peithein) when he says that rather than supplicate the judge, one ought
'to inform and convince him' (35c2).
The Use of Endoxa
The term 'endoxa9 refers to the commonly accepted or reputable opinions of

the times. This is the sense that Aristotle gives to the term, in the Topics,
where he defines endoxical beliefs as 'those accepted by everyone or by

the majority or by the wise5 (100b21-22).7 For most Athenians, endoxical
beliefs are treated as knowledge, the truths of which are grounded in
tradition and convention which are influenced by the teachings of the poets,
prophets, rhetors, military and political leaders. In the dialectical con-
text, endoxa provide the crucial starting points which Socrates relies upon to
establish a common ground of agreement. Endoxical premises are treated as
assumptions which are primafacie true; typically they need no further justifi-
cation though at times they may be given additional empirical support.
In this section, I argue for the thesis that the method not only uses endoxical
premises, but it depends quite heavily on them as a dialectical strategy.
Further, I suggest that Socrates' combined use of regulative endoxa and
ambiguity shows how he is able to argue for his own moral position.
In an effort to clarify the topic, there is an important distinction between
two applications of the concept of endoxa that must be made. The distinction
is one which pertains to the role of endoxical beliefs in moral inquiry, for
example what governs and guides Socrates in his questioning; and that
which pertains to the object of the inquiry, for example what, in fact,
constitutes the interlocutor's moral values and conduct. In accordance with
the distinction, endoxa are understood as either 'regulative' or 'substan-
tive'.10 Regulative endoxa are used to guide an inquiry because they are rea-
sonable to accept and relatively uncontroversial. Substantive endoxa are the
conventional moral opinions or norms that guide conduct.
Regulative endoxical premises play an instrumental role in dialectical
inquiry and argument. They are often, though not always, taken for granted
and for the most part, Socrates has no problem getting assent. The regula-
tive use of endoxical beliefs as premises in an argument must be kept dis-
tinct from the substantive endoxa which are the popular conceptions of
virtue, the moral attitudes and life-guiding goals which Socrates' interlocu-
tors espouse. In making this distinction I do not mean that the regulative
endoxa are insubstantial or empty of content, but only that they are the con-
stant or routine beliefs that Socrates relies upon in his questioning. The use
of regulative endoxical premises in SM does not commit Socrates to accept-
ing any substantive endoxical belief as true.
On the contrary, Socrates wishes to refute the substantive endoxical belief
that the interlocutor initially proposes, for example the original thesis p,
which is technically called the 'refutand'. A regulative endoxical premise is
either explicitly introduced to get the interlocutor's consent or it is tacitly
accepted among other things being agreed upon, for example these are the
premises q, r, s. The set of premises will then be used to overthrow the refu-
tand. The compelling nature of the whole reasoning process is due to the
regulative endoxical beliefs. They are simple, accessible and difficult to

deny, hence Socrates is able to get swift, unreflective agreement to the pre-
mises he needs to overthrow the original thesis.
There are places in the texts where Socrates explicitly appeals to the unani-
mity of a belief. At Ion 532c-d, 'It's clear to everyone that you are unable to
speak about Homer with art and knowledge. For if you could, you'd be able
to speak about all the other poets too', and 'Anybody can tell what I meant in
saying it's the same inquiry when one understands an art as a whole' (532e,
trans. Allen). Socrates questions Euthyphro about his definition of piety as
the 'art of barter between gods and men'; Socrates exclaims, 'For every-
body knows what they give, since we have nothing good which they do not
give. But what advantage do they derive from what they get from us?'
(14e5-15a5). In his discussion with Diotima, Socrates insists that 'every-
body in the world' agrees that Eros is a 'great god' {Sym, 202b6-10). The
belief that 'we all wish to be happy and have good things' is said to need no
further justification {Sym. 205al-5; Eud. 278e-279a).
Socrates frequently depends upon the ordinariness and common sense of
the premises, and, of course, the poets. In defending himself against Meletus,
Socrates asks whether it is true that the few rather than the many are skilled
with horses. He makes the reply himself: 'Certainly it is, whether you or
Anytus deny it or agree' {Ap. 28b7-8). When Charmides defines the virtue
of temperance {sophrosune) as 'quietness', Socrates points out that some acts
which are fine or admirable are carried out swiftly (159b-160d). Charmides
next defines sophrosurie as 'shame' (aidos), and Socrates appeals to Homer to
show that aidbs is not always a good thing (160e-161b). There are many
endoxical beliefs and subjects to choose from to regulate the inquiry, such as
friendship {philia). Socrates is careful in his selection. In the Lysis, 'like is
friend to like', according to Homer (213d-215c), and 'unlike is friend to
unlike', according to Hesiod (215c-216b). Again, with Callicles, Socrates
says, 'It seems to me that the closest possible friendship between man and
man is that mentioned by the sages of old time as 'like to like' {Grg. 510b5~6).
Other premises are taken to be true because they are logically compelling,
such as 'each single opposite has but one opposite, not many' {Prt. 332c 10),
and 'doing well and faring badly are opposite states' {Grg. 495e2-3). u
Further, Socrates says to Protagoras, who supposedly speaks for the many,
that 'you know well enough for yourselves that the erring act committed
without knowledge is done through ignorance' (357dl0-e2). Some premises
are psychologically compelling as well: Socrates: 'What I mean is, will a man
avoid being wronged by merely wishing not to be wronged, or will he avoid
it by providing himself with power to avert it?' Callicles: 'The answer to that
is obvious: by means of power' (509d5).
The use of regulative endoxa as a dialectical strategy is distinct from the

sincerity demand that is attributed to SM. The use of regulative endoxa does
not interfere with sincerity, for as long as the interlocutor genuinely accepts
a belief, endoxical or otherwise, as his own, the sincerity demand is satisfied.
However, once the interlocutor accepts an endoxical premise as his own, the
premise though ascribed to him does not cease to be endoxical in origin.
The sincerity demand is supposed to guarantee that the interlocutor's
stated belief is his own, but by itself, the demand does not determine the
exact source of the truth for the interlocutor. It is Socrates' use of regulative
endoxa that is effective in helping him to determine the rational basis for the
interlocutor's belief. My understanding of what it means for the interlocutor
to accept a premise as his own is that the interlocutor becomes responsible
for defending the truth of that premise, independently of the source of his
belief with regard to that premise which he may or may not wish to acknow-
ledge. Some interlocutors try to avoid making the belief their own and taking
responsibility for it; they would rather assume that the substantive endoxi-
cal status of the belief will suffice as an explanation for why the thesis is true.
As the examples show, when Socrates examines the interlocutors, they
usually attempt to state their initial thesis by citing a maxim or formula
taken from a source of authority, the poets, the Sophists, the majority view
or even a Socratic view. Polemarchus cites Simonides, Meno cites Gorgias,
Hippias cites Homer, Nicias implicitly relies on what he heard from
Socrates. Crito and Polus cite the many. An interesting case is that of Prota-
goras who refuses to align himself with the views of the many but Socrates
pushes the connection anyway because Protagoras has given a great speech
on behalf of their beliefs. Charmides appeals to Critias' opinion that temper-
ance (sophrosune) is 'doing one's own' but fails to understand its meaning.
Critias cites Hesiod to defend his position. In these cases (except for Prota-
goras' view as noted), Socrates separates the interlocutor's stated belief from
the endoxical source of that belief, and he makes sure that the belief is one
that the interlocutor endorses. This is the purpose of the sincerity demand.
Once the interlocutor is committed to the belief, the sincerity demand is
satisfied, but the endoxical source of that belief remains. The sincerity
demand is extremely useful because Socrates can proceed to examine both
the interlocutor's belief and the substantive endoxa, at the same time.
Socrates' reliance upon sincerity and endoxa in just this way forms part of
his persuasive strategy.
Regulative endoxical beliefs are valuable to SM because they help
Socrates to get the interlocutor's agreement. As agreed-upon premises,
they provide Socrates with a dialectical tool for reinterpreting the meaning
of the central concepts in the premises and he can use them to refute and
persuade the interlocutor. Once a regulative endoxical premise is intro-
duced in a refutation and accepted, Socrates uses ambiguity to reinterpret
its meaning, and in this way, the regulative premise is transformed and gains
substantive moral import. The combined use of regulative endoxa and verbal
ambiguity is tricky and complex; none the less, I believe that this strategy is
fundamentally a distinctive feature of SM.
In my discussion of endoxa, I am primarily concerned with Socrates' use of
regulative endoxa as one or more of the agreed-upon premises and I shall
limit my discussion to three such premises which I believe form an import-
ant set for SM. The specific premises, in their most general formulations,
are: 'all humans desire the good' (D); 'virtue is beneficial' (B); and 'virtue
is like atecAn*'(T).
To conclude this section, I would like to make clear what I am calling the
protreptic function. It is an indirect form of persuasion by which Socrates
uses the ambiguity of evaluative language to reinterpret the regulative
endoxical premises. It is a vital part of SM that Socrates put forward a pro-
treptic argument which represents his moral position. Such arguments can
be reconstructed within a given elenctic argument or series of arguments.
Interpreting Socrates' protreptic activity is not only a matter of analysing
the arguments but attending carefully to the internal frame of the dia-
logue, e.g. the dramatic signals and tensions, the psychological attributes of
the characters, and allowances for Socrates' ironic humor. Along with the
dialectical nuances and dramatic details which belong to the internal
frame, I take into account the textual level of the dialogues which includes
Plato's motivations as an author of a literary work.
The Protreptic Function and Three Endoxical Premises
In this section, I briefly present three endoxical premises and discuss their
relation to Socrates' protreptic discourse. These premises are: (D) all
humans desire the good; (B) virtue is beneficial; and (T) virtue is like a
tecfine.13 From this point forward, these premises are to be understood
in terms of their regulative role and are referred to simply as 'endoxicaP
premises. They are fundamental to SM in two ways: (1) when taken in their
endoxical sense, they are the raw material for the elenctic and truth-seeking
functions; (2) when given a Socratic interpretation, they are the basis for the
protreptic function and they constitute the core argument for Socrates'
moral position. In this second capacity, the three premises are referred to
as 'protreptic' premises.
Premise (D) - all humans desire the good - is the eudaimonist principle
that Socrates presupposes in SM which was discussed in Chapter 1. The
truth of this belief is rarely disputed because it is taken to mean that people
usually desire what they believe to be good. In its simplest form, Socrates
treats the principle as uncontroversial and proposes it as such in the Euthy-
demus and Lysis. However, the premise often calls for clarification in some
dialectical contexts since an important distinction must be made between
the apparent good, for example what people think they desire, and the real
good, for example what human beings, given their rational nature, really do
desire. In the Meno (77b-78b), Socrates sets aside part of Meno's definition
that virtue is the 'desire for what is honorable' (epithumounta ton kalon) and the
ability to acquire it, by connecting what is honorable to what is good. Then,
in a quick series of steps, he gets Meno to agree that the desire (boulesthai) for
good 'belongs to our common nature5 (78b8). The endoxical premise occu-
pies an important part of the refutation of Protagoras (Prt. 358d; cf. 345e).
The premise lends support to the Socratic prudential paradox: 'no one
desires the bad', or goes towards what is painful, and the moral paradox:
'no one chooses or does injustice voluntarily'. Premise (D) also raises issues
both about the nature of desire as a lack, with respect to what is desired, and
the relation between goods, which are ranked on a scale of values with
respect to what is good instrumentally and what is good for its own sake. In
this context, the premise is relevant to the refutation of Polus (Grg. 467c-
468e) and the discussion of the final good or first friend (protonphilon) in the
Premise (B) is virtue is beneficial (ophelimon). The endoxical meaning of

this premise is that being virtuous and doing virtuous actions furthers the
agent's interests, where 'interests' are taken in an external sense, and
'virtue' is taken in a behavioral sense. Because virtuous action is not always
in the agent's own interests, the premise may sometimes be taken to mean
that the appearance of virtue is beneficial because it brings with it the
rewards of a good reputation. In this regard, Premise (B) is coupled with a
companion premise (Bl): 'virtue is admirable' or 'fine' (kalon). The term
'beneficial' (ophelimon) is often interchangeable with 'good' (agathon), and
results in a popular expression which is used to speak highly of a virtuous
man as *noble and good? (kalos tfagathos). 4
In both the Lysis (216c-d) and Symposium (204b-e), the object of love or
desire is the 'beautiful' (to kalon), and the inference is made instantly, by
Socrates, that what is beautiful is good (to agathon). Given Plato's sense of
play with popular etymology, it follows that the occasion presents itself for
Socrates to use the connection between good and beautiful in the refutation
of Agathon (201 c-d). This refutation brings to mind now a point of emphasis
for future discussion. A great source for ambiguity in Greek moral terminol-
ogy stems from the fact that the same word Ho kalon\ which translates in
English as 'beautiful' or 'fine', also translates as 'noble' or 'admirable' and
is thereby endowed with an important moral meaning; and likewise with the
negative evaluative term 'to aischrorf as 'ugly5, 'base' or 'shameful'.
Premise (B) and (Bl) are major players in many elenctic arguments.
It must be kept in mind that these terms often occur with their opposites in
pairs, for example beneficial/harmful; good/bad; admirable/shameful. For
instance, Protagoras admits that 'courageous men do not feel base fears' (ouk
aischrousphobous, 360b2). With a standard move, Socrates argues from the
contrary and asks, 'if not base (aischra), then it must be admirable' (kala)?,
to which he gets assent; then, bringing admirable and good together, he asks
'if admirable (kala) then good (agatha)?\ Protagoras agrees and is well on his
way to being refuted. An important concept associated with beneficial and
good is 'use' or 'usefulness' (chfesis); for something to be beneficial it must be
put to use. Socrates will emphasize the connection: good things are benefi-
cial only to the extent that they are used well. Premise (B) has enormous
dialectical power, especially in the definitional dialogues, where the inter-
locutor's proposed definition of a virtue often fails because it is not com-
patible with this premise (cf. Chrm. 159c 1-2, 160e-161a, 165d-e, 169a-b;
La. 192c5-7, 193d-e; and Rep. I; also Cr. 48b; Prt. 349e-350b, 351b-c) . 15 The
protreptic reading of this premise, however, is understood internally, with
respect to the good of the soul (Grg. 476e-477b). Socrates argues explicitly
for the protreptic reading of what is beneficial (End. 278d-283b, and Meno
87d-89a), which I will discuss shortly.
Premise (T) - is virtue is like a techrie - is a premise that is used implicitly.
It is rarely disputed by the interlocutors because virtue or excellence of any
kind is taken to be some kind of ability, either natural or learned, and this
ability is judged with respect to a thing's function, whether it be a bow or a
flute, a horse or dog, a doctor or a general, or simply a human being. How-
ever, the protreptic reading only becomes clear in the Gorgias where
Socrates offers a definite set of criteria which separates his view of techrie
from the views of Gorgias and Polus, and from most other interlocutors, for
example Critias, Hippias, Ion, Polemarchus, Protagoras. Usually, Socrates
has no trouble with the frequent comparison of virtue with the arts and
sciences, and this move always allows him to speak of virtue as some kind of
knowledge or skill, without further explanation. The premise becomes prob-
lematic, however, due to an important qualification which Socrates recog-
nizes but often ignores for purposes of the refutation. This qualification
is due to the fact that any knowledge is a knowledge for opposites, that is,
can be used for good or bad ends. Also, a problem is raised in the Meno and
Protagoras: if virtue is some kind of technical knowledge, then it can be

taught; however it appears, at least to Socrates, that no one has learned
how to be virtuous. A great potential for verbal ambiguity resides in the
key terms of all three premises because they generously allow for an endox-
ical reading and a protreptic reading.
Socratic Interlocutors
As the foregoing discussion was intended to show, there are complex logical
relations between the endoxical premises, and equally complex semantic
relations among the key evaluative terms, and a significant difference
between how the premises and terms are understood by various interlocu-
tors and Socrates in a given dialectical context. Based on the endoxical pre-
mises, Socrates works with standard patterns of inference and relies on two
very familiar analogies: the comparison between virtue and techrie (arts/
crafts), and the comparison between the soul and body. The premises and
issues regarding them are best addressed in the context in which they are
raised and in connection to the interlocutors and their character attributes.
The way in which Socrates conducts his protreptic discourses varies with
each interlocutor. Also, there are the welcomed differences that Plato cre-
ates in dramatic structure, dialectical context and presentation of philo-
sophical ideas. In light of the variations, I make use of a rough distinction
between two main types of interlocutors, sophistic and non-sophistic, and I
place the interlocutors roughly into four smaller groups.17 The purpose of
this classification is to emphasize the role of the interlocutors and the various
kinds of influence they have on SM. The classification is predicated on the
idea that the personality of the interlocutor, his emotional reactions to
Socrates and his attitude towards dialectical discussion affect the style of
persuasion that Socrates will use. It is important to keep in mind that many
of the interlocutors whom Plato represents in the dialogues, the dramatis per-
sonae, are linked closely to the actual people and their life histories in fifth-
and early fourth-century Greece.18
Starting with the non-sophistic category, I include Charmides, Cleinias,
Crito, Euthyphro, Hippocrates, Ion, Laches, Lysis, Nicias and Polem-
archus; I would also add Adeimantus, Cebes, Glaucon, Phaedrus, Simmias
and Theaetetus. Within the non-sophistic category of interlocutors, I dis-
tinguish between Group 1: those who are at a young and impressionable
age, for example Charmides, Cleinias, Hippocrates, Lysis, Phaedrus and
Theaetetus, who do not claim to have any expertise or formal knowledge,
though they do have opinions, of course, and Group 2: those who do claim
to have some formal knowledge or professional expertise, for example Aga-
thon, Euthyphro, Ion, Laches, Meno, Nicias and Polemarchus.19 Within
the sophistic category, I distinguish between Group 3: the professional
Sophists, such as Euthydemus, Dionysodorus, Gorgias, Hippias, Prodicus,
Protagoras and Thrasymachus who teach or speak publicly and presum-
ably take fees, and Group 4: the non-professional sophistic-like interlocutors
who have negative responses to Socrates and maintain a contentious atti-
tude in the conversation, for example Anytus, Callicles, Critias, Meletus
and Polus.
My classification of interlocutors and the distinction I make between non-
sophistic and sophistic interlocutors is based, to some extent, on what
Socrates says, in the Apology (29e-30a), about how he treats those people
who seem not to care about virtue and their souls, and those who claim
that they do care and have virtue. One need only look at the dialogues, how-
ever, to find that Socrates5 handling of the interlocutors is particularized.
This particularity is what gives SM its personal touch and its ad hominem
reputation; that is, it has both a positive and negative side. It is positive
because Socrates is versatile and sensitive to the needs of each interlocutor.
The general point is given attention in the context of a discussion with Phae-
drus about the true art of rhetoric as it would be practiced by a dialectician
[Phdr. 271a-272c). Among other things, this involves classifying kinds of
speeches and different types of souls, and Socrates speaks about matching
up 'the speeches and the souls' (ta logon te kaipsucfies, 271bl-2).
The method has a negative side insofar as Socrates manipulates the inter-
locutors psychologically; he finds their weaknesses, draws upon their sense of
shame and mocks them. The negative side of Socrates' personal interac-
tions has a greater impact on the interlocutor's attitude towards the dialec-
tic and affects the reader's perception of SM as well. It is no surprise that
the negative side gets associated with the overall ad hominem approach to the
argumentation. In any case, one should not expect that Socrates will inter-
act with young men such as Cleinias or Lysis, as he interacts with the Soph-
ists. The psychological profile of each character makes a big difference in
Socrates' questioning, especially with those interlocutors who have a con-
ventional viewpoint and the Sophists who express an ambivalent attitude
towards the Athenian populace.
The classification is also relevant to the protreptic mode of discourse
which includes rhetorical and dialectical techniques that are in keeping
with the dramatic situation. It is unlikely that the Sophists are going to be
persuaded by Socrates to take up philosophy as a way of life, so the argu-
ments Socrates uses to refute them proceed along different lines. As I hope
to show, not only the arguments but also the fallacies in the arguments are
geared towards the character of the interlocutor. To illustrate the protreptic

discourse in its simplest form, I choose among the easiest and most coopera-
tive kind of interlocutors from Group 1.
Examples of Protreptic Discourse
'Exhortation' is the word we use in English to convey the sense of the Greek
word 'protreptikos' which means 'a turning towards5, 'urging' or 'persuasion'
('to incline towards'iprotrepto, Eud. 307a2). Socrates uses a protreptic mode
of discourse to urge his listeners to take up philosophy; to care for the values
of wisdom and virtue and for the good of their souls. In other words: 'one
ought to pursue wisdom' (philosopheteon, Eud. 288d7).
The classic example of protreptic discourse occurs with Cleinias in the
Euthydemus (278d-283b; 288d-293a) where Socrates gives two demonstra-
tions of a protreptic or hortatory argument. In the Lysis, too, there is a
demonstration. Socrates agrees to show Hippothales how to talk to one's
beloved (206c-d). As soon as he gets the chance, Socrates proceeds to ques-
tion Lysis. Instead of flattering the boy, Socrates aims to humble him by
making him aware of his deficiency with respect to wisdom (207d-211a).
I briefly present the protreptic discourses with Hippocrates (Prt. 31 Ob-314c),
Charmides (Chrm. 154c-158c) and Critoin the Crito.
One obvious feature that is common to these cases is that the interlocutors
are non-sophistic; they are willing to learn, sincere and are not resistant to
Socrates' protreptic efforts. Socrates is not trying to refute their positions;
his arguments are easier to follow though the concepts he presents are not
unambiguous. There are important differences between the Socratic sense
of a term used such as 'happiness' (eudaimonia) or 'beneficial', and the inter-
locutor's ordinary understanding of the term that will become clear in these
few passages. In my analysis of these conversations, I am not concerned to
give a full account of the arguments or the dialogues, and I treat some texts
in more detail than others. My intention is to focus on the protreptic themes
and main lines of reasoning which Socrates uses. After I present the pas-
sages, I explain why I believe these passages can be used to identify a distinct
Socratic moral position.
The Euthydemus
In the Euthydemus, the brothers, Euthydemus and Dionsyodorus, are Soph-
ists who claim to teach virtue to anyone for a fee. They accept Socrates' sug-
gestion that those who can teach virtue can also persuade the reluctant pupil
to care about virtue and wisdom (274d-275a). So, they agree to exhibit their
skill and 'protrepticize' {protrepsaite) Cleinias who is a young man at a tender
age in need of instruction to promote his becoming a good person (cf.
278c8). Socrates is familiar with Cleinias' character and his ability to
handle questioning (275c). As a prime example of both direct and indirect
protreptic, Socrates offers encouragement to Cleinias throughout the dis-
cussion (cf. 2 75d8-9).
The brothers refute Cleinias' answers to the question: who is it that learns,
the wise or the ignorant?, regardless of which way he responds. Socrates,
then, helps Cleinias to understand that the brothers are joking and making
sport in order to initiate him into the mysteries of their discipline (277d-
278d). Their initiation apparently involves getting Cleinias to recognize
the 'correct use of words' (peri onomaton orthofetos). The brothers equivocate
in order to refute Cleinias, and Socrates explains that the bout of play was
meant for Cleinias to realize the ambiguity of the word 'learning' or the
expression 'to learn' (manthanein). The word can apply both to those who
do not know and to those who do. Those who do not know 'learn' in the
sense of acquiring knowledge they did not have. Those who do know
have already learned, and so 'learn' applies to what they know and have
acquired. Depending on how Cleinias responds, the brothers switch to the
meaning of the term which will refute his answer.
This eristic style of debate is contrasted immediately with SM. Socrates
offers to show the brothers how he exhorts another to pursue philosophy
and care for virtue. He starts with an obvious question and asks Cleinias
whether it is true that all men wish to prosper (278e2). Granting this, the
next step he takes is to ask how does one achieve this state, and he suggests
the conventional view that happiness consists in having 'many good things'.
Among the good things, those which are commonly considered to be really
good are enumerated: wealth, health, good birth, power and honor, and
the virtues of temperance, courage, justice and wisdom are added in, with
Cleinias' consent. The greatest of goods, good fortune, was temporarily left
out, and Socrates suggests that to include good fortune would be to repeat
the same good twice. 'Wisdom is presumably good fortune, even a child
could see that' (279d9—10). Cleinias is puzzled at this last remark, so
Socrates proceeds with an analogy to the crafts to show how wisdom and
good fortune are the same thing. Socrates then proposes that wisdom is
what causes men to be fortunate, but secures the necessary agreement
simply by equating wisdom with infallibility of judgment.
After this gloss, the next series of steps leads to the premise that whatever
goods one has must be beneficial (280c-d).20 After invoking the craft ana-
logy again, he secures the premise that the only truly beneficial thing
is that which is used rightly. This means that the conventional goods
are neither good nor bad, but 'if they are guided by ignorance, they are
greater evils ... whereas if understanding and wisdom guide them, they
are greater goods, but in themselves neither sort is of any worth' (281d-e).
Since all humans want to be happy and happiness consists of goods, which
are good only if one has the knowledge of how to use them, it follows that
such knowledge is the only true good. The last step needed is that every-
one ought to pursue wisdom (282a-b), and should not be ashamed to do
honorably whatever it takes to get it. Cleinias accepts the claim that this
wisdom is teachable (282c-d), and Socrates points out that Cleinias is com-
mitted to loving and pursuing wisdom himself. Cleinias follows the line of
reasoning and is convinced that this is what he ought to do (282dl-3).
Socrates suggests to the brothers that they can pick up where he left off
and question Cleinias next as to what kind of wisdom is necessary to make
one happy.
The second protreptic begins with Cleinias at 288d-290e, and switches
to Crito, who is listening to Socrates' narrative and interrupts him because
Crito cannot believe that Cleinias was capable of answering Socrates' ques-
tions so well. At 291b-293b, Socrates and Crito re-enact the conversation
that had taken place earlier with Cleinias. The transition between inter-
locutors is very smooth and may have been designed to alleviate any further
doubts the reader might share with Crito about Cleinias' ability. It may
have also been designed to include Crito as the object of Socratic discourse
since Crito is presented as looking for someone to teach virtue to his sons
(272d-e;306d-307a).
At 288d, Socrates continues to demonstrate to the brothers how to exhort
someone and starts out by reminding Cleinias of their agreement that every-
one ought to pursue wisdom. Socrates adds that the pursuit is the 'acquiring
of knowledge' called philosophy. He asks Cleinias what kind of knowledge it
is which benefits us, and this leads to a distinction between the knowledge of
making and the knowledge of using (289c). When Socrates asks whether the
art of generalship might be the knowledge they are looking for, Cleinias does
not go along because the general does not know how to use the victory he has
won. They finally come to the kingly art which fails to qualify for the art they
are seeking because it seems to have no distinct subject matter. It might be
the knowledge of how to make men good but it is difficult to specify what this
knowledge consists in (292c-e). The second protreptic is a continuation of
the first, and like many Socratic conversations, the argument, as a whole,
appears to go nowhere. Socrates has led Cleinias (and Crito) only so far
and then the inquiry ends aporetically. The knowledge of good turns out to
have itself as its subject. So Socrates turns to the brothers for help, but
instead of help, Euthydemus continues to demonstrate his eristic method

