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Grice e Carando – l’implicatura di
Socrate – filosofia italiana – Luigi
Speranza (Pettinengo). Filosofo italiano. Grice: “I like
Carando; a typical Italian philosopher, got his ‘laurea,’ and attends literary
salons! – There is a street named after him – whereas at Oxford the most we
have is a “Logic lane!” -- Ennio Carando
(Pettinengo), filosofo. Studia a Torino. Si avvicina all'anti-fascismo attraverso
l'influenza di Juvalta (con cui discusse la tesi di laurea) e di Martinetti.
Collaborò alla Rivista di filosofia di Martinetti, dove pubblicò un saggio su
Spir. Insegna a Cuneo, Modena, Savona, La Spezia. Sebbene fosse quasi
completamente cieco dopo l'armistizio si diede ad organizzare formazioni
partigiane in Liguria e in Piemonte (fu anche presidente del secondo CLN
spezzino). Era ispettore del Raggruppamento Divisioni Garibaldi nel Cuneese,
quando fu catturato in seguito ad una delazione. Sottoposto a torture atroci, non tradì i
compagni di lotta e fu trucidato con il fratello Ettore, capitano di artiglieria
a cavallo in servizio permanente effetivo e capo di stato maggiore della I
Divisione Garibaldi. Un filosofo socratico. La metafisica civile di un filosofo
socratico. Partigiano. Dopo l'armistizio Ennio
Carando, che insegnava a La Spezia presso il Liceo Classico Costa, entrò
attivamente nella lotta di liberazione organizzando formazioni partigiane in
Liguria e in Piemonte. A chi gli chiedeva di non avventurarsi in quella
decisione così pericolosa rispondeva fermamente: "Molti dei miei allievi
sono caduti: un giorno i loro genitori potrebbero rimproverarmi di non aver
avuto il loro stesso coraggio". For centuries the First Alkibiades was
respected as a major dialogue in the Platonic corpus. It was considered
by the Academy to be the proper introduction to the study of Plato's
dialogues, and actually formed the core of the serious beginner's study
of philosophy. Various ancient critics have written major commentaries
upon the dialogue (most of which have subsequently been lost). In short,
it was looked upon as a most important work by those arguably in the best
position to know. In comparatively recent times the First
Alkibiades has lost its status. Some leading Platonic scholars judge it
to be spurious, and as a result it is seldom read as seriously as several
other Platonic dialogues. This thesis attempts a critical examination of
the dialogue with an eye towards deciding which judgement of it, the
ancient or the modern, ought to be accepted. I wish to take advantage of
this opportunity at last to thank my mother and father and my sister.
Lea, who have always given freely of themselves to assist me. I am also
grateful to my friends, in particular Pat Malcolmson and Stuart Bodard,
who, through frequent and serious conversations proved themselves to be
true dialogic partners. Thanks are also due to Monika Porritt for her
assistance with the manuscript. My deepest gratitude and affection
extend to Leon Craig, to whom I owe more than I am either able, or
willing, to express here. Overpowering curiosity may be aroused in a
reader upon his noticing how two apparently opposite men, Socrates and
Alkibiades, are drawn to each other's conversation and company. Such
seems to be the effect achieved by the First Alkibiades , a dialogic
representation of the beginning of their association. Of all the people named
in the titles of Platonic dialogues, Alkibiades was probably the most
famous. It seems reasonable to assume that one's appreciation of the
dialogue would be en¬ hanced by knowing as much about the historical
Alkibiades as would the typical educated Athenian reader. Accordingly,
this examination of the dialogue will commence by recounting the major
events of Alkibiades' scareer, on the premise that such a reminder may enrich a
philosophic understanding of the First Alkibiades. The historical
Alkibiades was born to Kleinias and Deinomakhe. Although the
precise date of his birth remains unknown (cf. 121d), it was most
surely before 450 B.C. His father, Kleinias, was one of the wealthy
men in Athens, financially capable of furnishing and outfitting a
trireme in wartime. Of Deinomakhe we know nothing save that she was well
born. As young children Alkibiades and his brother, Kleinias, lost
their father 4 in battle and were made wards of their
uncle, the renowned Penkles. He is recognized by posterity as one
of the greatest statesmen of Greece. Athens prospered during his lengthy
rule in office and flourished to such an extent that the "Golden Age
of Greece" is also called the "Age of Perikles." When Alkibiades
came under his care, Perikles held the highest office in Athens and
governed almost continuously until his death which occurred shortly after
the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War. At an early age Alkibiades
was distinguished for his striking beauty and his multi-faceted
excellence. He desired to be triumphant in all he undertook and generally
was so. In games and sport with other boys he is said to have taken a
lion's share of victories. There are no portraits of Alkibiades in
existence from which one might judge his looks, but it is believed that
he served his contemporaries as the standard artistic model for
representations of the gods. No doubt partly because of his appearance
and demeanor, he strongly influenced his boyhood companions. For example,
it was rumored that Alkibiades was averse to the flute because it
prevented the player from singing, as well as dis¬ figuring his face.
Refusing to take lessons, he referred to Athenian deities as exemplars,
calling upon Athena and Apollon who had shown disdain for the flute and for
flautists. Within a short time flute-playing had ceased to be
regarded as a standard part of the curriculum for a gentleman's education.
Alkibiades was most surely the talk of the town among the young men
and it is scarcely a wonder that tales of his youthful escapades abound.
Pursued by many lovers, he for the most part scorned such attentions. On
one occasion Anytos, who was infatuated with Alkibiades, invited him to a
dinner party. Instead, Alkibiades went drinking with some of his friends.
During the evening he collected his servants and bade them interrupt
Anytos' supper and remove half of the golden cups and silver ornaments
from the table. Alkibiades did not even bother to enter. The other guests
grumbled about this hybristic treatment of Anytos, who responded that on the
contrary Alkibiades had been moderate and kind in leaving half when he
might have absconded with all. Alkibiades certainly seems to have enjoyed
an extraordinary sway over some of his admirers. Alkibiades sought to
enter Athenian politics as soon as he became eligible and at about
that time he first met Socrates. The First Alkibiades is a dramatic
representation of what might have happened at that fateful meeting. Fateful it
was indeed, for the incalculable richness of the material it has provided for
later thought as well as for the lives of the two men. By his own admission,
Alkibiades felt that his feeling shame could be occasioned only by
Socrates. Though it caused him discomfort, Alkibiades nevertheless
chronically returned to occasion to save Alkibiades' life. The
generals were about to confer on him a prize for his valor but he insisted
it be awarded to AlkiThis occurred near the beginning of their
friendship, at the start of the Peloponnesian War. Later, during
the Athenian defeat at the battle of Delion, Alkibiades repaid him
in kind. In the role of cavalryman, he defended Socrates who was on foot.
Shortly thereafter, Alkibiades charged forward into politicsbiades.,
campaigns he mounted invariably meeting with success. Elected strategos
(general) in 420 B.C. on the basis of his exploits, he was one of the
youngest ever to wield such high authority. Generally opposing Nikias and
the plan for peace, Alkibiades as the leader of the democrats allied
Athens with various enemies of Sparta. His grandiose plans for the navy
rekindled Athenian ambitions for empire which had been at best smouldering
since the death of Perikles. Alkibiades' policy proposals favored the
escalation of the war, and he vocally supported Athens' con¬ tinuation of
her position as the imperial power in the Mediterranean. His first
famous plan, the Athenian alliance with Argos, is recounted in detail by
Thucydides. Thucydides provides an especially vivid portrait of
Alkibiades and indicates that he was unexcelled, both in terms
of diplomatic maneuvering and rhetorical ability. By arranging for
the Spartan envoys to modify their story from day to day, he
managed to make Nikias look foolish in his trust of them. Although
Alkibiades suffered a temporary loss of command, his continuing rivalry
with Nikias secured him powerful influence in Athens, which was
heightened by an apparent failure of major proportions by Nikias in
Thrace. Alkibiades' sustained opposition to Nikias prompted some of the
radical democrats under Hyperbolos to petition for an ostrakismos . This
kind of legal ostracism was a device intended primarily for the over¬
turning of stalemates. With a majority of the vote an ostrakismos could
be held. Citizens would then write on a potsherd the name of the one man
in all of Attika they would like to see exiled. There has been famous
ostracisms before this time, some ofwhich were almost immediately
regretted (e.g., Aristeides the Just, in 482 B.C.). At any rate,
Hyperbolos campaigned to have Alkibiades ostracized. Meanwhile, in one of
their rare moments of agreement, Alkibiades persuaded Nikias to join with
him in a counter-campaign to ensure that the percentage of votes required
to effect Alkibiades' exile would not be attained. They were so successful
that the result of the ostrakismos was the exile of Hyperbolos. That was
Athen's last ostrakismos. Thucydides devotes two books (arguably the most
beautiful of his History of the Peloponnesian War) to the Sicilian
Expedition. This campaign Alkibiades instigated is considered by many to
be his most note¬ worthy adventure, and was certainly one of the major
events of the war. Alkibiades debated with Nikias and convinced the
Ekklesia (assembly) to launch the expedition. Clearly no match for
Alkibiades' rhetoric, Nikias, according to the speeches of
Thucydudes, worked an effect opposite his intentions when he warned
the Athenians of the ex- 19 Rather than being daunted
by the magnitude of the cost of the pense expedition, the
Athenians were eager to supply all that was necessary. This enthusiasm was
undoubtedly enhanced by the recent reports of the vast wealth of
Sicily. Nikias, Alkibiades and Lamakhos were appointed
co-commanders with full power (giving them more political authority
than anyone in Athen's recent history). Immediately prior to
the start of the expedition, the Hermai throughout Athens were
disfigured. The deed was a sacrilege as well as 22 a
bad omen for the expedition. Enemies of Alkibiades took this oppor¬
tunity to link him with the act since he was already suspected of pro¬faning
the Eleusian Mysteries and of generally having a hybristic dis¬ regard
for the conventional religion. He was formally charged with impiety.
Alkibiades wanted to have his trial immediately, arguing it would
not be good to command a battle with the charge remaining undecided. His
enemies, who suspected the entire military force would take Alkibiades'
side, urged that the trial be postponed so as not to delay the awaiting
fleet's scheduled departure. As a result they sailed with Alkibiades'
charge untried. When the generals arrived at Rhegion, they
discovered that the 24 stories of the wealth of the
place had been greatly exaggerated. Nonetheless, Alkibiades and
Lamakhos voted together against Nikias to remain and accomplish what they
had set out to do. Alkibiades thought it prudent that they first
establish which of their allies actually had been secured, and to
try to persuade the rest. Most imperative, he 26
believed, was the persuasion of the Messenians. The Messenians would
not admit Alkibiades at first, so he sailed to Naxos and then to
Katana. Naxos allied with Athens readily, but it is suspected that
the Katanaians had some force used upon them. Before the Athenians could
address the Messenians or the Rhegians, both of whom held important
geographic positions and were influential, a ship arrived to take
Alkibiades back to Athens. During his absence from Athens, his
enemies had worked hard to increase suspicion that he had been
responsible for the sacrilege, and now, with the populace aroused
against Alkibiades, they urged he be 28 immediately
recalled. Alkibiades set sail to return in his own ship, filled
with his friends. At Thouri they escaped and went to the
Peloponnese. Meanwhile the Athenians sentenced him to death. He revealed
to the Spartans his idea that Messenian support in the west was
crucial to Athens. The Spartans weren't willing to trust Alkibiades
given his generally anti- Spartan policies, and they particularly
did not appreciate his past treatment of the Spartan envoys. In a
spectacular speech, as recounted by Thucydides, Alkibiades defended
himself and his conduct in leaving 30 Athens. Along with a
delegation of Korinthians and Syrakusans, Alkibiades argued for Sparta's
participation in the war in Sicily. He also suggested to them that their
best move against Athens was to fortify a post at Dekelia in
Attika. In short, once again Alkibiades proved himself to be a
master of diplomacy, knowing the right thing to say at any given
time, even among sworn enemies. The Spartans welcomed Alkibiades. Because
of his knowledge of Athenian affairs, they acted 32
upon his advice about Dekelia (413 B.C.). Alkibiades did further
service for Sparta by inciting some Athenian allies in Asia Minor, par¬
ticularly at Khios, to revolt. He also suggested to Tissaphernes, the
Persian satrap of Asia Minor, that he ought to consider an alliance
with 33 Sparta. However, in 412 B.C. Alkibiades
lost favor with the Spartans. His loyalty was in doubt and he was
suspected of having seduced the Spartan queen; she became pregnant during
a long absence of the king. Alkibiades prudently moved on, this
time fleeing to the Persian court of Tissaphernes where he served
as an advisor to the satrap. He counselled Tissaphernes
to ally neither with Sparta nor with Athens; it would be in his
best interests to let them wear each other down. Tissaphernes was
pleased with this advice and soon listened to Alkibiades on most
matters, having, it seems, complete confidence in him. Alkibiades
told him to lower the rate of pay to the Spartan navy in order to
moderate their activities and ensure proper conduct. He should also
economize and reduce expenditures. Alkibiades cautioned him against
being too hurried in his wish for a victory. Tissaphernes was so
delighted with Alkibiades' counsel that he had the most beautiful
park in his domain named after him and developed into a luxury
resort. The Athenian fleet, in the meantime, was at Samos, and with
it lay the real power of Athens. The city had been brought quite low
by the war, especially the Sicilian expedition, which left in the hands
of the irresolute and superstitious Nikias turned out to be disastrous
for the Athenians. Alkibiades engaged in a conspiracy to promote an
oligarchic revolution in Athens, ostensibly to ensure his own acceptance
there. How¬ ever, when the revolution occurred, in 411 B.C., and the
Council of Four 37 Hundred was established, Alkibiades
did not associate himself with it. He attached himself to the fleet
at Samos and relayed to them the promise of support he had exacted from
Tissaphernes. The support was not forth¬ coming, however, but despite the
sentiment among some of the Athenians at Samos that Alkibiades intended
to trick them, the commanders and 38 soldiers were
confident that Athens could never rise without Alkibiades. They appointed
him general and re-instated him as the chief-in-command of the Athenian
Navy. He sent a message to the oligarchic Council of Four Hundred in
Athens telling them he would support a democratic boule of 5,000 but that
the Four Hundred would have to disband. There was no immediate
response. In the meantime, with comparatively few men and ships,
Alkibiades managed to deflect the Spartans from their plan to form
an alliance with the Persian fleet. Alkibiades became an
increasingly popular general among the men at Samos, and with his
rhetorical abilities he dissuaded them from adopting policies that
would likely have proven disastrous. He insisted they be more
moderate, for example, in their treatment of unfriendly
ambassadors, such as those from Athens. The Council of Four Hundred
sent an emissary to Samos, but Alkibiades was firm in his refusal to
support them. This pleased the democrats, and since most of the
oligarchs were by this time split into several factions, the rule of
the 40 Four Hundred fragmented of its own accord.
Alkibiades sent advice from Samos as to the form of government the 5,000
should adopt, but he still 42 did not consider it the
proper time for his own return. During this time Alkibiades and the
Athenian fleet gained major victories, defeating the Spartans at
Kynossema, at Abydos (411 B.C.), and 43 at Kyzikos
(410 B.C.) Seeking to regain some control, Tissaphernes
had Alkibiades arrested on one occasion when he approached in a
single ship. It was a diplomatic visit, not a battle, yet
Tissaphernes had him imprisoned. Within a month, however,
Alkibiades and his men escaped. In order to ensure that
Tissaphernes would live to regret the arrest, Alkibiades caused a
story to be widely circulated to the effect that Tissaphernes had
arranged the escape. Suffice it to say the Great King of Persia was not
pleased. Alkibiades also recovered Kalkhedonia and Byzantion for the
Athenians. After gathering money from various sources and assuring
himself of the security of Athenian control of the Hellespont, he
at last decided to return to Athens. It had been an absence of
seven years. 46 He was met with an enthusiastic
reception in the Peiraeus. All charges against him were dropped and
the prevailing sentiment among the Athenians was that had they only
trusted in his leadership, they would still be the great empire they had
been. With the hope that he would be able to restore to them some of
their former glory, they appointed Alkibiades general with full powers, a
most extraordinary command. He gained further support from the Athenians
when he led the procession to Eleusis (the very mysteries of which he had
earlier been suspected of blaspheming) on the overland route. Several
years earlier, through fear of the Spartans at Dekelia, the procession
had broken tradition and gone by sea. This restoration of tradition
ensured Alkibiades political support from the more pious sector of the
public who had been hesitant about 48 him. He had so
consolidated his political support by this time that such ever persons
as opposed him wouldn't have dared to publicly declare 49
their opinions. Alkibiades led a number of successful
expeditions over the next year and the Athenians were elated with
his command. He had never failed in a military undertaking and the
men in his fleet came to regard themselves a higher class of soldier. However,
an occasion arose during naval actions near Notion when Alkibiades had to
leave the major part of his fleet under the command of another captain
while he sailed to a near¬ by island to levy funds. He left instructions
not to engage the enemy under any circumstances, but during his absence a
battle was fought none¬ theless. Alkibiades hurriedly returned but
arrived too late to salvage victory. Many men and ships were lost to the
Spartans. Such was his habit of victory that the people of Athens
suspected that he must have wanted to lose. They once again revoked his
citizenship. Alkibiades left Athens for the last time in 406 B.C.
and retired to a castle he had built long before. Despite his
complete loss of civic status with the Athenians, his concern for
them did not cease. In his last attempt to assist Athens against
the Spartan fleet under Lysander, Alkibiades made a special journey
at his own expense to advise the new strategoi . He cautioned them
that what remained of the Athenian fleet was moored at a very
inconvenient place, and that the men should be held in tighter rein
given the proximity of Lysander's ships. They disregarded his
advice with utter contempt (only to regret it upon their almost
52 immediate defeat) and Alkibiades returned to his private
retreat. There he stayed in quiet luxury until assassinated one night in
404 B.C. The participants in the First Alkibiades , Socrates and
Alkibiades, seem at first blush to be thoroughly contrasting. To start
with appear¬ ances, the physical difference between the two men who meet
this day could hardly be more extreme. Alkibiades, famous throughout
Greece for his beauty, is face to face with Socrates who is notoriously
ugly. They are each represented in a dramatic work of the period. Aristophanes
refers to Alkibiades as a young lion; he is said to have described
54 Socrates as a "stalking pelican." Alkibiades is
so handsome that his figure and face served as a model for sculptures
of Olympian gods on high temple friezes. Socrates is referred to as
being very like the popular representation of siloni and satyrs;
the closest he attains to Olympian heights is Aristophanes'
depiction of him hanging in a basket from the 55
rafters of an old house. Pre-eminent among citizens for his
wealth and his family, Alkibiades is speaking with a man of non-descript
lineage and widely advertised poverty. Alkibiades, related to a family of
great men, is the son of Kleinias and Deinomakhe, both of royal lineage.
Socrates, who is the son of Sophroniskos the stone-mason and Phainarete
the midwife, does not seem to have such a spectacular ancestry. Even
as a boy Alkibiades was famous for his desire to win and his ambition for
power. Despite being fearful of it, people are familiar with political
ambition and so believe they understand it. To them, Alkibiades seemed
the paragon of the political man. But Socrates was more of a mystery to
the typical Athenian. He seemed to have no concern with im¬ proving his
political or economic status. Rather, he seemed preoccupied to the point
of perversity with something he called 'philosophy, 1 literally 'love of
wisdom.' Alkibiades sought political office as soon as he became of age.