using a different kind of fallacy, similar to equivocation, with the terms
'know' and 'knowing'.21
The brothers had claimed that they can teach virtue but only manage to
confound Cleinias when they are asked to demonstrate their method.
Socrates had requested that they try to persuade Cleinias that he ought to
become their student because he will learn important things from them.
What the brothers show is that there is nothing valuable to be learned
from them.22
The Lysis
A look at the protreptic discourse in the Lysis (207e-210a) shows that happi-
ness is the starting point as well. Socrates engages Lysis and leads him to see
that he lacks the knowledge which will entrust him to his family and friends,
and that without this knowledge he will not have the freedom he needs to be
happy. The passage begins when Socrates supposes that Lysis' parents are
fond of him and desire to see him happy, hence it seems that they allow him
to do whatever he likes and never hinder him (207e). In fact, Lysis says his
parents prevent him from doing many things. And although Lysis is a free
person, he is controlled by the slave who takes him to school, and then must
submit to his schoolmasters. Socrates asks Lysis what reason he thinks his
parents have for preventing him from being happy, since 'you hardly do a
single thing that you desire?'. 'It is because I am not yet of age, Socrates'
(208el0). But there are other things Lysis' parents do not prevent him from
doing, and Socrates wants to know why. Lysis sees the point and admits that
it is not the coming of age, but understanding which determines what he is
and is not allowed to do. A series of craft examples illustrates that those who
are entrusted are the skilled.
In summary, Socrates says that 'the case stands thus: with regard to mat-
ters in which we become intelligent, every one will entrust us with them ...
whereas in all those which we have failed to acquire intelligence ... every-
one will do his utmost to obstruct us' (210b-c).23 The passage ends by con-
necting the concept of wisdom to usefulness and goodness which become the
object oiphilia, friendship or love. Socrates tells Lysis that if he becomes wise
everyone will be his friend and be intimate (oikeioi) with him because he
would be 'useful and good' (210d2). But if he does not, then neither his par-
ents nor his intimates will be his friends. Lysis tries to get Socrates to repeat
what he has been saying to his friend, Menexenus, who has just rejoined
their company. Socrates refuses and tells Lysis that he should do it since he
was paying such close attention. However, if Lysis forgets any part of the
discussion that just took place when giving an account of it, Socrates says he
is willing to go over it again with Lysis at another time (21 la-b). Lysis is
unwilling to recount the exchange, and asks Socrates if he would talk with
Menexenus on some other topic; in fact, the language of debate and compe-
tition enter into the discourse at this point.
There is no refutation of the interlocutor or his thesis in this discussion,
even though Lysis is made aware of his ignorance. Socrates hopes to per-
suade Lysis to seek wisdom by turning his attention to what he desires to
possess, which potentially belongs to him by kinship to his parents, yet he
cannot have due to his lack of knowledge. Socrates is leading Lysis to see
that he is a lover or seeker of what is, in a sense, already given to him by
nature, though he does not yet possess it. The theme of the relation of desire
to the good as a type of kinship relation runs through the whole drama and
provides the paradigm for the form of self-knowledge which Socrates seeks
to instill in his interlocutors. In its simplest form here, it is to get Lysis to
become aware of himself and his desires and to recognize his need for
improvement. The protreptic process is intended to be a self-persuasive pro-
cess. The rest of the dialogue explores the conventional meanings of'philia'
and Socrates gradually reinterprets the concept until it comes to have a
Socratic meaning.
The Protreptic Discourse with Hippocrates

At Protagoras 311b, Socrates cross-examines Hippocrates who wants Socrates
to introduce him to Protagoras, so that he may learn from the great Sophist.
After questioning Hippocrates, using the crafts as a paradigm, Hippocrates
admits that he would be ashamed to be thought of as a Sophist. With the help
of Socrates' suggestion, Hippocrates agrees that he does not seek out Prota-
goras to become a Sophist, but to get a general education (paideia), which is
appropriate for a private citizen (312a-b). Now Socrates wonders whether
Hippocrates is aware that he is about to submit his soul for treatment to a
Sophist without knowing what a 'Sophist5 is. Hippocrates thinks he knows
what a Sophist is, one who has knowledge of wise things, and who makes
others clever speakers (312c-d). But these properties also apply to crafts like
lyre-playing. What wise things do Sophists know, in particular, and on what
subject do they make people clever speakers? (312e). Hippocrates is stumped
by this question and admits aporia (312elO). He has a desire for knowledge
and he thinks he can get it from Protagoras though he does not know what a
Sophist is or does, and, in this sense, he has shown his ignorance.25
The protreptic discourse continues. Socrates cautions Hippocrates about
the danger of entrusting his soul to the Sophist without knowing what it is he
expects to learn, and further explains to him what it is that a Sophist really
does. In Socrates' view a Sophist is' a sort of merchant or dealer in provisions
on which a soul is nourished' (313c4-7). Socrates points out that concerning
the health of the body, Hippocrates would be eager to seek advice from the
doctor or trainer, but with regard to his soul which he values 'much more
highly' than his body, and given that it is upon his soul that all his affairs
depend, whether it becomes 'better or worse', Hippocrates does not think
twice about it (313a-b). Socrates does not question whether Hippocrates
values his soul more than his body, but assumes this is true and admonishes
Hippocrates for his neglect.
To emphasize the point further, Socrates continues with the body—soul
analogy, applying the idea of nourishment to each. Hippocrates does not
quite get the point, and he asks Socrates what the soul is nourished on.
Socrates answers 'doctrines' (matfiemasi), just like those which the Sophist
sells (313c9). Having compared the body and soul initially, and then ranked
the value of each, Socrates expands on the difference between them with
respect to the two kinds of nourishment. Hippocrates can test food before it
is eaten. However, with doctrines he is at a far greater risk because the Soph-
ists who sell these wares could be ignorant of their value (313d-e), and
because he must take them directly into the soul without knowing whether
they are good or bad. It is only if 'one happens to have a doctor's know-
ledge ... but of the soul...' is it safe to expose oneself to a Sophist (313e3).
If the soul takes in the teachings of the Sophist in ignorance, or before they
are examined for their worthiness, the soul could be harmed (314a-b).
In this example, as in many cases where protreptic argument dominates
the conversation, Socrates is trying to change the way the interlocutor
thinks with respect to some impending action presented in the drama of the
dialogue. It is clear that Socrates hopes to affect Hippocrates' attitude and
actions, by bringing to his attention the serious dangers of what Hippocrates
is about to do. The ultimate conclusion that Socrates argues for is the con-
clusion that Hippocrates ought to care for his soul.
The Charmides
In the Charmides, the importance of the body—soul analogy to the protreptic
force of the method is central. Socrates is introduced to Charmides by
Gritias on the pretext that Socrates is someone who has a remedy to cure
Charmides' headache (155b-c). At 156b-c, Socrates says he was in doubt as
to what method he would use to demonstrate the power of the remedy,
which consists of a leaf and a charm. The charm is not the kind of thing
that can be used to cure the head in isolation from the rest of the body.
When Charmides indicates that he understands this idea, Socrates goes

into a detailed explanation of the Zalmoxian medical practice which advo-
cates a holistic approach, based on the relation between the body and soul.
Socrates makes the analogy that 'just as one should not attempt to cure the
eyes apart from the head, nor the head apart from the body, so one should
not attempt to cure the body apart from the soul5 (156el -2, trans. Sprague).
The relation between body and soul is not reciprocal, however, for Socrates
goes on to say that the 'soul is the source both of bodily health and bodily
disease for the whole man' (156e9-10). The way to cure the soul is with the
charm. The charm consists of'beautiful words'. The virtue of temperance
{sophrosurie) is introduced as the effect which these words produce. Socrates
claims that once the soul has sophrosurie the health of the head and body is
easy to maintain (157b).
This entire explanation is a therapeutic metaphor for the Socratic convic-
tion that health of the soul is prior to health of the body. The explanation is
protreptic because it serves as a means of getting the boy to submit his soul to
questioning in the way that a doctor would try to get his patient to submit his
body to medical treatment (157b-d). The question of whether Charmides
already has sophrosurie in his soul or not is raised. Since Charmides does not
feel comfortable answering yes or no to this question, Socrates suggests that
they inquire into the matter together, so that Charmides is not forced to
say yes or no without further consideration, and Socrates does not have
to administer his medicine without knowing which is the case. In order to
decide the case, Socrates asks Charmides if he is willing to express his opin-
ion about sophrosurie. The series of refutations begins with Charmides' first
attempt at a definition (159b-c). As with Cleinias, Lysis and Hippocrates,
Charmides does not have a thesis to defend from the start. Socrates leads
the conversation up to the point where the interlocutor's opinion is encour-
aged and elicited. In these four conversations, Socrates is portrayed as
exercising a strong influence on the nature and direction of the discussion,
and appears to be comfortable in this role. He is not portrayed as some-
one who meets an interlocutor who has a position to defend, and then
proceeds to refute the interlocutor through a series of arguments in the
search for a moral truth. Furthermore, in this case, Socrates is presented as
a healer who has a therapeutic method which he uses in an effort to help the
interlocutor to care for his soul.
The Crito
The Socratic principle set down in the Crito (47a) is that it is by knowledge
that one should decide matters of great importance (cf. La. 184e). Socrates
and Crito agree that they ought to take advice about important matters
from the man who knows, and not worry about what the majority think in
making a decision. He who disobeys such advice with respect to the body
harms himself and likewise the soul, which is given priority of value over
the body. Instead of using the word 'soul5, Socrates asks Crito if that which
suffers injustice is more valuable (48a-b), and whether the most important
thing is not life but good life (48b-c). Before they begin the inquiry into
whether it is right or wrong for Socrates to escape prison, Socrates tells
Crito of his desire to persuade him, 'I am anxious to act in this matter with
your approval, and not contrary to your wishes' (48e6-7).
Socrates presents Crito with some of the simplest and strongest arguments
for his moral position based on the concepts of justice and harm using
rational principles which he and Crito both accept, and yet Crito is not per-
suaded. Though Crito is a friendly interlocutor who loves Socrates and
would like to believe him, Socrates is unable to persuade Crito in a straight-
forward manner. It takes the strong rhetoric and authority of the imperson-
al Laws to get the ideas across.
Conclusion: Protreptic Themes and Arguments
The central protreptic themes revolve around the desire for happiness,
the priority of goods and the care for the soul, the moral virtues, and the
knowledge required to care for the soul. One unifying perspective on these
themes which is relevant to SM is the view that dialectical inquiry increases
self-knowledge and self-knowledge is the way to care for the soul. Since
dialectical activities are equated with seeking wisdom and doing philoso-
phy, the exhortation to philosophy is the same old familiar tune that echoes
in the ears of Socrates' most avid listeners.
I conclude with a brief overview. In most of the protreptic conversa-
tions, Socrates relies on one or more of the three endoxical premises. The
significance of this set is noteworthy because when these premises are
Socratically reinterpreted, they become protreptic premises in a protreptic
argument. For each of the three premises, there is an endoxical and a pro-
treptic interpretation.
By a 'protreptic argument', in general, I mean an argument which advo-
cates the pursuit of wisdom, or promotes the good of the soul. An 'indirect
protreptic argument' is a protreptic argument embedded in an elenctic
argument. By a 'protreptic premise', I mean a premise that has been
Socratically reinterpreted, which the interlocutor would be inclined to
accept if he had self-knowledge. In the arguments he constructs, Socrates
relies upon but does not accept the primafacie truth of the regulative endox-
ical premises. Instead, he changes the meaning of the premise to an interpre-
tation which he thinks best explains the truth value of the premise, and in so
doing, he transforms an endoxical premise into a protreptic premise, which
supports the Socratic moral position.
The first premise is (D) all humans desire the good. The endoxical mean-
ing of this premise is that everyone wants and pursues the 'apparent' good,
or what they think are good things. The protreptic meaning is that everyone
desires what is really good, regardless of what they think is good. The truth
of this protreptic premise supports the Socratic paradox that no one desires
what is bad or does wrong voluntarily.
The second premise is (B) virtue is beneficial. The endoxical meaning of
this premise is that being virtuous and doing virtuous actions furthers one's
self-interest, taken in an external sense. Because virtue is not always in
one's self-interest nor is it directly beneficial, the premise may sometimes be
taken to mean that the appearance of virtue is always beneficial. As I noted
earlier, the protreptic meaning is that virtue is always beneficial for the soul.
The truth of this protreptic premise supports the Socratic values of justice
and virtue, for these are the qualities which are most beneficial for the soul
to possess. I discuss the significance of premise (B) by contrasting Socrates'
view of harm and benefit with the conventional view of Polemarchus in the
next chapter.
The third premise is (T) virtue is like a techrie. The endoxical meaning is
that doing anything well requires skill or expertise. The ordinary reasoning
is that if virtue is equated with doing well in the political and social realms,
then virtue is a kind of expertise. When this premise is Socratically reinter-
preted, it lends support to Socrates' belief in the value of moral knowledge,
and underlies the Socratic paradox that virtue is knowledge.
Chapter 3
Ambiguity and Argumentation
Introduction
My overall project is to show that understanding SM contextually, within
the framework of the drama, makes good sense of Socrates' practice since the
argumentation actually works with the character types and situations being
presented. My interest in ambiguity is part of this project, for I think that the
fallacy of equivocation and other dialectical tactics are related specifically
to the details of the drama, for example the themes or issues as they are pre-
sented in the dialogue and the ad hominem aspects of the argumentation.
Ambiguity is useful for two purposes. The first use is from the internal
frame of the dialogue, at the dramatic level. Socrates uses verbal ambiguity
as a strategic device. He can work freely within a wide range of meanings
and draw out conceptual connections which allow him to refute the inter-
locutor and to put together a protreptic argument. He can take a real differ-
ence of opinions between himself and the interlocutor, and by virtue of the
words and ideas involved in the exchange, collapse the differences in mean-
ing, either by showing how the interlocutor's notion is related to his or by
outright substitution.
The second use is from the external frame, at the textual level. Ambiguity is
a versatile literary device. It serves Plato's purpose as a dramatist who wishes
to portray lifelike representations of action and thought between characters
in dialogue with each other. But there is not only this; there is also a conflict of
ideas, and opposing arguments are being proposed and rejected. As a philo-
sopher, Plato is interested in the problems of language use and misuse, and
how language maps on to or represents reality. Both literary and philosophi-
cal purposes merge together and are made manifest to the readers by Plato's
art. So then, the problems he is grappling with include the concept of mean-
ing, the lack of clarity in expression, the diversions of rhetorical and poetic
language which entertain rather than instruct, intentional obscurity, irony,
etymology, puns, multiple meaning and definition.
Plato's portrayal of ambiguity in the dialogues also serves a pedagogical
purpose, for it requires readers to recognize that more than one meaning is
at play in the discourse and it challenges them to follow more than one path
in the reasoning. Readers are invited to see two sides of the story, compare
meanings and watch how a single word or phrase can interfere with under-
standing. Plato shows both dramatically and through argumentation how
serious the need is to make proper distinctions between the meanings of key
terms. The reader is not only being asked to recognize the problems of lan-
guage use but to disambiguate and resolve the difficulties. The use of ambi-
guity in argumentation belongs to the dramatic action taking place between
speakers. Once one makes the connections between the use of ambiguity and
other fallacies in the argumentation, and the attributes of the characters,
their interactions and the philosophical themes, the chances are that this
will effectively change how one understands the dynamics of the dialogues.
I argue that the method should be conceived and interpreted dramatic-
ally. I present SM fully within its dialectical context which includes strong
adversarial positioning, animated debates, muddled conversations, back-
tracking, role reversals, rhetorical speeches, appeals to emotion and the
deliberate misinterpretations of meaning. Plato uses boxing, wrestling
and battle imagery to convey the rough and tumble action associated
with the arguments which often have an offensive or defensive tone.
My interpretation of SM requires that it be seen as functioning in more
than one way at the same time; the three modes of discourse are operating
together sometimes very loosely, and it might seem that Socrates is a type of
juggler tossing up and moving around discourses as in a performative act.
Perhaps. But when SM is seen as a three-way activity rather than from one
standpoint, for example the standpoint of inquiry into truth by search for
definition, or the standpoint of the elenchos as it has been narrowly circum-
scribed, one gains a valuable perspective on the diverse tactics and style
of philosophy as Socrates practices it, and as Plato portrays it in full
dramatic dress. This perspective derives from aesthetic appreciation; it is a
consummate interest that nurtures an attitude towards philosophy and
keeps one's mind fertile and open.
My approach offers advantages in terms of explaining why there are fal-
lacies in the arguments and what kind of fallacies there are. The arguments
are tricky and do not meet the formal standards of logic, but this does not
mean they are without merit. The advantage comes in seeing how the falla-
cies and problematic moves can be interpreted protreptically if the dramatic
context is worked into the argumentation that Socrates uses, including most
of all the ambiguities of language, and the customization of argument to the
interlocutor's character.
One of the major drawbacks of SM, from my point of view, is that the
elenctic and epistemic functions are at cross-purposes. They have different
Ambiguity and Argumentation 59
immediate aims and follow a different set of rules for how to achieve that
aim. Though all three functions have a single moral aim, there is a problem
with mixing these functions together; to put the point bluntly: Socrates is
playing by two sets of rules which come into conflict on many occasions.
I will come back to this difficulty in the next chapter. To conclude this sec-
tion, there is one more point of difficulty I will raise now and return to in the
next chapter.
The dialogues show that Socrates is committed to truth and is intent on
getting the interlocutor to give an account of his beliefs. Socrates sometimes
goes to great lengths to establish the need for an inquiry and to get it going
on the right track, in a friendly way. The cross-questioning is conducted
within a conceptual framework provided by Socrates who steers the inquiry
from start to finish, and yet he acts like a fool who is in the dark searching
for what is right in front of him. This strikes a sour note with most readers.
SM involves ironic pretense on Socrates' part; he covers his serious moral
intentions with a comic mask. In the drama of the dialectic, one watches
Socrates engage in dissembling and very distasteful conduct.
To ameliorate the tensions or negative feelings that this behavior causes,
one should mark how many times Plato has Socrates mock himself as well
as his interlocutor, and take note of how aware he is of his proximity to the
eristic or combative style of debate. I also recommend that readers read
the 'middle-to-later' dialogues, for example Symposium, Phaedrus, Cratylus,
and Theaetetus, which capture the same spirit of Socrates but in a less abra-
sive and annoying manner.1 Socrates' constant awareness of his limitations
is dramatically related to the persistent Platonic theme of philosophy as a
form of eros, a natural desire in the soul for what is good that all humans
experience and ought to pursue rationally. I think enough has been said
about the particular aims and activities of the elenctic and protreptic
functions; however, there is a gap to be filled with respect to the epi-
stemic function.
The Epistemic Function
As part of the epistemic mode of discourse, Socrates makes an 'essentialist'

assumption, which holds that to grasp the meaning of a concept of a thing,
one must look for a common quality or form which each thing shares with all
other things of its kind. This supposed commonality makes it possible to
state the essence (ousia), or give a definitional account {logos) of the concept
in question. The essentialist assumption is what underlies the familiar
Socratic question about the virtues: what is it? (H esti). Socrates seeks the
essence of a virtue and distinguishes its essence from an accidental quality

(poion) that happens to be true of it (pathos ti, e.g. Eu. 6d-e). There is usually
a distinctive approach which he takes to the definitional question relative to
the drama of a dialogue. In the Meno, he puts the question, 'what is virtue?5,
and asks for a description in terms of a single form (eidos) that is the same in
all cases (72c6—7). In the Laches, Socrates speaks of the power (dunamis)
which makes a courageous man be courageous (192b7), and in the Char-
mides, Socrates asks Charmides to look into his soul (psuche) for the presence
of temperance (sophrosurie) so he can better explain what it is (159a 1 -2).
For Socrates, the what-is-it question is useful because by means of it, he
can specify certain standards for a definition which are both descriptive
and normative. In my view, his reason for putting so much emphasis on defi-
nitional meanings is not because he wishes to learn about a moral concept
descriptively or to know how a term is ordinarily used (his irony is mislead-
ing in this context); rather, he seeks to establish what a concept ought to
mean and how a term ought to be used given a set of ethical ideals to which
one is committed.
The Socratic activity of looking for universal definitions is part of the
search for knowledge, but it is also a dialectical activity designed to promote
an attitude towards philosophical inquiry. Socrates' dialectical arguments
are built around normative definitions that are based on a set of values
which he wishes to offer to the interlocutors for their consideration, as an
alternative to their own conceptions which he tries to dismantle. I suggest
that when Socrates trades on an ambiguity he really is trying to exchange
one meaning for another with the hope that his meaning will help to resolve
the conflicts between the interlocutor's set of beliefs, which the Socratic
elenctic magnifies by asking leading questions and exposing verbal or logi-
cal inconsistencies.
The various efforts to define the virtues end in aporia. These efforts, how-
ever, begin with the deceptively simple and naive notion that a proper for-
mulation of piety or courage can be found and put into so many words, and
then Socrates, the interlocutors, their listeners and the participant readers
could be done with it and get on with the business of life. Fortunately, this is
not how it works. Looking for the defining features of a moral concept which
one habitually relies upon in making common evaluative judgments, and
failing to find such features, is one of the dramatically compelling ways for
Plato to show that there is a persistent problem with the meaning of ordin-
ary words and established usage. While the epistemic function of SM is
fueled by the search for meaning, the underlying question that one is left
with is whether words, given in any sort of formulaic account, are enough
to capture the ideas that they are meant to describe.
Instead of resolving the questions raised in the dialogues, Socrates and the
interlocutors are trapped in the nets of language and need to tackle a series
of verbal distinctions upon which the entire success of the conversation
depends. Once the conventional meanings of moral concepts are disrupted
and challenged, the interlocutor, as well as the reader, may tend to view
the rest of the inquiry process as so much pettifogging and silly nonsense, a
waste of time sitting around exchanging words. This attitude is confirmed
by unredeemable interlocutors like Thrasymachus, Critias and Callicles,
as they are caught in what appears to them to be nothing more than logical
traps.2 In the Symposium, Alcibiades complains loudly about the pitfalls
and frenzies of philosophical discussion (te kai bakcheias, 218b4). A similar
negative attitude towards Socratic-style babbling {adoleschia) is dramatized
by Aristophanes through the comic actions of The Clouds (1479-85) and in
the last refrain of The Frogs (cf. Phd. 70cl-4; Phdr. 269e-270a; Tht. 195b-c;
Crat. 40 Ib8).
Right it is and befitting,

Not, by Socrates sitting,
Idle talk to pursue,
Stripping tragedy-art of
All things noble and true.
Surely the mind to school
Fine-drawn quibbles to seek,
Fine-set phrases to speak,
Is but the part of a fool!3
For a quick reminder, Socrates refutes Agathon all too swiftly by trading
on the conceptual connections between beautiful and good {Sym. 201a-d).
Having agreed that (1) love lacks beauty, Socrates presses Agathon on
whether (2) good things are beautiful and he agrees; Socrates concludes that
(3) love lacks goodness. Premise (2) is semantically ambiguous. Ifgood things
have an essential, not just an accidental, connection with beauty (which
is a hard case to prove), then the conclusion follows, but if beauty is an acci-
dental property of goodness (which is easier to demonstrate since some good
things are not beautiful), then the argument is invalid (cf. HMaj. 297c-d).
The Symposium is a good example to mention on the topic of truth and defi-
nitions since each speaker takes himself to know who or what love (eros) is
and praises love profusely without being clear what they mean by the term.
The inability to get at the meaning which most of Socrates' interlocutors
take themselves to grasp with no trouble provides an initial clue about the
need for the persuasive speech and literary devices Socrates and Plato use
and why we, as readers, can't simply eliminate them from SM. The devices
of narrative reports, retelling of myths, poetically vivid imagery, ironic
humor, incessant puns, analogies, metaphors and other figures of speech
are not extraneous to the arguments, but show something crucial about the
effort of Socrates and the interlocutors to find the truth by means of lan-
guage and their seeming inability to get beyond the limits of language. The
fact is that they cannot be done with the inquiry and get on with life. Plato
dramatizes the plight of the philosopher and the ordinary man who together
try to find the right words to express their ideas, but who are none the less at
odds with each other about the meaning of the words they use. Due to what
is an inevitable misunderstanding that occurs between them, there is a mild
but looming sense of tragedy. This sense of tragedy is due to the unavoidable
miscommunication that occurs between people when they disagree with
each other about what an idea means or what to call something, especially
with regard to serious actions and matters of principle. Ambiguity in speech
and the misinterpretation of meaning show up in the tragic conflicts and
dramatized, agonistic debates {agones) between Creon and Antigone, for
instance, or Phaedra and the Nurse, Hippolytus and his father, or Teucer
and the sons of Atreus.4 Such misinterpretation of meaning and the antag-
onism it generates is called 'tragic ambiguity'. Tragic drama is a suitable
artistic medium for displaying the range of differences that exist between
people who perceive and describe the same situation in opposing ways.
Simon Goldhill argues that the experience of irresolvable opposition
which is expressed in tragedy is rooted in every aspect of the Greek intellec-
tual tradition in Socrates' heyday. Antagonism exists in Greek mythology,
as the poets reveal, in political debates as conveyed by Thucydides; it pro-
vides the subject matter of rhetorical displays and set pieces given by the
Sophists. Both Protagoras and Antiphon had a reputation for their expertise
in composing speeches of opposing logoi that could be delivered in the court-
room. The Presocratics, such as Heraclitus and Zeno, grappled with para-
dox and the profundity or frivolity of contradictory predicates. In a similar
vein, Plato is concerned with internal psychological conflict and social
disunity. Plato's dialogues represent the conflict of ideas and arguments
which Socrates explores, using these same patterns of'polarity and reversal'.
Goldhill sees this phenomenon not merely as a 'surface effect5 arising from
the embellishments of language and idle theorizing, but as a serious philo-
sophical concern about the nature of social and physical reality.5
My objective in this chapter is to explain the nature and purpose of the
ambiguity and other dialectical strategies in SM. I shall claim that Plato is
effectively dramatizing the problems of miscommunication associated with
the ambiguity of language in ordinary discourse. Socrates plays out this
activity to the hilt in ways that are humorous and serious. Plato has Socrates
go to tedious lengths to show that it is only by being clear on the meaning of
the words being used that progress in how we think about things can be
made. Seldom is the problem of language made explicit, but this is what
the dramatic action shows us. I think a red flag goes up as soon as the ques-
tioning turns on what the interlocutors mean and how they conceive of what
they are saying. In real life as in literature, ambiguity and irony are effective
tools because they allow a speaker or writer to convey more than one thing
at the same time which then may be contrasted with each other in meaning.
To show Plato's consuming concern with language and methods of commu-
nication, I turn briefly to the Phaedrus. I explain my motivation for doing so
after the exposition of the passage (261 a-266c).
A Detour to the Phaedrus
There is a protreptic episode between Socrates and Phaedrus, both of

whom are self-described and dramatized as lovers of discourse. As usual,
Socrates specializes in showing human beings their deficiencies in exactly
the area that they most want to become proficient. Phaedrus wants to
become an artful speaker and cultivate a style of eloquent and persuasive
speech. He imitates the style of Lysias, a prominent rhetor and speech-
writer; he hopes to learn the techniques of rhetoric and studies rhetorical
handbooks; but when he imitates the orators and recites the speeches, he
does so without regard for the quality of their moral content. Socrates
attempts to bring Phaedrus around to seeing the need to study philosophy
as part of his training because, as he will argue, philosophy is part of the art
of speaking. This entails giving one's attention to the content as well as the
composition of the speech and the way the language is used.
In this scene, Socrates brings forth arguments with the inspiration he
receives from the Muses and nymphs in the area. Addressing them as
'noble creatures', he calls on them asking them to 'persuade the fair young
Phaedrus that unless he pay proper attention to philosophy he will never be
able to speak properly about anything' (261a4—8). Socrates tries to per-
suade Phaedrus that a student of rhetoric must seek the truth about the
nature and order of things (ta onta) and use language carefully and respon-
sibly. In fact, the point is stronger; it is only by turning one's attention to the
things that words are about that words are used correctly, and this attention
is what enables one to speak well.
In a well-known passage, Socrates defines rhetoric as an 'art which leads
the soul by means of words {tcchrie psychagogia tis dia logon), not only in law
courts and the various other public assemblages, but in private companies as
well' (261a8-10, cf. 271dl-2). Phaedrus has a narrower understanding of
what rhetoric is and does, and he thinks the term applies only to public
speaking and politics. Socrates appeals to the Homeric heroes, such as
Nestor and Odysseus, as examples of men who speak nobly and privately,
and alludes to their real life counterparts, whom, as Phaedrus is made to
guess, are the Sophists, Gorgias and Thrasymachus. Such artful speakers
are also artful debaters who can make the 'same thing appear to the same
persons at one time just and at another, if he wishes, unjust5 (261dl-2).
Adding Zeno of Elea to his list, Socrates refers to those who specialize in
antilogike, which is the ability to argue both sides of a case equally well. This
skill is associated with Protagoras and put to eristic use, as the brothers hap-
lessly display in the Euthydemus, but it need not be so used. Socrates, as the
proto-dialectician, is the one who knows how to use these abilities.
The 'antilogicists' or 'logic-choppers' are deceivers in argument who are
able to deceive best when the topics they discuss, the just and the unjust, and
the terms used in speaking on such topics, appear to resemble each other
and are difficult to distinguish. Only those who really know the truth and
pursue such matters earnestly have an art, and only they can speak correctly
or lead others rightly. The rest of those who pretend to be skillful speakers
and debaters pursue nothing but opinion and are ridiculous (geloian, 262c).
Phaedrus gives an unenthusiastic response to all this until Socrates sug-
gests they look at Lysias5 speech and compare it critically with the speeches
given by Socrates, which just happen, by a stroke of good luck, 'to con-
tain an example of how someone who knows the truth can mislead his
audience by playing a joke on them in the course of his speech5 (262dl-4,
trans. Waterfield).
Phaedrus reads a few lines from Lysias' speech. Socrates begins his cri-
tique and asks, 'It is clear to everyone that we are in accord about some mat-
ters of this kind and at variance about others, is it not?5 (263a4-6). Phaedrus
assents but asks for an explanation. Socrates makes the point, similar to but
not exactly like the one he makes to Euthyphro. The topics of piety and just-
ice, right and wrong, are the cause of trouble among the gods rather than
matters of number and counting, weights and measures (Eu. 7b-d). In this
case, Socrates asks about words: when someone uses words like 'iron5 or
'silver5, people have the same understanding but if someone uses words
such as 'justice5 and 'goodness5, then people are at odds with each other
and with themselves (263b6-9). It is about the disputed or 'doubtful things5
(ton amphisbefesimon, 263c7-8) that people have so much confusion and are so
easily deceived, and amongst such things is the word 'love5 about which
Lysias had written his speech and which he failed to define. Socrates asks
Phaedrus to remind him whether in his first speech he had defined love.
Phaedrus said that he had, and, as it turns out, Socrates treated the subject
methodically like the true speech-lover should (237b-238d).
In his first speech on love, Socrates provided a corrective to how others
usually approach such subjects and explained the general pattern which he
takes, in a way that is similar to Diotima's speech (Sym. 201d-212b). This
pattern captures the structure of SM in its simplest form. He sets out to
address the question, as posed by Lysias' speech, as to whether it is better
for the loved one to prefer and grant sexual favors to a non-lover rather
than to his lover. Socrates explains, 'let us first agree on a definition of love,
its nature and its power, and then, keeping this definition in view and
making constant reference to it, let us enquire whether love brings advan-
tage or harm5 (237dl-5). So, he follows his own advice and defines the mean-
ing of love initially, in broad terms, saying in his usual way, 'Now everyone
sees that love is a desire', and continues from there.
As part of his critique of Lysias, Socrates is summarizing the content of his
first speech. He had separated two kinds of madness: human and divine, and
then looking to divine madness, he distinguished love from the other three
kinds: prophecy, mystical madness and poetic madness, each belonging
respectively to Apollo, Dionysus and the Muses, with love belonging to
Aphrodite and Eros (265b-c). Going back to his description of the new art
of rhetoric, Socrates had briefly suggested a methodological division (hodo
diefesthai) which would sort out the disputed or doubtful terms of a discus-
sion from the non-disputed terms (263b7). He now explains how he followed
two methodological principles in hisfirstspeech: one principle brings all the
particulars together to form a definition of one class of things, and by means
of this principle, Socrates says, his speech 'acquired clearness and consis-
tency' (265d8); the other principle divides among the one class of things
two branches which share the same name (homonuma, 266a 1, 10) and these
are sorted out by further differences. This is the method of'collecting and
dividing' things, of which this Socrates, the Socrates of the Phaedrus, pro-
fesses to be a lover (266b4). Such a man who knows how to use the method
in discussion he calls a 'dialectician', not knowing whether this is quite the
right name for him or not (266c 1).
The Phaedrus lends credibility to the idea that Plato puts the dramatic
spotlight on how two speakers fail to communicate in spite of themselves
because they are using the same word to mean different things. In my view,
Plato intends to raise the reader's awareness of ambiguity to a higher level to
show the need to define one's terms clearly and make appropriate distinc-
tions. Though the method Plato explains here, and elsewhere, may seem
like so much dry, doctrinal theorizing at the abstract level, the Socratic life
of philosophical conversation which takes place at the practical level is the

method's best instantiation. Plato's Socrates' pursuit of precise meaning and
correct language is illustrated with both the Sophists and the conventional
interlocutors but this occurs at different levels of intensity, for it is the Soph-
ists and rhetoricians who capitalize on the misuse of words and profit from
showy argumentation.
The section I have just exposited from the Phaedrus continues in a protrep-
tic mode with a comparison of the body to the soul, for example, just as those
who practice the art of medicine must understand the nature of the body
holistically to treat it properly, so too must those who intend to study or
practice the art of rhetoric must understand the nature of the soul. There is
a parallel passage where Socrates of the Charmides urges a similar approach
(156d-157c). As part of his advocacy to a holistic approach to the study of
the soul (270b-e), Socrates of the Phaedrus spells out the connection between
the art of dialectic as rhetoric and a program in which a dialectician is obli-
gated to improve the souls of his audience by properly investigating the
nature of the soul and customizing his speech to the needs of a particular
respondent (271a-272c). Going further into the topic would take me too
far afield, but I wish to emphasize that it is essential to an adequate study
of SM to adopt a perspective that looks into a range of dialogues, some of
which show Plato's explicit concern with method, language and the soul.
I take the viewpoint that the Socratic and Platonic methodology in the
corpus is continuous and unified. I do not find any basis for thinking that
an 'earlier' method was abandoned and replaced with a 'later' method,
such as the method of hypothesis, in conformity to a chronological group of
dialogues. Eventually, Plato does limit the role of the elenchos in later dia-
logues and recognizes the drawbacks of the harsh, adhominem side of eristic
style of discourse.7 For the most part, Plato's innovations in dialectical
method are cumulative; his conception of philosophy is rational discourse
or 'dialectic' broadly understood. I find that Plato is always concerned
with a model of knowledge that is rooted in dialectical knowledge. This
model involves knowing how to put things to good use (End. 290c-d; Crat.
390c-d; Rep. VII 510c-511e; Phil. 16b-c). The dialectician knows how
to put to good use the language, definitions, arguments, sciences and
all the other things of philosophy as they are experienced in practical life.
The method of hypothesis and the method of division are referred to as
'dialectic'. Various versions are described or demonstrated in the Phaedo
(99e-100b; lOld-e), Republic (531c-534e), Philebus (15d-18d), Sophist and
Statesman. In these texts as well as the Phaedrus, dialectic has both a technical
and a broader meaning, and involves Plato's ontological commitments to
essences or Forms, or to the doctrine of recollection.
Ambiguity
'Ambiguity' refers to the presence of two or more possible meanings and

may apply either to a word or to a sentence. Ambiguity in a single word is
called 'lexical', 'linguistic' or 'verbal' ambiguity, or, more technically,
'homonymy', and it indicates that the same word can have several senses.
The majority of words have more than one sense, but they are not consid-
ered ambiguous primarily because the context serves to disambiguate the
word. A word is 'ambiguous' when it is used ambiguously, that is, when it
is difficult to know which meaning is being used in a particular instance,
and the context is not sufficient to disambiguate the meanings.8 Because
most words have more than one sense, it is the use of a word in a sentence,
or the sentence itself, that is properly called 'ambiguous'. Deciding whether
a word is being used ambiguously requires careful consideration of contex-
tual factors and facets of communication, such as the rest of the words in the
sentence, where and when the sentence is uttered, what previous sentences
were uttered, to whom the sentence is uttered, and the background know-
ledge about the speaker; it cannot be determined by looking at the word
itself. Ambiguity in a sentence may be caused either by a semantic or a syn-
tactic ambiguity. A syntactic ambiguity or 'amphiboly' is due to the gram-
matical construction of a sentence. With respect to the distinction between
these two types of ambiguity, I am concerned, in general, with semantic and
not syntactic ambiguity.
Whenever I discuss the ambiguous use of language, I talk about the
meanings of words and sentences which signify concepts and the relation
these concepts have to each other and to the things they represent. With
regard to the terms and premises in an argument, I am concerned with the
'pragmatics' of meaning which involves the use of language to convey
the intended meaning of the speaker to the listener in a conversational con-
text, and not with the dictionary or literal meaning of a word. I am not
concerned with the linguistic description or the etymological meaning of
words, and their uses in sentences, nor am I concerned with the formal
problems of ambiguity as a natural or inherent phenomenon of language.
The ambiguity that I am concerned with has to do with language use, and
how it affects and enhances Socratic argumentation.
The words 'ambiguity' and 'equivocation' are closely related and are
sometimes used interchangeably. They are synonymous when they are
used to indicate that a single word has more than one meaning. However, I
believe it is best to distinguish between 'ambiguity' and 'equivocation'
because the concept of'ambiguity' is broader. By 'equivocation', I refer to
a fallacy (invalid argument) that is due to the ambiguity of a term, where
that term is used in more than one sense in the premises or conclusion of an
argument. In a valid argument, the same terms must have the same mean-
ing if the conclusion is to follow from the premises.
In my discussion of Socrates' use of ambiguity, I clarify how I think an
expression is intended by Socrates, and specify what I think is the likely
interpretation given to that expression by the interlocutor. In determining
how a premise is being interpreted, it is helpful to consider the semantic
meaning, or truth value, of that premise from the perspective of both the
speaker and listener. The semantic meaning that is given to a premise
refers to whether Socrates or his interlocutor considers the premise true or
false. The semantic ambiguity of a premise indicates that a premise can be
interpreted in more than one way simultaneously, that is, either it is true
under one interpretation and false under another, or it may be true under
both interpretations but for different reasons. The three regulative endoxi-
cal premises, identified in Chapter 2, are semantically ambiguous premises.
Other examples are 'great power is a good thing5, and 'it is better to err
voluntarily than involuntarily'. Both Socrates and his interlocutors agree
that such premises are true, yet they assign different meanings to the
premises and to the terms. Within the specific context of argumentation, I
am chiefly concerned with Socrates' use of semantic ambiguity. Since the
main reason why a premise is semantically ambiguous is due to the ambigu-
ity of the terms that are used in that premise, I am primarily concerned
with the double meaning of the terms that Socrates makes use of in con-
structing his arguments.
Terminology
Socrates and the interlocutor are engaged from start tofinishin the activity
of trying to figure out what the interlocutor means by a term and its corres-
ponding concept.9 The interlocutor is a conventional thinker who uses a
commonly shared language base as any speaker would in an ordinary con-
versation. The Sophists, however, are a special case for they understand the
transforming power of words and are gifted in poetic speech. When Socrates
poses questions, he is particularly concerned with the meanings that the
interlocutor attaches to four categories of terms.
These categories are: (i) the terms which refer to value: 'virtue' (arete),
'good' (agathon), 'bad' (kakon), 'beneficial' (ophelimon), 'harmful' (blaberon),
'use' (chresis), 'useful' (chfesimos), 'admirable' (kalori), 'shameful' (aischron),
'happiness' (eudaimonia) and 'misery' (kakodaimonia); (ii). the terms which
refer to motivation: 'want', 'desire' or 'wish' (epithumein or boulesthai), 'love'
(eros), 'voluntary3 (hekon) and'involuntary' (akdn); (iii) the terms which refer
to a capacity or to the product of a capacity: 'work' or 'function' (ergon),
'power' (dunamis), 'true' (aletfies), 'false' (pseudes) and 'persuasion' (peithos);
and (iv) the terms which refer to knowledge: 'skill' (techrie), 'wisdom' (sophia
orphroriesis), 'knowledge' or'understanding' (episfenie or gignoskein).
In the definitional dialogues, the interlocutor is usually prompted to pro-
pose an initial thesis concerning the definition of a moral concept. The key
terms, to be added to the first category, are the specific virtues of'courage'
(andreia), 'holiness/piety' (to hosion/eusebeia), 'justice' (dikaiosune), 'temper-
ance' (sophrosune) and their respective opposites. In these cases, Socrates
questions the interlocutor and persists in clarifying the meaning of a given
term. However, with regard to the terms that are contained in the regulative
endoxical premises, Socrates usually allows the meaning that the interlocu-
tor has in mind to prevail without questioning. When Socrates persists in
clarifying the meaning of a term in a proposed thesis, he is not concerned
with the finer terminological quibbles or with the etymology of words, as
Prodicus is, nor with fixing a particular meaning from the start of the
inquiry; rather, he is interested in getting the interlocutor to be clear about
what he wants to say and to stick by that meaning of the term during the
refutation.10 This is not an easy thing to get the interlocutor to do because
often the interlocutor is not sure exactly what he means. At times, the inter-
locutor's response is treated like a riddle (ainigmati) that must be solved, for
example Charmides' definition of temperance as 'doing one's own business'
(161 b8), Polemarchus' citation of Simonides' saying that justice is 'to render
to each his due' (Rep. I 331e2-4).
Making the Meaning Clear
At times, Socrates does not make it clear that he takes something the inter-
locutor says differently than the interlocutor takes it himself, even though
it is apparent that Socrates realizes this. For instance, Socrates switches
to a different meaning of a term without acknowledging the difference
with Critias (Chrm. 165b-c). Using the Delphic maxim 'Know thyself as the
source of his view, Critias defines temperance as knowing (gignoskein) oneself
(164d-165b). Socrates takes a moment to reply and says that if temperance
is knowing (gignoskein) anything then it must be knowledge (episfeme) of
something. This move immediately puts temperance into the category
of technical expertise which produces some product. Although Critias will
object to Socrates treating temperance as a productive kind of expertise
(165d-166c), the meaning of self-knowledge which Critias originally asso-

ciated with the Delphic maxim has been ignored.
Other times, however, Socrates does make it clear what he means by a
term or what his use of a term or phrase implies, and his meaning is quite
different from how the interlocutor might understand him. In such cases,
Socrates takes a familiar term or phrase, shows that he is aware of its ordin-
ary usage, and then rejects that usage explicitly. In his diatribe on rhetoric,
Socrates bluntly states, 'I refuse to give the name of art to anything that is
irrational5 (alogon, 465a9). In a long segment of the Protagoras, Socrates re-
describes moral weakness (akrasia) as ignorance (354e-356c). In the Apology,
he refers to himself as a 'clever speaker' only if this means one who speaks the
truth (17b3-4). There are two conflicting uses of the important term 'teach-
ing' (didaskein) which prevail in Socratic discussions: 'teaching' in the
sense of 'filling a passive mind with information' or 'transmitting facts
from one person to another', and 'teaching', in the sense in which Socrates
himself engages with others in question and answer method. Though his
accusers take him to be teaching the youth not to believe in the gods of the
city (Ap. 26b-c), Socrates is able to deny that he teaches at all, 'I was never
anyone's teacher' (Ap. 33b-c; cf. 19d8-10).11 In the Meno, learning is demon-
strated to be a process of recollecting what one already knows, and 'teach-
ing' is the bringing forth of such latent knowledge from others. Socrates
draws out the right answers from the slave boy, and tells Meno to observe,
'while I merely ask questions and do not teach him' (84dl-2; cf. 85d3-4).
Yet, after the demonstration is over, the ordinary use of the term 'teaching'
is resumed in the dialectic. There are several key references and dramatic
instances of language misuse and correction in the Phaedo (82b, 99bl-2,
107c, 115e5-10). Socrates' attitude with regard to the clarification of terms
depends upon the dramatic context, philosophical themes, the interlocu-
tors, or any combination of factors, but usually his dialectical approach to
language is revisionist.
In cases where Socrates does persist in getting clear on what the interlocu-
tor means by a term, his efforts may be contrasted with the eristic broth-
ers, in the Euthydemus. When Euthydemus tries to refute Socrates and asks
him, 'have you knowledge of something, or not?', Socrates replies that he
has. When Euthydemus asks, 'do you know with that whereby you have
knowledge, or with something else?' and Socrates ponders the question,
saying 'I think you mean the soul, or is not that your meaning?', Euthyde-
mus simply replies that Socrates must have some idea of what he means and
tells Socrates to answer in accordance with that idea. Socrates then makes
the following point: 'If you ask a question with a different meaning in your
mind from that which I conceive, and I answer to the latter, are you content
I should answer nothing to the point?' (295b-d). Euthydemus says that this
is acceptable to him though it is not acceptable to Socrates.
Two Examples from the Texts
Cleinias and the Eristic Brothers

The classic example of equivocation occurs early on in the Euthydemus when
the brothers refute Cleinias with the manthanein equivocation (275d-276d).12
A condensed version of their argument goes as follows:
1 Those who know, learn (e.g. 'to understand').

2 Those who do not know, learn (e.g. 'to acquire knowledge').
3 So, both those who know (the wise), and those who do not know (the
ignorant), learn.
The trick and solution to the argument is contained entirely within the
recognition that the term 'learn' can mean either one of two things, and in
each respective sense, it applies to the wise and to the ignorant. Once the
senses are disambiguated, there is no contradiction in claiming that both
the wise and the ignorant learn. Unless the senses are disambiguated, how-
ever, the conclusion seems impossible as long as the wise and the ignorant
are understood as opposite and mutually exclusive groups. Cleinias appears
to contradict himself every time he resorts to saying the wise or the ignorant
are the ones who learn, but the refutation is only apparent because he fails to
distinguish between the meanings.
It is part of the comic drama of the situation that we hear Socrates as nar-
rator speaking to Crito, explaining how much of an uproar there was from
the audience of admirers watching the two brothers' performance; 'while we
on our side were dismayed and held our peace' (276d3-4). Now a second
bout of equivocation comes at Cleinias on the term 'know' from Euthyde-
mus, who 'like a skillful dancer, gave a twofold twist to his questions on the
same point', asking: 'do the learners learn what they know . . . or what they
do not?' After Cleinias is refuted again, Socrates tells him about the impor-
tance of the 'correct use of names', as Prodicus would call it, and explains
the strategy that the brothers used when Cleinias gave his answers; 'how the
same word is used for people who are in the opposite conditions of knowing
and not knowing' (278a7-8). There is so much laughter, ridicule and play
in this scene that when Socrates offers to give his version of a protreptic
refutation which may fall short, he feels compelled to ask the brothers to
'restrain' themselves and 'listen without laughing' (278e5).
In his discussion of the text, Francisco Gonzalez makes a helpful remark

about what Socrates does in this scene. He argues that Socrates does not
fault the brothers 'for failing to clarify their terms5 because it is not easy to
point to one exact meaning for terms such as 'learn5 or 'know5.13 Rather,
Socrates5 attitude has to do with the fact that the boy has not gained any-
thing from the experience; he would not be any 'whit the wiser as to the
true state of the matters in hand 5 (ta men pragmata ouden an mallon eidein pe
echei, 278b5-6). Gonzalez recognizes that the way that the brothers have
conducted the refutations precludes any 'reflection5 or 'insight5 about the
ambiguity of such terms or into the truth regarding these issues. He makes
the point as follows:
Even if the notions such as 'learning5 and 'wisdom5 are inherently ambig-
uous, there may still be a serious way of dealing with the ambiguities that
illuminate these notions. The eristic method, however, is not character-
ized by such seriousness. It is incapable of taking seriously the only thing
which the Socratic method seems to think is worth taking seriously,
namely, truth. 14
The problems with understanding Socrates5 attitude towards double
meaning and its dialectical appropriateness do not end here, they just
begin. Socrates is about to give his first protreptic argument, and what one
finds is that there are some serious complications in how he uses terminology
in leading Cleinias to desire the philosophical life (278e-282d). Gonzalez
closely examines this passage and identifies four fallacies in Socrates5 argu-
ment.15 I will not cover this same material, but it will help to point to a fairly
standard problem with the very first line: 'Do all we human beings wish to
prosper?5 (euprattein, 278e3).
This phrase 'euprattein' is used ambiguously fairly often in the dialogues;
it can either mean (i) to do well, as in to 'do well at something5, for exam-
ple to succeed (active sense), or (ii) to fare well or prosper, as in to 'be
happy5 (passive sense). In the first protreptic, Socrates makes use of the
double meaning by starting with (ii), moving to (i) during the argument,
and concluding with (ii) 'Since we are all eager to be happy .. .5 (282al).
At one point, Socrates puts the question to Cleinias, 'Consider it this way:
would he not err less if he did less; and so, erring less, do less ill; and hence,
doing less ill be less miserable?5 (281blO-c2). At Gorgias 507c3-5, Socrates
concludes that 'the good man does well and fairly whatever he does; and
that he who does well is blessed and happy5.16 At Charmides 172a2-4,
Socrates says 'for with error abolished, and Tightness leading, in their
every action men would be bound to do honorably and well under such
conditions, and those who did well would be happy5.17
It is worth observing what R. S. W. Hawtrey has to say about the use of
'euprattein9 in his commentary on the Euthydemus.18 Hawtrey attempts to dis-
ambiguate the phrase in order to show why it is not being used ambiguously.
He says:
The ambiguity of 'ed itpaTreiv is apparently exploited by Plato else-
where (e.g. Rep. 621d2), but not here, if the passage is correctly read,
which is perhaps significant after the equivocations of the sophists. When
at 279c7 e&rvxta comes into the reckoning, the emphasis shifts from in its
intransitive sense (=prosper), to the sense of'act competently', which
presupposes iirtarrifir). In the intellectualist scheme of Socrates and
Plato, moral behavior is normally discussed with the help of the analogy
of TEXVOLI> Correct behavior can therefore be assimilated to 'competent
action5 and depends on knowledge; and since happiness depends in turn
on correct moral behavior, there is no ambiguity in eft Trpdrreti/.19
There may be no ambiguity in Socrates5 interpretation, but this is not to say
that there is no use of ambiguity, or that no ambiguity exists between
Socrates5 and Cleinias5 understanding of the term. In a sense, there is no
ambiguity for Cleinias either. He agrees that we all want to do well, on a
conventional interpretation of what 'doing well5 means. In my view, it is
an essential part of the protreptic function that the conceptual connec-
tions, which Hawtrey notes, are eventually conveyed to Cleinias. I think
that what helps to convey these connections is the ambiguous use of a phrase
like 'eu pratteirC. Compare the foregoing with Hawtrey5s subsequent note
at 282a1:
In fact Socrates5 initial question (278e3)... was conveniently ambiguous.
The present substitution of the concept of edSaLfiovia picks up the 'pros-
perity5 sense of ed ^parreiis, while the 'efficiency5 sense was exploited in
the proof of the necessity for expert knowledge. It should be stressed once
more that the ambiguity is of no importance for the Socratic/Platonic
view of ethics, in which the two meanings coincide.21
The most conspicuous case for the Socratic reading of the ambiguity of
'eupratteirf occurs in the Protagoras, when Socrates is misinterpreting a part of
Simonides5 poem that says 'If he hath fared well, every man is good; Bad, if
ill5 (344e7-8). Taking the context of the rest of the poem into consideration,
Simonides is expressing the common opinion that it is much easier for a
man who has good fortune, for whom things are going well, to be a good man
than it is for he who has nothing but trouble come his way. So the phrase
'faring well5 connotes 'having good luck5 or 'prosperity5. Socrates turns the
phrase to mean 'being good at something5, and asks, as he typically does,
about crafts. What is it to fare well at letters? - the study of letters. And what
is it to fare well as a good doctor? - the study of medicine. So to 'fare badly'
can be nothing else but the lack of knowledge. This unlikely reading of the
passage helps Socrates to render the rest of the poem in a way that suits his
interpretation, and has only a remote similarity to what Simonides meant
or what his poem was attempting to convey. Hawtrey's point can be applied
again here: the similarity between the active and passive senses oVeupratteirf
is not remote, in Socrates' view, but closely related. His ambiguous use of the
phrase enables him to put forward the interpretation which he thinks is best.
Protagoras and Folly