He felt certain that in politics he could rise above all Athenians past
and present. His combined political and military success made it possible
for him to be the youngest general ever elected. Socrates, by contrast,
said that he was never moved to seek office; he served only when he was
required (by legal appointment). In his lifetime Socrates was considered
to have been insufficiently concerned with his fellows' opinions about
him, whereas from his childhood people found Alkibiades' attention to the
demos remarkable - in terms either of his quickness at following their
cue, or of his setting the trend. Both men were famous for their
speaking ability, but even in this they contrast dramatically. The
effects of their speech were different. Alkibiades could persuade
peop le, and so nations, to adopt his political proposals, even
when he had been regarded as an enemy. Socrates' effect was far less
widespread. Indeed, for most people acquainted with it, Socratic speech
was suspect. People were moved by Alkibiades' rhetoric despite their
knowing that that was his precise intention. It was Socrates, however,
who was accused of making the weaker argument defeat the stronger, though
he explicitly renounced such intentions. Alkibiades' long moving speeches
persuaded many large assemblies. Socrates' style of question and answer
was not nearly so popular, and convinced fewer men. Socrates is
reputed to have never been drunk, regardless of how much he had imbibed.
This contrasts with the (for the most part) notoriously indulgent life of
Alkibiades. He remains famous to this day for several of his drunken
escapades, one of which is depicted by Plato in a famous dialogue. Though
both men were courageous and competent in war, Socrates never went
to battle unless called upon, and distinguished himself only during
general retreats. Alkibiades was so eager for war and all its attendant
glories that he even argued in the ekklesia for an Athenian escalation of
the war. He was principally responsible for the initiation of the
Sicilian expedition and was famous for his bravery in wanting to go ever
further forward in battle. It was, instead, battles in speech for which
Socrates seemed eager; perhaps it is a less easily observed brand of
courage which is demanded for advance and retreat in such clashes.
Both men could accommodate their lifestyles to fit with the circum¬
stances in which they found themselves, but as these were decidedly dif¬
ferent, so too were their manners of adaptation. Socrates remained ex¬
clusively in Athens except when accompanying his fellow Athenians on one
or two foreign wars. Alkibiades travelled from city to city, and seems to
have adjusted well. He got on so remarkably well at the Persian court
that the Persians thought he was one of them; and at Sparta they could
not believe the stories of his love of luxury. But, despite his outward
con¬ formity with all major Athenian conventions, Socrates was st
ill con¬ sidered odd even in his home city. In a more
speculative vein, one might observe that neither Alkibiades nor Socrates
are restricted because of their common Athenian citizenship, but again in
quite different senses. Socrates, willing (and eager) to converse with,
educate and improve citizen and non-citizen alike, rose above the polis
to dispense with his need for it. Alkibiades, it seems, could not do
without political or public support (as Socrates seems to have), but he
too did not need Athens in particular. He could move to any polis and
would be recognized as an asset to any community. Socrates didn't receive
such recognition, but he did not need it. Still, Alkibiades, like
Socrates, retained an allegiance to Athens until his death and continued
to perform great deeds in her service. Despite their outwardly
conventional piety (e.g., regular observance of religious festivals),
Alkibiades and Socrates were both formally charged with impiety, but the
manner of their alleged violations was different. Alkibiades was
suspected of careless blasphemy and con¬ temptuous disrespect, of
profaning the highest of the city's religious Mysteries; Socrates was
charged with worshipping other deities than those allowed, but was
suspected of atheism. Though both men were convicted and sentenced to
death, Alkibiades refused to present himself for trial and so was
sentenced in absentia . Socrates, as we know, conducted his own defense,
and, however justly or unjustly, was legally convicted and condemned.
Alkibiades escaped when he had the chance and sought refuge in Sparta;
Socrates refused to take advantage of a fully arranged escape from his
cell in Athens. Alkibiades, a comparatively young man, lived to see his
sentence subsequently withdrawn. Socrates seems to have done his best not to
have his sentence reduced. His rela¬ tionship with Athens had been quite
constant. Old charges were easily brought to bear on new ones, for the
Athenians had come to entertain a relatively stable view of him.
Alkibiades suffered many reverses of status with the Athenians.
Surprised from his sleep, Alkibiades met his death fighting with
assassins, surrounded by his enemies. After preparing to drink the hem¬
lock, Socrates died peacefully, surrounded by his friends. It seems
likely that Plato expects these contrasts to be tacitly in the mind of the
reader of the First Alkibiades . They heighten in various ways the
excitement of this dialogue between two men whom every Athenian of their
day would have seen, and known at least by reputation. Within a generation
of the supposed time of the dialogue, moreover, each of the participants
would be regarded with utmost partiality. It is un¬ likely that even the
most politically apathetic citizen would be neutral or utterly
indifferent concerning either man. Not only would every Athenian (and
many foreigners) know each of them, most Athenians would have strong
feelings of either hatred or love for each man. The extra¬ ordinary
fascination of these men makes Plato's First Alkibiades all the more
inviting as a natural point at which to begin a study of political
philosophy. In the First Alkibiades , Socrates and Alkibiades,
regarded by posterity as respective paragons of the philosophic life and
the political life, are engaged in conversation together. As the dialogue
commences, Alkibiades in particular is uncertain as to their relationship
with each other. Especially interesting, however, is their implicit
agreement that these matters can be clarified through their speaking with
one another. The reader might first wonder why they even bother
with each other; and further wonder why, if they are properly to be
depicted together at all, it should be in conversation. They could be
shown in a variety of situations. People often settle their differences
by fighting, a challenge to a contest, or a public debate of some kind.
Alkibiades and Socrates converse in private. The man identified with
power and the man identified with knowledge have their showdown on the
plain of speech. The Platonic dialogue form, as will hopefully be
shown in the commentary, is well suited for expressing political
philosophy in that it allows precisely this confrontation. A Platonic
dialogue is different from a treatise in its inclusion of drama. It is
not a straightforward explication for it has particular characters who
are interacting in specific ways. It is words plus action, or speech plus
deed. In a larger sense, then, dialogue implicitly depicts the relation
between speech and deed or theory and practice, philosophy and politics,
and re¬ flecting on its form allows the reader to explore these
matters. In addition, wondering about the particulars of Socratic
speech may shed light upon how theory relates to practice. As one
attempts to discover why Socrates said what he did in the circumstances
in which he did, one becomes aware of the connections between speech and
action, and philosophy and politics. One is also awakened to the
important position of speech as intermediary between thought and action.
Speech is unlike action as has just been indicated. But speech is not
like thought either. It may, for instance, have immediate consequences in
action and thus demand more rigorous control. Philosophy might stand in
relation to thought as politics does to action; understanding 'political
philosophy' then would involve the complex connection between thought and
speech, and speech and action; in other words, the subject matter
appropriate to political philosophy embraces the human condition. The
Platonic dialogue seems to be in the middle ground by way of its form,
and it is up to the curious reader to determine what lies behind the
speech, on both the side of thought and action. Hopefully, in examining
the First Alkibiades these general observations will be made more
concrete. A good reader will take special care to observe the actions as
well as the arguments of this dialogue between the seeker of knowledge
and the pursuer of power. Traditionally, man's ability to reason
has been considered the essential ground for his elevated status in the
animal kingdom. Through reason, both knowledge and power are so combined
as to virtually place man on an altogether higher plane of existence.
Man's reason allows him to control beasts physically much stronger than
he; moreover, herds outnumber man, yet he rules them. Both knowledge and
power have long attracted men recognizably superior in natural
gifts. Traditionally, the highest choice a man could 57
confront was that between the contemplative and the active life. In
order to understand this as the decision par excellence , one must
compre¬ hend the interconnectivity between knowledge and power as ends
men seek. One must also try to ascertain the essential features of the
choice. For example, power (conventionally understood) without knowledge
accomplishes little even for the mighty. As Thrasymakhos was reminded,
without knowledge the efforts of the strong would chance to work harm
upon them¬ selves as easily as not ( Republic). The very structure
of the dialogue suggests that the reader attentive to dramatic detail may
learn more about the relation between power and knowledge and their
respective claims to rule. Alkibiades and Socrates both present
arguments, and the very dynamics of the conversation (e.g., who rules in
the dialogue, what means he uses whereby to secure rule, the development
of the relationship between the ruler and the ruled) promise to provide
material of interest to this issue. B. Knowledge, Power and their
Connection through Language As this commentary hopes to show, the
problem of the human use of language pervades the Platonic dialogue known
as the First Alkibiades. Its ubiquity may indicate that one's
ability to appreciate the signifi¬ cance of speech provides an important
measure of one's understanding of the dialogue. Perhaps the point can be
most effectively conveyed by simply indicating a few of the many kinds of
references to speech with which it is replete. Socrates speaks directly
to Alkibiades in complete privacy, but he employs numerous conversational
devices to construct circumstances other than that in which they find
themselves. For example, Alkibiades is to pretend to answer to a god;
Socrates feigns a dialogue with a Persian queen; and at one point the two
imagine themselves in a discussion with each other in full view of the
Athenian ekklesia . Socrates stresses that he never spoke to
Alkibiades before, but that he will now speak at length. And Socrates
emphasizes that he wants to be certain Alkibiades will listen until he finishes
saying what he must say. In the course of speaking, Socrates employs both
short dialogue and long monologue. Various influences on one's speaking
are mentioned, including mysterious powers that prevent speech and
certain matters that inherently demand to be spoken about. The two men
discuss the difference between asking and answering, talking and
listening. They refer to speech about music (among other arts), speech
about number, and speech about letters. They are importantly concerned
with public speaking, implicitly with rhetoric in all its forms. They
reflect upon what an advisor to a city can speak persuasively about. They
discuss the difference between per¬ suading one and many. The two men
refer to many differences germane to speaking, such as private and public
speech, and conspiratorial and dangerous speech. Fables, poems and
various other pictures in language are both directly employed by Socrates
and the subject of more general discussion. Much of the argument centers
on Alkibiades' understanding of what the words mean and on the implicit
presence of values embedded in the language. They also spend much time
discussing, in terms of rhetorical effect, the tailoring of comments to
situations; at one point Socrates indicates he would not even name Alkibiades'
condition if it weren't for the fact that they are completely alone. They
refer to levels of knowledge among the audience and the importance of this
factor in effectively persuading one or many. And in a larger sense
already alluded to, reflection on Plato's use of the dialogue form itself
may also reveal features of language and aspects of its relation to
action. Socrates seems intent upon increasing Alkibiades' awareness
of the many dimensions to the problem of understanding the role of
language in the life of man. Thus the reader of the First Alkibiades is
invited to share as well in this education about the primary means of
education: speech, that essential human power. Perhaps it may be
granted, on the basis of the above, that the general issue of language is
at least a persistent theme in the dialogue. Once that is recognized it
becomes much more obvious that speech is connected both to power, or the
realm of action, and knowledge, the realm of thought. Speech and power,
in the politically relevant sense, are thoroughly interwoven. The topics
of freedom of speech and censorship are of paramount concern to all
regimes, at times forming part of the very foundation of the polity. This
is the most obvious connection: who is to have the right to speak about
what, and who in turn is to have the power to decide this matter. Another
aspect of speech which is crucial politically seems to be often
overlooked and that is the expression of power in commands, instruction
and explanation. The more subtle side of this political use of speech is
that of education. Maybe not all political men do understand education to
be of primary importance, but that clearly surfaces as one of the things
which Alkibiades learns in this dialogue. At the very least, the
politically ambitious man seeks control over the education of others in
order to secure his rule and make his political achievements lasting.
With respect to education, the skilled user of language has more power
than someone who must depend solely on actions in this regard.
Circumstances which are actually unique may be endlessly reproduced and
reconsidered. By using speech to teach, the speaker gains a power over
the listener that might not be available had he need to rely upon
actions. Not only can he tell of things that cannot be seen (feelings,
thoughts and the like), but he can invent stories about what does not
even exist. Myths and fables are generally recognized to have
pedagogic value, and in most societies form an essential part of the core
set of beliefs that hold the people together. Homer, Shakespeare and the
Bible are probably the most universally recognized examples influencing
western society. To mold and shape the opinions of men through fables,
lies and carefully chosen truths is, in effect, to control them. Such use
of language can be considered a weapon also, propaganda providing a
most obvious example. Hobbes, for instance, recognizes these qualities
of speech and labels them 'abuses.' Most of the abuse appears to be
consti¬ tuted by the deception or injury caused another; Hobbes all the
while 58 demonstrates himself to be master of the
insult. Summing up these observations, one notices that speech plays a
crucial part in the realm of power, especially in terms of education, a
paramount political activity. The connection of speech to
knowledge, the realm of thought is much less in need of comment. The
above discussion of education points to the underlying concern about
knowledge. Various subtleties in language (two of which - metaphor and
irony - will be presently introduced), however, make it more than the
instrument through which knowledge is gained, but actually may serve to
increase a person's interest in attaining knowledge; that is, they make
the end, knowledge, more attractive. A most interesting understanding of
speech emerges when one abstracts somewhat from actual power and actual
knowledge to look at the relationship between the realms of action and
thought. Action and thought, epitomized by politics and philosophy, both
require speech if they are to interact. Politics in a sense affects
thought, and thought should guide action. Both of these exchanges are
normally effected through speech and may be said to describe the bounds
of the subject area of political philosophy. Political philosophy deals
with what men do and think (thus concerning itself with metaphysics, say,
to the extent to which metaphysical considerations affect man). Political
philosophy may be understood as philosophy about politics, or philosophy
that is politic. In this latter sense, speech via the expression of
philosophy in a politic manner, suggests itself to be an essential aspect
to the connection be¬ tween these two human realms - thought and action.
The reader of the First Alkibiades should be alert to the ways in which
language pertains to the relationship between Socrates and Alkibiades.
For example, their concern for each other and promise to continue
conversing might shed some light on the general requirements and
considerations power and knowledge share. As has already been indicated,
considerable attention is paid to various characteristics of speech in
the discussion between the two men. Rhetoricians, politicians,
philosophers and poets, to mention but a few of those whose activity
proceeds primarily through speech, are aware of the powers of language
and make more or less subtle use of various modes of speech. The First
Alkibiades teaches about language and effectively employs many linguistic
devices. Called for at the outset is some introductory mention of a few
aspects of language, in order that their use in the dialogue may be more
readily reflected upon. Metaphor, a most important example, is a complex and
exciting feature of language. A fresh and vivid metaphor is a most
effective influence on the future perceptions of those listening. It will
often form a lasting impression. Surely a majority of readers are
familiar with the experience of being unable to disregard an interpretation
of something illuminated by an especially bright metaphor. Many
people have probably learned to appreciate the surging power of language
by having themselves become helplessly swamped in a sea of
metaphor. There are two aspects to the power of attracting attention
through language that a master of metaphor, especially, can summon. Both
indicate a rational component to language, but both include many more
features of reason than mere logical deduction. The first is the power
that arises when someone can spark connections between apparently
unrelated parts of the world. This is an interesting and exciting feature
of man's rational capability, deriving its charm partly from the natural
delight people apparently take in having connections drawn between seemingly
distinct objects. The other way in which he can enthrall an
audience is through harvesting some of the vast potential for metaphors
that exist in the natural fertility of any language. There are metaphors
in everyday speech that remain unrecognized (are forgotten) for so long
that dis¬ belief is experienced when their metaphoric nature is revealed.
Men's opinions about much of the world is influenced by metaphor. A most
important set of examples involve the manner in which the invisible is spoken
of almost exclusively through metaphoric language based on the visible.
This curious feature of man's rationality is frequently ex¬ plored by
Plato. The most famous example is probably Socrates's description of education
as an ascent out of a cave ( Republic), but another perhaps no less
important example occurs in the First Alkibiades . Not only is the
invisible metaphorically explained via some¬ thing visible, but the
metaphor is that of the organ of sight itself (cf. 132c-133c, where the
soul and the eye are discussed as analogues)! The general
attractiveness of metaphor also demonstrates that man is essentially a
creature with speech. That both man and language must be understood in
order for a philosophic explanation to be given of either, is indicated
whenever one tries to account for the natural delight almost all people
take in being shown new secrets of meaning, in discovering the richness
of their own tongue, and in the reworking of images - from puns and
complex word games to simple metaphors and idiomatic expressions. Man's
rationality is bound up with language, and rationality may not be
exclusively or even primarily logic; it is importantly metaphor. Subtle use is
often made of the captivating power of various forms of expression. One
of the most alluring yet bedevilling of these is irony. Irony never
unambiguously reveals itself but suggests mystery and disguise. This
enhances its own attractiveness and simultaneously increases the charm of
the subject on which irony is played; there seems little doubt that
Socrates and Plato were able to make effective use of this feature for
they are traditionally regarded as the past masters of it. Eluding
definition, irony seems not amenable to a simple classifi- catory scheme.
It can happen in actions as well as speeches, in drama as well as actual
life. It can occur in an infinite variety of situations. One cannot be told how
exactly to look for irony; it cannot be reduced to rules. But to discover its
presence on one's own is thoroughly- exciting (though perhaps biting).
The possibility of double ironies increases the anxiety attending ironic speech
as well as its attractive¬ ness. The merest suggestion of irony can upset
an otherwise tranquil moment of understanding. Probably all listeners of
ironic speech or witnesses of dramatic irony have experienced the
apprehensiveness that follows such an overturned expectation of
simplicity. It appears to be in the nature of irony that knowledge
of its presence in no way diminishes its seductiveness but rather
enhances its effectiveness. Once it is discovered, it has taken hold.
This charming feature of Socrates' powerful speech, his irony, is
acknowledged by Alkibiades even as he recognizes himself to be its principal
target (Symposium 215a-216e). The abundance of irony in the First Alkibiades
makes it difficult for any passage to be interpreted with certitude. It
is likely that the following commentary would be significantly altered
upon the recognition of a yet subtler, more ironic, teaching in the
dialogue. It is thus up to each individual, in the long run, to make a
judgement upon the dialogue, or the interpretation of the dialogue; he
must be wary of and come to recognize the irony on his own. The
Superior Man is a Problem for Political Philosophy One mark of a
great man is the power of making lasting impressions upon people he
meets. Another is so to have handled matters during his life that
the course of after events is continuously affected by what he did.
Winston Churchill Great Contemporaries It may be
provisionally suggested that both Socrates and Alkibiades are superior
men, attracted respectively to knowledge and power. Certainly a surface
reading of the First Alkibiades would support such a judgement. One could
probably learn much about the character of the political man and the
philosophic man by simply observing Socrates and Alkibiades. It stands to
reason that a wisely crafted dialogue repre¬ senting a discussion between
them would reveal to the careful, reflective reader deeper insight into
knowledge, power and the lives of those dedicated to each.
Socrates confesses that he is drawn to Alkibiades because of the
youth's unquenchable ambition for power. Socrates tells Alkibiades
that 59 the way to realizing his great aspirations is
through the philosopher. Accordingly Socrates proceeds to teach
Alkibiades that the acquisition of knowledge is necessary in order that
his will to power be fulfilled. By the end of the dialogue, Socrates'
words have managed to secure the desired response from the man to whom he
is attracted: Alkibiades in a sense redirects his eros toward Socrates.
This sketch, though superficial, bespeaks the dialogue's promise to unravel
some of the mysterious connections between knowledge and power as these
phenomena are made incarnate in its two exceptional participants.
The significance of the superior man to political philosophy has,
for the most part, been overlooked in the last century or so, the
exceptions being rather notorious given their supposed relation to the
largest political event of the Twentieth Century.^ in contemporary
analysis, the importance of great men, even in the military, has tended
to be explained away rather than understood. This trend may be partly
explained by the egalitarian views of the dominant academic observers of
political things. As the problem was traditionally understood, the
superior man tends to find himself in an uneasy relationship with the
city. The drive, the erotic ambition distinguishes the superior man from
most others, and in that ambition is constituted their real threat to the
polity as well as their real value. No man who observed a war could
persist in the belief that all citizens have a more or less equal effect
on the outcome, on history. A certain kind of superiority becomes readily
apparent in battle and the bestowal of public honors acknowledges its
political value. Men of such manly virtue are of utmost necessity to all
polities, at least in times of extremes. Moreover, political philosophers
have heretofore recognized that there are other kinds of battlefields
upon which superior men exercise their evident excellence. It
is, however, during times of peace that the community ex¬ periences fear
about containing the lions,^ recognizing that they constitute an internal
threat to the regime. Thus, during times of peace a crucial test of the
polity is made. A polity's ability to find a fitting place for its noble
men speaks for the nobility of the polity. In many communities, the
best youths turn to narrow specialization in particularized scientific
disciplines, or to legal and academic sophistry, to achieve distinction.