There is a clear case wherein Socrates plays upon the double meaning of a
word for the purpose of refutation. In the Protagoras, Socrates tries to corner
Protagoras into an agreement that all the virtues are unified as one virtue
rather than split up into many parts, which is the position Protagoras has
taken so far in the dialectic (332a-333b). In this case, Socrates gets Prota-
goras to agree immediately that folly (aphrosurie) is opposed to wisdom
{sophia), where 'folly' is understood implicitly to have the sense of'ignor-
ance' (amathia). Next, Socrates argues at length that folly, understood expli-
citly to have the sense of'foolishness', is opposed to temperance; he belabors
the point that what is done foolishly is due to folly and the opposite of what is
done temperately which is due to temperance. Then, Protagoras accepts the
principle: for each thing that has an opposite, that thing has only one oppo-
site. Based on this principle, Socrates purports to show that since Protagoras
has agreed that 'folly' is the opposite of wisdom and temperance, he must
now agree that wisdom and temperance are the same. This conclusion sup-
posedly refutes Protagoras who maintains that the virtues are distinct from
each other. Once the argument is formalized, and the meanings are dis-
ambiguated, it becomes obvious that an equivocation is being used.
1 Folly (in the sense of'ignorance') is the opposite of wisdom.
2 Folly (in the sense of'foolishness') is the opposite of temperance.
3 Each thing that has an opposite has only one opposite.
4 Therefore, wisdom and temperance are the same.
The use of the word 'folly' to mean either 'ignorance' or 'foolishness' may be
acceptable in certain contexts, and given those contexts, each of the first two
premises could be true, similar to the manthanein equivocation discussed earl-
ier. Under the pressure of the situation and the juggling of meanings, Pro-
tagoras seems not to realize that either the third premise is being violated by
the double meaning of 'folly', or that the principle which this premise
signifies does not apply to words because words admit of many senses, and
may have more than one opposite.22 In either case, it is apparent that once
the ambiguous use of'folly5 is cleared up, the refutation would not succeed,
nor would Socrates appear to have shown the identity between wisdom and
temperance. The mere observation that people use the term Tolly5 in various
contexts to mean either 'ignorance5 or 'foolishness5 does nothing to show
that wisdom and temperance are, in fact, the same virtue. Unlike the
eristic brothers, however, Socrates does invite Protagoras to decide which of
the two incompatible statements he prefers to give up, (3) or (4), so that he
may escape the problem. Protagoras cannot see how (3) can be false or ren-
dered inapplicable to words, so he admits (4) begrudgingly (Prt. 333a-b).
With just a few examples, it is possible to see that for Socrates to put the
tactic of ambiguity into practice, there must be an opportunity for two
related but different meanings for the same expression to occur, which
when manipulated or left unclarified can cause a serious misunderstanding
between what the interlocutor thinks he means by what he says, and what
Socrates takes him to mean. This general tactic relies on the way a term is
used and when such usage produces a double meaning, there is a case of
verbal ambiguity. When an ambiguous term occurs in an argument so as to
make the argument invalid, a fallacy of equivocation occurs. Another tactic
which affects the interlocutor's intended meaning is called 'secundum quid\
which is to take absolutely what the interlocutor meant to say only in a
qualified sense by dropping a qualifying phrase from an expression.
In addition to the dialectical devices of (i) verbal ambiguity, (ii) fallacy of
equivocation and (iii) secundum quid, there are (iv) two tactical shifts in con-
text which cause a double meaning. One context-shift occurs between moral
and non-moral, or functional, contexts. This results from Socrates5 use of the
techne-analogy which relies upon habitual associations made in the Greek
language between the concepts of function (ergon), excellence or virtue
(arete) and art/craft (techne). A second context-shift has to do with a switch
between an external or behavioral meaning of a term which carries a moral
sense for the interlocutor, to a dispositional meaning which connotes
'power5 or 'ability5 and is morally neutral. However, dispositional terms
wiD carry a moral meaning for Socrates because of the strong conceptual
associations they have with cognitive or psychological states, which are
understood entirely from within the context of the soul that is the source of
value. Another way that Socrates alters meaning is by (v) reformulation.
Frequently, Socrates reformulates what he takes the interlocutor to mean
in a slightly different way than the interlocutor clearly intends it, yet the
interlocutor agrees with the reformulation, seemingly unaware of any con-
ceptual difference (Grg. 452e-453b; Prt 319a-b; Eu. 14b-c).
In some instances, it is possible to track when a term or phrase which has

been given a definite meaning by the interlocutor begins to lose its original
sense due to one or more of these tactics. In order to see how this happens
and to provide further evidence for the claim that Socrates intentionally
uses such tactics, I examine two cases at length where Socrates uses some of
these tactics with the interlocutors.
Refuting and Persuading Polemarchus
Polemarchus is the son of a wealthy man, Cephalus, with whom the discus-
sion about the nature of justice was begun. Justice and money are associated
with each other when Cephalus claims that the main benefit of wealth was
that it enabled him to be honest and not cheat others in business transac-
tions. It also enabled him to pay back his debts both to men and to gods
(331a-c). Cephalus believes that justice and piety consist in performing
these kinds of acts. In this way, justice enables an old man to die with a
clear conscience and greatly reduces his fear of what may come in the after-
life. Socrates raises a problem for this very conventional view ofjustice by
citing a case of paying back what one owes, where it is clearly an inappropri-
ate thing to do, that is, returning borrowed weapons to a man who has gone
mad (331c-d). Nor, he adds, would it be appropriate to tell the truth to such
a man. Cephalus concedes and departs to tend to a sacrifice and Polem-
archus takes over.
Before going any further with the refutation that takes place in four separ-
ate stages, some historical and political background will help connect the
interlocutors, Cephalus and Polemarchus, to their real life counterparts.
Cephalus and his family were resident aliens (metics) living in Athens, near
the Piraeus, the port district where Socrates, in the drama, had gone down
to watch the festival of Bendis. Cephalus and Polemarchus were active in the
shield-making business, producing weaponry for the Athenians. The pro-
democratic Athenians were fighting the Spartans and their oligarchic sym-
pathizers in the ugly, prolonged Peloponnesian War. In effect, Cephalus
and Polemarchus were earning big profits churning out weapons to give to
their madmen friends, the Athenians, whom Plato perceived as men who
had lost their senses and gone to war for imperialistic reasons. Once the
Athenians had lost the war and were taken over by the Thirty Tyrants,
Polemarchus was executed. Mark Gifford presents the idea that Plato delib-
erately creates tragic irony with this dramatic scenario.23 Readers are
prompted to understand the connections between the drama and the real
life consequences of Polemarchus' involvement in the war. By Polemarchus'
own lights, his death at the hands of his enemies corresponds to his conven-
tional thinking about the meaning ofjustice.
Preliminaries
After Cephalus departs, Polemarchus, the son who will inherit everything,
offers a suggestion about what it is to pay back what one owes. He cites the
poet, Simonides, who said that justice is rendering to each his due (33 le4-5).
Polemarchus interprets this to mean that 'friends owe it to friends to do them
some good and no evil' (332a9-10). In light of this, Socrates sees an import-
ant connection: a just man would not return what he borrowed, if doing so
would be harmful and the person was his friend. This makes sense to Polem-
archus; his formulation of Simonides5 view has provided an answer to
Socrates' objection to Cephalus.
Socrates notes that what is due also applies to enemies and Polemarchus
agrees that enemies are owed 'some evil'. In accordance with Socrates'
examples of the doctor who renders medicine to the sick, and the cook who
renders flavor to food, Socrates asks what the art of justice (techrie dikaiosurie)
renders and to whom. Polemarchus says, 'If we are to follow the previous
examples, Socrates, it is that which renders benefits and harms to friends
and enemies' (332d3-6). Socrates responds by asking, 'To do good to friends
and evil to enemies, then, is justice in his meaning?' Polemarchus replies,
'Ithinkso'(332d7-10).
The refutation of this definition contains four arguments in roughly four
stages. These arguments are: (i) justice is the skill of guarding valuable
things which are out of use, so justice is useless (332a-333e); (ii) the just
man who is best at guarding money is also best at stealing it, hence the
just man is (or has the capacity to be) a kind of thief (333e-334b); (iii) it is
possible for the just man (who is supposed to be an expert at a skill) to be
mistaken about his friends and enemies such that his friends are bad and his
enemies are good, so accordingly justice is to help the bad and harm the
good (334c-335b); and (iv) for the just man to harm his enemies means
that he will make his enemies worse with respect to justice (as the moral
state of a man's soul), but justice (as a techrie) can never produce injustice
(as the immoral state of a man's soul), so the just man cannot act by means
of his techrie to harm anyone (335b-e).
The First Two Stages

The first two stages of the refutation draw out the implications of treating
justice as a skill since if one is to succeed at benefiting one's friends, one
must know how to achieve this, and likewise with harming one's enemies.
Polemarchus subscribes to a conventional idea of justice, as it is passed on
to him from his father, which amounts to the rules of conduct about how to
act justly in matters of war and business dealings. His idea of friendship is a
mutual exchange of goods and services; a matter of utility. Expanding on
this framework of skills in business, Socrates makes use of the idea ofjustice
as an exchange, similar to the way that he handled Euthyphro's conven-
tional idea of piety as a trading between gods and men.
Socrates cites various ways in which special skills would be of service to
friends with each skill having its own field of expertise. It turns out that jus-
tice has no specific field and Polemarchus gets tangled up in the paradox
that justice is useful only for valuables out of use. The second refutation fol-
lows up on the concept of justice as a techrie which implies that any skilled
knowledge may be used for either good or bad ends. So, justice is not only a
trivial thing, in use only when money and other valuables are out of use; the
just man may now be considered a skillful thief (334a5). The remark is both
outrageous and subtle, as Plato makes reference to Homer's 'complacency'
(agapa) in portraying Odysseus' uncle Autolycus who was a gifted man in
'thievery and perjury' (334bl); one should note the same term is used earlier
by Cephalus to describe himself as 'content' (330b7; with Socrates repeating
the term at c5). The comparison of contexts is quite telling; Polemarchus
and his father are practically being called experts in thievery in sharp
ironic contrast to their view of themselves as just.
Polemarchus has no clue about how he has arrived at these paradoxes by
his agreements. After these two stages, he reveals his confusion about the
area of specialization with which justice is concerned, but he sticks to his
definition none the less. He tells Socrates, 'I no longer know what I did
mean. Yet this I still believe, that justice benefits friends and harms enemies'
(334b8-10). Socrates proceeds to show him, in the terminology of friends
and enemies, that the subject matter ofjustice is good and bad (or is it right
and wrong?). It is going to make a huge difference which reading one takes
of good/bad; the functional reading will exclude the notions of right/wrong,
and the moral reading will include these notions. Socrates trades on both
readings in order to refute and persuade Polemarchus.
Brief Analysis of the Third Stage: 334c-335b

In the third stage of the refutation, Socrates questions the meaning of
'friends' and 'enemies'. Polemarchus acknowledges the general truth that a
man befriends those who seem worthy and good to him and shuns those
whom he believes are not. Socrates shows him that the possibility of error
about the goodness of one's friends and the badness of one's enemies affects
the kind of conduct owed to each. For it may turn out that the just man who
does not know who his friends and enemies are truly acts against his own
advantage, and does injustice by harming the good and helping the bad.
Polemarchus realizes that his original definition is flawed when he sees that
it conflicts with his intuition that it is not just to harm those who have done
no injustice (334d3-4). Socrates reminds him that if the just man is mistaken
about his friends and enemies, then justice would be the opposite of what
Simonides meant, and it would be just to harm one's friends and help one's
enemies (334el-3). Polemarchus qualifies the meaning of'friends' and 'en-
emies' and decides that the friend is the good man and the enemy is the bad
man(335a-b).
The Issue of Ambiguity in the Fourth Stage (335b-e)

In dealing with this stage, the results of the first three stages must be kept in
mind. Polemarchus now gives two responses that set up the modified thesis
that he will hold. Socrates asks whether it is the 'role' or 'part' of a just man
to harm anyone (dikaiou andros blaptein kai ontinoun anthropon, 335b3-4).
Polemarchus says it is and gives his answer clearly, 'a man ought to harm
(dei blaptein) those who are both bad and his enemies'. Polemarchus has
given a moral sense to the terms 'justice' and 'harm'. The thesis which
Socrates needs to refute is a conventionally moral thesis about the recipro-
city ofjustice and it is endoxical: a just or good man returns harm for harm;
not to do so is a sign of weakness and is shameful. So, it is perfectly natural to
take a moral reading of Polemarchus' thesis as (P): a just man ought to harm
his enemies.
A glitch occurs, however, with the meaning of'part of or the 'role of a
just man. One could say it is 'part of a just man's duty and take this to mean
that (i) 'it is among the things that a just man does' to harm his enemies.
Or, one could say that (ii) 'it is the function of a just man' to harm his
enemies. The second meaning carries the sense that returning harm for
harm constitutes in an essential way what it means for a man to be just. Given
that it is Socrates who asks the question, which meaning is more likely? I bet
it is (ii). The functional or essential meaning ofjustice underpins the moral
meaning of Polemarchus' thesis. Socrates' interpretation of Polemarchus'
thesis allows the thesis to be read in two closely related but distinct ways:
(P): a just man ought to harm his enemies (moral reading).

(PP): it is the function of a just man to harm his enemies (functional
reading).
Polemarchus may have intended (P), but his agreements to the analogies
and premises which rest on these analogies will commit him to (PP). The
readings do not conflict in the Socratic view of justice and harm; they do
conflict in the conventional view.
There are, of course, a number of interpretations of this stage which schol-
ars have put forward. Some argue that Socrates trades on a double meaning
of'harm5 (blaptein) and attempt to specify what these meanings are: a strong-
er meaning is 'to make one worse', and a weaker meaning is 'to hurt' or
'cause damage to'. 25 Some have focused their attention on the techne-
analogy for reasons that are related to a doctrinal analysis of Plato's views
and the rest of the Republic. My concern is with Socrates' use of ambiguity,
the protreptic function, and how the dramatic context plays into the refuta-
tion; I am not concerned with any doctrinal analysis of Plato's views in
the Republic.
I agree with the scholars who recognize that the refutation builds impli-
citly on a double meaning of'harm' {blaptein), for example 'to make one
worse' in the Socratic sense is different from the sense that Polemarchus
accepts. However, the elenctic argument that Socrates constructs is dialec-
tical and context bound. It cannot simply be identified as equivocal in any
straightforward sense, that is to say, one cannot simply disambiguate the
meaning of 'blaptein', and show that the refutation succeeds or fails on this
basis alone.
It is clear that what Socrates means by 'harm' is 'what is worse with
respect to the soul' and that what Polemarchus means by 'harm' is 'what
is worse with respect to one's physical, social, or financial well-being'.26
So, they both would agree, in a general way, that to harm one's enemies is to
make them worse in some respect. A specific qualification is in order with
regard to the Socratic meaning of harm since Socrates believes that an
agent who does injustice to another person harms himself most of all. The
contrast between the Socratic view of harm and the conventional view is
part of the dramatic context and is one of the major themes that Plato
explores in the Republic.
Polemarchus believes that the just man makes his enemy worse by bring-
ing him to court, getting him incarcerated, causing him to lose money,
property and honor, or by inflicting bodily harm. By contrast, Socrates
does not consider such damages to be truly harmful, for as long as a man does
not do injustice, nothing can harm him, not even the so-called wrongs
done to him by other men (cf. Ap. 30c-e, 4Id; Cr. 44c-d, 49a-d). In my
account, Socrates wishes to persuade Polemarchus and not merely to
refute him; so Socrates must use his own commitments and reason it out
with him. Socrates' use of ambiguity is part of this process. By looking at the
passage more closely, it is possible to understand how the shift to the Socratic
conclusion that it is never just to harm anyone takes place (335e6-7).
The Fourth Stage of the Refutation

I have suggested two ways to read Polemarchus5 thesis: (P) a just man ought
to harm his enemies; and (PP) it is the function of a just man to harm his
enemies. Since I believe Polemarchus intends (P), I will discuss the refuta-
tion on this moral reading, and return to the implications of the two readings
in the next section. Socrates uses three analogies which help to swing the
argument from a moral reading of justice and harm to a functional reading,
and then back again to a moral reading. This is a persuasive strategy.
Step one. The first analogy is an animal analogy (335b3-9). To harm a
horse makes it a worse horse, with respect to its virtue; to harm a dog
makes it a worse dog, with respect to its virtue; and likewise to harm a man
makes him a worse man, with respect to his virtue. Obviously, the pivotal
term is virtue (arete), which carries the implicit notion of a thing's function
with it. This analogy allows Socrates to establish the principle (a) to harm
a thing is to make it worse with respect to its virtue; that by which horses,
dogs and men are good in a functional sense. It also establishes that (b)
justice is the specific virtue of man (335c4).
With this sense of goodness and justice brought in, an important qualifi-
cation is dropped. In the present context, Polemarchus is talking about the
just man harming those who are his enemies and who are bad. Yet, Socrates'
analogy proceeds as if they were talking about harming any animal or man,
bad or good. This is an example ofsecundum quid. Instead of taking the con-
cept of harm in a qualified sense as Polemarchus intended it, to mean 'harm-
ing those who are bad', Socrates proceeds as if Polemarchus had meant
'harming anyone5. But Polemarchus has already agreed that it is not just to
harm those who are good; the analogy seems to neutralize any moral sense of
the terms at this point. Socrates uses the animal analogy presumably with
the idea in mind that to harm those who are bad makes them more unjust
than they already are. This may be true, in Socratic terms, but it does not
address Polemarchus' point. Polemarchus' idea from the start is that to
harm the unjust is a form of retaliation or punishment, which is not a way
of making them more unjust, but more just! In the conventional view, puni-
tive retaliation is a form of social justice; it brings restitution and provides a
corrective. Protagoras takes this conventional perspective with an emphasis
on its rationality in his Great Speech (Prt. 324a-326e), and Socrates dis-
cusses his version of this type ofjustice with Polus (Grg. 477a-e).
Nevertheless, in agreeing with the terms of the analogy, Polemarchus

must agree with conclusion (c).
(a) to harm a man is to make him worse with respect to his virtue
(335b9-c2).
(b) justice is the specific virtue of humans (335c3-4).
(c) to harm a man makes him more unjust (335c6).
Step two. Socrates uses a second analogy of the just man as expert to the
musical expert who cannot, by his knowledge, make another unmusical,
and the horse trainer who cannot, by his knowledge, make other men unfit
for horse training. Polemarchus agrees. Socrates caps it off with a third
analogy that puts an emphasis on natural forces and their functions. It is not
the function {ergon) of heat nor of dryness to produce their opposites (335d2-
4). Socrates takes the notion of function, and implicitly — by a slide — he
applies it to that 'of the good' (tou agathou).28 Now he asks whether the just
man is good. Polemarchus agrees and this brings the argument back to jus-
tice as a moral quality. On the basis of the two strategies of argument by
analogy, Socrates establishes that
(d) the just man, by justice, can never produce injustice (335d2-4),
and concludes that:
(e) it is not the function (ergon) of the just man to harm anyone
(335e6-7).
By means of the three analogies: an animal analogy, a techne-analogy

and a natural forces analogy, Socrates has changed Polemarchus' conven-
tionally moral concepts of harm and justice to a Socratic sense, and he has
done this without a blatant equivocation on the meaning of the terms.
He has moved from the external to the internal senses of these concepts by
relying upon the closely related but ambiguous notions of moral and func-
tional goodness. Before the analogies, the benefits and harms which the
various professional skills render belonged to the external and non-moral
domains of war, finance, cooking, farming, sailing across the sea and medi-
cine for the body (332c-333e). After the analogies, it appears that the only
harm the just man can do to his enemies who are bad is an internal harm, in
particular, an unjust harm. This implies that justice belongs essentially to
the character of a man, and, in particular, to the man's soul rather than to
his actions or to his social or financial status. Once the concepts of harm and
justice are internalized, thejust man who has the knowledge to benefit the
good and harm the bad cannot possibly use his knowledge to harm another.
Thejust man is no longer the expert, referred to in the second stage, as one
who can use his knowledge for good or bad ends. Also by means of the ana-
logy to musical experts and to natural forces, Socrates establishes the con-
nection between virtue as a state or power of the soul and the kind of
conduct that must result from it.29 These analogies allow Socrates to refute
Polemarchus5 definition ofjustice, and at the same time, Polemarchus5 con-
ventional position has been given a thoroughly Socratic interpretation by
means of them.
Objections
The drama shows that Socrates has been successful in refuting Polemarchus.
He says, 'it has been made clear to us that in no case is it just to harm anyone5
(335e6-7), and Polemarchus agrees to take a stand on Socrates' side against
those who think otherwise. The use of ambiguity is a dialectical strategy that
capitalizes on the close relationship that already exists between the moral
and non-moral or prudential contexts, as reflected in the terminology of
'function', 'virtue', 'good' and 'beneficial'. The use of ambiguity is integral
to SM because Socrates' moral position is grounded in the view that a com-
patible link exists between moral and prudential domains. This link is sup-
ported by Socrates' revisionist strategy.
A likely objection to my interpretation is that I have assumed too strong a
distinction between the moral reading (P) and functional reading (PP) of
Polemarchus' thesis and treated them as exclusive when they really belong
together. Polemarchus does not make such a sharp distinction between the
moral and functional contexts. If the difference between contexts is not so
sharp, then the shifts in context would not be the important source of ambi-
guity that I claim it to be. If Polemarchus holds a moral/functional thesis of
justice and accepts the techne-analogy, then his view of justice stays intact at
least through step one, and no ambiguity is involved.
I will use (PP) and run through the argument again briefly. Given his
agreement (c) to harm a man makes him more unjust, Polemarchus is com-
mitted to the claim that thejust expert in harming his enemies, and making
them more unjust, makes them less able to help their friends and harm their
enemies. This is acceptable on his account; for thejust man to harm his en-
emies by incapacitating them in this way makes perfect sense. In step two,
however, Polemarchus loses out. By agreeing that thejust expert can never
produce injustice, he is accepting the opposite situation which is unfavor-
able given his view ofjustice. If the just expert can never, by the exercise of
justice, make anyone less just, then the only alternative for Polemarchus5
meaning ofjustice is that the just expert would make his enemies more able
to help his friends and harm his enemies. And this outcome refutes Polem-
archus' position on his own view of justice.
Granted, in step one, both Socrates and Polemarchus on their own views
ofjustice would agree with the premises. But the point is that they would be
agreeing for different reasons, though it is true that Polemarchus' view is not
yet undermined. What step two shows, however, is that while the moral and
functional contexts are closely related to each other for Socrates and Polem-
archus, the way that the two contexts are related is very different. I can
allow for the moral-functional reading of Polemarchus' thesis and agree
that the moral and non-moral contexts are closely related in the Greek way
of thinking.
I agree that the difference in meaning between moral and non-moral con-
texts is not very wide nor is it sharply delineated, but the fact that the moral
and non-moral contexts are closely related makes it more difficult for the
interlocutor to distinguish between meanings rather than less difficult. Just
because the terms are used in contexts that are closely related does not mean
that they are not used ambiguously, especially if the interlocutor takes the
meaning in one way and Socrates takes it in another way. Thus, the objec-
tion that the moral and non-moral contexts are closely related does not
affect my thesis negatively.
The reason why I call Socrates' use of ambiguity a dialectical strategy is
that such terms remain ambiguous until the moral or prudential context
is determined, and this ambiguity allows Socrates to switch back and forth
between the contexts, in a deliberate manner, to suit the needs of the refuta-
tion. He shifts contexts as if it makes no difference which sense of a term is
being used. But it does make a difference. The interlocutor agrees to pre-
mises only because he takes Socrates to be referring to the meaning of a
term as he, the interlocutor, interprets it. If he takes the meaning of a term,
in a moral sense, and Socrates uses the term as if the interlocutor took it in a
non-moral sense, or vice-versa, then Socrates is using ambiguity in the way
that I claim him to be.
If one objects that there is no deliberate use of ambiguity because Socrates
sincerely believes in the connection between moral and prudential domains,
I would agree that this is true. There may be no ambiguity for Socrates
because on his interpretation the terminology is consistent and univocal.
But if one argues that not only does Socrates sincerely believe that there is a
connection made between moral and functional excellence, but so do the
interlocutors, I would not agree. While there is some sense in which the
interlocutor believes in a connection between the moral and non-moral
domains, I argue that the interlocutor only appears to follow Socrates'
meaning. I think that the fact that the interlocutor is refuted by his own
agreement to the premises supports my position.
Polemarchus is a non-sophistic interlocutor, in Group 2, who said what he
sincerely believes. He tries to defend a conventional view of justice and fails.
He does not have a problem with admitting that he was refuted and
changing over to Socrates5 side. Because of the ambiguities involved in the
refutation, the argument that Socrates puts forth against Polemarchus' con-
ventional view of justice is invalid, strictly speaking. Yet, Polemarchus
seems genuinely convinced. In my view, this is because Polemarchus has
shown himself to be more committed to the belief that harming those who
are good and just, even unintentionally, is unjust and something to be
avoided. This realization helps to change his belief in his original definition
of justice, at least to the extent that he has seen that knowledge has a role
to play in the concept of justice. And I would like to add that this is the
case even if the reasoning that Socrates uses to refute Polemarchus is for-
mally invalid. Socrates has had a positive influence on Polemarchus' think-
ing, and this is what matters for Socrates and his moral aim to improve
the interlocutor.
Polus and the Desire for Power
In the Gorgias, there is an extended conversation between Socrates and Polus

and a series of refutations which is typically divided into three (467c-468e;
474b-475c; 476a-480a). I am concerned with the first refutation which takes
place in two stages. The first stage sets up the terminology that will support
the distinction between 'doing what one wants' and 'doing what seems best'
(466b-467c). The second stage begins with Polus' staunch rejection of this
distinction as implausible and culminates in something just short of a
verbal admission to the opposite of his original thesis (467c-468e). To limit
my discussion, I must bypass the opening segment between Socrates and
Polus which takes place just after Gorgias has been refuted (461b-466a).
Analysis of the First Stage: 466b-467c

Socrates ends his lengthy account of rhetoric with a self-conscious remark
that he has just given a long speech after asking Polus to be brief (465e).
He justifies the behavior by claiming that Polus was not able to understand
him when he answered briefly and apparently could not 'make any use' (oude
chfesthai) of the answers. Now that the speech isfinished,Socrates challenges
him again, 'if you can make any use of this answer of mine, do so5 (466a4).
Polus did not comprehend much of what Socrates has said, so he repeats
what he takes to be Socrates' claim that rhetoric is flattery. Socrates corrects
him with the phrase a 'branch of flattery5. Polus wonders whether Socrates
would extend his claim to good orators {hoi agathoi rhetores), and he asks if
Socrates really thinks they are considered worthless in their own cities.
Socrates answers that 'they are not considered at all5 (466b4). This blunt
response brings Polus and Socrates to the main issue of whether orators
have 'great power5 (megiston dunatai) in the cities. In the next few lines,
Polus tries to strengthen his position by appealing to tyrants as the perfect
example of what it is to have great power in the city.
The difference of opinion between Socrates and Polus must be stated
clearly since the refutation is a confusing piece of argument. Socrates says
that orators and tyrants have 'the least power in their cities5. He thinks this
because 'they do nothing they wish to do5, although, as Socrates admits,
'they do whatever they think is best5 {Grg. 466d-e). Polus says the opposite:
orators and tyrants have great power in their cities. However, Socrates
insists that Polus cannot really hold to his claim since Polus has agreed that
'great power is a good to him who has it5 (466e6-7).
In this scene, Polus continues to be the questioner and Socrates the
answerer. Socrates and Polus agree to premise (1): great power is a good
thing for the man who has it (466e7, 467a4, 468e2). The concept of power
is associated, in Polus5 mind, with the possession of something good, as a
means, on the understanding that having such power enables the agent to
do or to get whatever he wants. Polus is trying to defend his view that orators
are valued in the city because, as Gorgias had claimed earlier (452d-e), they
have great political power and rule over others; this power is similar to the
power that a tyrant has over the life and death of those he controls.
The pace is quickened because Socrates starts asking questions out of
turn. He presses Polus to agree that (2) those who lack intelligence make
mistakes about what is best for themselves, and (3) doing what one wants is
not the same as doing what seems best, without intelligence. Socrates does
not have much trouble getting Polus5 agreement to (1) and (2), but he will
have difficulty getting Polus to agree with (3). In this section, I examine pre-
mises (1) and (2) both from the standpoint of Polus and from the Socratic
standpoint, in order to show how Socrates eventually derives his position
that orators and tyrants are powerless in their cities from premises which
Polus accepts.
Premise (1): great power is a good for the one who has it. Given Polus5
idea of power and its relation to the good, the meaning of (1) conveys a
non-moral context of a thing's being good, insofar as it appears good for
the agent who possesses it. In this context, the concept of good refers to what-
ever is being pursued or aimed at by the agent, regardless of its moral value.
Power represents the means to get whatever the agent wants.31 In this way,
premise (1) suggests both the 'ability5 and the 'desire' for the 'apparent'
good. When Polus agrees to (1), what he thinks is that great power is desir-
able and he assumes that whatever is desirable to the agent is good. This is
quite the opposite of what Socrates takes him to mean, and gets him to
commit to, which is that great power is not desirable as a good at all, unless
it is used with intelligence.
Socrates does not explicitly draw out Polus5 interpretation of (1) but he
would consider it to be false as it stands. A Socratic interpretation of (1)
could render it true. For Socrates, the concept of goodness is always
grounded in knowledge, and so, if power is a good thing, it must be related
to knowledge or intelligence. For instance, 'power' has this meaning when
Socrates suggests the association of power or knowledge in the soul with just-
ice to Hippias, in the Hippias Minor (375d8-9). In such cases where the term
'power5 has a favorable meaning for Socrates, the claim that great power is a
good thing would require that 'good5 refers to a moral end. Clearly, Socrates
would agree with Polus5 interpretation of power as an ability, but this ability
is knowledge, or, in the present case, having the intelligence to achieve what
one desires. For Socrates, since one always desires the real good, knowledge
of the good is the only thing that one needs to possess the good.
The Socratic interpretation of premise (1) lies beneath Socrates' remind-
ers to Polus of his agreement to the truth of the premise. Exactly at the point
where having power is supposed to guarantee the good for the agent, but
doing what seems best may turn out to be bad for the agent (466el-467a),
Socrates focuses on the need for intelligence (nous, 466e7, 467a5), and from
this point forward, 'intelligence5 qualifies and restricts Polus' conception of
power, in the same way that Socrates' interpretation oitechne had restricted
Gorgias5 conception of rhetoric earlier (449c-461b).
Socrates had already made it quite clear that he thinks orators have no
knowledge of what is best for their listening audience and that rhetoric is
not an art. He reminds Polus of this view explicitly near the end of the first
stage (467a-b). Socrates' view of the orator's lack of knowledge is equated
with and transfers over to the idea of tyrants doing what seems best with-
out intelligence, and not knowing what really is best for themselves. So, for
both orators and tyrants, if they act without intelligence when they do what
they think is best, they cannot do what is good for them, and hence they lack
great power.
In the conversation, there are two widely different conceptions of intelli-
gence. When Polus agrees that orators and tyrants need intelligence to gain
benefit from their actions, he is not referring to the knowledge of what is just
and unjust, but to what is good and bad for the agent, in a prudential sense of
the terms. For Socrates, however, knowledge of what is just and unjust is
simply another way to interpret knowledge of what is good and bad for the
agent. Even though Polus has allowed that tyrants and orators need intelli-
gence, his idea of intelligence is cleverness, which is clearly different from
Socrates' conception of intelligence as knowledge of what is morally best.
Earlier, Socrates had directly challenged Polus either to prove that ora-
tors are intelligent or to leave Socrates unrefuted. Notice what Socrates is
not asking Polus to do. Socrates is not asking him to explain what he means
by 'intelligence' in an effort to become clear on how each of them conceives
of the notion. What Socrates demands is to hear the counter-argument
against his view from a rhetor, such as Polus, who will thereby demonstrate,
through his own speech, his intelligence by arguing on behalf of his profes-
sion. The connection between the logoi and the characters reverberates in
the drama. According to Socrates, the lack of intelligence which is openly
displayed in dramatic terms by Polus automatically rules out the possibility
that the orators and tyrants can do what is good for them, and if they can't
do what is good for them, they have no power. Polus needs to clarify what he
means by 'intelligence' for he apparently believes that a tyrant or orator
could not have great power unless he is intelligent.
The original point that Polus wanted to make in claiming that orators,
like tyrants, have great power in the city is that tyrants are powerful, insofar
as they are successful in achieving what they set out to do, regardless of
whether such action is just or unjust, and despite occasional errors in
judgment. Polus' assumption is not unlike Thrasymachus' which is that
the tyrant would not be a successful tyrant if he made a lot of careless errors.
If the tyrant repeatedly misjudged what is in his own interest, in his
political activities, he would not be a tyrant for very long. And the same goes
for the rhetor, who would not exert much influence over his listeners if he
was incompetent. Polus stands for the 'tried and true' methods of rhetoric
but in this particular instance these methods do not come through for him
for he lacks the experience in dialectic which he requires to succeed. Polus
fails not only to clarify the orator's conception of intelligence, he fails to
exhibit it.
Formally, up to this point, it was Polus who was supposed to be question-
ing Socrates, though Socrates directs the discussion, and asks Polus ques-
tions as well. At the end of the first stage (467c5), Polus claims that he is
ready to answer Socrates' questions in order to understand what Socrates
means by such an implausible distinction.
Analysis of the Second Stage: 467c-468e

Premises (1) and (2) put important qualifications on what Polus originally
meant, and his agreements imply that power is not the kind of good that he
thought it was. The two qualifications contrast sharply with the meaning of
'doing what seems best5 and clearly show that premise (3) is true: to do what
merely seems best, without intelligence, is not the same as doing what one
wants. Socrates has agreed that orators and tyrants do what they think is
best, but he has denied that this gives them great power due to the need for
intelligence to achieve their good, so Socrates subsequently denies that they
do what they want (467b).
Polus is agitated by what he believes to be purely a verbal distinction that
Socrates has made between 'doing what one wants' and 'doing what seems
best', despite the parallel distinction between 'doing what is good with intel-
ligence', and 'doing what seems good without intelligence', which he has
already accepted. Though the distinction itself seems counter-intuitive, the
reasoning behind the distinction which Socrates draws out of Polus' agree-
ment is straightforward. When we do what we think best, without intelli-
gence, we don't always do what is good. Yet, we always want what is good,
in our actions, so doing what seems best, without intelligence, and doing
what one wants, cannot be the same. Polus is able to discriminate between
those actions done without error which benefit one's interest and those done
by mistake which do not, but he does not recognize the possibility that one
may be mistaken about what one desires, nor does he realize that there is a
distinction to be made between the apparent and the real good, as objects of
desire. Polus has agreed to premises (1) and (2), but he gives these two pre-
mises an interpretation which allows him to think that the two expressions of
premise (3) are equivalent in meaning. To get Polus to accept premise (3),
Socrates works on getting him to agree with premise (4): whenever one acts,
one wants to do the action only if it is good (468c5-6). This premise is a ver-
sion of psychological eudaimonism.
To support the distinction in (3), Socrates directs the discussion to the
ends of actions rather than to the actions themselves. In this stage, the struc-
ture of the refutation is difficult to follow, but his strategy is clear. Socrates
establishes a means-ends context for action and desire. He uses two familiar
kinds of non-moral actions and their aims, that is, taking medicine for the
sake of health and sailing for the goal of wealth (467c-d), and generalizes to
the strong eudaimonist principle of action.
If a man does something for an object, he does not wish the thing that he
does, but the thing for which he does it (467d8-10).
Next, Socrates suggests a classification that distinguishes between good

things, bad things and those that are neither good nor bad, the intermediate
things (467e2-468bl). Polus accepts the classification, and the claim that
we do the intermediate things for the good things (468a7-10). The strong
version of the eudaimonist principle of action is formulated again in
four consecutive lines. With reference to the actions of a tyrant, who puts
people to death, exiles them and takes their property, Socrates asks Polus,
as a reminder,
So it is for the sake of the good that the doers of all things do them?
(468b5-6).
And again,
... we have admitted that when we do things for an object, we do not wish
those things, but the object for which we do them? (468b8-10).
Polus agrees with the strong version. Yet the principle will be changed
slightly, and seems to be weakened, perhaps, to allow for the point that
means, such as actions, can be desired, in some sense. With regard to the
tyrant's actions, Socrates says that one does not wish any of these actions in
themselves, but
... if these things are beneficial we wish to do them, while if they are harm-
ful, we do not wish them (468c5-6).
Socrates has turned the eudaimonist principle of action into a conditional
statement which is expressed by premise (4): whenever one acts, one wants
to do the action only if it is good (or beneficial).
Also, in this stage of the refutation, Socrates seems to equivocate
between 'the goods' which he allows initially to be objects of desire, and
'the good' which becomes the only thing that is really beneficial, and
hence is the true object of desire.32 The equivocation begins at 467c5,
where Socrates uses the examples of the conventional goods of health and
wealth and treats these goods as ends. In particular, the difference in lan-
guage indicates the equivocation in the passage (468a7-9), where Socrates
asks Polus whether we do intermediate things (ta metaxu) for the sake of
good things (ta agatha) or good things for the sake of intermediate things,
and Polus answers that we do the intermediate for the good things
(ta agatha). Then Socrates asks:
Thus it is in pursuit of the good (to agathon) that we walk, when we walk,
conceiving it to be better; or on the contrary, stand, when we stand, for the
sake of the same thing, the good: (tou agatkou): is it not so? Yes (468b 1-4).
The inference is carried over to the actions of killing, exiling and confiscat-
ing. Whenever such actions are done, they are done because they are
thought to be better. And here is where Socrates restates the strong formula-
tion of the eudaimonist principle, using the singular phrase tou agathou, when
he says, 'So it is for the sake of the good that the doers of all these things do
them' (468b5-6).
The ambiguity in the meaning of desire is related to the change in the
meaning of'good5 in the above set of passages. The ambiguity which arises
is that Polus understands that the desire for what is good is determined by
what the agent thinks is good, and this corresponds to his conception of the
'good things', which Socrates has just mentioned. However, Socrates has
already established the condition for what the good is, through the concept
of intelligence, in the first stage. In the second stage, the good will be demar-
cated not by what the agent thinks are the 'good things' but what is, in fact,
the 'real' good. The refutation comes to an end when Socrates gets Polus to
agree, again, that if a man (tyrant or orator) kills someone or confiscates a
person's property, he only wants to do these actions if he thinks it is 'better'
(ameinon) for himself, but he does not want to do them if 'it is really worse'
{tugchanei de on kakion) (468dl-4). Next, Socrates asks him whether he thinks
that a man who does such actions, does what he thinks is best. Polus agrees
(468d5-7). Then, Socrates asks Polus, 'Now is it also what he wishes, suppos-
ing it to be really bad (kaka onta)T (468d8-10). Polus reluctantly admits
that, in such a case, a man does not do what he wants. Polus has agreed to
premise (4) that a man can desire an action, only if that action leads to the
good, and since Socrates has just stated the condition, in terms of what is, in
fact, good, Polus is cornered into admitting the terminological distinction he
did not want to admit.
As a result of his agreement to premises (1) and (4), and due to his inabil-
ity to distinguish between meanings of'intelligence' and oppose premise (2),
Polus winds up accepting premise (3) and is refuted. In order to get Polus
in this position, Socrates uses dialectical strategies. He works with two dif-
ferent conceptions of 'intelligence', without further clarification. Due to
a failure to distinguish on Polus' part, the idea that someone can make
a mistake in his own interest gets connected to a lack of intelligence. Socrates
sets up the means—ends context for action and gets Polus to accept the
principle that everyone desires good things. Socrates equivocates between
'good things' and 'the good'; he stipulates that 'the good' be equated with
the 'real' good, and not the 'good things', which are equated with the
'apparent' good.
The refutation is not closed formally because Polus does not acknowledge
the truth of Socrates' conclusion that a man may do what seems best and yet
not do what he wants, so the conversation continues and intensifies. Polus

shifts the terms of the conversation to happiness, and asks whether Socrates
would not envy a man who has the power to put people to death and send
them to prison. With this question, the issue finally comes around to justice
and injustice and Polus makes his indifference to the moral outcome plain
when he indicates that it doesn't matter how the act is done, such a man is
enviable in either case (469a 1 -2).
Conclusion
In this section, I offer my view of what it is that Socrates is trying to show

Polus in this refutation. Socrates wants to show that Polus does not really
desire power, nor does anyone else, because power is not a good, either as
an end or as a means. In the first stage, Socrates points out that power is
not a good as an end because power alone does not meet the criterion of suc-
cess in achieving what is good. The criterion of success in achieving what is
good entails that a man who has power must have intelligence. In the second
stage, Socrates uses the means-end framework to show Polus that power is
not a good as a means. Means are neither good nor bad, and they are never
desired unconditionally. Once the desire for power is put into the category
of means which can only be desired conditionally, Socrates shows that
power does not meet the condition of what is actually good for the agent
because it always requires intelligence to benefit its possessor. Socrates has
made the same argument in both stages with slightly different formulations.
In the final analysis, Socrates has tried to show that Polus cannot really
desire power as an end or as a means. Socrates shows Polus not only that
Polus does not know what he believes, but also that he does not know what
he desires.
To a greater or lesser extent, Polus agrees with the premises that bring
about his refutation, but his thesis is not genuinely refuted due to ambiguity.
Moreover, Socrates does not convince Polus of the conclusion nor has
Socrates convinced Polus that he does not desire power as a good thing.
Polus thinks that the claim that orators and tyrants have great power in the
city is an empirical claim which anyone can verify as true by observation.
Socrates has turned the claim into a conceptual issue with premise (3), and
his insistence on the conceptual distinction. In my view, Socrates does this
because he believes that in order to affect Polus' actions in his pursuit of
rhetoric, he needs to change Polus' thinking about the concepts of power,
intelligence, good and desire. But Polus is not persuaded. He does not
cease to desire power as a good thing, nor does he stop pursuing the practice
of rhetoric, just because Socrates shows him that on a certain conception of
'good' and 'desire', it is not possible for Polus to desire power. Polus does not
believe that he is wrong to desire power because he thinks that everyone
desires it. Polus has the support of popular opinion which, as an orator, is
the only support he deems necessary. So despite his agreement to the pre-
mises of the elenctic argument, Polus shows no sign of changing his opinion
of rhetoric and its power.
I have argued that the premise, great power is a good thing for the man
who has it, is true, according to both Polus and Socrates, provided that the
premise is understood to mean two different things. The same can be said for
the meaning of the premise that justice is the specific virtue of a human being
which is agreed upon by Polemarchus and Socrates. In each case, the endox-
ical premises may be turned into protreptic premises. If the premises are
understood with the specific Socratic interpretation assigned to them, they
transform into the following Socratic claims: great power is knowledge
which is the only good thing; justice is the virtue that is always beneficial to
the soul.
Chapter 4
Ambiguity and Drama
Introduction
Plato offers his readers a dual perspective with which to view Socratic argu-
mentation as it plays out in the drama. The elenctic argument purportedly
relies on the interlocutor's own premises to refute his thesis. The protreptic
argument relies on these same premises in an attempt to persuade him of a
Socratic moral position. In the first case, the interlocutor's conventional
views and misunderstanding of the terms or premises have a negative effect
within the dramatic frame. The interlocutor's thesis appears to be refuted
and he is caught in a contradiction; he experiences aporia, or shame, or
other psychological effects. Outside the dramatic frame, at the textual
level, the reader may recognize that the argument Socrates constructs is
invalid due to the ambiguity of the terms or some other fallacy. On all
accounts, Socrates needs a set of premises which have been genuinely
agreed to be true by the interlocutor and a valid argument to refute the inter-
locutor's thesis. In my interpretation, Socrates' use of ambiguity prevents
any real agreement to the premises and there is no genuine refutation of the
interlocutor's thesis. However, the interlocutor himself has been refuted
since he failed to distinguish meanings and verbally agreed to the premises.
In the second case, a revised understanding of the same terms may give
way to a Socratic meaning, result in a protreptic argument and suggest a
solution to the aporia. Again, this scenario occurs at the dramatic level.
As an example, I have presented the refutation ofPolemarchus who has taken
the side of Socrates, though I do not claim that Polemarchus was shown to be
aware of the Socratic terminology. At the textual level, the reader would
be expected to work out for himself whether the protreptic argument is valid
or sound. And then, of course, when Thrasymachus barges in, a whole other
sequence of ideas, terms and arguments takes over, at both dramatic and
textual levels.
SM is a revisionist methodology. Socrates tries to lift the interlocutor out
of his conventional patterns of thought and offers him a new set of concepts
that will enable him to think philosophically. Socrates does not have a new
Ambiguity and Drama 95
set of terms to go with these concepts, so he takes liberties with the meanings
of words and extends them beyond their ordinary usage. This sort of dialec-
tical activity is what makes Socrates a remarkable dialectician and a moral
reformer rather than an educator or eristic debater.
In raising the issue of the use of ambiguity in the SM, it is not my intention
merely to analyse the dialectical arguments or point out the flaws in
Socrates' reasoning. Nor do I wish to figure out various ways in which
the interlocutor could have avoided the appearance of being refuted.
Instead, I have set about examining the dialectical context to determine
what purpose a given argument has in the drama and why Plato has
Socrates use a particular ambiguity or fallacy in that argument with a cer-
tain interlocutor. These tasks cannot be accomplished within a purely form-
alist view of fallacy for this view is concerned solely with the logical status or
validity and soundness of the arguments; this approach can do no more than
show why Socrates succeeds or fails in his reasoning.
Socratic dialectical arguments occur in conversations which give the
arguments a distinctive context. The conversation and the characters are
situated in a dramatic field and there is movement to the dialogue as a
whole. The arguments develop out of a set of themes and a few key terms
emerge which are shown not to be clearly understood. Socrates magnifies
the problem and in the process he extends the meaning of the concepts
which the terms signify. There is much dramatic innuendo, however, that
points towards what the argument is about, and explains why Socrates
takes the particular path he does with that interlocutor. Ambiguity is cen-
tral to Socratic argumentation but ambiguity has a larger role to play in the
literary arts and so too in Plato's dialogues. To get a sense of the importance
of language use and misuse at a more general level, I provide an overview of
the concept of ambiguity.
Historical Background
Aristotle
The first critical approach to ambiguity and fallacy comes from Plato's
satire of eristic method in the Euthydemus. The systematic approach begins
with Aristotie's classification of ambiguity in conjunction with his theory of
fallacy, or sophistical refutation, in the Sophistici Elencki, which is appended
to his work, the Topics, a treatise on dialectical reasoning. According to
Aristotle, 'a refutation... is reasoning (sullogismos) accompanied by contra-
diction of the conclusion' (SE 165a3). A sophistical refutation is not really a
refutation at all, but a fallacy (paralogismos); it is one that appears to be a

genuine refutation, but is not (164b20-21; cf. 169b 19-28).
In chapter 4, Aristotle divides the general group of fallacies into two main
categories: those fallacies which depend on language and those which do
not. He presents six types of fallacy that are dependent on language
(165b23-24), and seven types that are not (166b20-25).1 The six types of
linguistic fallacy are homonymy (lexical ambiguity), amphiboly (syntactic
ambiguity), combination of words, division of words, wrong accent and
form of expression used.2 The seven types of non-linguistic fallacy are acci-
dent, the use of words absolutely or in a certain respect, ignorance of a refu-
tation, assumption of original point, consequent, non-cause as cause and
making of two questions into one.3 Aristotle approaches ambiguity entirely
within a discussion of fallacy. Of the six types of fallacy supposedly depen-
dent on language, homonymy and amphiboly are the two main types that
are concerned with ambiguity, understood as double meaning (165b35,
166al4, 168a24-25).
In Aristotle's account, there is some confusion as to the relation between
ambiguity and fallacy because the type of ambiguity is supposed to identify
the fallacy, but Aristotle recognizes that not all of the fallacies that he clas-
sifies as dependent on language are produced by ambiguity, for instance, the
fallacy of accent. Combination and division are classified as types of amphi-
boly, and so there are not really six types of ambiguity (168a24-34). At the
end of his discussion on how to resolve the fallacies of combination and divi-
sion of words, Aristotle says, 'Therefore an expression whose meaning turns
on division is not ambiguous (ou ditton), and it is clear also that all refutations
do not turn upon ambiguity as some people say5 (SE 177b8-10).
In chapter 5, Aristotle develops his definition of a refutation in more
detail and introduces the fallacy he describes as 'ignorance of what a refuta-
tion is' (ignoratio elenchi). This fallacy may be understood as one particular
type among the 13 fallacies. Or, it may be taken as a general heading
under which the 12 fallacy types can be grouped, as Aristotle explains in
chapter 6. In chapter 5, he claims that a refutation must be a
contradiction of one and the same predicate, not of a name but of a thing,
and not of a synonymous name but of an identical name, based on the
given premisses [sic] and following necessarily from them (the original
point at issue not being included) in the same respect, relation, manner
and time (167a21-28).
In chapter 6, Aristotle explains how each of the 12 fallacy types falls short of
the definition one way or another, and so whenever a particular refutation
does not satisfy the definition of a refutation, it will be a false refutation since
it fails to contradict the thesis to be refuted, though it may appear to contra-

dict it (168a 17-24; cf. 168bl7-22, 169b9-13).4
Aristotle is concerned, in chapter 7, to connect his definition to those
false refutations that depend on the linguistic fallacies, whereby the 'decep-
tion5 (apafe) comes from the failure to distinguish meaning and this occurs
especially with terms such as 'unity', 'being5 and 'identity5 (169a24; cf.
182b22-7). The general point to be taken from this discussion put in less
technical language is this. Ignorance of the refutation occurs when the inter-
locutor is unaware of the meaning of what a refutation is, and so he thinks
that the conclusion drawn by the questioner is the conclusion which refutes
his proposed thesis, but actually it is not - some other conclusion has been
drawn instead. The interlocutor is unaware of what exactly constitutes the
opposite of his thesis, so he cannot recognize when his thesis has been over-
turned, and when it only appears to have been overturned. From this formu-
lation, it seems to be the interlocutor's ignorance that is responsible for the
fallacy. However, formulated differently, this fallacy is the generic fallacy
known, in contemporary jargon, as 'irrelevant conclusion5. In this formula-
tion, the ignorance of the interlocutor is not referred to and is not considered
to be the source of the fallacy. Rather, the fallacy is due to the questioner
attempting to distract the interlocutor from the conclusion in any number
of ways, depending on the type of error committed.
A dialectical refutation depends on the intuitive and critical skills, and on
the attitudes and dispositions, of the persons involved in the argument,
on what is being argued and with whom, and in what context. Aristotle
says explicitly that a 'sophistical refutation is not an absolute refutation
but is relative to some person5 (170a 13-14), and that those who depend on
equivocation refute sophistically and only appear to refute because 'they
have not secured a statement which has a single meaning but only one
which appears to be such, and only for a particular person5 (170a 16-19).
What Aristotle endeavors to do, in the Sophistici Elenchi, is to identify and to
resolve the various fallacies, by explaining why someone might be deceived
into thinking he has been genuinely refuted, and how to avoid the appear-
ance of being refuted.
As part of Aristotle's account of fallacy, he makes extensive comments on
how ambiguity and other fallacious moves are used in sophistic refutations.
On the need to draw distinctions between meanings, the whole of chapter 17
is relevant because Aristotle is trying to explain the need to block the
appearance of being refuted by a sophistical refutation. He says:
However, since, if one does not distinguish the meanings of a doubtful