It is not clear whether this is due to the regime's practicing a form of
politics that attracts but then debases or corrupts the better sort of
youth, or because the best men find its politics repugnant and so
redirect their ambitions toward these other pursuits. In any event, the
situation in such communities is a far cry from that of the city which
knows how to rear the lion cubs. Not surprisingly, democracy has always
had difficulty with the superior men. Ironically, today the recognition
of the best men in society arises most frequently among those far from
power or the desire to enter politics. Those who hold office in modern
democracies are not able to uphold the radically egalitarian premises of
the regime and still consistently acknowledge the superiority of some
men. This has reper¬ cussions at the base of the polity: the democratic
election. Those bent on holding public office are involved in a dilemma,
a man's claim to office is that he possesses some sort of expertise, yet
he cannot main¬ tain a platform of simple superiority in an egalitarian
regime. Many aspirants are required to seek election on the basis of some
feature of their character (such as their expenditure of effort) instead
of their skills, and such criteria are often in an ambiguous relation to
the duties of office. The problem is yet more far-reaching.
Those regimes committed to the enforced equalization of the unequal
incongruously point with pride to the exceptional individuals in the
history of their polities. A standard justification for communist
regimes, for example, is to refer to the distinguished figures in the
arts and sports of their nation. Implicitly the traditional view has been
retained: great men are one of the measures of a great polity.
A less immediate but more profound problem for political philosophy
is posed by the very concept of the best man. Three aspects of this
problem shall be raised, the last two being more fully discussed as they
arise in commenting upon the First Alkibiades . All who have given
the matter some thought will presumably agree that education is, in part
at least, a political concern, and that the proper nurture of youth is a
problem for political philosophy. According¬ ly, an appropriate beginning
is the consideration of the ends of nurture. The question of toward what
goal the nurture of youth is to aim is a question bound up with the views
of what the best men are like. This is inevitably the perspective from
which concerned parents adopt their own education policies. Since the
young are nurtured in one manner or another regardless, all care given to
the choice of nurtures is justified It must be remembered that
children will adopt models of behavior regardless of whether their
parents have guided their choice. As the tradition reminds is, the hero
is a prominent, universal feature in the nurture of children. Precisely
for that reason great care ought to be taken in the formation and
presentation (or representation) of heroic men and deeds. The heroes of
history, of literature and of theater presumably have no slight impact on
the character of youth. For instance canons of honesty are suggested by
the historical account of young Lincoln, codes of valor have been
established by Akhilleus, and young men's opinions about both partnerships
and self-reliance are being in¬ fluenced by the Western Cowboy.
The religious reverence with which many young observe the every
word and deed of their idols establishes "the hero" as a problem
of considerable significance. One could argue that the hero should be
long dead. His less than noble human characteristics can be excised from
the public memory and his deeds suitably embellished (cf. Republic
391d.6). Being dead, the possibility of his becoming decadent or
otherwise evil is eliminated. Although attractive, this suggestion
presents a rather large problem, especially in a society in which there
is any timocratic element. The honors bestowed on living men may be
precisely what trans¬ forms them into the "flesh and blood"
heroes of the young. Should honors not be delivered until after a man's
death, however (when he cannot turn to drink, women or gambling), it may
dampen many timocrats' aspirations. If the superior man is not recognized
during his lifetime, he must at least obtain some assurance of a lasting
honor after his death. This might be difficult to do, if he is aware of
how quickly and completely the opinions of those bestowing honor, the
demos , shift. Since this turned out to assume great importance
historically for Alkibiades, the reader of the First Alkibiades might be
advised to pay attention to what Socrates teaches the young man about
power and glory. The role of heroes extends beyond their pedagogic function
of supplying models to guide the ambitions of youth. Heroes contribute
to the pride of a family, help secure the glory of a nation and provide
a tie to the ancestral. Recognition of this should suffice to
indicate that the problem of superior men is a significant one for
political philosophy. Presumably any political theory
requires some account of the nature of man. It may already be clear at
this point that a compre¬ hensive philosophic account of man's nature
must include a consideration of the superior man. Traditionally, in fact,
the concept of the best man has been deemed central to an adequate
understanding. Many people who would readily grant the importance of the
problem of understanding human nature consider it to be a sort of
statistical norm. That position does not concede the necessity of looking
toward the best man. For the immediate purpose of analyzing this
dialogue, it seems sufficient that the question be reopened, which may be
accomplished simply by indicating that there are problems with seeing
nature as "the normal." Without any understanding of the
best man (even one who is not actualized), comparison between men would
be largely meaningless and virtually any observation of, or statement
about persons would be ambiguous since they involve terms which imply
comparing men on some standard. There would be no consistent way to
evaluate any deviation whatsoever from the normal. For example, sometimes
it is better to be fierce, sometimes it is not. If one describes a man as
being more capable of fierceness than most men one would not know how to
evaluate him relative to those men, without more information. It is
necessary to have an understanding of the importance of those matters in
which it is better to be fierce, to the best man. If it is important for
the best man to be capable of being very fierce, then, and only then,
it seems, could one judge a man who is able to be fierce at times to be
a better man with respect to that characteristic. Any meaningful
description of him, then depends on the view of the best man. This is
implicit in the common sense understanding anyway. The statement "X
is more capable of fierceness than most men,' prompts an implicit
qualitative judgement in most men's minds on the basis of their views of
the best man. The statement "X has darker hair than most men,"
does not, precisely because most understandings of the best man do not
specify hair color. A concept of the best is necessary if a man is to be
able to evaluate his position vis a vis others and discern with what he
must take pains with himself. The superior man understands this. Aiming
to actualize his potential to the fullest in the direction of his
ideal, he obviously does not compete with the norm. He strives with the
best of men or even with the gods. Whenever he sees two alternatives, he
immediately wonders which is best. The superior youth comes to learn that
a central question of his life is the question of with whom is his
contest. Having raised this second aspect of the philosophic
concern about the best man, one is led quite naturally to a related problem
he poses for political philosophy with respect to what has been a
perennial concern of the tradition, indeed perhaps its guiding question,
namely: "What is the best regime?" The consideration of
the best regime may be in light of a concern for the "whole" in
some sense, or for the citizen or for the "whole" in some
sense, or from some other standpoint. Apart from the problem of how to
understand "the whole," a large philosophic question remains
regarding whether the best for a city is compatible with the best for a
man. The notion of the superior man provides a guide of some sort (as the
'norm' does not) to the answer regarding what is best for a man; the view
of the best regime suggests (as the 'norm' does not) what is good for a
city. But what must one do if the two conflict? As has become
apparent, the complex question of the priority of the individual or the
social order is raised by the very presence of the superior man in a
city. The dialogue at various points tacitly prompts the reader to
consider some of the intricacies of this issue. Upon
considering what is best for man generally, for a man in particular, and
for a city, one notices that most people have opinions about these
things, and not all of them act upon these opinions. One eventually
confronts a prior distinction, the difference between doing what one
thinks is good, knowing what is good, and doing what one knows is good.
While it is not entirely accurate to designate them respectively as
power, knowledge, and knowledge with power, these terms suggest how the
problems mentioned above are carried through the dialogue in terms of the
concern for the superior man. Provisionally, one may suggest that
Alkibiades provides a classic example of the superior man. In a sense not
obvious to the average Athenian, so too is Socrates. They both pose
distinct political problems, and they present interesting
philosophic puzzles as well. But there is another reason, no less
compelling for being less apparent, that recommends the study of
the First Alkibiades . Since antiquity the First Alkibiades has
been subtitled, "On the Nature of Man." At first blush this
subtitle 63 is not as fitting as the subtitles of some
other aporetic dialogues. The question "What is the nature of
Man?" is neither explicitly asked nor directly addressed by
either Socrates or Alkibiades, yet the reader is driven to consider
it. One might immediately wonder why " Alkibiades " is
the title of a dialogue on the nature of man, and why Socrates chooses
to 64 talk about man as such with Alkibiades. Perhaps
Alkibiades is par¬ ticularly representative, or especially revealing
about man. Perhaps he is unique or perhaps he is inordinately in need of
such a discourse. One must also try to understand Socrates' purpose,
comprehend the significance of any of Alkibiades' limitations, and come
to an understanding of what the character of his eros is (e.g., is it
directed toward power, glory, or is it just a great eros that is yet to
be directed). In the course of grappling with such matters, one also
confronts one's own advantages and liabilities for the crucial and
demanding role of dialogic partner. Perhaps the very things a
reader fastens his attentions upon are indicative of something essential
about his own particular nature. If the reader is to come to a decision
as to whether the subtitle affixed in antiquity to the dialogue is indeed
appropriate, these matters must be judged in the course of considering
the general question of whether the dialogue is indeed about "the
nature of man." The mystery and challenge of a dialogue may serve to
enhance its attractiveness. One of the most intriguing philosophic
problems of the First Alkibiades may well be the question of whether it
is in fact about man's nature. With a slight twist, the reader is faced
with another example of Socrates' revision of Meno's paradox ( Meno 80e).
Sometimes when a reader finds what he is looking for, discovering
something he was hoping to discover, it is only because his narrowness of
attention or interest prevented him from seeing conflicting material, and
because he expended his efforts on making what he saw conform to his
wishes. The good reader of a dialogue will, as a rule, take great care to
avoid such myopia. In order to find out whether the dialogue is primarily
about the nature of man (and if so, what is teaches about the nature of
man), the prudent reader will caution himself against begging the
question, so to speak. If one sets out ignorant of what the nature of man
is, one may have trouble recognizing it when one finds it. Conversely, to
complete the paradox, to ask how and where to find it (in other words,
inquiring as to how one will recognize it), implies that one ought
already know what to expect from knowledge of it. This could be
problematic, for the inquiry may be severely affected by a preconceived
opinion about which question will be answered by it. "Philosophical
prejudices" should have no part in the search for the nature of
man. This is a difficulty not faced to the same extent by other
aporetic dialogues which contain a question of the form "What
is _?" Once this first question is articulated, the normal way
of pursuing the answer is open to the reader. He may proceed naturally
from conventional opinion, say, and constantly refine his views according
to what he notices. It ap¬ pears, however, that the reader of the First
Alkibiades cannot be certain that it will address the nature of
man, and the dialogue doesn't seem to directly commence with a
consideration of conventional opinions. Most readers of the dialogue know
what a man is insofar as they could point to one (111b,ff.), but very few
know what man is. Perhaps as the dialogue unfolds the careful reader will
be educated to a point beyond being ignorant of how to look for something
that he mightn't recognize even when he found it. By this puzzle the
reader is drawn more deeply into the adventure of touching on the mysteries
of his own nature. To borrow a metaphor from a man who likely knew more
about Socrates and Alkibiades than has anyone else before or since, the
same spirit of adventure permeates the quest for knowledge of man as
characterizes sailing through perilous unknown waters on a tiny, frail
craft, attempting to avoid perishing on the rocks. One can only begin
with what one knows, such as some rudimentary views about navigation
technique and more or less correct opinions about one's home port. Upon
coming to appreciate the difficulties of knowing, fully and honestly,
one's own nature, one realizes how treacherous is the journey. In all
likelihood one will either be swamped, or continue to sail forever, or
cling to a rock under the illusion of having reached the far shore.
This thesis is an introduction to the First Alkibiades . Through
their discussion, and more importantly through his own participation in
their discussion, Socrates and Alkibiades reveal to the reader something
about the nature of man. Both the question of man's nature and the
problem of the superior man have been neglected in recent political
theory; especially the connection between them has been overlooked. To
state the thesis of this essay with only slight exaggeration: an under¬
standing of politics - great and small - is impossible without knowledge
of man, and knowledge of man is impossible without knowledge of the
best of men. This thesis, investigating the dialogue entitled the
First Alkibiades , focusses on certain things the dialogue seems to be
about, without pretending to be comprehensive. It is like the dialogue in
one respect at least: it is written in the interest of opening the door
to further inquiry, and not with subsequently closing that door.
Through a hopefully careful, critical reading of the First Alkibiades , I
attempt to show that the nature of man and the superior man are centrally
tied both to each other and to any true understanding of (great)
political things. The spirit of the critique is inspired by the
definition of a "good critic" ascribed to Anatole France:
"A good critic is one who tells the story of his mind's adventures
among the masterpieces." The First Alkibiades begins abruptly with the
words "Son of Kleinias, I suppose you are wondering..." The
reader does not know where the dialogue is taking place; nor is he
informed as to how Socrates and Alkibiades happened to meet on this
occasion. Interlocutors in other direct dramatic dialogues may sooner or
later reveal this information in their speeches. In narrated dialogues,
Socrates or another participant may disclose the circumstances of the
discussion. In the case of this dialogue, however, no one does. The
reader remains uncertain that it is even taking place in Athens proper
and not in the countryside about the city. It may be reasonable to
suggest that in this case the setting of the dialogue does not matter, or
more precisely, the fact that there is no particular setting is rather
what matters. The discussion is not dependent on a specific set of circumstances
and the dialogue becomes universally applicable. The analysis will
hopefully show the permanence of the problems thematically dealt with in
the dialogue. Philosophically it is a discussion in no way bound by time
or place. Further support is lent to this suggestion by the fact that
there is no third person telling the story and Socrates is not reporting
it to anyone. Nobody else is present. Plato presents to the
reader a dramatic exchange which is emphatically private. Neither
Socrates nor Alkibiades have divulged the events of this first dialogic
encounter between the man and the youth. The thorough privacy of
the discussion as well as the silence concerning the setting help to impute to
the reader an appreciation of the autonomous nature of the discourse.
There is a sense in which this dialogue could happen whenever two such
people meet. Consequently, the proposition implicitly put forth to the
reader is that he be alive to the larger significance of the issues
treated; the very circumstances of the dialogue, as mentioned here,
sufficiently support such a suggestion so as to place the onus for the
argument in the camp of those who want to restrict the relevance of the
dialogue to Socrates and Alkibiades in 5th century Athens.
That the two are alone is a feature that might be important to much
of the reader's interpretation, for attention is drawn to the fact by the
speakers themselves. Such privacy may have considerable philosophic
significance, as it has a clear effect on the suitability of some of the
material being discussed (e.g., 118b.5). There is no need for concern
about the effect of the discussion upon the community as there might be
were it spoken at the ekklesia ; the well-being of other individuals need
not dissuade them from examining radical challenges to conventional
views, as might be the case were they conversing in front of children or
at the marketplace; and there is no threat to either partici¬ pant, as
there might be were they to insult or publicly challenge some¬ one's
authority. Conventional piety and civic-mindedness need place no
limitations on the depth of the inquiry; the only limits are those im¬
plicit in the willingness and capability of the participants. For
example, an expectation of pious respect for his guardian, Perikles,
could well interfere with Alkibiades' serious consideration of good
statesmanship. The fact that they are unaccompanied, that Perikles is
spoken of as still living, and that Socrates first mentions Perikles in a
respectful manner (as per 118c, 104b-c), permits a serious (if finally
not very flattering) examination of his qualifications. Socrates and
Alkibiades are alone and are not bound by any of the restrictions
normally faced in discussions with an audience. The reader's participa¬
tion, then, should be influenced by this spirit of privacy, at least in
so far as he is able to grasp the political significance of the special
"silence" of private conversation. Somewhere in or about
their usual haunts, Socrates and Alkibiades chanced to meet. If their own
pronouncements can be taken literally, they were in the process of
seeking each other. Alkibiades had been about to address Socrates but
Socrates began first (104c-d). Since his daimon or god had only just
ceased preventing him from talking to Alkibiades (105d), Socrates was
probably waiting at Alkibiades' door (106e.10). Although the
location is unknown, the reader may glean from various of their comments
a vague idea of the time of the dialogue. In this case, it appears, the
actual dramatic date of the dialogue is of less importance than some
awareness of the substance of the evidence enabling one to deduce it.
Alkibiades is not yet twenty (123d) but he must be close to that age for
he intends shortly to make his first appearance before the Athenian
ekklesia (106c). Until today Socrates had been observing and following
the youth in silence; they had not spoken to each other. This
corroborates the suggestion that the action of the dialogue takes place
before the engagement at Potidaia (thus before the outbreak of the
Peloponnesian War, i.e. before 432 B.C.) for they knew each other by that
time ( Symposium, 219e). Perikles and his sons are referred to as though
they were living, offering further confirmation that the dramatic date is
sometime before or about the onset of the war with Sparta. The action of
the dialogue must take place be¬ fore that of the Protagoras ,^ since
Socrates has by then a reputation of sorts among the young men, whereas
Alkibiades seems not to have heard very much of Socrates at the beginning
of the First Alkibiades . Socrates addresses Alkibiades as the son
of Kleinias. This per¬ haps serves as a reminder to the young man who
believes himself so self- sufficient as to be in need of no one (104a).
In the first place, his uniqueness is challenged by this address. His
brother (mention of whom occurs later in the dialogue - 118e.4) would
also properly turn around in response to Socrates' words. More
importantly, however, it indicates that he too descended from a family.
His ancestry is traced to Zeus (121a), his connections via his kin are
alleged to be central to his self-esteem (104b), and even his mother,
Deinomakhe, assumes a role in the discussion (123c) . He is attached to a
long tradition. Through observation of Alkibiades' case in
particular, the fact that a man's nature is tied to descent is made
manifest. Alkibiades lost his father, Kleinias, when he was but a child
(112c) . He was made a ward of Perikles and from him received his
nurture. For most readers, drawing attention to parentage would not
distinguish nature from nurture. One is a child of one's parents both in
terms of that with which one is born, one's biological/genetic
inheritance, and of that which one learns. In the case of Alkibiades,
however, to draw attention to his father is to draw attention to his
heredity, whereas it was Perikles who raised him. The philosophic
distinction between nature and nurture is emphasized by the apparent
choice of addresses open to Socrates. Alkibiades is both the son of
Kleinias and the ward of Perikles. It seems fitting that a dialogue on
human nature begin by drawing attention to two dominating features of all
men's characters, their nature and their nurture. Socrates believes
that Alkibiades is wondering. He is curious about the heretofore hidden
motives for Socrates' behavior. As a facet of a rational nature, wonder
or curiosity separates men from the beasts. Wondering about the world is
characteristic of children long before they fully attain reason, though
it seems to be an indication of reason; most adults retain at least some
spark of curiosity about something. The reader is reminded that the
potential for wonder/reason is what is common to men but not possessed by
beasts, and it serves to distinguish those whom we call human.
Reason in general, and wonder in particular, pose a rather complex
problem for giving an account of the nature of man. Though enabling one
to distinguish men from beasts, it also allows for distinctions between
men. Some are more curious than others and some are far more rational
than others. The philosopher, for example, appears to be dominated by his
rational curiosity about the true nature of things. Some people wonder
only to the extent of having a vague curiosity about their future. It
appears that the criteria that allow one to hierarchically differ¬
entiate man from beast also provide for the rank-ordering of men. Some
people would be "more human" than others, following this line
of analysis. This eatablishes itself as an issue in understanding
what, essentially, man is, and it may somehow be related to the
general problem of the superior man, since his very existence invites
comparison by a qualitative hierarchy. He might be the man who portrays
the human characteristics in the ideal/proper quantities and proportions.
He may thus aid our understanding of the standard for humans.