term, it is not clear whether he has been confuted or not and since the
right to draw distinctions is conceded in arguments, it is obvious that to

grant the question simply without making distinctions is a mistake; so
that, even if the man himself does not appear to be refuted, yet his argu-
ment certainly appears to be so (175b28-34).
Aristotle explains that people may even 'see the ambiguity5, but they refrain
from making distinctions because of the pressure of the crowd, or in order
not to anger the questioner, or because they assumed the argument would
not depend on such ambiguity. In sum, Aristotle says 'since the right to
draw a distinction is conceded, we must not hesitate to use it, as was said
before'(175b38-39).
In chapter 19, he explains how those refutations which depend on ambi-
guity and amphiboly work. The double meaning may be in the questioning
or in the conclusion of an argument. He notes:
When the diversity of meaning occurs in the questions, there is no need

to deny the ambiguity beforehand; for the argument is not directed
towards it as a conclusion but carried on by means of it. At the beginning,
therefore, one ought to reply to an ambiguous term or expression in the
following manner, that 'in one sense it is so and in another it is not so3
(177a20-25).
Throughout the Topics, Aristotle offers advice about how to refute and
avoid being refuted due to ambiguity in the context of dialectical reason-
ing.5 In Book I, he notes '[F]or if the various ways in which a term can be
used are not clear, it is possible that the answerer and questioner are not
applying their mind to the same thing5 (108a22-25). In Book V, he says
that 'one must not use as signifying properly either a word or an expres-
sion which is used with several meanings, because anything which has
several meanings renders the statement obscure, since he who is about to
argue is doubtful which of the various meanings his opponent is using5
(129b35-130a4).
Again, in Topics 1.18, Aristotle recognizes the need to distinguish mean-
ings as a necessary part of one's dialectical practice. He says:
It is also useful so that one may not be misled and that one may mislead
others by false reasoning. For if we know the various senses in which a
term can be used, we shall never be misled by false reasoning, but we
shall be aware of it if the questioner fails to direct his argument to the
same point; and we shall ourselves, when we are asking questions, be
able to mislead the answerer, if he does not happen to know the various
meanings of a term (108a26-30).
With an important caveat which he apparently feels he must attach, Aris-

totle continues: 'This kind of argument, however, is not a proper part of dia-
lectic; therefore, dialecticians must be very much on their guard against
such verbal discussion, unless it is quite impossible to discuss the subject
otherwise' (108a33-36).
These quotations, and there are many more, are sufficient to establish
Aristotle's special concern with ambiguity and its relation to fallacy. It is
worth noting that both in his discussion of dialectic, in the Topics, and of
sophistical reasoning in the SE, Aristotle advises the questioner and the
answerer on debating tactics. Of equal importance is Aristotle's candid
advice on concealment in debating in TopicsVIII.l (155b26-157a5) and in
the SE 174bl4-15, and especially at 174a27-29, where he says, 'In a word,
all the resources for concealment mentioned before are also useful against
competitive arguments; for concealment is for the purpose of escaping
detection, and escape from detection is for the purpose of deception'. While
it is necessary to keep in mind that Aristotle's conception of dialectic and its
aim is different from Socrates' and Plato's in important respects, it is useful
to understand how liberal the conduct is between the questioner and
answerer in a dialectical context, and that many of the same debating tactics
are allowed in both the dialectical and the sophistic style of argumentation.
In other words, they may both use the same tactics.
Aristotle also mentions ambiguity in his account of rhetorical method in
the Rhetoric. In Book III.2, he discusses style (lexis) in speech and writing;
that is, knowing how to say what one wishes to say. He asserts that for lan-
guage to be good, it must be clear, or else it 'will not perform its proper func-
tion' (1404b). In his comments on the value of metaphor, Aristotle offers
some critical advice for achieving dignified airs in one's language, but the
use of metaphor is always to be done moderately and in the interest of con-
veying one's meaning all the more effectively. For this is, as he says, the
'chief merit of rhetorical language' (he tou rhetorikou logon arete; 1405al).
He contrasts clarity of speech and ingenuity in thought with the sophistic use
of synonyms for crafty or deceptive purposes (1404b37-39). In chapter 5,
Aristotle states his view that ambiguity is an offense against the good style
which equates with purity and correctness in language. He suggests as a gen-
eral rule that one avoid ambiguities, that is, 'unless you deliberately intend
the opposite, like those who, having nothing to say yet pretend to say some-
thing' (1407a32-34). He then proceeds to talk about the esoteric ambiguity
or obscurity used by the philosophers, Empedocles and Heraclitus.
Ambiguity and the Stoics

Galen, in the second century CE, develops a theory of fallacy, which
includes his account of ambiguity in De Captionibus, in accordance with his
reading of Aristotle's Sophistici Elenchi.1 Galen has a strongly negative,
polemical attitude towards Stoic doctrine and he is especially critical of
Chrysippus' use of language. His book, however, provides a source for the
Stoic view of ambiguity. Diogenes Laertius5 doxography is also a primary
source on the Stoics. He reports their definition of ambiguity, as follows:
Verbal ambiguity arises when a word properly, rightfully, and in accor-

dance with fixed usage denotes two or more different things, so that at one
and the same time we may take it in several distinct senses signifying two
or even more things signifying them verbally, strictly, and in conformity
with the same usage, so that at the same time this discourse may be taken
in several senses.
According to Catherine Atherton, the Stoic study of ambiguity did not

involve an effort to systematize all types of ambiguity. Their interest in
ambiguity stems from their theory of dialectic, and goes beyond the concern
to explain certain fallacies which are caused by ambiguity, and the attempt
to resolve them.9 Stoic dialectic is not restricted to formal debate nor is it
conceived as a mere technical discipline or collection of skills. Diogenes
says that the Stoics' view of dialectic is that it is 'indispensable and is itself
a virtue, embracing other particular virtues under it'. 10 The Stoics have a
global view of philosophy and advocate a way of life in which the studies of
physics, ethics and logic are tightly bound and consistently maintained.
Their concern with the use of ambiguity is a moral concern, in particular, a
concern for dialectical education, and especially with making sure that one
has control over those impressions to which one gives one's assent.
In her account of Stoic philosophical ideals, Atherton emphasizes this
point. She explains that, on the Stoic view, 'If agents do not realize that an
ambiguity in the linguistic expression of a proposition or argument conceals
its falsity or unsoundness, or if it leads them to gross misinterpretation, their
moral welfare may, in extreme cases, be directly at stake'. The Stoics recog-
nized that making conceptual distinctions in a moral context is especially
crucial, 'since here the ambiguity's potential for interference with decision-
making would be both grave and manifest'.11 And further, Atherton says,
'A mistake about concepts induced by a mistake about language may make
one's whole life wretched and pointless*.12
The Stoics recognized that the intentional use of double meaning, and the
mental exercise required by the disambiguation process, were beneficial to
philosophers. The constructive use of ambiguity in speech draws attention to
various mental associations, and a speaker may wish to emphasize such asso-
ciations for pedagogical purposes, either because the two meanings of an
expression are related in an unconventional way or because the meanings
need to be clarified and kept distinct. The Stoics believed in what Atherton
refers to as the 'basic rationality of language'; they regarded particular
ambiguities as 'throwing useful light on important conceptual connections
once their meanings are carefully distinguished'.13 Atherton also emphasizes
the Stoics' interest in the practice of contextual disambiguation. They recog-
nized that in judging whether a term is ambiguous, the relevant context
must be considered. Further, she points out that there are systematic differ-
ences between the Stoic, non-standard usage and standard usage of certain
terms, such as 'good', 'luck' and 'chance'; they were taken to task for failing
'to preserve anything of ordinary usage but the words themselves'. 4
Aristotle and Galen take a diagnostic approach to ambiguity and con-
sider it mostly in relation to false reasoning and sophistic speech. The
Stoics have a wider interest in understanding the problem of ambiguous lan-
guage which they conceive more thoroughly at the theoretical and practical
levels. As we have seen, Plato shares the critical or theoretical approach, and
sees language use and misuse as a matter for individual, moral and social
concern. He has, however, another interest as a literary writer, and his fas-
cination with the power of ambiguous language extends well beyond the
limits of philosophical argumentation, narrowly construed.
Creative Use of Ambiguity
Plato's dialogues are filled with the dramatic interplay of words and
speeches. His creative use of language ranks along with the Old Comedy of
Aristophanes who relies upon puns, riddles and other wordplay for humor-
ous effect, and with the tragic poetry of Sophocles and Euripides whose
works are often analysed for their brilliant and subtle use of double mean-
ing. Classicists, such as W. B. Stanford, Simon Goldhill, Jean-Pierre Ver-
nant and Pierre Vidal-Naquet, recognize the tremendous literary value
that the use of ambiguous language has in enhancing the meaning of a
poet's expressions, and have discussed the relevance of ambiguity in inter-
preting Greek tragedy.15
According to Stanford, the use of ambiguity originates with Homer and
extends to the tragic poets who created an artistic effect known as 'dramatic'
or 'tragic' irony. In particular, Sophocles and Euripides use dramatic irony
which relies upon there being two senses of a term or phrase. The characters
are sometimes made to utter words which are understood with one meaning
while a second meaning is conveyed to the audience that bears directly on
the action or situation in the play. 'As a literary device', Stanford says, 'an
ambiguity is used for the very purpose of expressing more than one meaning
... A writer finds that a certain word has in its traditional use two, or a sug-
gestion of two, distinct meanings which both happen to be congruous in the
situation in hand5.
Stanford suggests four possible explanations for why a writer/dramatist
would use ambiguity deliberately: (i) to show off 'verbal dexterity' and
impress the audience; (ii) to appeal to the etymology of language in con-
structing an argument; (iii) to suggest hidden meanings, spark the imagina-
tion, or affect the emotions of the audience; and (iv) to mislead or deceive
the audience, or more likely, as Stanford notes, to show how others are
deceived. While this range of usage shows that ambiguity in language has a
place and function which is valuable for several purposes, it is typically
thought to be no more than a clever means of deception, used by politicians
and schoolboys alike, to avoid speaking the truth or to manipulate others.
This is the usual basis for condemning the deliberate use of ambiguity
as immoral.17
Stanford's concern, however, is to offer other alternatives in which
ambiguous speech can be used without bringing in the idea of deception.
The first use is easily understood as a matter of rhetorical display or sophistic
argumentation. For instance, Agathon's speech in praise of Eros contains
verbal fallacies in an attempt to show that Eros has all the virtues, and this
is combined with embellished, poetic versification in the style of Gorgias
(Sym. 199a-201d).18 Another example is Prodicus, the Sophist, who is well-
known for his ability to distinguish the subtle nuances in terminology.19
Socrates appeals to Prodicus' skill on several occasions, one of which is
most memorable, in the Protagoras, where Socrates explains that he is cor-
rected regularly by Prodicus for misusing the word 'deinos' as 'awful' by
applying it to things which are good.20
The extended episode where Socrates is required to interpret Simonides'
poem and defend his reading is comical and raises a number of linguistic
issues (335d-348c). In this passage, Socrates repeats the word 'deinos' with
the phrases that caused the trouble, for example 'awful peace', 'awful
health', 'awful wealth' (341b-c). Socrates asks Prodicus for his advice on
what Simonides meant in criticizing Pittacus. Prodicus glibly says he
thinks that Simonides was 'reproaching Pittacus for not knowing how to dis-
tinguish words correctly' (341c6-7).
The etymological use of ambiguity is quite prevalent in Greek literature
where the names of characters are appropriately descriptive of them or
their life, for example Ajax (aias = lament/woe); Pentheus (grief); Helen
(destroyer). Stanford remarks that 'these plays on names may be properly
described as ambiguities because they always involve a double use of a word
or name as a descriptive term as well as a mere demonstrative symbol'.21
Plato shares in these dramatic techniques. He puns on his character's
names, for instance, Polus is an impulsive 'colt'; Polemarchus is a 'war-
leader'; Euthyphro's proposed definitions go round in circles and his name
means 'straight-thinker'; and Thrasymachus is belligerent and reactive.
He is a Sophist known for his ability to arouse the emotions of his audience
and his name means 'bold-fighter'.22
Besides the fun with ambiguities dramatized in the Euthydemus, the Cratylus
provides a sample of Plato's art of wordplay and his abiding interest in ety-
mology. Two opposing views about the origins and correctness of language
are presented and refuted; the conventional view is taken by Hermogenes
that words and their referents are the product of convention and nothing
more while Cratylus argues for the extreme Heraclitean position that the
meanings of words are based in reality and reveal the nature of things.
In the middle of the dialogue, Socrates goes on an excursion in etymo-
logical analysis.23 He traces names back to their possible origin of meaning
with humor and fanciful speculation. At the same time, the correctness of
many words is critically examined. In the main section devoted to the
etymologies, Socrates and Hermogenes investigate the meaning of body
and soul (399d-400d) and the names of the gods and goddesses (400d-
407d). They also examine knowledge terminology (411 a-412c); justice and
the other virtue terms (412d-414b); techrie (414b-415a); and they come to
the 'summit' of the inquiry when they focus on the words for virtue, benefit
and harm, the noble and the disgraceful (415a-418a).
A reader might tend to dismiss these playful jibes as so much unnecessary
mockery, but because the attributes of the interlocutor's character are some-
times built into the argument used to refute him, it is not so simple. 4 The
significance can be seen with regard to the brief refutation of the tragic
poet, Agathon (Sym. 199a-201d). Agathon's name means 'good' (agathos),
or one might think, a 'good man'. Socrates' argument against him concludes
that Eros lacks beauty and goodness. Agathon had just given a rhetorically
inspired speech before the refutation in which he practically identified him-
self with Eros, describing the god as a young poet (195a- 198a).
The next two types of ambiguity Stanford mentions are related to
each other. They explain what philosophers and poets attempt to do when
they make use of language which has multiple meanings that are difficult
to disambiguate. Esoteric ambiguity is used in cases in which one might
deliberately attempt to conceal a meaning from some people and to convey
a private message to others. This type of indirect communication is asso-

ciated with the obscure sayings and double meanings of the Delphic oracle
and the enigmas of Heraclitus. Socrates approaches the interlocutor's
responses as riddles, as shown earlier with Polemarchus. At the beginning
of the Cratylus, Hermogenes asks Socrates if he would 'interpret Cratylus'
oracular speech' (384a7); hidden meanings are associated with Heraclitus
and Protagoras (Tht. 152c, 155d-e, 180c-d).
The final type of ambiguity is called 'tragic ambiguity' since the tra-
gedians use it precisely to make a point with their audiences about how
easily people are fooled by words, their own and those of others, and what
the consequences of such misconceptions might be. Sophocles' Oedipus Tyr-
annos is a prime example of tragic ambiguity since Oedipus had proudly
solved the riddle of the Sphinx but could not comprehend the oracle's pro-
nouncement with regard to his own life. The speech which Ajax gives before
his suicide, known as the 'deception speech', is packed with ambiguous lan-
guage and fools Tecmessa and the Chorus into thinking Ajax had changed
his mind (646-65). The words that Dionysus the Stranger speaks to
Pentheus and his replies, in Euripides' Bacchae, are double-edged right up
until the moment of Pentheus's death (955-70). The Stranger: 'You will
indeed be in your mother's arms'.25 The tragedians use the ambiguity oflan-
guage to show their audience the serious consequences of mistaken judg-
ments and the careless use of language and thought.
Socrates uses ambiguity constructively in the dialectic and Plato uses
ambiguity creatively in the dialogues. Their purposes are parallel to each
other: one operates at the dramatic level and the other operates at the tex-
tual level. Socrates' use of ambiguity is connected with the elenctic and
protreptic functions, and involves his efforts to reform the interlocu-
tor's thinking by conceptual reorientation. He tries to move the interlocutor
towards his meaning of concepts while staying on common ground with the
interlocutor and using, or appearing to use, the ordinary meaning of words.
Plato is drawing the reader's attention to the philosophical question of
what the correct or best interpretation is of a term or a premise, given the
possible range of meanings available. Like the tragic and comic poets,
Plato is holding the spotlight on the inherent obscurity and interminable
confusion in the ordinary use of value terminology.
Perspectives on Refutation
The deliberate uses of ambiguity in the poetic and sophistic traditions,

and Plato's involvement in these traditions, present the reader with an
alternative perspective on the dialectical strategies of Socratic refutations.

The cross-sections between traditions lend credibility to the idea that Plato's
dramatic skills and intentions affect the argumentation and that certain
fallacies are customized to fit the interlocutor's personal character. None the
less, some readers may reject such appeals to Plato's 'literary' side and insist
that the arguments stand on their own merit.
From a formalist point of view, the only relevant standards for construct-
ing and evaluating arguments are the logical standards of validity and
soundness.26 The occurrence of ambiguity is a negative and undesirable fea-
ture in any context in which argumentation is used. The rules of deductive
logic are designed to preserve the truth of the premises in reasoning from the
premises to a conclusion, and the preservation of truth is the aim of all rea-
soning. This single aim is assumed and projected on to Socrates and Plato
such that any argumentative strategy they use which violates the rules of
logic and interferes with the aim is considered fallacious. The deliberate
use of fallacious arguments constitutes unfair practice and deception, and
there is little or no regard for any other purposes the arguments may serve.
This position reflects Aristotle's view, for the most part, yet it is clear that
he works with the notion of a refutation in a dialectical format. In this
format, the deliberate use of fallacy implies deception because a fallacious
argument is put forth as if it were valid, presumably in order to trick the
opponent. It is difficult to reconcile Aristotle's allegiance to sound logic
and unambiguous language with the attitudes that he is compelled to
adopt with regard to the dialectical games. But whatever the case may be,
Aristotle and the Stoics clearly recognize the value of the tactics that are
necessary to refute and avoid being refuted; one is expected to make distinc-
tions and it is part of the exercise to develop the skills that are necessary to
defend one's position in debate.
To stay rigidly within the formal limitations of argument is to misunder-
stand the dialectical context completely. In a dialectical context, there are
rules other than those of deductive logic. It seems to be the case that, in con-
structing an elenctic argument, Socrates is not required to state openly the
possible ambiguity of a term that would cause the argument to be invalid.
And it seems to be the interlocutor's job to identify and clarify a possible
ambiguity if he hopes to avoid being refuted. I have argued that Socrates
makes free use of ambiguity and deliberately commits the fallacy of equivo-
cation, among other fallacies, as part of his protreptic strategy. According to
Aristotle's typology, many of Socrates' refutations fall under the broader
heading of'irrelevant conclusion', or to put it differently, to suit the Socratic
version of the fallacy: showing the Socratic interlocutor his ignorance of
what a refutation is. I have also argued that Socratic use of ambiguity is
constructive, and that the elenctic discourse is in close partnership with the
Socratic protreptic, both of which are goal-directed modes of discourse
which aim at moral self-improvement. In light of Socrates' moral aim and
his protreptic discourse, Plato's repeated theme of 'knowing how to use'
makes the most sense. The difference between Socrates and the Sophists is
not only a difference in aims but a difference in their respective uses of falla-
cies and rhetorical techniques. This is the point of relevance in holding
Socrates' moral position to his methodology.
The Normative Use of Technique
As I discussed earlier, there are numerous fallacies or techniques of

sophistical refutation which Aristotle has examined. A demonstration of a
rhetorical type of refutation is shown, in the Gorgias, with Polus, whose
courtroom style includes the appeal to witnesses, to popular opinion, to ridi-
cule and to the emotions as the means for refuting an opponent, and for
winning approval of the audience. The rhetorical means of persuasion
involve argumentative, stylistic and strategic techniques. Techniques of
style have to do with the arrangement of words and phrases to affect the lis-
tener's emotions and with the quality of delivery.30 Techniques of strategy
have to do with how the speaker is received by the audience and with postur-
ing in order to gain the trust of the audience. In general, sophistic rhetoric is
a long and eloquent form of speech-making that is used for display purposes
or teaching style. The speeches often take the form of blame and praise
and the topics are the stock of commonplaces or those that are taken from
mythology. Gorgias' rhetorical art sets the paradigm for the genre. His
method employs argumentative, strategic and exaggerated verbal styles of
speech, for example rhythm, meter, tone, periphrasis, chiasmus, anaphora,
allusion, alliteration. His techniques of persuasion appeal to the aesthetic
sensibilities of the listening audience and are meant to entertain and charm
them, or move them in whatever way he wishes to do.
Based on the dramatic context of the dialogues, and the historical back-
ground available on the Sophists, both Socrates and the Sophists are inno-
vative intellectuals who appeared to talk about the same subjects, and were
concerned about virtue and education of the young. Though Aristophanes
presents a distorted picture of Socrates for the purposes of comedy and the
criticism of intellectual pretense, he is nevertheless an important source for
understanding the atmosphere and attitudes of the populace towards the
new education (paideia) . 31
There are important differences in the Socratic and Sophistic views and
their approaches to teaching. In his Great Speech, Protagoras describes the
traditional Athenian education as a system of discipline with reward and
punishment, schooling in music, the learning of letters and the memoriza-
tion of poetry (Prt. 324d-328d). Just at the start of the episode in which Pro-
tagoras will put questions to Socrates about the meaning of Simonides5
poem, Protagoras says that 'the greatest part of a man's education is to be
skillful in the matter of verses' (339al-3). Socrates makes a mockery of the
practice of literary interpretation but is still able to incorporate a few of his
own principles into the meaning of the poem. As the transition back to the
dialectical mode of question and answer takes place, Socrates remarks that
'arguing about poetry is comparable to the wine-parties of the common
market folk' and shows a 'lack of education' (apaideusias; 347d3). As educa-
tors, there is some overlap between SM and that the rhetorical techniques
and methods of the Sophists that includes a question and answer session, but
there are differences in how the questions are asked and answered. Socrates
conducts the dialectic with specific questions that lead the interlocutor
through serious moral issues which challenge his conventional views. The
Sophists do no such thing.32
There are strong contrasts between methods at the normative level of use.
The distinction is not simply a matter of picking out techniques of argument
or other dialectical devices which the Sophists use and Socrates does not, but
more a matter of how Socrates uses techniques and devices as opposed to
how the Sophists use them. It is too easy to assimilate the technique itself,
which is a tool, with the use of that technique, which concerns the good
that it produces and the intention of the user. But this distinction is an
important one to maintain in understanding SM. The differences that can
be identified at the normative level of the use of technique match the differ-
ences in the theoretical outlooks of Socrates and the Sophists. The aims and
presuppositions direct the use of the techniques and the use is what calls for
moral judgment. The techniques are simply the means and are morally neu-
tral. For the most part, how Socrates uses the techniques in the argumenta-
tion is vastly different from anything the Sophist tries to do. Socrates
questions the interlocutor and hopes to improve him morally; he seeks after
the essence of a moral concept; he insists on the sincerity and integrity of the
interlocutor; he allows the interlocutor to take back his agreement; and he
shows concern for the welfare of the interlocutor's soul with respect to self-
knowledge. In these ways, SM is nothing like the sophistic method.
The use that is made of argumentation and the attitude towards the value
of the argumentation is determined by a person's character and beliefs, so
the method, considered as a whole, that incorporates such argumentation
will also be the product of character and beliefs.33 Keeping this in mind,
three distinct methods can be discerned. There is the eristic method, and
the eristic use of techniques of argument, which are contentiously employed
to win a debate regardless of what is true. 34 There is rhetorical method (base
rhetoric), and the use of techniques of argument and poetic devices, which
prove effective in gratifying the emotions of the audience. And there is dia-
lectical method (noble rhetoric), and the use of techniques of argument,
which are employed to benefit the interlocutor morally by finding out what
is true about the greatest matters in life (Grg. 500c-d).
The method, and how a man uses the means of argumentation to
achieve the results he desires, is not something that is separable from the
character of the man who uses it. Techniques of argument are value-neutral
means which can be used for good or bad, and it is possible to detach the
techniques which serve Socrates and the Sophists from their respective
methods. The general point of this analysis is that 'method' is clearly more
than a set of means. And so, the method cannot be detached from the man,
though the means can. The means of argumentation are neither good nor
bad, neither right nor wrong, in themselves. They are such only in rela-
tion to their end. The method, however, contains both the means and the
aim, plus the presuppositions. The means of argumentation are available
to Socrates, the Sophists or anyone else who wants to use them. It is Socrates5
use of the means that is central to any normative questions about the value
of the method, and his use stems from his character and moral purpose,
which are reflected in his philosophical views about wisdom, virtue and
human nature.
With specific regard to the use of ambiguity, the difference between the
sophistic and Socratic method is that there is a beneficial, philosophical
insight, of a protreptic nature, to be gained in recognizing how Socrates
uses double meanings. No such connection is intended by the Sophists;
there is no attempt to facilitate learning, or to discover the truth. Their con-
cern is with words and the power of words and not with the reality behind
the words. The main lesson to be learned from the Euthydemus is that appar-
ent contradictions are often the result of equivocation, false dilemmas and
secundum quid. Although the equivocations used by the brothers are silly and
pointless, there are equivocations of a more subtle and serious kind that
should be recognized and handled, especially in moral thinking. To be
charged with sophistry, Socrates would have to use dialectical techniques
to mislead the interlocutor with the intention to deceive or harm, for the
sole purpose of winning the debate, or to appear to be wise. Regardless of
how much ironical play there is in some of Socrates' conduct and remarks,
his intentions are not sophistic. He does not engage in the exploitation of
ambiguity to deceive, to win a debate or to gain approval from the audience.
He uses ambiguity with considerable care and for moral reasons.
Dialectical Conduct and Conflict
The dialectical conduct which accompanies the elenctic function is clearly