Another opportunity to examine this issue will arise upon reaching the
part of the dialogue wherein Socrates points out that Alkibiades can come
to know himself after he understands the standard for superior men, after
he understands with whom he is to compete (119c,ff.). There
are at least two other problems with respect to the analysis of human
curiosity. The first is that it seems to matter what people are curious
about. Naturally children have a general wonder about things, but at a
certain stage of development, reason reveals some questions are more important
than and prior to others. It seems clear that wondering about the nature
of the world (i.e., what it really is), its arche (basic principles), and
man's proper place in it, or the kind of wondering traditionally
associated with the philosophic enterprise, is of a higher order than
curiosity about beetles, ancient architecture, details of history, or
nuances of linguistic meaning. This further complicates the problems of
rank-ordering men. The second problem met with in giving an account
of wonder and its appropriate place in life is that next to philosophers
and children, few lives are more dominated by a curiosity of sorts than
that of the "gossiping housewife." She is curious about the
affairs of her neighbors and her neighbor's children. The passion for
satisfying that curiosity is often so strong as to literally dominate her
days. It seems im¬ possible to understand such strong curiosity as
"merely idle," but one would clearly like to account for it as
essentially different from the curiosity of the philosopher. That the
reader may not simply disregard consideration of gossiping women, or
consider it at best tangential, is borne out by the treatment of
curiosity in the First Alkibiades. It is indicated in the dialogue
that daughters, wives and mothers must figure into an account of wonder.
There are seven uses of 'wonder' 6 V ( thaumadzein ).
The first three involve Socrates and Alkibiades attest¬ ing to Alkibiades'
wonder, including a rare pronouncement by Socrates of his having certain
knowledge: he knows well that Alkibiades is wondering (104c.4; 103a.1,
104d.4). The last three are all about women wondering. Keeping in mind
the centrality of wondering to the nature of the philosopher (it seems to
be a chief thing in his nature), one sees that careful attention must be
given to curiosity. We have other reasons to suspect that femininity is in
some way connected to philosophy, and perhaps a careful consideration of
the treatment of women in the dialogue would shed light on the
problem. There is a sense in which wonder is a most necessary
prerequisite to seeking wisdom (cf. also Theaitetos 155d). To borrow the
conclusion of Socrates' argument with Alkibiades concerning his coming to
know justice (106d-e; 109e), one has to be aware of a lack of something
in order to seek it. A strong sense of wonder, or an insatiable
curiosity drives one to seek knowledge. This type of intense wondering
may con¬ ceivably be a major link in the connection between the reason
and the spirit of the psyche (cf. Republic 439e-440a). In the Republic
these two elements are said to be naturally allied, but the reader is
never explicitly told how they are linked, or what generally drives or
draws the spirit toward reason. An overpowering sense of wonder seems
the most immediate link. Perhaps another link is supplied when the
import¬ ance of the connection of knowledge to power is recognized; a
connection between the two parts of the psyche might be supplied by a
great will to power, for power presumably requires knowledge to be
useful. However, final judgement as to how the sense of wonder and the
desire for power differ in this regard, and which, if any, properly
characterizes the connections between the parts of Alkibiades' psyche
must await the reader's reflection on the dialogue as a whole. Likewise,
his evaluation as to which class of men contains Alkibiades will be
properly made after he has finished the dialogue. Socrates
believes that Alkibiades is wondering. Precisely that feature of
Alkibiades' nature is the one with which Socrates chooses to begin the
discussion and therewith their relationship. One may thus explore the
possibility that wondering is what distinguishes Alkibiades, or essentially
characterizes him. The discussion to this point would admit of a number
of possibilities. Curiosity could set Alkibiades apart from other
political figures, or it may place him above men generally, indicating
that he is one of the best or at least potentially one of the best men -
should reason/curiosity prove to be characteristic of the best.
Alkibiades' ostensible wondering could bespeak the high spirit which
characterized his entire life; perhaps one of the reasons he would choose
to die rather than remain at his present state (105a-b) is that he is
curious to see how far he can go, how much he can rule. Socrates
remarks that he is Alkibiades' lover; he is the first of Alkibiades'
lovers. Socrates suggests two features of his manner which, taken
together, would be likely to have roused the wonder of Alkibiades.
Socrates, the first lover, is the only one who remains; all the other
lovers have forsaken Alkibiades. Secondly, Socrates never said a word to
Alkibiades during his entire youth, even though other lovers pushed
through hoardes of people to speak with Alkibiades. A youth continuously
surrounded by a crowd of admirers would probably wish to know the motives
of a most constant, silent observer - if he noticed him. Socrates has at
last, after many years, spoken up. Assuring Alkibiades that no
human cause kept him from speaking, Socrates intimates that a daimonic
power had somehow opposed his uttering a single word. The precise nature
of the power is not divulged. Obviously not a physical restraint
such as a gag, it can nevertheless affect Socrates' actions. Socrates,
one is led to believe, is a most rational man. If it was not a human
cause that kept him from speaking, then Socrates' reason did not cause
him to keep silent. It was not reason that opposed his speech. Whatever
the daimonic power was, it was of such a force that it could match the
philosopher's reason. An under¬ standing of how Socrates' psyche would be
under the power of this daimonic sign would be of great interest to a
student of man. In at least Socrates' case, this power is comparable in
force to the power of reason. Socrates tells Alkibiades that the power of
the daimon in opposing his speaking was the cause of his silence for so
many years. The reader does not forget, however, that the lengthy
silence was not only Socrates'. Something else, perhaps less divine, kept
Alkibiades silent. It is noteworthy that the first power
Socrates chooses to speak of with Alkibiades is a non-human one, and one
which takes its effect by restraining speech. Alkibiades is interested in
having control over the human world; the kind of power he covets involves
military action and political management. Young men seem not altogether
appreciative of speech. Even when they acknowledge the power made
available by a positive kind of rhetorical skill, they do not appear
especially con¬ cerned with any negative or restraining power that limits
speech such as the power of this daimon. Not only is talk cheap, but it
is for women and old men, in other words, for those who aren't capable of
actually doing anything. The first mention of power ( dynamis) in the
dialogue cannot appear to Alkibiades to pertain to his interest in ruling
the human world, but it does offer the reader both an opportunity for
re¬ flection on power in general, and a promise to deal with the
connection between power and speech in some fashion. What the dialogue
teaches about language and power will be more deeply plumbed when
Alkibiades learns the extent of the force of his words with Socrates
(112e, ff.). According to Socrates, Alkibiades will be informed of
the power of this daimonic sign at some later time. Since apparently the
time is not right now, either Socrates is confident that he and
Alkibiades will continue to associate, or he intends to tell Alkibiades
later during the course of this very dialogue. Socrates, having complied
with his daimon, comes to Alkibiades at the time when the opposition
ceases. He appears to be well enough acquainted with the daimon to
entertain good hopes that it will not oppose him again. By
simple observation over the years, Socrates has received a general notion
of Alkibiades' behavior toward his lovers. There were many and they were
high-minded, but they fled from Alkibiades' surpassing self-confidence.
Socrates remarks that he wishes to have the reasons for this
self-confidence come to the fore. By bringing Alkibiades' reasons to
speech, Socrates implies, among other things, that this sense of superiority
does not have a self-evident basis of support. He also sug¬ gests that
there is a special need to have reasons presented. Perhaps Alkibiades'
understanding of his own feelings either is wrong or in¬ sufficient; at
any rate, they have previously been left unstated. If they are finally
revealed, Alkibiades will be compelled to assess them. Socrates proceeds
to list the things upon which Alkibiades prides himself.
Interestingly, given his prior claim that he learned Alkibiades'
manner through observation, most of the things Socrates presently
mentions are not things one could easily learn simply through observation
of actions. One cannot see the mobility of Alkibiades' family or the
power of his connections. More important to Socrates' point, one cannot
see his pride in his family. He might "look proud," but others
must determine the reason. It is difficult to act proud of one's looks,
family and wealth while completely abstaining from the use of language.
It has thus become significant to their relationship that Socrates was
also able to observe Alkibiades' speech, for it is through speech that
pride in one's family can be made manifest. By listing these features,
Socrates simultaneously shows Alkibiades that he has given considerable
thought to the character of the youth. He is able to explain the source
of a condition of Alkibiades' psyche without having ever spoken to
Alkibiades. Only a special sort of observer, it seems, could accomplish
that. Alkibiades presumes he needs no human assistance in any of
his 68 affairs; beginning with the body and ending with the
soul, he believes his assets make him self-sufficient. As all can see,
Alkibiades is not 69 in error believing his beauty and
stature to be of the highest quality. Secondly, his family is one of the
mightiest in the city and his city the greatest in Greece. He has
numerous friends and relatives through his father and equally through his
mother, who are among the best of men. Stronger than the advantages of
all those kinsmen, however, is the power he envisions coming to him from
Perikles, the guardian of Alkibiades and his brother. Perikles can do
what he likes in Greece and even in barbarian countries. That kind of
power - the power to do as one likes - Alkibiades is seeking (cf. 134e-135b).
The last item Socrates includes in the list is the one Alkibiades least
relies on for his self-esteem, namely his wealth. Socrates
places the greatest emphasis on Alkibiades' descent and the advantages
that accrue therefrom. This is curious for he was pur¬ portedly supplying
Alkibiades' reasons for feeling self-sufficient; if this is a true list,
he has done the contrary, indicating Alkibiades to be quite dependent
upon his family. Even so, the amount of stress on the family appears to
exceed that necessary for showing Alkibiades not to be self-sufficient.
As has already been observed, this is accomplished by paying close
attention to the words at the start of the dialogue. At this point,
Alkibiades' father's relations and friends, his mother's relations and
friends, his political connections through his kinsmen and his uncle's
great power are mentioned as well as the position of his family in the
city and of his city in the Hellenic world. Relative to the other
resources mentioned, Socrates goes into considerable depth with regards
to Alkibiades' descent. It is literally the central element in the set of
features that Socrates wanted to be permitted to name as the cause of
Alkibiades' self-esteem. Quite likely then, the notion of descent and its
connections to human nature (as Alkibiades' descent is connected, by
Socrates' implication, to qualities of his nature) are more important to
the understanding of the dialogue than appears at the surface. This
discussion will be renewed later at the opening of the longest speech in
the First Alkibiades . At that point both participants claim divine
ancestry immediately after agreeing that better natures come from
well-born families (120d-121a). That will afford the reader an
opportunity to examine why they might both think their descent
significant. Socrates has offered this account of Alkibiades'
high-mindedness suggesting they are Alkibiades' resources "beginning
with the body and ending with the soul." In fact, after mentioning
the excellence of his physical person, Socrates talks of Alkibiades'
parents, polis , kinsmen, guardian, and wealth. Unless the reader is to
understand a man's soul to be made by his family (and that is not said
explicitly), these things do not even appear to lead toward a
consideration of the qualities of his soul, but lead in a different
direction. One might expect a treatment of such things as Alkibiades'
great desires, passions, virtues and thoughts, not of his kinsfolk and
wealth. Perhaps the reader is not yet close enough to an understanding of
the human soul. At this point he may not be prepared to discern the
qualities of soul in Alkibiades which would properly be styled
"great." Socrates and Alkibiades may provide instruction for
the reader in the dialogue, so that by the end of his study he will be
better able to make such a judgement were he to venture one now, it might
be based on conventional opinions of greatness. By not explicitly stating
Alkibiades' qualities of soul at this point, the reader is granted the
opportunity to return again, later, and supply them himself. The psyche
is more difficult to perceive than the body, and as is discussed in the
First Alkibiades (129a-135e), this significant¬ ly compounds the problems
of attaining knowledge of either. If this is what Socrates is indicating
by apparently neglecting the qualities of Alkibiades' soul, he debunks
Alkibiades' assets as he lists them. The features more difficult to discern,
if discerned, would be of a higher rank. Fewer men would understand them.
Socrates, however, lists features of Alkibiades that are plain for all to
see. The qualities that even the vulgar can appreciate, when said to be such are
not what the superior youth would most pride himself upon. The many are
no very serious judges of a man's qualities. In view of these
advantages, Alkibiades has elevated himself and overpowered his lovers,
and according to Socrates, Alkibiades is well aware of how it happened
that they fled, feeling inferior to his might. Precisely on account of
this Socrates can claim to be certain that Alkibiades is wondering about
him. Socrates says that he "knows well" that Alkibiades must be
wondering why he has not gotten rid of his eros . What he could possibly
be hoping for, now that the rest have fled is a mystery. Socrates, by
remaining despite the experience of the rest, has made himself
intriguing. This is especially the case given his analysis of Alkibiades.
How could Socrates possible hope to compete with Alkibiades in terms of
the sort of criteria important to Alkibiades? He is ugly, has no
famous family, and is poor. Yet Socrates had not been overpowered; he
does not feel inferior. Here is indeed a strange case, or so it must seem
to the arrogant young man. Socrates has managed to flatter Alkibiades by
making him out to be obviously superior to any of his (other) lovers -
but he also places himself above Alkibiades, despite the flattery.
In his first speech to Alkibiades, Socrates has praised him and yet
undercut some of his superiority. He has aroused Alkibiades' interest
both in Socrates and in Socrates' understanding of him. It is conceivable
that no other admirer of Alkibiades has been so frank, and it is likely
that none have been so strange - to the point of alluding to daimons. Yet
something about Socrates and Socrates' peculiar erotic attraction to
Alkibiades makes Alkibiades interested in hearing more from the
man. It is clear that he cannot want to listen merely because he enjoys being
flattered and gratified, for Socrates' speech is ironic in its praise. He
takes even as he gives. Philosophically, this op ening speech
contains a reference to most of the themes a careful reader will
recognize as being treated in the dialogue. Some of these should be
listed to give an indication of the depths of the speech that
remain to be plumbed. The reader is invited to examine the nature of
power - what it is essentially and through what it affects human action.
As conventionally understood, and as it is attractive to Alkibiades,
power is the ability to do what one wants. According to such an account,
it seems Perikies has power. This notion of power is complicated by the
non-human power referred to by Socrates which stops one from doing what
one wants. Power is also shown to be connected to speech. Another closely
related theme is knowledge. All of these are connected explicitly in that
the daimonic power knew when to allow speech . In the opening speech by
Socrates, he claims to know something, and the reader is introduced to a
consideration of observation and speech as sources of knowledge. He is
also promised a look at what distinguishes one's perception of oneself
from other's opinions of one, through Socrates' innuendo that his
perception of Alkibiades may not be what Alkibiades perceives himself to
be. There is also reference to a difference in ability to perceive
people's natures - namely the many's ability is contrasted with Socrates',
as is the ability of the high- minded suitors. The dialogue will deal
with this theme in great depth. Should it turn out that this ability is
of essential importance to a man's fulfillment, the reader is hereby
being invited to examine what are the essentially different natures of
men. Needless to say, the reader of the dialogue should return again and
again to this speech, to the initial treatment of these fundamental
questions. The relationship of body to soul, as well as the role of
'family' and ' polis ' in the account of man's nature, are introduced
here in the opening words. They indicate the vastness of the problem of
understanding the nature of man. Socrates and Alkibiades seem superior to
everyone else, but they too are separate. Socrates is shown to be unique
in some sense and he cites especially strange causes of his actions.
There is no mention of philosophy or philosopher in this dialogue, but
the reader is introduced to a strange man whose eros is different from
other men, in¬ cluding some regarded as quite excellent, and who is
motivated by an as yet unexplained daimonic power. On another
level, the form of the speech and the delivery itself attest to some of
the thought behind the appropriateness or inappropriate¬ ness of saying certain
things in certain situations. Even the mechanics or logistics of the
discussion prove illuminating to the problem. In addition, the very fact
that they are conversing tog ether and not depicted as
fighting together in battle, or even debating with each other in the public
assembly, renders it possible that speech - and perhaps even a certain
kind of speech (e.g., private, dialectical) - is essential to the
relation between the two superior men said to begin in the First
Alkibiades . Finally (though not to suggest that the catalogue of
themes is complete), one must be awakened to the significance of the
silence being finally broken. With Socrates' first words, the dialogue
has begun to take place. Socrates and Alkibiades have commenced their
verbal relationship. There is plenty of concern in the dialogue about
language: what is to be said and not said, and when and how it is to be
said. The first speech by Socrates in the First Alkibiades has alerted the
reader to this. Alkibiades addresses Socrates for the first
time. Though already cognizant of his name, Alkibiades does not appear to
know anything else about him. To Socrates' rather strange introduction he
responds that he was ready to speak with reference to the same issue;
Socrates has just slightly beat him. Alkibiades seems to have been
irritated by Socrates' constant presence and was on the brink of asking
him why he kept bother¬ ing him. Socrates' opening remarks have probably
mitigated his annoyance somewhat and allowed him to express himself in
terms of curiosity instead. He admits, indeed he emphatically affirms
(104d), that he is wondering about Socrates' motives and suggests he
would be glad to be informed. Alkibiades thus expresses the reader's own
curiosity; one wonders in a variety of respects about what Socrates'
objective might be. Alkibiades might perceive different possibilities
than the reader since he seems thoroughly unfamiliar with Socrates. A
reader might wonder if Socrates wanted to influence Alkibiades, and to
what end. Did Socrates want to make Alkibiades a philosopher; what kind
of attraction did he feel for Alkibiades; why did he continue to
associate with him? These questions and more inevitably confront the
reader of the First Alkibiades even though they might at first appear to
be outside the immediate bonds of the dialogue. For these sorts of
questions are carried to a reading of the dialogue, as it were; and given
the notoriety of Alkibiades and of Socrates, it is quite possible that
they were intended to be in the background of the reader's thoughts.
Perhaps the dialogue will provide at least partial answers.
If Alkibiades is as eager to hear as he claims, Socrates can assume that
he will pay attention to the whole story. Socrates will not then have to
expend effort in keeping Alkibiades' attention, for Alkibiades has
assured him he is interested. Alkibiades answers that he certainly shall
listen. Socrates, not quite ready to begin, insists that Alkibiades
be prepared for perhaps quite a lengthy talk. He says it would be
no wonder if the stopping would be as difficult as the starting
was. One does not expect twenty years of non-stop talk from
Socrates, naturally, and so one is left to wonder - despite (or
perhaps because of) his claim that 70 there is no cause
for wonder - why he is making such a point about this beginning and the
indeterminacy of the ending. The implication is that there remains some
acceptable and evident relation between beginnings and endings for the
reader to discern. In an effort to uncover what he is, paradoxically, not
to wonder about, the careful reader will keep track of the various things
that are begun and ended and how they are begun and ended in the First
Alkibiades . Although innocuous here, Alkibiades' response "speak
good man, I will listen," gives the reader a foreshadowing of his
turning around at the end of the dialogue. There it is suggested that
Alkibiades will silently listen to Socrates. Until the time of the
dialogue the good man has been silent, listening and observing while any
talking has been done by Alkibiades or his suitors. Assured
of a listener, Socrates begins. He is convinced that he must speak.
However difficult it is for a lover to talk to a man who disdains lovers,
Socrates must be daring enough to speak his mind. This is the first
explicit indication the reader is given concerning certain qualities of
soul requisite for speaking, not only for acting. It also suggests some
more or less urgent, but undisclosed, necessity for Socrates to speak at
this time. Should Alkibiades seem content with the above mentioned
possessions, Socrates is confident that he would be re¬ leased from his
love for Alkibiades - or so he has persuaded himself. Socrates is
attracted to the unlimited ambition Alkibiades possesses. The caveat
introduced by Socrates (about his having so persuaded himself) draws
attention to the difference between passions and reason as guides to
action, and perhaps also a difference between Socrates and other men. For
the most part one cannot simply put an end to passions on the basis of
reason. One may be able to substitute another passion or appetite, but it
is not as easy to rid oneself of it. However, instead of having to put
away his love, Socrates is going to lay Alkibiades' thought open to
him. Socrates intends to reveal to Alkibiades the youth's ambition.
This can only be useful in the event that he has never considered his
goals under precisely the same light that Socrates will shed on them.