adversarial, and this makes it difficult to reconcile the elenctic with the
epistemic function at the practical level; by 'practical5 I mean: what are
the results, whom does he persuade, how fair is he to the interlocutors, and
how well does he represent philosophy to those he seeks to persuade.
The purpose of SM is for Socrates to make himself and the interlocutor
better men, with respect to self-knowledge. Socrates is aware that the inter-
locutor may perceive things differently, and he may be right to think that
the two functions do not conflict with one another, in principle. But if they
are mixed together indiscriminately, then the interlocutor's expectations
are frustrated, procedures are violated and confusion or anger results.
Socrates' irony does not alleviate the problem but makes it worse since it
often conveys a transparently superior attitude.
The question and answer format of Socratic dialectic appears to be a con-
test or agon. The appearance is obviously the case when Socrates engages
with the Sophists, who see every discussion as an opportunity to debate and
win approval from the audience. Despite Socrates' disclaimers, a refutation
is closely related to the debate style of an agon and it is easily confused with,
and can degenerate into, an eristic or quarrelsome discourse. In his response
to Socrates' request that he keep his answers short, Protagoras tells Socrates:
'I have undertaken in my time many contests of speech ...' (agona logon,
335a4). When Gorgias makes his reply to Socrates about what the 'power
of his art' can do, he says: 'At the same time, Socrates, our use of rhetoric
should be like our use of any other sort of exercise' (agonia, 456d 1). Through-
out Gorgias' speech, he compares his art to the athletic exercises and con-
tests of wrestling or boxing, and he draws a parallel to them in order to
plead his case that such skills must be 'used fairly' (dikaios chresthai, 456e3).
Socrates questions Thrasymachus about his critical remarks on Socrates'
manner and Thrasymachus says 'for you won't get the better of me by
stealth and, failing stealth, you are not of the force to beat me in debate'
Truth-seeking is one of the functions of SM, but in a dialectical context

where refutation is also a function, truth-seeking is subordinate and indir-
ect, and it does not alter or eliminate the adversarial atmosphere. Socrates
claims to be seeking truth, yet as Callicles points out, Socrates also seems to
be using verbal tricks {sophisms) to refute him (Grg. 482e4-7; cf. 497a6).
Such tactics are thought to be incompatible with the claim to seek truth.35
Callicles complains to Gorgias that Socrates 'keeps on asking petty, unim-
portant questions until he refutes one5 (497b5-7). Gorgias replies, 'Why,
what does that matter to you? In any case it is not your credit that is at
stake, Callicles; just permit Socrates to refute you in such manner as he
chooses5 (497b8-10).
In the long, heated scene with Callicles (480d-523a), Socrates seems
oblivious to the psychological disparity between the two modes of discourse.
The drama shows that Socrates is driven by the rationality of the argument,
the power of the logos. He feels the need to complete the argument, so that it
may, as he says, 'pick up a head5 (505d2). Callicles is at his wits' end and
virtually calls Socrates a 'tyrant5 in discussion: 'How overbearing (biaios)
you are, Socrates5, and asks him to 'let this argument drop, or find some
one else to argue with' (505d5-8). Socrates will pursue the argument to the
end by himself, if the rest of the company agree. At a timely moment, Gor-
gias consents and Socrates monologues with himself, in a manner as he
would with any other interlocutor.
There are a number of points which I think both Socrates, as the charac-
ter portrayed in the dialogues, and Plato as the author, believe with regard
to SM. First, SM is a therapeutic process. Socrates is the practitioner in a
very difficult line of work who must administer a sort of purification that
is necessary to get rid of false conceit, in most cases (cf. Soph. 230c-d).
Secondly, as a matter of dramatic structure, the aporiai are beneficial and
help set up the problems to be discussed. Thirdly, in principle, the three
modes of discourse and their immediate goals are compatible with each
other when understood properly and serve a single aim of moral self-
improvement. Fourthly, despite its limitations, the potential benefits of SM
are worth the trouble, even if there is the likelihood of falling into an eristic
style of debate.
Be that as it may, there remains a sense ofdisappointment and failure with
the endings of the dialogues seem to have nothing to do with aporia, and
everything to do with Socrates' method and his character, to the degree
that they represent the life and death of the historical Socrates. The disturb-
ing feelings clearly arise with regard to the Gorgias and quite naturally at the
end of the Phaedo and Crito. Other scenes conjure up similar feelings, for
example the episode with Anytus in the Meno and Alcibiades' emotional
speech in the Symposium; even at the end of the Euthydemus for all its comic
satire, one may share the experience of Crito who is not sure why Socrates
engages with such foolish people.
The Drama and the Method
It seems that the less satisfied one is with the apparently unsuccessful results
of SM, the more inclined one may be to look for other ways to account for the
use of fallacy and other distasteful conduct on the part of Socrates. There are
at least two ways to go: one is to think that Plato not only recognized the
flaws and implicitly criticized SM, but that he abandoned it, or transformed
it into the philosophically promising methods of hypothesis and division
which have new metaphysical and epistemological groundings. Another
way to go is to take the drama of the dialogues as relevant to Plato's motiva-
tions, and study the dramatic cues for an explanation in terms of his
artistic and pedagogical purposes. Hopefully, by now, it is clear that I favor
the second approach. This approach, which I hesitate to label, honors the
Greek literary tradition to which Plato belonged and interprets the dialo-
gues as a philosophical form of drama; it is a unique genre with the poetic
elements of tragedy, comedy, epic and rhetoric.36 Plato's dialogues are art-
works. They are visionary and imaginative. His art is to combine these
poetic elements and his understanding of Greek culture and its history with
Socrates' philosophical conversations and all the tension of opposites that
comes with the tragic/comic character of Socrates.
Notes
Chapter 1: The Socratic Method of Dialectic
1. There are a handful of recent, and not so recent, scholars who offer accounts of
Socratic dialectic, and/or have literary-based approaches to the Platonic dia-
logues, which are similar to mine. These include H. L. Sinaiko, Love, Knowledge, and
Discourse in Plato: Dialogue and Dialectic in Phaedrus, Republic, Parmenides (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1965); R. H. Weingartner, The Unity ofthe Platonic Dia-
logue (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1973); H.G. Gadamer, Dialogue and Dialectic:
Eight Hermeneutical Studies on Plato, trans. P. Christopher Smith (New Haven and
London: Yale University Press, 1980); H. Teloh, Socratic Education in Plato's Early
Dialogues (Notre Dame: Notre Dame University Press, 1986); R. B. Rutherford,
The Art of Plato: Ten Essays in Platonic Interpretation (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 1995); F. Gonzalez, Dialectic and Dialogue: Plato's Practice of Philo-
sophical Inquiry (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1998); G. A. Scott, Pla-
to's Socrates as Educator (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2000);
J. Gordon, Turning Toward Philosophy: Literary Device and Dramatic Structure in Plato's
Dialogues (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1999).
2. Unless otherwise indicated, all translations of the texts are taken from The Loeb
Classical Library (London: Heinemann and Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press). For information on translations, see the bibliography.
3. R. Robinson, Plato's Earlier Dialectic (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1953);
G. Vlastos, 'The Socratic Elenchus', Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 1 (1983):
27-58, revised and reprinted in Socratic Studies as 'The Socratic Elenchus: Method is
All', 1-29, with Appendix and Postscript, 29-37, ed. M. Burnyeat (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1994); G. Santas, Socrates: Philosophy in Plato's Early
Dialogues (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1979); T. H. Irwin, Plato's Moral
Theory (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977) and Plato's Ethics (Oxford: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 1995).
4. Cf. T. Brickhouse and N. D. Smith, Plato's Socrates (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1994); M. McPherran, The Religion of Socrates (University Park: Pennsyl-
vania State University Press, 1996); H. H. Benson, Socratic Wisdom: The Model of
Knowledge in Plato's Early Dialogues (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000);
J. Beversluis, Cross-examining Socrates: A Defense of the Interlocutors in Plato's Early
Dialogues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).
Notes 113
5. My views with respect to the current debates on interpretive matters coincide with
the scholars, mentioned in note 1, who depart from, or take issue with, those who
belong to the 'doctrinal' or 'analytic' tradition of Platonic interpretation men-
tioned in notes 3 and 4. Scholars from the analytic tradition usually accept a stan-
dardized, chronological view of Plato's intellectual development which divides the
dialogues into three main groups; they tend to base their interpretations of the dia-
logues on the arguments in an effort to establish a Platonic set of doctrines; they
recognize and emphasize the distinction between Platonic doctrine and the
moral-psychological views and methods they attribute to the Platonic Socrates.
For a discussion of the issues that separate the non-doctrinal tradition of interpret-
ing Plato from the doctrinal interpretations, see the introductions to the following
texts: F. J. Gonzalez (ed.), The Third Way: New Dimensions in Platonic Studies
(Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 1995); Rutherford, The Art of Plato;
G. Press (ed.), Who Speaks for Plato?: Studies in Platonic Anonymity (Lanham, MD:
Rowman and Littlefield, 2000); G. A. Scott (ed.), Does Socrates have a Method?
Rethinking the Elenchus in Plato's Dialogues and Beyond (University Park: Pennsylva-
nia State University Press, 2002). See also G. Press, 'The State of the Question in
the Study of Plato', Southern Journal of Philosophy 34 (1996): 507-32, reprinted
in N. D. Smith (ed.), Plato: Critical Assessments, vol. 1 (New York: Routledge,
1998). In general, I agree with the views put forward by Gordon, Turning Toward
Philosophy, 1-17.
6. I give my attention to Vlastos' version of the epistemological model for purposes of
contrast and because his approach is well known and open to weaknesses which I
can easily address in light of the model I wish to present. This should not be taken to
imply that there are no other workable models of SM to discuss. On the contrary, I
have been influenced by the educational models offered by H. Teloh, Socratic Educa-
tion, and the educational-erotic model recently offered by G. A. Scott, Plato's
Socrates as Educator.
7. Vlastos, 'The Socratic Elenchus', 30 and Socratic Studies, 4. Henceforward, all
references are to the Socratic Studies version unless otherwise noted. In this
version, the phrase 'question and answer' is inserted to read 'a search for moral
truth by question and answer adversary argument', 4. As most Platonic scholars
recognize, Vlastos' position on SM is complicated, enormously influential and
must be confronted regardless of whether one agrees or disagrees with his overall
position. His views on the interpretive issues concerning Socrates and Plato are
discussed in Socrates: Ironist and Moral Philosopher (Ithaca: Cornell University
Press, 1991).
8. See M. McPherran, 'Socratic Piety in the Euthyphro\ in H. H. Benson (ed.), Essays
on the Philosophy of Socrates (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 220-41 and
Brickhouse and Smith, Plato's Socrates, 64~69 for a discussion of constructivist
positions.
9. Gf. Robinson, Plato's Earlier Dialectic. See Vlastos' comments, Socratic Studies, on the
history of Socratic scholarship with regard to the negative characterization
of the method before his interpretation, 17-19. Earlier negative accounts of SM
are S. Kierkegaard, The Concept of Irony with Continual Reference to Socrates, ed. and
trans. H. V. Hong and E. H. Hong (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989)
and G. Grote, Plato and Other Companions of Sokrates, 3 vols., trans. J. Murray
(London: J. Murray, 1865).
10. Vlastos, Socrates: Ironist, 14.
11. Chrm. 158d; La. 187d; Cr. 48d; Prt. 348c-e.
12. Vlastos, Socratic Studies, 21.
13. Ap. 29el-2, 30a-b; Chrm. 157a-b; Eu. 2c-d; Grg. 512e-513a, 515a-d, 520d-e; La.
185e-186b, 189e, 190b-c;Pr*.318a-e.
14. Cf. Rutherford, Art of Plato, 177; E. R. Dodds (trans.), Plato: Gorgias (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 2002 [1959]), 296-98.
15. A. A. Long, 'Plato's Apologies and Socrates in the Theaetetus', 126, in J. Gentzler
(ed.), Method in Ancient Philosophy (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), 113-36.
16. H. G. Liddell and R. A. Scott, Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1985), 105.
17. As a questioner, Socrates of the Gorgias is portrayed as being sensitive to the reac-
tions of his interlocutors. Socrates tells Gorgias, 'It is not you 1 am after, it is our
discussion, to have it proceed in such a way as to make the things we are talking
about most clear to us' (453c2-5), and again, 'I am asking questions so that we
can conduct an orderly discussion. It is not you I am after; it is to prevent our get-
ting in the habit of second-guessing and snatching each other's statements away
ahead of time' (454c2~5, trans. Zeyl).
18. The main aporetic dialogues and key passages are the following: Chrm. 176a-b;
Eu. 15b-c; HMaj. 304c-e; HMin. 376c; La. 200e; Ly. 222e; Meno 80a; Prt. 361c, and
Rep. I 354b-c.
19. In the Hippias Major, Hippias remarks that he could find the answer if he was
given time to think about it alone (295a-b, 297d-e). He later attributes the difficul-
ties to Socrates' method of inquiry (301b-d, 304a-b) and to the boorishness of
the questioner.
20. Cr. 49d; HMaj. 365c-d; La. 193c; Meno 7Id, 83d; Prt. 331b-d; Rep. I 349a-b;
Tht. 154c-e.
21. The topic of sincerity is given great emphasis by Vlastos, Socrates: Ironist, 14; Socratic
Studies, 8-10 following Robinson, Plato's Earlier Dialectic, 15-17.
22. Vlastos, Socratic Studies, 9.
23. The demand for sincerity is not simply an issue for the interlocutor. When Callicles
answers a question, admittedly in order to avoid inconsistency, the conversation
goes as follows: Socrates: You are wrecking your earlier statements, Callicles, and
you would no longer be adequately inquiring into the truth of the matter with me
if you speak contrary to what you think. Callicles: You do it too, Socrates. Socrates:
In that case, it isn't right for me to do it, if it's what I do, or for you either (495a7-bl,
trans. Zeyl).
24. The translations are from R. Waterfield, Plato: Theaetetus (London: Penguin Books,
1987).
25. Euripides, Hippolytus, 612; Aristophanes, Frogs, 1471; cf. Sym. 199a5-6.
Notes 115
26. Socrates tells Protagoras, Tor although my first object is to test the argument, the
result perhaps will be that both I, the questioner, and my respondent are brought to
the test'(Pr*. 333c7-10).
27. Vlastos, Socratic Studies, 23-24; cf. J. Bailly, 'What you say, what you believe, and
what you mean', Ancient Philosophy 19 (1999), 65-76; Beversluis, Cross-examining
Socrates, 37-58.
28. Cf. D. Cairns, Aidos: The Psychology and Ethics of Honour and Shame in Ancient Greek
Literature (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993); B. Williams, Shame and Necessity (Berke-
ley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1993).
29. Each character is portrayed with his own sense of shame, e.g. Gorgias: 455c-d,
461b-c; Polus: 474b-475e, 482e-483a; Callicles: 487b-c, 489b9-10, 494c-e, and
Socrates: 508b-c, 522d-e.
30. Cf. G. B. Kerferd, The Sophistic Movement (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1981), 111-30.
31. Note that *aidos3 translates here, in the Protagoras, as 'respect' whereas in the Char-
mides, 'aidbs3 translates as 'modesty' (160e-161b).
32. J. S. Morrison, Antiphon, in R. K. Sprague (ed.), The Older Sophists (Columbia: Uni-
versity of South Carolina Press, 1972), 106-240; M. Gagarin, Antiphon the Athenian
(Austin: University of Texas Press, 2002).
33. The adjective 'aischron' is a derivative of the noun iaischunei and is commonly ren-
dered in English as 'shame' or 'disgrace', though the Greek term has a wider
application. The abstract noun in the neuter form Ho aischrotf translates as 'the
shameful'. 'Aischurie' and its cognates are closely tied to the complex range of usages
associated with aidos, which translates as 'respect', 'reverence' or 'awe'. Cf. Liddell
and Scott, Greek-English Lexicon, 23-24.
34. The topic of shame in SM is a delicate fruit that is easily bruised. See C. Kahn,
'Drama and Dialectic in Plato's Gorgias', Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 1
(1983): 75-121; R. McKim, 'Shame and Truth in Plato's Gorgias', in C. Griswold
(ed.), Platonic Writings, Platonic Readings (New York: Routledge, 1988), 34-48;
Beversluis, Cross-examining Socrates, 70-71 and passim; J. Gordon, Turning Toward
Philosophy, 22~28; P. Woodruff, 'Socrates and the Irrational', in N.D. Smith and
P. Woodruff (eds.), Reason and Religion in Socratic Philosophy (Oxford: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 2000), 130-50.
35. In the Symposium, the wish or love for happiness is said to be 'common
to all mankind' (koinon . . . panton anthropon), and the question of whether this
is so is put to Socrates, by Diotima, and Socrates agrees (205a7-8, cf. Rep. VI
505dl0).
36. The identification of 'desire' with 'lack' is central in understanding the protreptic
function in the Lysis (221e-222b).
37. The superior value of the soul is mentioned explicitly with Hippocrates in the Pro-
tagoras (313a6), and with Crito (47e-48a). Cf. Grg. 512a6-7; Sym. 210b7; Rep. IV
445a9-b3.
38. The topics and issues related to Socrates' conception of the soul and to his views on
self-knowledge are given a more thorough treatment in my dissertation, Socratic
Method and Self-knowledge in Plato's Early Dialogues (Ann Arbor: University Micro-
films, Inc., 1999).
39. Brickhouse and Smith give this approach its most extensive formulation, Plato's
Socrates, 18-21. See also, Socrates on Trial (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1989), 105-107, where they argue that Socrates' 'confidence in the value of his mis-
sion cannot derive from elenctic justification', 105.
40. For critical remarks on Brickhouse and Smith, Plato's Socrates, see R. Kraut, 'Criti-
cal Review: Brickhouse and Smith's Plato's Socrates', Ancient Philosophy 15 (1995):
619-45.
41. Although I agree with Brickhouse and Smith, Plato's Socrates, that Socrates has
strong personal beliefs which are expressed in the Apology, and may account for his
overriding concern with wisdom, the good of the soul and the soul's connection
with the divine, I interpret these beliefs primarily in the context in which they
occur in the arguments that are given throughout the early dialogues. I believe
that Brickhouse and Smith overstate the role that these personal beliefs have in jus-
tifying the SM because they rely too much on the Apology. I do not think that such
an account goes very far in explaining the value of a philosophical method that
supposedly can be used by anyone who wishes to use it, which is one of the particu-
lar points that Brickhouse and Smith make. If it is mainly Socrates' personal reli-
gious convictions which justify his method, then it does not seem to be the case that
'Any of us coulddo what Socrates does, although, of course, not so well, and, accord-
ing to Socrates, all of us should do what he does' (Brickhouse and Smith, Plato's
Socrates, 10).
Chapter 2: The Proptreptic Function

1. Commentators who have studied the protreptic aspects of SM include: T. Chance,
Plato's Euthydemus; Analysis of What Is and Is Not Philosophy (Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1992); D. Roochnik, Of Art and Wisdom: Plato's Understanding of
Techne (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1996); S. R. Slings,
Plato: Clitophon (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999); F. J. Gonzalez,
Dialectic and Dialogue: Plato's Practice of Philosophical Inquiry (Evanston: Northwest-
ern University Press, 1998); J. Gordon, Turning Towards Philosophy: Literary Device
and Dramatic Structure in Plato's Dialogues (University Park: Pennsylvania State Uni-
versity Press, 1999).
2. Cf. M. Burnyeat, 'Fathers and Sons in Plato's Republic and Philebus\ Classical Quar-
terly 54.1 (2004): 80-87.
3. See Burnyeat, 'Fathers and Sons', for references to what he calls 'courage in
debate', 82, n. 9.
4. J/>.30al0-bl.
5. Chrm. 157a4; La. 185e3-4.
6. Slings, Plato, 103.
Notes 117
7. In his discussion of happiness, in Book 1.8 of the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle's fre-
quent reference to the current views (ta endoxa) in presenting his own account shows
the extent to which he depends on what others have said (tan legomeribn peri aufes,
1098bl 1). On the specific relevance of ta endoxa in his moral methodology, see NE
1098b25-29andll45bl-8.
8. Cf. Protagoras' great speech (Prt. 320d-328d).
9. Vlastos claims that the elenchos does not rely on endoxa for the truth of the premises,
Socratic Studies, 13-14, Socrates: Ironist, 111-13, cf. 94-95. For critical responses, see
R. Kraut, 'Comments on Gregory Vlastos, "The Socratic Elenchus"', Oxford
Studies in Ancient Philosophy 1 (1983): 59-70; R. Polansky, 'Professor Vlastos's
Analysis of Socratic Elenchus', Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy $ (1985): 247-259;
and R. Bolton, 'Aristotle's Account of Socratic Elenchus', Oxford Studies in Ancient
Philosophy 11 (1993): 121-52.
10. I adopt this distinction from S. Klein, 'The Value of Endoxa in Ethical Argument',
History of Philosophical Quarterly 9.2 (April 1992): 141-57, see esp. 156-57, n. 48.
11. See Kraut, 'Comments', 64, for this example.
12. What I mean by this is that the interlocutor's stated belief is endoxical as long as
it is derived from conventional or reputable opinion. If the meaning of'endoxa1 is
taken to preclude the possibility that endoxical beliefs represent the interlocutor's
own contribution, then it would make sense to claim that Socrates does not use
endoxa in his method because Socrates is only concerned with what the interlocutor
himself believes. But I do not think that the term should be given a technical or
narrow meaning. Aristotle uses it quite broadly in his discussion of dialectic (Top.
100a29-b23).
13. Other scholars have noted one or more of these premises in their discussion of
Socrates' views. For instance, C. Kahn, 'Drama and Dialectic in Plato's Gorgias\
Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 1 (1983): 75-121, believes that the premise
that all humans desire the good is fundamental to understanding the SM.
R. McKim, 'Shame and Truth in Plato's Gorgias\ in C. Griswold (ed.), Platonic
Writings, Platonic Readings (New York: Routledge, 1988), 34-48, argues that
the belief that virtue is beneficial is a Socratic axiom that cannot be denied by the
interlocutors successfully. D. Roochnik, 'Socrates' Use of the Techne Analogy',
Journal of the History of Philosophy 24 (1986): 295-310, claims that the premise
that virtue is a techne is a dialectical premise that is essential to the elenchos. See
T. H. Irwin, Plato's Moral Theory (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977), cf. Plato's
Ethics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 48-50. Irwin identifies a group
of premises which he calls 'guiding principles' which are conceived much differ-
ently from what I present.
14. Conventional Athenian views about the social benefits and harms of virtue are
brought to bear on the question ofjustice in the dialectic between Socrates, Glau-
con and Adeimantus in Republic II. An indispensable sourcebook on Greek
conventional values and terminology is K. J. Dover, Greek Popular Morality in the
Time of Plato and Aristotle (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1994 [Oxford:
Blackwell, 1974]).
15. The truth of premise (B) is challenged by Thrasymachus and Callicles. Thrasyma-
chus denies the conventional meaning of justice precisely because justice is not
beneficial, so Socrates moves to another endoxical premise. Callicles is shown why
he cannot deny that temperance is beneficial.
16. Other implications associated with the premise that virtue is like a techrie are that
each branch of knowledge is individuated by its particular subject matter, and
that each knowledge is distinct from what it is a knowledge of (Chrm. 165c-166c).
Furthermore, each teckrie is mastered as a whole subject [Ion 530d-533c).
17. I say 'roughly' to allow for some overlap. For a similar breakdown of interlocutors,
see W. Thomas Schmid's 'Socrates' Practice of Elenchus in the Charmides\ Ancient
Philosophy 1 (1981): 141-47, G. A. Scott, Plato's Socrates as Educator (Albany: State
University of New York Press, 2000), and R. Blondell, The Play ofCharacter in Plato's
Dialogues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002).
18. See D. Nails, The People ofPlato: A Prosopography ofPlato and Other Socratics (Indiana-
polis: Hackett Publishing Co., 2002).
19. Among the non-sophistic group, there are some interlocutors who exhibit sophistic-
like traits, like Ctesippus, Meno and Menexenus. Other non-sophistic interlocutors
are older and have minor roles, like Cephalus, Lysimachus and Melesias. Theo-
dorus, as a friend of Protagoras, might fit into Group 4; he stubbornly refuses to
enter into the dialectic with Socrates, though he gets drawn into it sometimes and
plays an active role in the drama. A miscellaneous group might include: Alcibiades,
Aristophanes, Crito and Cratylus, who are very dramatic characters and seem
unclassifiable. My lists are not intended to be exhaustive.
20. This premise is uncontroversial and provides an instance of endoxical premise (B)
which Socrates also endorses when it is given a Socratic interpretation. The truth of
the premise for Cleinias lies in the belief that whatever is good is that which is to his
benefit, understood broadly to mean better for his body, his reputation and espe-
cially his chances for financial or political success.
21. See R. K. Sprague, Plato's Use of Fallacy: A Study of the Euthydemus and Some Other
Dialogues (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1962).
22. Compare this, for instance, to the way that Protagoras responds to Socrates'
request to tell Hippocrates what he will learn if he becomes a follower. Protagoras
addresses Hippocrates and says, 'Young man, this is what you will get if you study
with me: The very day you start, you will go home a better man, and the same thing
will happen the day after. Every day, day after day, you will get better and better'
(318a8-b2, trans. Lombardo and Bell).
23. This principle is similar to the one mentioned in the Euthydemus (281 d-e), and to the
one identified as Socratic by Nicias in the Laches (184c-d).
24. For instance, at Lysis 221 d-222a, the cause ofphilia is said to be desire and desire ori-
ginates in a deficiency. Socrates asks, 'The desiring thing desires that in which it is
deficient, does it not?' 'Yes.' 'And the deficient is a friend to that in which it is defi-
cient?5 'I suppose so'. Socrates then suggests that we are deficient in 'what belongs to
us by nature and what belongs to us by nature' is what we need to befriend (222a7).
The Socratic view of motivation is reflected in this description of human nature.
Notes 119
25. There are, of course, elenctic features in any discussion in which Socrates questions
what the interlocutor knows and shows him his ignorance. The elenctic and pro-
treptic functions work hand in hand. By focusing primarily on the protreptic side
of the method, I do not mean to imply that the two functions are mutually exclusive
in any sense. What I do wish to emphasize, in going over these particular examples,
is that in cases where there are non-sophistic interlocutors in Group 1, Socrates'
line of argument is fairly straightforward, and represents his moral position to a
large extent.
Chapter 3: Ambiguity and Argumentation