By doing this Socrates will also accomplish his intention of proving
to Alkibiades that he has paid careful attention to the youth
(105a). Alkibiades should be in a position to recognize Socrates' concern
by the end of this speech; this suggests a capability on the part of
both. Many cannot admit the motives of their own actions, much less
reveal to someone else that person's own thoughts. Part of the
significance of the following discussion, therefore, is to indicate both
Socrates' attentiveness to Alkibiades and Alkibiades' perception of
it. Should some (unnamed) god ask Alkibiades if he would choose
to die rather than be satisfied with the possessions he has, he
would choose to die. That is Socrates' belief. If Socrates is right,
it bespeaks a high ambition for Alkibiades, and it does so whether or
not Alkibiades thought of it before. His possessions, mentioned so
far, include beauty and stature, great kinsmen and noble family, and
great wealth (though the last is least important to him). In an obvious
sense, Alkibiades must remain content with some of what he has. He
cannot, for example, acquire a greater family. His ambition, then, as
Socrates indicates, is for something other than he possesses. The hopes
of Alkibiades' life are to stand before the Athenian ekklesia and prove
to them that he is more honorable than anyone, ever, including
Perikles. As one worthy of honor he should be given the greatest
power, and having the greatest power here, he would be the greatest among
Greeks and even among the barbarians of the continent. If the god
should further propose that Alkibiades could be the ruler of Europe on
the condition that he not pass into Asia, Socrates believes Alkibiades
would not choose to live. He desires to fill the world with his name and
power. Indeed Socrates believes that Alkibiades thinks no man who ever
lived worthy of discussion besides Kyros and Xerxes ( the Great Kings of
Persia). Of this Socrates claims to be sure, not merely supposing - those
are Alkibiades' hopes. There are a number of interesting features
about the pretense of Alkibiades responding to a god. Alkibiades might
not admit the extent of his ambition to the Athenian people who would
fear him, or even to his mother, who would fear for him; it therefore would
matter who is allegedly asking the question. It is a god, an unidentified
god whose likes and dislikes thus remain unknown. Alkibiades cannot take
into account the god's special province and adjust his answer
accordingly. The significance of the god is most importantly that
he is more powerful than Alkibiades can be. But why could not Socrates
have simply asked him, or, failing that, pretend to ask him as he does in
a moment? It is pos¬ sible that speaking with an omniscient god would
allow Alkibiades to reveal his full desire; he would not be obliged to
hid his ambition from such a god as he would from most men in democratic
Athens. But it is also plausible that Socrates includes the god in the
discussion for the purpose of limiting Alkibiades' ambition (or perhaps
as a standard for power/knowledge). Not to suggest that Socrates means to
moderate what Alkibiades can do, he nevertheless must have realistic
bounds put upon his political ambition. Assume, for the moment, that more
questions naturally follow the proposal of limiting his rule to Europe.
If Alkibiades were talking to Socrates (instead of to a deity with
greater power), he might not stop at Asia. If he thought of it, he might
wish to control the entire world and its destiny. He would dream that
fate or chance would even be within the scope of his ambition. The
god in this example is presented as being in a position to determine
Alkibiades' fate; he can limit the alternatives open to Alkibiades and
can have him die. With Socrates' illustration, Alkibiades is confronting
a being which has a power over him that he cannot control. The young man
is at least forced to pretend to be in a situation in which he cannot
even decide which options are available. It is import¬ ant for a
political ruler to realize the limits placed on him by fate. The
notion that the god is asking Alkibiades these questions makes it
unlikely that Alkibiades would answer that he should like to rule heaven
and earth, or even that he would like supreme control of earth (for that
is likely to be the god's own domain). Alkibiades probably won't suggest
to a god that he wants to rule Fate or the gods of the Iliad who hold the
fate of humans so much in hand. Chance cannot be controlled by
humans, either through persuasion or coersion. It can only have its
effect reduced by knowledge. Alkibiades' political ambitions have
to be moderated to fit what is within the domain of fate and chance
and to be educated about the limits of the politically possible.
Socrates, by pretending that a god asks the questions, can allow
Alkibiades to admit the full extent of his ambitions over humans,
but it also serves to keep him within the arena of human politics.
If he would have answered Socrates or a trusted friend in
discussion, he might not have easily accepted that limit. It is
necessary for any politically ambitious man, and doubly so if he is
young, to cultivate a respect for the limits of what can
politically be accomplished under one's full control. This may have helped
Alkibiades establish a political limit m his own mind. Another
feature of the response to the god which should be noted is that it marks
the second of three of Socrates' exaggerated claims to know aspects of
Alkibiades' soul. In the event that the reader should have missed the
first one wherein he claims to "know well" that Alkibiades
wonders (104c), Socrates here emphasizes it. He is not simply inferring
or guessing, he asserts; he knows this is Alkibiades' hope (105c). Shortly
he will claim to have observed Alkibiades during every moment the boy was
out of doors, and thus to know all that Alkibiades has learned
(106e). Just as it is impossible for Socrates to have watched
Alkibiades at every moment, so he cannot be certain of what thought is
actually going through Alkibiades' mind. Socrates' claim to knowledge has
to be based on something other than physical experience or being
taught. Alkibiades has not told anyone that these are his high
hopes. Perhaps Socrates' knowledge is grounded in some kind of
experience He knows what state Alkibiades' soul is in because he
knows what Alkibiades must hope, wonder and know. It may be that
Socrates has an access to this knowledge of Alkibiades' soul
through his own soul. His soul may be or may have been very like
Alkibiades'. Since Socrates will later argue that one cannot know
another without knowing oneself perhaps one of the reasons he knows
Alkibiades' soul so well is that it matches his in some way. It is not out
of the question that their souls share essential features and that those
features perhaps are not shared by all other men. Clearly not all other
men have found knowledge of Alkibiades' soul as accessible as has
Socrates. And Socrates will be taking Alkibiades' soul on a discussion
beyond the bounds of Athenian politics and politicians. He instructs
Alkibiades that his soul cannot be patterned upon a conventional model,
just as Socrates is obviously not modelling himself upon a standard
model. These two men are somehow in a special position for understanding
each other, and their common sight beyond the normally accepted standards
may be what allows Socrates to make such apparently outrageous
claims. At this point, instead of waiting to see how Alkibiades will
respond, Socrates manufactures his own dialogue, saying that Alkibiades
would naturally ask what the point is. He is supposing that Alkibiades
recognizes the truth of what has gone before. Since it is likely that
Alkibiades would have enjoyed the speech to this point and thought it
good, Socrates must bring him back to the topic. By using this device of
a dialogue within a speech, Socrates is able to remind Alkibiades (and
the reader) - by pretending to have Alkibiades remind Socrates - that
they were supposed to learn not Alkibiades' ambitions, but those of
Socrates (supposing that they are indeed different). Socrates
responds (to his own question) that he conceives himself to have so great
a power ove r Alkibiades that the dear son of Kleinias
and Deinomakhe will not be able to achieve his hopes without the
philosopher's assistance (105d). Because of this power the god prevented
him from speaking with Alkibiades. Socrates hopes to win as complete a
power over Alkibiades as Alkibiades does over the polis . They both wish
to prove themselves invaluable, Socrates by showing himself more worthy
than Alkibiades' guardian or relatives in being able to transmit to him
the power for which he longs. The god prevented Socrates from talking
when Alkibiades was younger, that is, before he held such great hopes.
Now, since Alkibiades is prepared to listen, the god has set him on.
Alkibiades wants power but he does not know what it is, essentially.
Yet he must come to know in order not to err and harm himself. Part
of the relationship between philosophy and politics is suggested here,
and perhaps also some indication of why Socrates and Alkibiades need
each other. An understanding of the causes of their coming together would
be essential to an account of their relation, it seems, and such
under¬ standing is rendered more problematic by the role of the
god. Socrates wants as complete power over Alkibiades as
Alkibiades does over the polis . If one supposes that the power is
essentially similar, this might imply that Socrates would actually have
the power over the polis . A complete power to make someone else do as
one wants (as power is conventionally understood) seems to be the same
over an individual as over a state. Socrates and Alkibiades hope to
prove themselves invaluable (105a). That is not the same as being worthy
of honor (105b); past performance is crucial to the question of
one's honor, whereas a possibility of special expertise in the future is
sufficient to indicate one is invaluable. If a teacher is able to promise
that his influence will make manifest to one the problems with one's
opinions, and will help to clarify them, the teacher has indicated
himself to be invaluable. Should one then, on the basis of the teacher's
influence change one's opinions, and thus one's advice and actions, the
teacher will, in effect, be the man with power over all that is affected
by one's advice and actions, over all over which one has power. Socrates,
in affecting politically-minded youths, has an effect on the polity. To
have power over the politically powerful is to have power in politics.
Socrates' daimon had not let Socrates approach while Alkibiades' hopes
for rule were too narrowly contained. His ambitions had to become much
greater. If for no other reason than to see that over which Socrates
expects or intends to have indirect power, one should be eager to
discover Alkibiades' ambition - to discover that end which he has set for
himself, or which Socrates will help to set for him. The reader also has
in mind the historical Alkibiades: to the extent to which Alkibiades'
designs in Europe and Asia did come to pass, was Socrates responsible as
Plato, here, has him claim to be? The reader might also be curious about
the reverse: what actions of the historical Alkibiades make this dialogue
(and Socrates' regard) credible? Alkibiades is astounded, Socrates
sounds even stranger than he looks. But Alkibiades' interest is aroused,
even if he is skeptical. He doesn't admit to the ambitions that
have been listed; however he will concede them for the sake of finding
out just how Socrates thinks of himself as the sole means through whom
Alkibiades can hope to realize them. Perhaps he never had the opportunity
to characterize his ambitions that way - he may never have talked to a
god. Socrates may only have clarified those hopes for Alkibiades;
but on the other hand, the philosopher (partly, at least) may be
responsible for imparting them to the young man. At any rate, even
if Socrates merely made these goals obvious to the youth, one must
wonder as to his purpose. Alkibiades feels confident in claiming
that no denial on his part will persuade Socrates. He asks Socrates
to speak (106a). Socrates replies with a question which he answers
himself. He asks if Alkibiades expects him to speak in the way
Alkibiades normally hears people speak - in long speeches.
Alkibiades' background is thus 73 indicated to some
extent. He has heard orators proclaim. Socrates points out that he
will proceed in a way that is unusual to Alkibiades - at least in
so far as proving claims. By suggesting there is more than one way
to speak, Socrates indicates that differences of style are
significant in speech, and he invites the reader to judge/consider
which is appropriate to which purposes. Socrates protests
that his ability is not of that sort (the orator's), but that he
could prove his case to Alkibiades if Alkibiades consents to do one
bit of service. By soliciting Alkibiades' efforts, Socrates may be
intending to gain a deeper commitment from the youth. If he is
responsible somewhat for the outcome he may be more sincere in 74
his answers. Alkibiades will consent to do a service that is not
difficult; he is interested but not willing to go to a
great deal of trouble. At this stage of the discussion he has no
reason to believe 75 that fine things are hard. Upon
Socrates' query as to whether answering questions is considered
difficult, Alkibiades replies that it is not. Socrates tells him
to a nswer and Alkibiades tells Socrates to ask. His response suggests
that Alkibiades has never witnessed a true dialectical discuss
ion. He has just played question and answer games. Not many who
have experienced a dialogue, and even fewer who have spoken with
Socrates, would say it is not hard. Alkibiades, too, soon
experiences difficulty. Socrates asks him if he'll admit he has
these intentions but Alkibiades won't affirm or deny except toget
on with the conversation. Should Socrates want to believe it he
may; Alkibiades desires to know what is coming before he
acknowledges more. Accepting this, Socrates proceeds. Alkibiades,
he notes, intends shortly to present himself as an advisor to the
Athenians. If Socrates 76 were to take hold of him as
he was about to ascend the rostrum in front of the ekklesia and were to
ask him upon what subject they wanted advice such as he could give, and
if it was a subject about which Alkibiades knew better than they, what
would he answer? This is an example of a common Socratic device,
one of imagining that the circumstances are other than they are. Socrates
hereby employs I it for the third time in the dialogue,
and each provides a different effe ct. On the first occasion,
Socrates pretended a god was present to provide Alkibiades with an
important choice. Socrates did not speak in his own name. The second
example was when Socrates ventured that Alkibiades would ask a certain
question, and so answered it without waiting to see if he would indeed
have asked that question. In both of those, the physical setting of the
First Alkibi ades was appropriate to his intentions. This
time, however, Socrates supplies another setting - a very different
setting - for a part of the discussion. Speech is plastic in that
it enables Socrates to manufacture an almost limitless variety of
situations. By the sole use of human reason and imagination, people are
able to consider their actions in different lights. This is highly
desirable as it is often difficult to judge a decision from within the
context in which it was made. The malleability of circumstances that is
possible in speech allows one to examine thoughts and policies from other
perspectives. One may thus, for example, evaluate whether it is principle
or prejudice that influences one's decisions, or whether circumstance and
situation play a large or a small role in the rational outcome of the
deliberation. This rather natural feature of reason also permits some
consideration of consequences without having to effect those
consequences, and this may result in the aversion of disastrous
results. The plastic character of speech is crucial to philosophic
dis¬ course as well, providing the essential material upon which
dialectics is worked. In discussion, the truly important features of a
problem may be more clearly separated from the merely incidental, through
the care¬ ful construction of examples, situations and counterexamples.
If not for the ability to consider circumstances different from the one
in which one finds oneself, thinking and conversing about many things
would be impossible. And this is only one aspect of the plasticity of speech
which proves important to philosophic discussion. Good dialogic partners
exhibit this ability, since they require speech for much more than
proficiency in logical deduction. Speech and human imagination must work
upon each other. Participants in philosophical argument must recognize
connections between various subjects and different circum¬ stances. To a
large extent, the level of thought is determined by the thinker's ability
to 'notice' factors of importance to the inquiry at hand. The importance
of 'noticing' to philosophic argument will be con¬ sidered with reference
to two levels of participation in the First Alkibiades , both of which
clearly focus on the prominence of the above mentioned unique properties
of speech as opposed to action. 'Noticing' is important to
dialectics in that it describes how, typically, Socrates' arguments work.
An interlocutor will suggest, say, a solution to a problem,
and upon reflection, Socrates - or another inter¬ locutor (e.g., as per
llOe) - will notice, for example, that the solution apparently doesn't
work in all situations (i.e., a counter-example occurs to him), or that
not all aspects of the solution are satisfactory, and so on. The ability
of the participants to recognize what is truly im¬ portant to the
discussion, and to notice those features in a variety of other situations
and concerns, is wha t lends depth to the analysis.
As this has no doubt been experienced by anyone who has engaged in
serious arguments, it presumably need not be further elaborated.
The other aspect in which 'noticing' is important to philosophy and
how it influences, and is in turn influenced by, rational discourse is in
terms of how one ought to read a philosophic work. As hopefully will be
shown in this commentary on the First Alkibiades , a reader's ability to
notice dramatic details of the dialogue, a nd his persistence in
carefully examining what he notices, importantly affects the benefit he
derives from the study of the dialogue. Frequently, evidence to this
effect can be gathered through reflective consideration of Socrates'
apparently off-hand examples, which turn out upon examination to be
neither offhand in terms of their relation to significant aspects of the
immediate topic, nor isolated in terms of bringing the various topics in
the dialogue into focus. As shall become more apparent as the
analysis proceeds, the examples of ships and doctors, say, are of
exceedingly more philosophic importance than their surface suggests. Not
only do they metaphorically provide a depth to the argument (perhaps
unwitnessed by any participant in the dialogue besides the reader) but
through their repeated use, they also help the reader to discern
essential philosophic connections between various parts of the subject
under discussion. The importance of 'recognition' and 'noticing' to
dialectics (and the importance of the malleability of subject matter
afforded by speech) may be partly explained by the understanding of the
role of metaphor in human reason. Dialectics involves the meticulous
division of what has been properly collected (c.f., for example Phaidros
266b). Time and time again, evidence is surveyed by capable partners and
connections are drawn between relevantly similar
matters before careful distinctions are outlined. The ability to
recognize similarities, to notice connections, seems similar to the
mind's ability to grasp metaphor. Metaphor relies to an important extent
on the language user's readiness to 'collect' similar features from
various subjects familiar to him, a procedure the reader of the First
Alkibiades has observed to be crucial to the philosophic
enterprise. Socrates often refrains from directly asking a
question, pre¬ facing it by "supposing someone were to ask" or
even "supposing I were to ask." The circumstances of the
encounters need to be examined in order to understand his strategy. What
might be the relevance of Socrates asking Alkibiades to imagine he was
about to ascend the plat¬ form, instead of, for example, in the market
place, in another city, near a group of young men, or in the privacy of
his own home? And why could not the setting be left precisely the same as
the setting of the dialogue? The situation at the base of the platform in
front of the ekklesia is, needless to say, quite a bit different from the
situation they are in now. Alkibiades is not likely to give the same
answer if his honor and his entire political career are at stake, as they
might be in such a profoundly public setting. Socrates' device, on this occasion
helps serve to indicate that what counts as politic, or polite, speech
varies in different circumstances. As Socrates has constructed the
example, the Athenians proposed to take advice on a subject and
Alkibiades presumed to give them advice. This might severely limit the
subjects on which Alkibiades or another politician could address them.
Were the ekklesia about to take counsel on something, it would be a m
atter they felt was settled by special knowledge, and a subject on
which there were some people with recognizable expertise. The kinds of
questions they believe are settled by uncommon knowledge or expertise may
be rather limited. It is not likely that they would ask for advice on
matters of justice. Most people feel they are competent to decide that
(i.e., that the knowledge relevant to deciding is generally available, or
common). Expertise is acknowledged in strategy and tactics, but
knowledgeability about politics in general is less likely to be conceded
than ability in matters of efficacy. All of these sentiments limit the
kinds of advice which can be given to the ekklesia , and the councillor's
problems are compounded by such considera¬ tions as what things can
be persuasively addressed in public speeches to a mixed
audience, and what will be effective in pleasing and attracting the
sympathy of the audience to the speaker. To be rhetorically effect¬ ive
one must work with the beliefs/opinions/prejudices people confidently and
selfishly hold. Alkibiades agrees with Socrates that he would answer that it
was a subject about which he had better knowledge. He would have to.
If Alkibiades wishes to be taken seriously by them, he should so answer
in front of the people. Even if he would be fully aware of his
ignorance, he might have motives which demand an insistence on expertise.
He couldn't admit to several purposes for which he might want to
influence the votes of the citizenry. Not all of those reasons can be
made known to them; not all of those reasons can be voiced from the
platform at the ekklesia . Sometimes politicians have to make decisions
without certain knowledge, but must nevertheless pretend confidence.
These considerations indicate again the importance of the role of speech
to the themes of this dialogue. There is a difference between public and
private speech. Some things simply cannot be said in front of a crowd of
people, and other things which would not be claimed in private
conversation with trusted friends would have to be affirmed in front of
the ekklesia . Just as a speaker may take advantage of the fact
that crowds can be aroused and swept along by rhetoric that would not so
successfully move an individual (e.g., patriotic speeches inciting
citizens to war, and on the darker side, lynch mobs and riots), so he
understands that he could never admit to a crowd things he might disclose
to a trusted friend (e.g., criticizing re ligious or political
authorities). Socrates suggests that Alkibiades believes he is a
good advisor on that which he knows, and those would be things which he
learned from others or through his own discovery. Alkibiades agrees that
there don't seem to be any other alternatives. Socrates further asks if
he would have learned or discovered anything if he hadn't been willing to
learn or inquire into it and whether one would ask about or learn what
one thought one knew. Alkibiades readily agrees that there must have
been a period in his life when he might have admitted to ignorance to
which he doesn't admit now. Socrates suggests that one learns only what
one is willing to learn and discovers only what one is willing to
inquire into . The asymmetry of this may indicate the general problems of
the argument as the difference in phrasing (underlined) alerts the reader
to examine it more closely. Discoveries, of course, usually
involve a large measure of accident or chance. And if they are the result
of an inquiry, the in¬ quiry often has a different or more general object.
Columbus didn't set out to discover the New World; he wanted to establish
a shorter trading route to the Far East. Darwin did not set out to
discover evolution; he sought to explain why species were different.
Earlier he did not set out to discover that species were different; he
observed the animal kingdom. Not only may one stumble upon something by
accident, but by looking for one thing one may come to know something
else. For example, someone might not be motivated by a recognition of
ignorance but may be trying to prove a claim to knowledge. In the search
for proof he may find the truth. Or, alternatively, in the pursuit of
some¬ thing altogether different, such as entertainment through reading
a story, one may discover that another way of life is better. The argu¬
ment thus appears to be flawed in that it is not true that one discovers
only what one is willing to inquire into. Thus Alkibiades may have
discovered what he now claims to know without ever having sought it as a
result of recognizing his ignorance. Socrates has been able to pass this
argument by Alkibiades because of the asymmetry of the statement. Had he
said "one discovers only what one is willing to discover,"
Alkibiades might have objected. Another difficulty with the argument
is that one is simply not always willing to learn what others teach and
one nevertheless may learn. One might actually be unwilling, but more
often one is simply neutral, or oblivious to the fact that one is
learning. In the case of the former (learning despite being unwilling),
one need only remember that denying what one hears does not keep one from
hearing it. Propa¬ ganda can be successful even when it is known to be
propaganda. However, by far the most common counter-example to
Socrates' argument is the learning that occurs in everyday life. Many
things are not learned as the result of setting out to learn. Such
knowledge is acquired in other ways. Men come to have a common sense
understanding of cause and effect by simply doing and watching. One
learns one's name and who one's mother is long before choosing to learn,
being willing to study, or coming to recognize one's ignorance. Language
is learned with almost no conscious effort, and one is nurtured into
conventions without setting out to learn them. Notions of virtues are
gleaned from stories and from shades of meaning in the language, or even
as a result of learning a language. And, in an obvious sense, whenever
anything is heard, something is learned - even if only that such a person
said it. One cannot help observing; one does not selectively see
when one one's eyes are open, and one cannot even close one's ears to
avoid hearing. The above are, briefly, two problems with the part
of Socrates' argument that suggests people learn or discover only what
they are willing to learn or inquire into. The other parts of the
argument may be flawed as well. Socrates has pointed to the reader's
discovery of some flaws by a subtle asymmetry in his question. It is up
to the reader to examine the rest (in this case - to be willing to
inquire into it). For example, there may be difficulties with the first
suggestion that one knows only what one has learned or discovered. It is
possible that there are innate objects of knowledge and that they are
important to later development. Infants, for example, have an ability to
sense comfort and discomfort which is later transferred into feeling a
wide variety of pleasures and pains. They neither learn this, nor
discover it (in any ordinary sense of "discovery"). The sense of
pleasure and pain quite naturally is tied to and helps to shape a child's
sense of justice (110b), and may thus be significant to the argument
about Alkibiades' knowledge or opinions about justice. In any event,
closer examination of Socrates' argument has shown the reader that the
problem of knowing is sufficiently complex to warrant his further
attention. The rest of the dialogue furnishes the careful reader with
many examples and problems to consider in his attempt to understand how
he comes to know and what it means to know. Socrates knows
quite well what things Alkibiades has learned, and if he should omit
anything in the relating, Alkibiades must correct him. Socrates
recollects that he learned writing, harping and wrestling - and refused
to learn fluting. Those are the things Alkibiades knows then, unless he
was learning something when he was unobserved - but that, Socrates
declares, is unlikely since he was watching whenever Alkibiades stepped
out of doors, by day or by night. The reader will grant that the
last claim is an exaggeration. Socrates could not have observed every
outdoor activity of the boy for so many years. Yet Socrates persists in
declaring that he knows what Alkibiades learned out of doors. As suggested
earlier, Socrates may be indicating that he knows Alkibiades through his
own soul. In that event one must try to understand why Socrates couldn't
likewise claim to know what went on indoors, or why Socrates doesn't
announce to Alkibiades an assumption that what goes on indoors is pretty
much the same everywhere. The reader may find what Alkibiades may have
learned "indoors" much more mysterious, and he may consider it
odd that Socrates does not have access to that- What occurs indoors (and
perhaps to fully understand one would need to acknowledge a metaphoric
dimension to "indoor") that would account for Socrates drawing
attention to his knowledge of the outdoor activities of Alkibiades?
Even if one confines one's attention to the literal meaning, there
is much of importance in one's nurture that happens inside the home.
Suffice it to notice two things. The first is that the domestic scene in
general, and household management in particular, are of crucial im¬
portance to politics. The second is that the teachers inside the home are
typically the womenfolk. These are of significance both to this
dialogue and (not un¬ related) to an understanding of politics. Attention
is directed, for example, toward the maternal side of the two
participants in this dialogue. In addition, as has already been mentioned,
the womenfolk in this dialogue are the only ones who wonder, besides
Alkibiades. The women are within (cf. Symposium 176e); they have quite an
effect on the early nurture of children (cf. Republic 377b-c and
context). Perhaps the women teach something indoors that Socrates could
not see, or would not know regardless of how closely akin he was to
Alkibiades by nature. If that is so, the political significance of
early education, of that education which is left largely to women,
assumes a great importance. Women> it is implied, are able to do
something to sons that men cannot and perhaps even something which men cannot
fully appreciate. An absolutely crucial question arises: How is it proper
for women to in¬ fluence sons? Socrates proceeds to find out
which of the areas of Alkibiades' expertise is the one he will use in the
assembly when giving advice. In response to Socrates' query whether it is
when the Athenians take advice on writing or on lyre playing that
Alkibiades will rise to address them, the young man swears by Zeus that
he will not counsel them on these matters. (The possibility is left open
that someone else would advise the Athenians on these matters at the assembly).
And, Socrates adds, they aren't accustomed to deliberating about
wrestling in the ekklesia. For some reason, Socrates has distinguished
wrestling from the other two subjects. Alkibiades will not advise the
Athenians on any of the three; he will not talk about writing or
lyre-playing even if the subject would come up; he will not speak about
wrestling because the subject won't come up. Regardless of the reader's
suspicion that the first two subjects are also rarely deliberated in the
assembly, he should note the distinction Socrates draws between the
musical and the gymnastic arts. The attentive reader will also have
observed that the e ducation a boy receives in school
does not prepare him for advising men in important political matters; it
does not provide him with the kinds of knowledge requisite to a citizen's
participation in the ekklesia . But then on what will Alkibiades
advise the Athenians? It won't be about buildings or divination, for a
builder will serve better (107a- b). Regardless of whether he is short,
tall, handsome, ugly, well-born or base-born, the advice comes from the
one who knows, not the wealthy; the reader might notice that this
undercuts all previously mentioned bases of Alkibiades' self-esteem.
According to Socrates, the Athenians want a physician to advise them when
they deliberate on the health of the city; they aren't concerned if he's
rich or poor, Socrates suggests, as if being a successful physician was
in no way indicated by financial status. There are a number
of problems with this portion of the argument. Firstly, the advisor's
rhetorical power (and not necessarily his knowledge) is of enhanced
significance when that of which he speaks is something most people do not
see to be clearly a matter of technical expertise, or even of truth or
falsity instead of taste. This refers especially to those things that are
the subject of political debate. Unlike in the case of medicine, people
do not acknowledge any clear set of criteria for political expertise,
besides perhaps 'success' for one's polity, a thing not universally
agreed upon. Most people have confidence in their knowledge of the good
and just alternatives available (cf. llOc-d). Policy decisions
about what are commonly termed ’value judgements' are rarely decided
solely on the basis of reason. Especially in democracies, where mere
whims may become commands, an appeal to irrational elements in men's
souls is often more effective. Men's fears too, especially their fear of
enslavement, can be manipulated for various ends. Emotional appeals to
national pride, love of family and fraternity, and the possibility of
accumulating wealth are what move men, for it is these to which men are
attracted. Rational speech is only all-powerful if men are all-rational.
Secondly, it is not clear that a man's nobility or ignobility
should be of no account in the ekklesia. At least two reasons might be
adduced for this consideration. There is no necessary connection
between knowing and giving good advice. Malevolence as well as ignorance
may- cause it. A bad man who knows might give worse advice than an
ignorant man of good will who happens to have right opinions. Unless the
knower is a noble person there is no guarantee that he will tender his
best advice. An ignoble man may provide advice that serves a
perverse interest, and he might even do it on the basis of his expert
knowledge. Another reason for considering nobility important in advisors
is that it might be the best the citizens can do. Most Athenians would
not believe that there are experts in knowledge about justice as there
are in the crafts. If they won't grant that expertise (and there are
several reasons why it would be dangerous to give them the power to judge
men on that score), then it is probably best that they take their advice
from a gentleman, a nobleman, or even a man whose concern for his
family's honor will help to prevent his corruption. Thirdly,
since cities obviously do not succumb to fevers and 79 bodily
diseases, one must in this case treat the "physician of the diseased
city" metaphorically. It is not certain that the Athenians would
recognize the diseased condition of a city. To the extent to which they
do, they tend to regard political health in economic terms (as one speaks
of a "healthy economy"). In that case, whether a man was rich
or poor would make a great deal of difference to them. They wouldn't be
likely to take advice on how to increase the wealth (the health) of a
city from someone who could not prove his competence in that matter in
his private life. In addition, since most people are im¬ portantly
motivated by wealth, they will respect the opinions of one who is
recognizably better at what they are themselves doing - getting wealthy.
It seems to be generally the case that people will attend to the speech of
a wealthy man more than to a poorer but perhaps more virtuous man.
In other words, then, it is not clear that what Socrates has said
about the Athenian choice of advisors is true (107b-c). Moreover, it is
not clear that it should be true. Factors such as conventional nobility
probably should play a part in the choice of councillors, even if it is
basically understood in terms of being well-born. People's inability to
evaluate the physicians of the city, and people's emphasis on wealth also
are evidence against Socrates' claims. Socrates wants to know what
they'll be considering when Alkibiades stands forth to the
Athenians. It has been established that he won't advise on writing,
harping, wrestling, building or divination. Alkibiades figures he
will advise them when they are considering their own affairs.
Socrates, in seeming perversity, continues by asking if he means their affairs
concerning ship-building and what sorts of ships they should 80
have. Since that is of course not what Alkibiades means, Socrates
proposes that the reason and the only reason is that the young man
doesn't understand the art of ship-building. Alkibiades agrees, but the reader
need not. Socrates, by emphasizing the exclusivity of expertise through
the use of so many examples, has alerted the reader, should he otherwise
have missed the point, that there are many reasons for not advising about
something besides ignorance. In some matters, for example, it is
hard to prove knowledge and it may not always be best to go to the effort
of establishing one's claim to expertise. If the knowledgeable can
perceive, say, that no harm will come the way things are proceeding,
there might not be any point to claiming knowledge. Another reason for
perhaps keeping silent is that the correct view has been presented. There
are thus other things with which to occupy one's time. Perhaps a major
reason for keeping silent about advising on some matters is simply
indifference; petty politics can be left to others. In fact there are, it
would seem, quite a number of reasons for keeping silent besides
ignorance. And, on the other hand, it is unlikely that someone with a
keen interest would acknowledge ignorance as a sufficient condition for
their silence. Many who voice their opinions on public matters do not
thereby mean to implicitly claim their expertise, but only to express
their interestedness. Socrates' ship-building example has a few
other interesting features. Firstly, in a strict sense what Socrates and
Alkibiades agree to is wrong: knowledge of shipbuilding is not the
exclusive basis for determining which ships to build. Depending on
whether it is a private or public ship-building program, the passenger,
pilot or politician decides. Triremes or pleasure-craft, or some other
specific vessels are demanded. The ship-builder then builds it as best he
can. But his building is dictated by his customers, if he is free, or his
owners, if he is a slave. The prominence of Plato's famous
"ship-of-state" analogy ( Republic 488a-489c) allows the reader
to look metaphorically at the example of 'ship-building,' and the
question of what sort of 'ships' ought to get built. In terms of the
analogy, then, Socrates is asking Alkibiades if he will be giving advice
on statebuilding and what kind of polis ought to be constructed. This is,
it seems, the very thing upon which Alkibiades wants to advise the Athenians.
He wants very much to build Athens into a super Empire. The recognition
of the ship-of-state analogy brings to the surface a most fundamental
political question which lurks behind much of the discussion of the
dialogue: which sort of regime ought to be constructed? The importance of
the question of the best regime to political philosophy is indicated and
reinforced by the very test of the importance of the question in the
analogy. The con¬ sideration of what sort of ship ought to be built
stands behind the whole activity of ship-building, and yet is one that is
not answered by the technical expert. The user (passenger/citizen) and
the ruler (pilot/ statesman) are the ones that make the decision. On the
basis of an example that has already been shown to be suspect, namely
Socrates' mention of ship-building, the reader of the First Alkibiades is
provided with the opportunity to consider the intricasies of the analogy
and a question of central importance to the political man. Alkibiades
must gain t he ability to advise the Athenians as to what ships they
ought to build. For the moment, however, Socrates asks on
what affairs Alkibiades means to give advice, and the young man
answers those of war or peace or other affairs of the polis .
Socrates asks for clarification on whether Alkibiades means they'll
be deliberating about the manner of peace and war; will they be
considering questions of on whom, how, when and how long it is
better to make war (107c). But if the Athenians were to ask these
sorts of questions about wrestling, Socrates remarks, they'd call
not on Alkibiades but on the wrestling master, and he would answer
in light of what was better. Similarly, when singing and
accompanying lyre-playing and dancing, some ways and times are better.
Alkibiades agrees.The word 'better' was used both in the case of harping
to accom- 82 pany singing and in the case of wrestling
(108a-b). For wrestling the standard of the better is provided by gymnastics;
what supplies it in the case of harping? Alkibiades doesn't
understand and Socrates suggests that he imitate him, for Socrates'
pattern could be generalized to yield a correct answer in all cases.
Correctness comes into being by the art, and the art in the case of
wrestling is fairly ( kalos) said to be gymnastics (108c). If Alkibiades
is to copy Socrates, he should copy him in fair conversation, as well,
and answer in his turn what the art of harping, singing and dancing is.
But Alkibiades still cannot tell him the name of the art (108c). Socrates
attempts another tact and deviates slightly from the pattern he had
suggested Alkibiades imitate. Presumably Alkibiades will be able to
answer the questions once Socrates asks the right one. He doesn't assume
that Alkibiades is ignorant of the answer, so he takes care in choosing
the appropriate questions. Perhaps his next attempt will solicit the
desired response. The goddesses of the art are the Muses. Alkibiades can
now acknowledge that if the art is named after them, it is called 'Music.'
The musical mode, as with the earlier pattern of gymnastics, will be
correct when it follows the musical art. Now Socrates wants Alkibiades to
say what the 'better' is in the case of making war and peace, but
Alkibiades is unable. There are a number of reasons why he would be
unable on the basis of the pattern Socrates has supplied. One of these
has to do with the pattern itself. It is not clear there is an art (
techne) , per se , of making war and peace. The closest one could come to
recognizing such an art would be to suggest it is the art of politics,
but even if that is properly an art (i.e., strictly a matter of technical
expertise) knowing only its name would not provide a clear standard of
'better.' The term 'political' does not of its own designate a better way
to wage war and peace. Despite the possibility that the art in this case
is of a higher order than music or gymnastics, it remains unclear that
Alkibiades can use the same solution as Socrates suggested in the case of
music. Who are the gods or goddesses who give their name to the art of
war and peace? Perhaps one way to understand this curious feature of the
discussion is to consider that Socrates might be suggesting that there is
a divine standard for politics as well as for music. According
to Socrates, Alkibiades' inability to answer about the standard or
politics is disgraceful (108e). Were Alkibiades an advisor on food, even
without expert knowledge (i.e., even if he wasn't a physician), he could
still say that the 'better' was the more wholesome. In this case,
where he claims to have knowledge and intends to advise as though he had
knowledge (notice the two are not the same), he should be ashamed to be
unable to answer questions on it. At this point the reader must pause.
If Socrates simply wanted to make this point and proceed with the
argument, he has chosen an un¬ fortunate example in discussing the
advisor on food. There are a number of features of his use of this
example that, if transferred, have quite important repercussions for the
discussion of the political advisor. Firstly, it may be remarked that
Socrates has admitted that the ability to say what the 'better' is, is
not always necessarily contingent upon technical knowledge. Secondly,
someone who answers "more wholesome" as the better in food has
already implicitly or explicitly accepted a hierarchy of values. He has
architectonically structured the arts that have anything to do with food
in such a manner as to place health at the apex. Someone who had not
conceded such a rank-ordering might have said "cheapest,"
"most flavorful," or even "sweetest." Thus this
example clearly indicates the centrality of understanding the
architectonic nature of politics. Thirdly, and perhaps least importantly,
Socrates has more clearly indicated a distinction that was suggested in
the previous example. It is a different matter to know that
'wholesome' food is better for one than it is to know which foods are
wholesome. Socrates had, prior to this, been attempting to get Alkibiades
to name the art which provides the standard of the good in peace and war.
Even if Alkibiades had been able to name that art, there would have been
no indication of his substantive knowledge of the art. Conversely it
might be possible that he would have substantive knowledge of something
without being able to refer to it as a named art. One might
account for Alkibiades' inability to n ame the art of political
advice by reference to something other than his knowledge and ignorance.
Perhaps the very subject matter would render such a statement difficult.
For instance, if politics is the 'art' which structures all others, it
would be with a view to politics that the respective 'betters' in the
other arts would be named. The referent of politics would be of an
entirely different order however. Perhaps its 'better,' the compre¬
hensive 'better,' would be simply 'the good.' At any rate, it is a
question of a different order, a different kind of question, insofar as
the instrumentally good is different from the good simply. This
suggestion is at least partly sustained by the observation that Socrates
uses a different method to discover the answer in this case than in the
previous 'patterns' supplied by wrestling and harping. Alkibiades
agrees that it does indeed seem disgraceful, but even after further
consideration he cannot say what the 'better' (the aim or good providing
a standard of better) is with respect to peace and war. As Socrates'
question about the goddesses of harping deviated from the example of
wrestling, so Socrates' attempt here is a deviation. He asks Alkibiades
what people say they suffer in war and what they call it. The
reader might note peace has been omitted from consideration. Alkibiades
says that what is suffered is deceit, force and robbery (109b), and that
such are suffered in either a just or an unjust way. Now it is
clearer why 'peace' was not mentioned. It might be more difficult to argue in
parallel fashion that the most important distinction in peace was between
just peace and unjust peace. Socrates asks if it is upon the just
or the unjust that Alkibiades will advise the Athenians
to make war. Alkibiades immediately recognizes at least one
difficulty. If for some reason it would be necessary to go to war with
those who are just, the advisor would not say so. That is the case not
only because it is considered unlawful, but, as Alkibiades adds, it
is not considered noble either. Socrates assumes Alkibiades will appeal to
these things when addressing the ekklesia . Alkibiades here proves
he understands the need for speaking differently to the public, or
at least for remaining prudently silent about certain matters.
Within the bounds of the argument to this point, wealth and
prestige (not to mention dire necessity) may be 'betters' in wars
as readily as justice. One may only confidently infer two things
from Alkibiades' admissions. The people listening to the advice cannot
be told that those warred upon are just; and to tell them so would be
un¬ lawful and ignoble. One might be curious as to the proper
relation between lawfulness, nobility and justice, and the reader of the
dialogue, in sorting out these considerations, might examine the argument
surrounding this statement of their relation. The next few discussions in
the First Alkibiades seem to focus on establishing Alkibiades' claim to
knowledge about justice. Either Alkibiades has not noticed his own
ignorance in this matter or Socrates has not observed his learning and
taking lessons on justice. Socrates would like to know, and he swears by
the god of friendship that he is not joking, who the man.was who taught
Alkibiades about justice. Alkibiades wants to know whether he
couldn't have learned it another way. Socrates answers that Alkibiades
could have learned it through his own discovery. Alkibiades, in a
dazzling display of quick answers, responds that he might have discovered
it if he'd inquired, and he might have inquired if there was a time when
he thought he did not know. Socrates says that Aliibiades has spoken well
(110a), but he wants to know when that time was. Socrates seems to
acknowledge Alkibiades' skill in speaking. These formally sharp answers
would probably be the kind praised in question and answer games.