1. Commentators often recognize a strong bifurcation between the 'elenctic' and the
'constructive' Socrates. See R. Blondell, The Play of Character in Plato's Dialogues
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 12-14.
2. H. G. Gadamer speaks of Socrates as the 'master of logical traps' who gets himself
caught up and allows himself to be 'carried along by language and the ambiguities
that it contains'; Plato's Dialectical Ethics: Phenomenological Interpretations Relating to the
Philebus, trans. R. M. Wallace (New Haven and London: Yale University Press,
1983), 57.
3. Aristophanes, The Frogs 1490-1500. Translated by B. B. Rogers (London: Heine-
mann; and Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1924), 433-35.
4. C. Collard, 'Formal Debates in Euripides' Drama', Greece and Rome 22 (1975):
58-71; H. G. Wolz, 'Philosophy as Drama: An Approach to Plato's Dialogues',
International Philosophical Quarterly 3 (1963): 236-70.
5. S. Goldhill, Reading Greek Tragedy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986;.
232-33.
6. F. J. Gonzalez, Dialectic and Dialogue: Plato's Practice of Philosophical Inquiry (Evan-
ston: Northwestern University Press, 1998). For discussion, see especially Chapters
6 and 7.
7. Cf. the passage on misology (Phd. 89d-91c) and Rep. VII (537c-e).
8. J. Kooij, Ambiguity in Natural Language (Amsterdam: North-Holland Publishing.
1971), defines 'ambiguity' as 'that property of a sentence that it can be interpreted
in more than one way', 5; C. Atherton, The Stoics on Ambiguity (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1993), gives a description of ambiguity, rather than a strict
definition, which she says is 'deliberately imprecise', and broad enough to cover
lexical and syntactic ambiguity. Ambiguity 'is a property of linguistic items such
that these items have more than one definite and specific use, meaning, interpreta-
tion, etc.', 16.
9. Grg. 452el-2,454b-c, 488bl-c, 489b-d; Meno, 77c-d.
10. Chrm. 163d-e.
11. G. A. Scott, Plato's Socrates as Educator (Albany: State University of New York Press,
2000), 15-23. Scott notes, '[P]erhaps Socrates would accept that he is an educator
if one means something quite different than would have been connoted by
the term didaskalos\ 16.
12. Aristotle, SE 165b25-166a5. Aristotle's work in this text and in the Topics is rele-
vant to any critical discussion on eristic or sophistical reasoning, ambiguity and
fallacies, which I discuss in detail in Chapter 4. See R. K. Sprague, 'Logic and Lit-
erary Form in Plato', The Personalist 48 (1967): 560-72; cf. idem, Plato's Use of Fal-
lacy: A Study of the Euthydemus and Some Other Dialogues (London: Routledge &
KeganPaul, 1962).
13. Gonzalez, Dialectic and Dialogue, 99-100.
14. Gonzalez, Dialectic and Dialogue, 100.
15. Gonzalez, Dialectic and Dialogue, 103.
16. See W. R. M. Lamb's note on this passage: 'here the apparent quibble of eh
irpdrretu ('act well' and 'fare well') is intended to suggest a real dependence of
happiness upon virtue' (468-69). According to E. R. Dodds, Plato: Gorgias
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1959), 335-36, 'Plato has taken advantage of
the convenient ambiguity of eh TTpdrretu. This phrase, and others of the same
type, normally have the 'passive' sense of'faring well'; but they can also be used of
action'. Dodds notes that 'Plato exploits the same ambiguity' at Charmides 172a2-4.
Dodds believes that Plato was not unaware of the ambiguity of the term. He says
that the ambiguity is again 'called into play' at Rep. I 353e-354a and Ale. I 116b,
and claims that Plato deliberately used eh 'Kparrwixev with a double meaning, at
the end of the Republic (621d3).
17. In his commentary at 172a2-4, T. G. Tuckey says, 'Indeed, it was only by a sophism
that technical perfection became identified with happiness in 172a, since it was first
stated there that the inhabitants of the infallible society would necessarily ei)
Trpdrretu and then that, as eh irpdrroureq, they must be ei£ai\i6ve<C {Plato's Char-
mides, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1951), 74.
18. R. S. W. Hawtrey, Commentary on Plato's Euthydemus (Philadelphia: American Phi-
losophical Society, 1981), 77-78, 84, 90. Regarding the ambiguity oVeuprattein' at
Eud. 278e3 and 282a 1, see Sprague, Plato's Use of Fallacy, 10; T. Irwin, 'Socratic
Puzzles', Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 10 (1992): 241-66, esp. 259-60;
T. Brickhouse and N. Smith, Plato's Socrates (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1994), 113, n. 7; Gonzalez, Dialectic and Dialogue, 94-128; T. Chance, Plato's Euthy-
demus: Analysis of What Is and Is Not Philosophy (Berkeley: University of California
Press, 1992), 65, 239, n. 36.
19. Hawtrey, Commentary on Plato's Euthydemus, 78.
20. See the debate between M. A. Stewart and R. K. Sprague, in the set of articles
called 'Plato's Sophistry', The Aristotelian Society, 51, Supp. (1977): 21-44,45-61.
21. Hawtrey, Commentary on Plato's Euthydemus, 90.
22. Cf. G. Klosko, 'Toward a Consistent Interpretation of the Protagoras', Archiv fur
GeschichtederPhilosophies (1975): 125-42.
23. M. Gifford, 'Dramatic Dialectic in Republic Book V, Oxford Studies in Ancient Philoso-
phy 20 (Summer 2001): 35-106, see especially 85-91.
24. The point is made in note c by Shorey, 30-31.
Notes 121
25. See R. C. Gross and A. D. Woozley, Plato's Republic: A Philosophical Commentary
(London: Macmillan, 1964), especially 21-22; D. J. Allan (trans.), Plato: Republic
Book I (London: Methuen, 1953), especially note on 335b6, 91; A.Jeffrey, 'Polem-
archus and Socrates on Justice and Harm 5 Phronesis 24.1 (1979): 54-69; J. Annas,
An Introduction to Plato's Republic (New York: Oxford University Press, 1981);
J. Beversluis, Cross-examining Socrates: A Defense of the Interlocutors in Plato's Early
Dialogues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 203-220; see Gifford,
'Dramatic Dialectic', for criticisms of Beversluis' position, 79, n. 61; 86, n. 68.
26. Socrates is very familiar with the conventional view about benefits and harms. For
instance, in the Eud. (279a-c); Grg. (467e2-3); Meno (87e); Ap. (36b8-10, cf. 35a-b);
Cr. (46cl-5, 48bl-2). In the Gorgias, Polus mentions such harms as being put
to death, having one's property confiscated and being banished from the city
(466c-d). In a later discussion at 511a, Callicles reminds Socrates that despite
Socrates' claims that the tyrannical ruler is miserable and friendless, such a ruler
can put people to death and take their property. Socrates says, 'I do know that,
Callicles. I'm not deaf. I hear you say it, and heard Polus just now say it many
times, and just about everyone else in the city' (51 lbl-3, trans. Zeyl).
27. A note to this effect occurs in G. M. A. Grube's translation, Plato's Republic, revised
by C.D.C. Reeve (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1992), 10, n. 12. Grube/
Reeve supplies references to the following texts: Chrm. 161a8-9; Eu. 6d9-el; Grg.
506d2-4; Prt. 332b4-6; Rep. I 353d9-354a2.
28. Cf. H. S. Thayer, 'Plato: The Theory and Language of Function', in A. Sesonske
(ed.), Plato's Republic: Interpretation and Criticism (Belmont: Wadsworth Publishing
Co., 1966), 21-39.
29. Cf. Prt. 329d-333b on the reciprocity principle of powers. See J. Zembaty,
'Socrates' Perplexity in Plato's Hippias Minor', in J. Anton and A. Preus (eds),
Essays in Greek Philosophy III (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1989),
51-70; M. Burnyeat, 'Virtues in Action', in G. Vlastos (ed.), Plato: A Collection of
Critical Essays (New York: Doubleday, Anchor Books, 1971), 209-34.
30. Jeffrey, 'Polemarchus and Socrates', makes a similar point, 65—66.
31. Cf. HMin. 366b 10-c 1; Ly. 207e-208e. See T. Penner, 'Desire and Power in Socrates:
The Argument of Gorgias 466a-468e that Orators and Tyrants Have No Power in
the City', Apeiron 24 (1991): 147-201; R. Weiss, 'Killing, Confiscating, and Banish-
ing at Gorgias 466-468', Ancient Philosophy 12 (1992): 299-315; K. McTighe,
'Socrates on Desire for the Good and the Involuntariness of Wrongdoing: Gorgias
466a-468e', in H. H. Benson, (ed.), Essays on the Philosophy of Socrates (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1992), 263-97.
32. Weiss, 'Killing, Confiscating, and Banishing', makes a similar point, 304, n. 14.
Chapter 4: Ambiguity and Drama
1. The distinction between linguistic and non-linguistic fallacies is not as straightfor-

ward as it sounds. In this section, I can do no more than give a bare sketch of
Aristotle's theory of fallacy, and some of its problems. See the introduction of S. G.
Schreiber, Aristotle on False Reasoning: Language and the World in the Sophistical Refuta-
tions (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2003), 1-7, and note 3.
2. Aristotle's first example of homonymy is the manthanein equivocation (165b32~34).
In an amphiboly, an expression may have more than one meaning, even though
none of its components is homonymous, i.e. 'knowing letters' (166a 18-22). The
term 'amphiboly' is sometimes used by Aristotle loosely to refer to double meaning
[Poetics, 1461a25-26; Rh. 1375bll, 1407a37; Topics 160a29). 'Amphiboly' is the
standard term for ambiguity used by the Stoics.
3. This particular formulation of Aristotle's classification comes from C. I. Hamblin,
Fallacies (London: Methuen, 1970), 62-63.1 do not follow Forster's translation on
many of the names for the fallacies in the Loeb edition. For various discussions of
Aristotle's account of ambiguity, see C. Atherton, The Stoics on Ambiguity (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 99-109; R. Edlow, Galen on Language
and Ambiguity (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1977), 17-31; Hamblin, Fallacies, 50-66; W. B.
Stanford, Ambiguity in Greek Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1939),
25-55; C. Kirwan, 'Aristotle and the So-called Fallacy of Equivocation', Philoso-
phical Quarterly 29 (1979): 35-46; J. P. Anton, 'The Aristotelian Doctrine ofHomo-
nyma in the Categories and its Platonic Antecedents', Journal ofthe History of Philosophy
6 (1969): 315-26; T. H. Irwin, 'Homonymy in Aristotle', Review of Metaphysics 34
(1981): 523-44; C. Shields, Order in Multiplicity: Homonymy in the Philosophy of Aris-
totle (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999).
4. For a discussion of how the fallacy types would violate one or more of the
conditions set down in the definition, see Schreiber, Aristotle on False Reasoning,
87-90.
5. Also see Aristotle's point, where a device may be needed: Topics 11 Ib32-112a 15;
cf. SE 172b25-28. Aristotle discusses homonymy and gives advice at Topics 110a23-
110bl5, and 148a23-148b22.
6. R. Wardy, The Birth of Rhetoric: Gorgias, Plato and their Successors (London and New
York: Routledge, 1998), 108-38.
7. Edlow, Galen on Language and Ambiguity; 'The Stoics on Ambiguity', Journal of the
History ofPhilosophy 13 (1975): 423-35.
8. Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, Vol. II, trans. R. D. Hicks (London:
Heinemann, 1931), VII.62, p. 171. Cf. Atherton, The Stoics on Ambiguity, 133, 212-
14; Edlow, Galen on Language and Ambiguity, 423-35. A brief definition of ambiguity
as 'a word or phrase having two or more meanings' which presumably belonged to
the Dogmatists, is given by the skeptic, Sextus Empiricus, in the Outlines of Pyrrhon-
ism (2.256, trans. Bury).
9. Atherton, The Stoics on Ambiguity, 56-58, 107,460, 500.
10. Diogenes, Lives, VII.46-47, p. 157. Cf. A. A. Long, 'Dialectic and the Stoic Sage',
i n j . Rist, The Stoics (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), 101-24.
11. Atherton, The Stoics on Ambiguity, 5 7.
12. Atherton, The Stoics on Ambiguity, 58.
13. Atherton, The Stoics on Ambiguity, 107.
Notes 123
14. Atherton, The Stoics on Ambiguity, 123, as reported by Sextus (Against the Professors
11.22). She refers to both Galen (94-99) and Alexander of Aphrodisias (122-25)
as heavily criticizing the Stoics for assigning their own meaning to terms.
15. Stanford, Ambiguity in Greek Literature; Simon Goldhill, Reading Greek Tragedy (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986); and J. P. Vernant and P. Vidal-
Naquet, Myth and Tragedy in Ancient Greece, trans. Janet Lloyd (New York: Zone
Books, 1988).
16. Stanford, Ambiguity in Greek Literature, 17.
18. Cf. C. Gill (trans.), Plato: The Symposium (London: Penguin Books, 1999), 74.
19. Cf. Prt. 337a-c; Crat. 384b-c; La. 197d; Chrm. 163a-b; Eud. 277e; Meno 75e, 96d.
20. The Greek word'demos' has a wide range of meanings; see LSJ, 176-77.
22. Aristotle mentions this type of rhetorical strategy of calling attention to some-
one's name in argument (Rh. 1400b 17-30). Socrates makes this move with Polus
(Grg. 4632-3).
23. Cf. D. Sedley, Plato's Cratylus (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003);
C. D. C. Reeve (trans.), Plato: Cratylus (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co.,
1998).
24. The point I am making here is developed further by J. Gordon, Turning Toward
Philosophy (University Park: Pennsylvania University State Press, 1999), 113.
25. Euripides, Bacchae 968. S. Esposito (trans.), Euripides: Four Plays. Medea, Hippolytus,
Heracles, Bacchae (Newburyport, MA: Focus Publishing Co., 2002), 246.
26. D. Walton, Fallacies Arisingfrom Ambiguity (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publish-
ers, 1996). Walton provides a conversational approach to the fallacies of ambiguity
which contrasts with the formalist view.
27. J. Beversluis, Cross-examining Socrates: A Defense of the Interlocutors in Plato's Early
Dialogues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 41-42. For a critical
review, see C. Gill, 'Speaking Up for Plato's Interlocutors: A Discussion of
J. Beversluis, Cross-examining Socrates', Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 20 (2001):
297-321.
28. Aristotle, Rh. 11.24.
29. Aristotle, Rh. 1419b2-4; cf. Grg. 473e.
30. Aristotle talks about the principles of delivery that a speaker should bear in mind
and though the 'whole business of rhetoric' is 'concerned with appearances, we
must pay attention to the subject of delivery, unworthy though it is, because we
cannot do without it' (Rh. 1404a2-4).
31. The comedies of Aristophanes and their enormous impact on Plato and his style of
writing are discussed by P.A. Vander Waerdt, 'Socrates in the Clouds', in idem
(ed.), The Socratic Movement (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994), 48-86;
M. Lutz, Socrates' Education to Virtue: Learning the Love ofthe Noble (Albany: State Uni-
versity of New York Press, 1998).
32. J. S. Murray, 'Interpreting Plato on Sophistic Claims and the Provenance of the
"Socratic Method"', Phoenix 48 (1994): 115-34.
33. Aristotle says, Tor what makes the sophist is not the faculty but the moral purpose'
(Rh. 1355b 18-22; d. Metaph. 1004b23-26).
34. Cf. Aristotle's comments on the distinction between eristic and non-eristic sophis-
try (SE 171b21-34).
35. J. Gentzler, 'The Sophistic Cross-examination of Callicles in the Gorgias\ Ancient
Philosophy 15 (1995): 17-43; K. McTighe, 'Socrates on Desire for the Good and
the Involuntariness of Wrongdoing: Gorgias 466a-468e', in H. H. Benson (ed.).
Essays on the Philosophy ofSocrates (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 263-97.
36. A. W. Nightingale, Genres in Dialogue: Plato and the Construct of Philosophy (Gam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993).
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Index
adhominem aspect of Socratic method dialectic 3-7, 13-14, 60, 66,91, 94-5,
8-9,16,47,57,66 99-100, 105-9
adversarial approaches 109 dialectical conduct 109
ambiguity 57-68, 72-5,80-5,92, dialectical context 95, 105
94-105, 108-9 dialectical enquiry 55
creative use of 101-4 Diogenes Laertius 100
as a dialectical strategy 83 double meanings 72-5,80, 96-104,
semantic 32~7,40,43-6,68 108
and the Stoics 100-1 drama 57,62,94,101,111
syntactic 67 dramatic irony 101-2
tragic 104 dramatic level of reading see internal
verbal 1-2, 13, 30, 57-8, 75, 100-1 frame
amphiboly 67,96, 98
analogy, use of 81-3 Elea 64
antilogikl 64 elenchos 3, 6, 15, 19, 28, 58, 66
Apology, the 26, 28, 70 constructivist view of 6—8
aporetic dialogue 17 definition of 6
aporia 1, 8, 21, 32, 34,60,94, 110 problem of 7
and the elenctic function 17-18 elenctic arguments 8, 16,19, 28-30,
psychological effects of 16-17 34-5, 80, 93-4, 106
Aristophanes 10, 16, 61, 101, 106 elenctic function 3, 7-13, 22, 33-4,
Aristotle 95-101,105-6 58-60, 104, 109
Atherton, Catherine 100-1 and aporia 17-18
Empedocles 99
belief systens 37 endoxa 1,7,30
use of 39-43
capacity, terminology referring to 69 endoxical beliefs 37-40
Charmides, the 53-4, 60, 66, 72 endoxical premises 23, 30-4, 40-6,
covert beliefs 22 55-6, 68-9,93
Cratylus, the 36,103-4 and the protreptic function 43-6
Crito, the 24,54-5,110 regulative 1,40-3,69
cross-questioning 10,59 substantive 40-3
epistemic function 3, 5, 12,58-63, 109
debating tactics and styles 99, 109-10 equivocation 67-75,80-2, 90, 97, 105,
deception 105, 108 108
Delphic oracle 104 eristic style of discourse 49—51,64—6,95,
demos 8,23,102 108-9
134 Index
essentialist assumption 59—60 internal frame 4-5,14

ethos, Socratic 14 irony 38, 43, 59-60,101, 109
etymological analysis 103 irrelevant conclusion 97, 105
euprattein, translation of 72-4 Irwin, Terence 5
eudaimonism
moral 11 joint inquiry in search for truth 6
psychological 1-2,11, 26-8, 32, 89 justice, concept of 55-6, 76-85, 93
eudaimonist principle 32, 44, 90-1
Euripides 14,101,104 kalon, translation of 45
Euthydemus, the 11, 20, 26-7,48-51, 64, knowledge, terminology referring to
70-1,95,103,108,110 68
exhortation 35-9,48
Laches, the 60
existential dimension of Socratic method
8,19 learning, meanings of 71-2
literary interpretation 10 7
fallacy 95-100,105-6,111 literary level of reading see textual frame
formalist view of 95 literary tradition 111
linguistic 97 logic, reductive 105
types of 96 logos 110
Long, A. A. 15
Galen 100-1 love, definition of 65
Gifford, Mark 76 Lysis, the 48,51-2
Goldhill, Simon 62,101
meaning, clarification of 69-71
Gonzalez, Francisco 72
means-end framework 92
good
medical treatment 54
desire for 26-7,43-4,56
Meno,the 44,60,70,110
different conceptions of 44, 91
metaphor, use of 99
Gorgias, the 20, 24, 27-8,45, 72, 85,
moral aims 8-10,85
106,110
defence of 14-16
moral beliefs 22, 28-31,107
harm, concepts of 80-3
moral improvement see self-improvement
Hawtrey, R.S.W. 73-4
moral and non-moral contexts 84-5
Heraclitus 62,99,104
motivation, terminology referring to
Hermogenes 103
68-9
Hesiod 41-2
Hippias Minor 87 names of characters, descriptive 102—3
Homer 78, 101 Nietzsche, Friedrich 16
homonymy 67,96 nomos/phusis debate 24
hortatory argument 48 normative use of technique 106-9
human nature 23, 26, 32
hypothesis, method of 3-4,66, 111 Oedipus Tyrannos 104
oratory 87-9
innuendo, dramatic 95
integrity of interlocutors 19-20, 30, 107 Peloponnesian War 24, 76
intelligence, conceptions of 87-8, 91 Phaedo, the 70,110
interlocutors, classification of 46-8 Phaedrus, the 6 3 - 6
intermediate things (neither good nor bad) phusis 24
90 Pittacus 102
Index 135
plasticity 15 self-knowledge 1,9-13,19, 25-6,55, 70,
Plato 2-5, 8-11, 15-21, 29-30, 36-7, 107, 109
43-6, 57-66, 76-80,95,101-6, shame 1,8,16,23-6,32,94
110-11 Simonides 42, 77, 102
Platonic justification 14-15 sincerity, demand for 1,8,16-23,32,42,
poetry 101-4, 107-8 107
power, desirability of 86-7, 92-3 Slings, S.R. 39
Presocratics 62 Socratic method
Prodicus 102 aim of 9
Protagoras, the 26, 38, 52-3, 70, 73-4 benefits of 110
protreptic, Socratic 32-3, 106 limitations of 4
direct and indirect 35-7,49 purpose of 109
protreptic arguments 12, 16, 27, 30, as a revisionist methodology 94
53-8, 72, 94 see also more specific headings
definition of 55 Sophistici Elenchi 95, 97
indirect 55 Sophists 10,15, 25,38,42,46-8, 52-3,
protreptic discourse 46-7 62-8,102, 106-9
examples of 48-55 Sophocles 101, 104
protreptic function 3, 7, 11-13, 22, 30, souls
34-9,66,73,80,104-6 care for 39,53,55, 107
definition of 43 compared to bodies 46, 53-4, 66
and three endoxical premises 43-6 improvement of 9-12, 22, 27,93
protreptic premises 33, 43, 93 Socrates' assumptions about 32
definition of 55 speech-making 106
psychological impact of Socratic method Stanford, W.B. 101-3
20,94 Stoics 100-1, 105
psychological model of Socratic method subordinate goods 27
5,8,14 Symposium, the 61, 110
synonyms 99
reading of dialogues, first-order and
second-order 4 teaching, meanings of 70
refutation 17-18, 27-8, 33-5,43-5, techne 75-8, 82, 87
71-86,90-8,104-6,109-10 textual frame 4
Aristotle's definition of 96 Theaetetus, the 20-1
dialectical 97 Thucydides 62
persectives on 104-6 Topics, the 39-40,95,98-9
sophistical 97 tragic drama 62,101
retribution 81 truth-seeking 6-9,43, 109-10
Rhetoric, the 99
value, terminology referring to 68
rhetorical techniques 37,47, 63-6, 70, Vernant, Jean-Pierre 101
86-8,92-3,99,106-9 Vidal-Naquet, Pierre 101
Robinson, Richard 5 virtue 43-5,56
Vlastos, Gregory 5-8,19, 22, 28
Santas, Gerasimos 5
secundum quid 7 5 , 8 1 , 108 wordplay 103
self-improvement, moral 1, 3,9, 12,32,
106,110 Zalmoxian medical practice 54
self-interest 56 Zeno 62,64

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THE SOGRATIC METHOD

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Aristotle's Ethics, Hope May

Plato's Use of Philosophical Drama

REBECCA BENSEN CAIN

© Rebecca Bensen Cain 2007

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Chapter 1: The Socratic Method of Dialectic 1

Chapter 2: The Protreptic Function 32

Chapter 3: Ambiguity and Argumentation 57

A Detour to the Phaedrus 63

Chapter 4: Ambiguity and Drama 94

The Socratic Method of Dialectic

In this study, I propose a psychological model of Socratic method (SM).

I address claim (v) in Chapter 3, which begins with a discussion of the

In the model, I propose three main dialectical activities of SM: refutation,

Socrates' narrative of his changing point of view. A distinctively metaphys-

Vlastos' Epistemological Model

SM with the Socratic practice of cross-examination known as the elenchos.

The Moral Aim

The first step in explaining the psychological model of SM is to clarify

Examples from the Texts

The controversy over whether Socrates, as he is presented in Plato's dia-

In the Euthydemus, Socrates urges Cleinias to submit himself to the eristic

Overview of the Three Functions

In this section, I introduce the three modes of discourse of SM briefly with

A major part of my thesis is to argue that Socrates uses ambiguity, in

The personal dimension, quick adaptability and lofty moral intentions

being presented in strong opposition both to the conventional norms of his

Aporia and its Psychological Effects

In general, elenctic arguments are constructed by the questioner to refute

Aporia and the Elenctic Function

In a refutation, there is usually a series of five identifiable stages. Socrates

Sincerity and Integrity

Examples from the Texts

Sincerity and Sincere Assent

The sincerity that an interlocutor brings to the discussion determines the

Socratic Method and Shame

further depth, the interlocutor's relationship to shame is one of the keys

The Psychological Principle of Eudaimonism

The general principle of eudaimonism is a normative, teleological principle

Conclusion: A Constructive Approach

The central disagreement I have with Vlastos5 account is his attempt to

concern to present Socrates as a paradigm of someone who is morally and

I have brought together a number of features which show that the SM is

The Protreptic Function

The Elenctic and Protreptic Functions

The Elenctic Function

The Protreptic Function

be steadfast and enduring in our inquiry' (194a 1-3). Socrates commends

Do not go on imagining that it is my business to be straining every nerve to

framework of the discussion towards the consideration of a Socratic posi-

Examples from the Texts

The Use of Endoxa

The term 'endoxa9 refers to the commonly accepted or reputable opinions of

where he defines endoxical beliefs as 'those accepted by everyone or by