Socrates says Alkibiades has spoken well, but immediately instructs
Alkibiades about how to speak in response to the next question.
Alkibiades is to speak the truth; the dialogue would be futile if he
didn't answer truly. So here it is acknowledged that truth (at least for
the sake of useful dialogue) is the standard for speaking well. He
quickly follows the insincere praise with an indication of the real
criteria for determining if something was well-spoken. Socrates is not
destroying Alkibiades' notion of his ability to achieve ideals, he is
instead destroying the ideals. He acknowledged Alkibiades' skill and then
suggests it is not a good skill to have. Socrates, in effect, tells
Alkibiades to forget the clever answers and to speak the truth. One of the
themes of Socrates' instruction of the youth seems to be the teaching of
proper goals or standards. Alkibiades admits that a year ago
he thought he knew justice and injustice, and two, three and four years
ago as well. Socrates remarks that before that Alkibiades was a child and
Socrates knows well enough that even then the precocious child thought he
knew. The philosopher had often heard Alkibiades as a boy claim that a
playmate cheated during a game, and so labelled him unjust with perfect
confidence (110b). Alkibiades concedes that Socrates speaks the truth but
asks what else should he have done when someone cheated him? Socrates
points out that this very question indicates Alkibiades' belief that he
knows the answer. If he recognized his ignorance, Socrates responds, he
would not ask what else he should have done as though there was no
alternative. Alkibiades swears that he must not have been ignorant
because he clearly perceived that he was wronged. If this implies that,
as a child, he thought he knew justice and injustice, then so he must.
And he admits he couldn't have discovered it while he thought he knew it
(110c). Socrates suggests to Alkibiades that he won't be able to cite a
time when he thought he didn't know, and Alkibiades swears again that he
can¬ not. Apparently, then, he must conclude that he cannot know the just
on the basis of discovery (llOd). This argument appears to
depend on the premise that one begins at a loss, completely ignorant, and
then one subsequently discovers what justice is. But such an assumption
is surely unwarranted. The discovery could be a slow, gradual process of
continual refinement of a child's understanding of justice. Often one's
opinions are changed because one discovers something that doesn't square
with previous beliefs. If one is sufficiently confident of the new
factor, one's beliefs may change. During the course of the succeeding
dialogue, the reader may see a number of ways in which this procedure
might take place in a person's life. Socrates draws to
Alkibiades' attention that if he doesn't know justice by his own
discovery, and didn't learn it from others, how could he know it.
Alkibiades suggests that perhaps he said the wrong thing before and
that he did in fact learn it, in the same way as everyone else. It
is not clear that this is a sincere move on Alkibiades' part
(though it proves later in the dialogue to have support as being the
actual account of the origin of most people's views of justice).
Perhaps in order to win the argument he is willing to simply change
the premises. Unfortunately, his changing of this one entirely
removes the need for the argument. Socrates doesn't bother to point
out to Alkibiades that if everybody knows it, and in the same way,
then Alkibiades has no claim to special expertise, and so no basis
for presuming to advise the Athenians. Alkibiades' abilities in
speaking have been demonstrated, a care and willingness to learn
from dialogue 86 have yet to be instilled.
As is presently indicated to Alkibiades, his answer brings about
a return to the same problem - from whom did he learn it? To his
reply that the many taught him (llOe), Socrates responds that they
are not 87 worthy teachers in whom he is taking refuge.
They are not competent 88 to teach how to play and how
not to play draughts and since that is insignificant compared to justice,
how can they teach the more serious matter? Alkibiades perceptively
counters this by pointing out that they can teach things more worthy than
draughts; it was they and no single master who taught Alkibiades
to speak Greek. Alkibiades by this point proves that he is capable of
quick and independent thought. He doesn't merely follow Socrates' lead in
answer¬ ing but in fact points out an important example to the contrary.
The Greek language is taught by the many quite capably even though they
can¬ not teach the less important draughts nor many other peculiar
skills. A number of issues important to the discussion are brought
to the surface by this example. First, one should notice that language
is another thing Alkibiades has learned which Socrates didn't
mention. Language is necessary for learning most other subjects, and one
can learn quite a lot by just listening to people speaking. A common
language is the precondition of the conversation depicted in the First
Alkibiades , as is some general agreement, however superficial, between
Socrates and Alkibiades as to what they mean when they say 'justice.' In order
to have an argument over whether or not one of them is indeed
knowledgeable about justice and injustice, they must have some notion of
what 'justice' conventionally means. They are not talking about the
height of the sky, the price of gold, or the climate on mountaintops.
Justice ( dikaios) is a word in the Greek language. Most people share
sufficient agreement about its meaning so as to be able to teach people
how the word should be used. This conventional notion of justice thus
informs a child's sense of justice, and as is shown by the strategy of
the Republic as well as of the First Alkibiades , the conventional
opinions about justice must be dealt with and accounted for in any more
philosophic treatment. One must assume that conventional opinions
about justice have some connection, however tenuous, with the truth about
it. This exempli¬ fies the peculiar nature of 'agreement' as a criterion
of knowledge. That experts agree about their subject matter is not
altogether beside the point, but too much emphasis should not be placed
upon it. There are innumerable examples of "sectarian"
agreements, none of which by that fact have any claim to truth. There is
also considerable agreement in conventional opinions and the
"world-views" of various communities which must be accounted
for but not necessarily accepted. Socrates admits to Alkibiades
(whom he chooses to address, at this moment, as "well-born,"
perhaps in order to remind him that he dis¬ tinguishes himself from the
many) that the people can be justly praised for teaching such things as
language, for they are properly equipped (and actually the many do not
teach one how to use language well). To teach, one ought to know, and an
indication of their knowing is that they agree among each other on the
language. If they disagreed they couldn't be said to know and wouldn't be
able to teach. One might parenthetically point to some other important
things that the many teach. Children learn the laws from the many,
including the laws/rules of games. To call some¬ one a cheater (110b)
does not mean someone knows justice; they simply must know the rules of
the game and be able to recognize when such rules have been violated.
Rules of games are strictly conventional. They gain their force from an
agreement, implicit or explicit, between the players. One might wonder if
justice is, correspondingly, the rules of a super- game, or if it is
something standing behind all rule-obeying. The many agree on what
stone and wood are. If one were to say "stone" or
"wood," they could all reach for the same thing. That is what
Alkibiades must mean by saying that all his fellow citizens have
knowledge of Greek. And they are good teachers in as much as they agree
on these terms in public and private. Poleis also agree among each other
(111b, 118d, 126c-e; cf. Lakhes 186d). Anyone who wanted to learn
what stone and wood were would be rightly sent to the many.
The fact that Greeks agree with each other when they name objects
hardly accounts for their knowledge of the language, much less their
ability to teach it. Naming is far from being the bulk of speaking
a , 89 language, (Hobbes and Scripture to the contrary
notwithstanding ). Not only is it improper to consider many parts
of speech as having the function of designating things, but even
descriptive reference to the sensible world is only a partial
aspect of the use of language. To mention only a few everyday
aspects of language that do not obviously conform, consider the varied
use of commands, metaphors, fables, poetry and exclamation. To
suggest that what constitutes one's knowledge of a language is to
point to objects and use nouns to name them, would be completely
inadequate. It would be so radically insufficient, in fact, that it
could not even account for its own articulation. Language consists
of much more than statements which correspond to observables in the
actual world. But even were one to restrict one's examination of language
to understanding what words mean, or refer to, one would immediately run
into difficulties. All sorts of words are used in everyday language which
demand some measure of evaluation on the part of the user and the
listener. A dog may be pointed to and called "dog." A more
involved judgement is required in calling it a "wild dog," or
"wolf," not to say a "bad dog." Agreement or disagreement
on the use of such terms does not depend on knowledge of the language as
much as on the character of the thing in question. There are problems
even with Socrates' account of naming. One cannot be certain that the
essence of a thing has been focussed upon by those giving the name to the
thing. One might fasten upon the material, or the form, or yet some other
feature of the object. For example, a piece of petrified wood, or a stone
carving of a tree would significantly complicate Socrates' simple
example. It is not at all clear that the same thing would be pointed to
if someone said "stone." The reader may remember that the
prisoners in the cave of the Republic spend quite a bit of their time
naming the shadows on the wall of the cave ( Republic 515b, 516c). The
close connection between this discussion and that of the Republic is
indicated also by the fact that the objects which cast the shadows in the
cave are made of stone and wood ( Republic 515a.1). People in the cave
don't even look at the objects when they name things. According to the
analogy of the cave they would be the people teaching Alkibiades to speak
Greek; they are the people in actual cities. And what they call
"stone" and "wood" are only an aspect of stone and
wood, the shadowy representations of stone and wood. If the essences of
stone and wood, comparatively simple things, are not denoted by language,
one can imagine in what the agreement might consist in the popular use
of words like "City" and "Man." The question of the
relation of a name to the essential aspect of the thing adds a
significant dimension to the philosophic understanding of the human use of
language. Alkibiades and Socrates seem to be content with this
analysis of naming, however, and Socrates readily proceeds to the next
point in the argument. If one wanted to know not only what a man or a
horse (note the significance of the change from stone and wood) was, but
which was a good runner, the many would not be able to teach that - proof
of which is their disagreement among themselves. Apparently finding this
example insufficient, Socrates adds that should one want to know which
men were healthy and which were diseased, the many would also not be able
to teach that, for they disagree (llle). Notice two features
of these examples that may be of philosophic interest. To begin
with, the respective experts are, first the gymnastics trainer and second,
the physician. In this dialogue, both the gymnastics expert and the
doctor have arguments advanced on their behalf, supporting their claim to
be the proper controllers of, or experts about, the whole body (126a-b,
128c). As supreme rulers of the technae of the body they have different
aspects of the good condition in mind and consequently might give
different advice (for example on matters of diet). Thereupon one is
confronted with the standard problem of trying to maintain two or more
supreme authorities: which one is really the proper ruler in the event of
conflict. There is yet another aspect of the same problem that is
of some concern to the reader of the First Alkibiades . One might say
that the relation of the body to the soul is a very persuasive issue in
this dialogue, and the suggestion that there are two leaders in matters
of the body causes one to wonder whether there is a corresponding
dual leadership in the soul. Secondly, the reader notices
that the composition of "the many" shifts on the basis of what
is being taught. On the one hand, the doctor fits into "the
many" as being unable to tell the good runner; on the other hand,
when the focus is on health, all but the doctor appear to constitute
"the many." The question of how to understand the make-up
of the many points to a very large issue area in philosophy, namely that
which is popularly termed the 'holism vs. individualism debate,' or more
generally, the question of the composition and character of
groups. What essentially characterizes groups - in particular that politically
indispensible group, "the many?" This issue is not superfluous
to this dialogue, nor to this portion of this dialogue. By placing the
doctor alone against the many (in the second example), one unwittingly
contradicts oneself. Alkibiades and Socrates fall among the ranks of the
Many as well as the Few. Perhaps the most obvious problem
connected with determining the composition of the group, "the
many," is brought into focus when one tries to discover how one
"goes to the many" to learn (llld). There are quite a few
possibilities. Does the opinion of "the many" become the
average (mean) opinion of all the different views prevalent in a city?
Or is it the opinion held by the majority? One might go to each
indi¬ vidual, to each of a variety of representative individuals, or even
to 51% of the individuals in a given place, and then statistically
evaluate their opinions, arriving at one or another form of majority
consensus. Or, one might determine conventional opinion by asking
various indi- 91 viduals what they believe everyone
else believes. There seem to be countless ways of understanding "the
many," each of which allows for quite different outcomes. The problems
for the student of political affairs, as well as for the aspiring
politician, are compounded because the many do not appear to hold a
single view unanimously or unambiguously on many of the important
questions. Regardless of which is the appropriate understanding of
"the many, the reader must at all events remember that "the
many" and "the few" are a perennial political division.
There are, likewise, several ways in which "the few" are
conceived. Some consider them to be the men of wealth, the men of
virtue, the men of intelligence, and so on. Reference to "the
few," however, is rarely so vague as reference to the many, since
people who speak of "the few" are usually aware of which
criteria form the bases of the distinction. Despite the lack of clarity
con¬ cerning the division between "the many" and "the
few," it is appealed to, in most regimes as being a fundamental
schizm. Most regimes, it may be ventured, are in fact based either upon
the distinction, or upon trying to remove the distinction, and they
appeal to this division, however vague, to legitimate themselves.
At this point in the discussion of the First Alkibiades (llle),
Alkibiades and Socrates are considering whether the many are capable
teachers of justice. They appear to be making their judgement solely on
the basis of the criterion of agreement. One might stop to consider not
only whether agreement is sufficient to indicate knowledge, but indeed
whether it is even necessary. One cannot simply deny the possi¬ bility that
one might be able to gain knowledge because of disagreements. Profound
differences of opinion might indicate the best way of learning the truth,
as, for example the disagreements among philosophers about justice
teaches at the very least what the important considerations might
be. Socrates continues. Since disagreement among the many indicates
that they are not able to teach (though lack of ability rarely prevents
them from trying anyway, cf. Apology 24c-25a; Gorgias 461c), Socrates
asks Alkibiades whether the many agree about justice and injustice, or if
indeed they don't differ most on those very concerns. People do not
92 fight and kill in battle because they disagree on
questions of health, but when justice is in dispute, Alkibiades has seen
the battles. And if he hasn't seen them (Socrates should know
this, after all, cf. 106e) he has heard of the fights from many,
particularly from Homer, because he's heard the Odyssey and Iliad. Alkibiades'
familiarity with Homer is of great significance. It, along with his
knoweldge of Greek, are probably the two most crucial
"oversights" in Socrates' list of what Alkibiades learned. In fact,
they are of such importance that they overshadow the subjects in which he
did take lessons, in terms of their effect on his character development,
his common-sense understanding, and on his suitability for political
office. Homer is an important source of knowledge and of opinion, and is
respons¬ ible for there being considerable consensus of belief among the
Greeks in many matters. He provides the authoritative interpretation of
the gods as well as of the qualities and actions of great men. If
Alkibiades knows Homer and if he knows that Homer is about justice, then
he has learned much more about justice than one would surmise on the
basis of his formal schooling. Alkibiades agrees with
Socrates' remark that the Iliad and Odyssey are about disagreements about
justice and injustice. He also accepts the interpretation that a
difference of opinion about the just and the unjust caused the battles
and deaths of the Akhaians and Trojans; the dispute between Odysseus and
Penelope's suitors; and the deaths and fights of the Athenians, Spartans
and Boiotians at Tanagra and Koroneia. (One notes that Socrates has
blended the fabulous with the actual, and has chosen, as his non-mythic
example, probably the one over which it is most difficult for Alkibiades
to be non-partisan - the battle in which his father died. This also
raises his heritage to the level of the epic.) The reader need not agree
with this interpretation on a number of counts. Firstly, the central case
is noteworthy in that Socrates interprets Odysseus' strife with the men of
Ithaka to be over a woman, and not primarily the kingdom and palace. It
is not at all clear, more¬ over, that what caused the altercation between
Odysseus and the suitors was a difference of opinion about justice. They
might have all wanted the same thing, but the reaction of the suitors at
Odysseus' return indicates that they didn't feel they were in the
right - they admitted 93 gurlt. Secondly, what is noticeable
in Homer is that only one aspect of the epic is about the dispute about
justice (and also, both Homeric examples involve a conflict between eros
and justice, represented by Helen and Penelope). In the epics the
disagreement among the many refers not to the many of one polis but of
various poleis against each other. Indeed the many of each polis in the
Trojan war agree. These observations foreshadow the discussion that
will presently come to the fore in the dialogue under somewhat different
circumstances. The problem of the difference between the just and the
expedient is a key one in political philosophy, and it is introduced by
the reflection that in a number of instances disagreement does not focus
on what the just solution is, but on who should be the victor, who will
control the thing over which the sides are disputing. Both sides agree
that it would be good to control one thing. More shall be said about this
later in the context of the discussion. Socrates inquires of
Alkibiades whether the people involved in those wars could be said to
understand these questions if they could disagree so strongly as to take
extreme measures. Though he must admit that teachers of that
sort are ignorant, Alkibiades had nevertheless re¬ ferred Socrates to
them. Alkibiades is quite unaware of the nature of justice and injustice
and he also cannot point to a teacher or say when he discovered them.
It thus seems hard to say he has knowledge of them. Alkibiades agrees that
according to what Socrates has said it is not likely that he knows
(112d). Socrates takes this opportunity to teach Alkibiades a most
important lesson. Though apparently a digression, it will mark a pivotal
point in the turning around of Alkibiades that occurs by the middle of
the discussion. Socrates says that Alkibiades' last remark was not
fair ( kalos) because he claimed Socrates said that Alkibiades was
ignorant, whereas actually Alkibiades did. Alkibiades is astounded. Did
he_ say it? Socrates is teaching Alkibiades that the words spoken
in an argument ought indeed to have an effect on one's life, that the
outcomes of argu¬ ments are impersonal yet must be taken seriously, and
that responsibility for what is said rests with both partners in
dialogue. The results of rational speech are to be trusted; reason is a
kind of power necessarily determining things. Alkibiades cannot agree in
speech and then decide, if it is convenient, to dismiss conclusions on
the grounds that it was someone else who said it. Arguments attain much
more significance when they are recognized as one's own. One must learn
they are not merely playthings (cf. Republic 539b). Accepting
responsibility for them and their conclusions is essential. It is
important politically with reference to speech, as well as in the more
generally recognized sense of assuming responsibility for one's actions.
To cite an instance of special importance to this dialogue, who is
responsible for Alkibiades - Perikles? Athens? Socrates? Alkibiades
himself? One can often place responsibility for one's actions on one's
society, one's immediate environment, or one's teachers. Perhaps it is
not so easy to shun responsibility for conclusions of arguments. Most men
desire consistency and at least feel uneasy when they are shown to
be involved in contradictions. In this discussion of who must accept
responsibility for the conclusions of rational discourse, Alkibiades
learns yet another lesson about the power of speech. He has, by his own
tongue, convicted himself of ignorance. Socrates demonstrates
to Alkibiades that if he asks whether one or two is the larger number,
and Alkibiades answers that two is greater by one, it was Alkibiades who
said that two was greater than one. Socrates had asked and Alkibiades had
answered; the answer was the speaker. Similarly, if Socrates should ask
which letters are in "Socrates" and Alkibiades answered,
Alkibiades would be the speaker. On the basis of this the young man
agrees that, as a principle, whenever there is a questioner and an
answerer, the speaker is the answerer. Since so far Socrates had been the
questioner and Alkibiades the answerer, Alkibiades is responsible for
whatever has been uttered. What has been disclosed by now is that
Alkibiades, the noble son of Kleinias, intends to go to the
ekklesia to advise on that of which he knows nothing. Socrates
quotes Euripides - Alkibiades "hear it from 94
[himself] not me." Socrates doesn't pull any punches. Not only
does he refer to an almost incestuous woman to speak of Alkibiades'
condition, but he follows with what must seem a painfully sarcastic form
of address (since it is actually ironic) which the young man would
probably wish to hear from serious lips. Alkibiades, the "best of
men,' is contemplating a mad undertaking in teaching what he has not
bothered to learn. Alkibiades has been hit, but not hard enough for
him to change his mind instead of the topic. He thinks that Athenians and
the other Greeks don't, in fact, deliberate over the justice of a course
of action - they consider that to be more or less obvious - but
about its advantageousness (113d). The just and the advantageous are not
the same, for great in¬ justices have proven advantageous, and sometimes
little advantage has been gained from just action. Socrates announces
that he will challenge Alkibiades' knowledge of what is expedient, even
if he should grant that the just and the advantageous are ever so
distinct (113e). Alkibiades perceives no hindrance to his claiming
to know what is advantageous unless Socrates is again about to ask from
which teacher he learned it or how he discovered it. Hereupon Socrates
remarks that the young man is treating arguments as though they were
clothing which, once worn, is dirtied. Socrates will ignore these notions
of Alkibiades, implying that they involve an incorrect understanding of
philosophic disputation. Alkibiades must be taught that what is ever
correct according to reason remains correct according to reason. Variety
in arguments is not a criterion affecting their rational
consistency. Socrates shall proceed by asking the same question,
intending it to, in effect, ask the whole argument. He claims to be
certain that Alkibiades will find himself in the same difficulty with
this argument. The reader will recognize that Alkibiades is not
likely to en¬ counter precisely the same problems with this new argument.
The nature of the agreement and disagreement by individuals and states
over the matter of usefulness or advantageousness is different than that
concern¬ ing justice. A man may know it would be useful to have
something, or expedient to do something, and also know it to be unjust.
States, too, may agree on something's advantageousness, say controlling
the Hellespont but they may disagree on who should control it. The
conflict in these cases is not the result of a disagreement as to what is
true (e.g., it is true that each country's interests are better served by
control of key sea routes), but it is based precisely on their agreement
about the truth regarding expediency. When states and individuals are
primarily concerned with wealth, then knowing what is useful presents far
fewer problems than knowing what is just. Since Alkibiades is
so squeamish as to dislike the flavor of old arguments, Socrates will
disregard his inability to corroborate his claim to knowledge of the
expedient. Instead he will ask whether the just and the useful are the
same or different. Alkibiades can question Socrates as he had been
questioned, or he can choose whatever form of discourse he likes. As he
feels incapable of convincing Socrates, Alkibiades is invited to imagine
Socrates to be the people of the ekklesia ; even there, where the young
man is eager to speak, he will have to persuade each man singly (114b). A
knowledgeable man can persuade one alone and many together (114b-c). A
writing master is able to persuade either one or many about letters and
likewise an arithmetician in¬ fluences one man or many about
numbers. For quite a few reasons the reader might object to
Socrates' inference from these examples to the arena of politics. Firstly,
they are not the kinds of things discussed in politics, and one might
suspect that the "persuasion" involved is not of the same
variety. Proof of this might be offered in the form of the observation
that the inability to persuade in politics does not necessarily imply the
dull-wittedness of the audience. Strong passions bar the way for reason
in politics like they rarely do in numbers and letters. This leads to the
second objection. Not only is knowledge of grammar and arithmetic
fundamentally different than politics, but they represent extreme
examples in them¬ selves. They correspond to two very diverse criteria of
knowledge both of which have been previously introduced in the dialogue.
The subject matter of letters is decided upon almost exclusively by
agreement; that of numbers is learned most importantly through discovery,
and this does not depend on people's agreement (cf. 112e-113a, 126c; and
106e reminds one that Alkibiades has taken lessons only in one of
these). Presumably, however, if the arithmetician and grammarian
can, then Alkibiades also will be able to persuade one man or many about
that which he knows. Apparently the only difference between the
rhetorician in front of a crowd and a man engaged in dialogue is that the
rhetorician persuades everyone at once, the latter one at a time. Given
that the same man per¬ suades either a multitude or an individual,
Socrates invites Alkibiades to practice on him to show that the just is
not the expedient. (Ironically, there may be no one Alkibiades ever meets
who is further from the multitude). If it weren't for his earlier
statement (109c) where he indicated his recognition of the difference
between private and public speech, it would appear that Alkibiades had
quite a lot to learn before he confronted the ekklesia . One might
readily propose that there is indeed very little similarity between
persuading one and persuading the multitude. In a dialogue one man can
ask questions that reveal the other's ignorance; Socrates does this
to Alkibiades in this dialogue, he might not in public. In a dialogue, there
needn't always be public pressure with which to contend (an important
exception being courtroom dialogue); a public speech, especially one
addressing the ekklesia must yield to or otherwise take into account the
strength of the many. Often when addressing a crowd one only has to
address the influential. At other times one need only appeal to the least
common denominator. There are factors at work in crowds which affect
reactions to a speaker, factors which do not seem to be present in
one-to-one dialogue. When addressing a multitude, a speaker must be aware
of the general feelings and sentiments of the group, and address himself
to them. When in dialogue he can tailor his comments to one man's
specific interests. To convince the individual, however, he will have to
be precisely right in his deduction of the individual's senti¬ ments - in
a crowd a more general understanding is usually sufficient. Mere
hints at a subject will be successful; when addressing a multitude with
regard to a policy, a rhetorician will not be taken to task for every
claim he makes. If his general policy is pleasing to the many, it is
unlikely that they will critically examine all of his reasons for pro¬ posing
the policy. Also, when speaking to a crowd, one is not expected to prove
one's technical expertise. An individual may be able to discover the
limits of one's knowledge; a crowd will rarely ask. This whola analysis,
however, is rendered questionable by the ambiguity of the composition of
"the many," discussed above. One could, for example, come
across a very knowledgeable crowd, or a stupid individual and many of the
above observations would not hold. However, the situations most directly
relevant to the dialogue involve rhetoric toward a crowd such as that of
the ekklesia , and thoughtful dialogue between individuals such as
Alkibiades and Socrates. If Alkibiades ever intends to set forth a
plan of action to the Athenians, the adoption of his proposal will depend
on his convincing them in the ekklesia . The ability to persuade the
multitude attains great political significance; and especially in
democracies, a man's ability in speaking is often the foundation of his
power. Once recognized, this power is susceptible to cultivation. Rhetoric,
the art of persuasive speech, is the art which provides the knowledge
requisite to gain effective power over an audience. All political
men are aware of rhetoric; their rhetorical ability to a large
95 extent determines their success or failure. Of course,
there are at least two important qualifications or limits on the power of
even the most persuasive speech. The first limit is knowledge. A man who
knows grammar and arithmetic will not be swayed wrongly about numbers,
when they are used in any of the conventional ways. That an able
rhetorician escape detection in a lie is a necessity if he is to be
successful among those knowledgeable in the topic he addresses.
Presumably those who possess only beliefs about the matter would be more
readily seduced to embrace a false opinion. The second limit
is more troubling. It is the problem of those who simply are not
convinced by argument. They distrust the spoken word. These seem to
fall into three categories. The first is exemplified in the
character of Kallikles in the Gorgias . It primarily includes those
who are unwilling to connect the conclusions of arguments to their
own lives. They may agree to something in argument and, moments
later, do something quite contrary to their conclusions. This
characteristic is well- displayed in Kallikles who, when driven to
a contradiction doesn't even 96 care. He holds two conflicting
opinions and holds them so strongly that he doesn't even care that they
support conclusions that are contrary to reason and yield contrary
results. Kallikles is unwilling to continue discussing with Socrates (
Gorgias); he does not want to learn from rational speech. He remains
unconvinced by Socrates' argument and by his rhetoric ( Gorgias). If
Socrates is to rule Kallikles, he will need more than reason and wisdom
and beautiful speech ( Gorgias 523a-527e); he will need some kind of
coercive power. Secondly, almost all people have some experience of
those who in¬ consistently maintain in speech what they do not uphold in
deed. This is the most immediate level on which to recognize the problem
of the rela¬ tion of theory to practice. Alkibiades seems to have this
opinion of speech at the beginning of the dialogue, for he can admit
almost anything in speech (106c.2). Two things, however, show that he is
far above it. He implicitly recognizes that the realm of speech is
the realm within which he must confront Socrates, and he has a desire for
consistency. Kallikles is too dogmatic to even recognize his
inconsistency. But when Socrates forces Alkibiades to take responsibility
for all the conclusions they have reached to that point (112e. 5ff.), he
realizes he must have made an error either in his premises or his
argument. This marks the first and major turning around of Alkibiades. He
recognizes that he has said he is ignorant. A third type of
person who is not convinced by rhetoricians is the one who distrusts
argument because he recognizes the skill involved in speaking. Not
because he is indifferent to the compulsion of reason but precisely
because he wants to act according to reason, he desires to be certain of
not being tricked. (Most people are also familiar with the feeling that
something vaguely suspicious is going on in a discussion.) He is
convinced that there are men - e.g., sophists - who are skilled at the
game of question and answer and can make anyone look like a fool.
And so what? He is not at all moved by their victory in speech.
Some¬ thing other than rational speech is needed to convince him. Indeed,
this is one of the most difficult challenges Socrates meets in the
Republic , and indicates a higher level of the theory/practice
relationship. Adeimantos is not convinced by mere words. He has to be
shown that philosophy is useful to the city, among other things (
Republic 487b.1-d.5; 498c.5 ff; 367d.9-e.5; 367b.3; 389a.10). Although he
is distrustful of mere speech, he learns to respect it as a medium
through which to under¬ stand the political. He has the example of
Socrates whose life matches, or is even guided by, his speech. Socrates'
difficulty lies in making the case in speech to this man who does not put
full stock in the con¬ clusions of speech. One must wonder, moreover,
what kinds of deeds will suffice for those others who cannot even view
Socrates. This is the problem faced by all writers who want to reach this
sort of person. Perhaps one might consider very clever speakers
like Plato to be per¬ forming the deed of making the words of a Socrates
appear like the deeds of Socrates, in the speech of the Dialogues. Almost
paradoxically, they must convince through speech that speech isn't
"mere talk." Alkibiades charges Socrates with hybris and
Socrates acknowledges it for the time being, for he intends to prove to
Alkibiades the opposite view, namely that the just is the expedient
(114d). Socrates doesn't deny the charge, or even, as one might expect,
playfully redirect it as might be appropriate; the accusation is made by
a man who, not much later, will be considered hybristic by almost the
entire Athenian public. It is not clear precisely what is hybristic about
Socrates' last remarks. Hybris is a pride or ambition or insolence
inappropriate to men. Perhaps both men are hybristic as charged; in this
instance it is not imperative that they defend themselves for they are
alone. Possibly anyone who seeks total power as does Alkibiades, or
wisdom like Socrates, is too ambitious and too haughty. They would be
vying with the gods to the extent that they challenge civic piety and the
supremacy of the deities of the polis . One wants to rule the universe
like a god, the other to know it like a god. The charge of
hybris has been introduced in the context of persuading through speech.
Allegedly the person who knows will have the power to persuade through
speech. This is itself rather a problematic claim as it implies all
failure to persuade is an indication of ignorance. However questionable the
assertion, though, the connection it recalls between these three
important aspects of man's life - knowledge, power and language - is too
thoroughly elaborated to be mere coincidence. It is very likely that the
reader's understanding of these two exceptional men and the
appropriateness of the charge of hybris will have something to do with
language's relation to knowledge and power. Alkibiades asks Socrates to
speak, if he intends to demonstrate to Alkibiades that the just is not
distinct from the ad¬ vantageous. Not inclined to answer any questions
(cf. 106b), Alkibiades wishes Socrates to speak alone. Socrates,
pretending incredulity, asks if indeed Alkibiades doesn't desire most of
all to be persuaded and Alkibiades, playing along, agrees that he
certainly does. Socrates suggests that the surest indication of
persuasion is freely assenting, and if Alkibiades responds to the
questions asked of him, he will most assuredly hear himself affirm that
the just is indeed the advantageous. Socrates goes so far as to promise
Alkibiades that if he doesn't say it, he never need trust anybody's
speech again. This astonishingly extravagant declaration by
Socrates bespeaks certain knowledge on his part. Socrates implies he is
confident of one of two things. Perhaps he knows that the just is
advantageous, or the true relationship between the two, and thus argues
for the proof of the claim that anyone who knows can persuade. (The
immense difficulties with this have already been suggested.) What is more
likely, however, is that he does not think the just is identical to the
advantageous, but he knows he can win the argument with Alkibiades and
drive him to assert whatever conclusion he wants (that he could in effect
make the weaker argument appear the stronger). If the latter is true, the
reader is reminded of the power of speech and the possible dangers that
can arise from its use. He will also wonder if Socrates is quite right in
his proposal that Alkibiades need never trust anyone's speech if he
cannot be made to agree. It seems to be more indicative of the
untrustworthiness of speech if Alkibiades should agree, not that he
refuse to agree. However, the reader has been placed in the enviable
position of being able to judge for himself, through a careful review of
the argument. His personal participation, to the limit of his ability, is
after all the only means through which he can be certain that he isn't
being duped into believing something instead of knowing it.
Alkibiades doubts he will admit the point, but agrees to comply,
confident that no harm will attend his answers. Whereupon Socrates claims
that Alkibiades speaks like a diviner (cf. 127e, 107b, 117b), and
proceeds, presuming to be articulating Alkibiades' actual opinion.
Some just things are advantageous and some are not (115a). Some
just things are noble and some are not. Nothing can be both base and
just, so all just things are noble. Some noble things might be evil and
some base things may be good, for a rescue is invested with nobility on
account of courage, and with evil because of the deaths and wounds.
However, since courage and death are distinct, it is with respect to
separate aspects that the rescue can be said to be both noble and evil.
Insofar as it is noble it is good, and it is noble because of courage.
Cowardice is an evil on par with (or worse than, 115d) death. Courage
ranks among the best things and death among the worst. The rescue is
deemed noble because it is the working of good by courage, and evil
because it is the working of evil by death. Things are evil because of
the evil produced and good on account of the good that results. In as
much as a thing is good it is noble and base inasmuch as it is evil.
To designate the rescue as noble but evil is thus to term it good
but evil (116a). In so far as something is noble it is not evil, and
neither is anything good in so far as it is base. Whoever does nobly does
well and whoever does well is happy (116b). People are made happy
through the acquisition of good things. They obtain good things by doing
well and nobly. Accordingly, doing well is good and faring well is
noble. The noble and good are the same. By this argument all that
is noble is good. Good things are expedient (116c) and as has already
been admitted, those who do just things do noble things (115a); those who
do noble things do good things (116a). If good things are expedient then
just things are expedient. As Socrates points out, it is
apparently Alkibiades who has asserted all of this. Since he argues that
the just and the expedient are the same, he could hardly do other than
ridicule anyone who rose up to advise the Athenians or the Peparathians
believing he knew the just and the unjust and claiming that just things
are sometimes evil. Before proceeding, the reader must pause and attempt
to determine the significance of the problem of the just versus the
expedient. No intimate familiarity with the tradition of political
philosophy is re¬ quired in order to observe that the issue is dominant
throughout the tradition/ perhaps most notably among the moderns in the
writings of Machiavelli and Hobbes who linked the question of justice and
expediency to the distinction between serving another's interest and
serving one's own interest. They, and subsequent moderns, in the spirit
of the "Enlightenment," then proceed with the intention of
eradicating the dis¬ tinction. Self-interest, properly understood, is
right and is the proper basis for all human actions. Not only is there a
widespread connection between the issue, the traditional treatment of the
issue, and human action - but the reader might recall that the ancient
philosophers, too, considered it fundamental. One need only realize that
the philosophic work par excellence , Plato's Republic , receives its
impetus from this consideration. The discussion of the best regime
(perhaps the topic of political philosophy) arises because of Glaukon's
challenging reformula¬ tion of Thrasymakhos' opinion that justice is the
advantage of the stronger. Recognition of this fact sufficiently
corroborates the view that this issue warrants careful scrutiny by
serious students of political philosophy. Socrates has chosen this topic
as the one on which to demonstrate the internal conflicts in Alkibiades'
soul. Perhaps that is a subtle indication to the reader as to where he
might focus when he begins the search for self-knowledge, the inevitable
prerequisite for his improvement. Alkibiades swears by all
the gods. He is overwhelmed. Alkibiades protests that he isn't sure he
knows even what he is saying; he continual¬ ly changes his views under
Socrates' questioning. Socrates points out to him that he must be unaware
of what such a condition of perplexity signifies. If someone were to ask
him whether he had two or three eyes, or two or four hands, he would
probably respond consistently because he knows the answer. If he
voluntarily gives contradictory replies, they must concern things about
which he is ignorant. Alkibiades admits it is likely; but there are
probably other reasons why one might give contra¬ dictory answers, just
as one might intentionally appear to err - in speech speech.
Alkibiades' ignorance with regard to justice, injustice, noble,
base, evil and good is the cause of his confusion about them. Whenever a
man does not know a thing, his soul is confused about that thing.
By Zeus (fittingly), Alkibiades concedes he is ignorant of how to
rise into heaven. There is no confusion in his opinion about that simply
because he is aware that he doesn't know. Alkibiades must take his part
in discerning Socrates' meaning. He knows he is ignorant about fancy
cookery, so he doesn't get confused, but entrusts it to a cook.
Similarly when aboard ship he knows he is ignorant of how to steer,
and leaves it to the pilot. Mistakes are made when one thinks one
knows though one doesn't. Otherwise people would leave the job to those
who do know. The ignorant person who knows he is ignorant doesn't
make mistakes (117e). Those who make mistakes are those who think they
know when they don't; those who know act rightly; those who don't, leave
it to others. All this is not precisely true for a number of
reasons. Chance or fortune always plays a part and something unexpected
could interfere in otherwise correctly laid plans. Also, as any honest
politician or general would have to say, sometimes courses of action must
be decided and acted upon, even when one is fully cognizant of one's
partial ignorance. The worst sort of stupidity, Socrates
testifies is the stupidity conjoined with confidence. It is a cause of
evils and the most pernicious evils occur through its involvement with
great matters like the just, the noble, the good and the advantageous.
Alkibiades' bewilderment regarding these momentous matters, coupled with
his ignorance of his very ignorance, imputes to him a rather sorry
condition. Alkibiades admits he is afraid so. Socrates at this
point (118b) makes clear to Alkibiades the nature of his predicament. He
utters an exclamation at the plight of the young man and deigns to give
it a name only because they are alone. Alkibiades, according to his own
confession, is attached to the most shameful kind of stupidity. Perhaps
to contrast Alkibiades' actual condition with what he could be, Socrates
chooses precisely this moment to refer to Alkibiades as "best of
men" (cf. also 113c). With such apparent sarcasm still reverberating
in the background, Socrates intimates that because of this kind of
ignorance he is eager to enter politics before learning of it.
Alkibiades, far from being alone, shares this lot with most politicians
except, perhaps, his guardian Perikies, and a few others. Already
recognized to be obviously a salient feature of the action of the
dialogue, the fact that the two are alone, engaged in a private
conversation, is further stressed here as the reader approaches the
central teaching of the First Alkibiades . Alkibiades has been turned
around and now faces Socrates. They can confide in each other even to the
extent of criticizing all or nearly all of Athens' politicians.
They shall, in the next while, be saying things that most people
should not hear. And at this moment it seems to be for the purpose of
naming Alkibiades' condition that Socrates reminds the reader of their
privacy. A number of possible reasons for the emphasis on privacy
in this regard come to mind. Socrates likely would not choose to call
Alkibiades stupid in front of a crowd. In the first place,
his having just recognized his ignorance makes him far less stupid than
the crowd and it would be inappropriate to have them feel they are better
than he. Alkibiades is by nature a cut above the many, and it would be a
sign of contempt to expose him to ridicule in front of the many. Though
he may be in a sorry condition, he is being compared to another standard
than the populace. Secondly, to expose and make Alkibiades
sensitive to public censure is probably not in his best interests. A
cultivation in most noble youths of the appropriate source of their honor
and dishonor is important. Socrates, by not making Alkibiades feel
mortified in front of the many, is heightening his respect for the
censure of men like Socrates. Without this alternative, the man who seeks
glory is confronted with a paradox of sorts. He wants the love/adoration
of the many, and yet he despises the things they love or adore.
Alkibiades is being shown that the praise of few (and if the principle is
pushed to its limit, eventually the praise of one - oneself, i.e. pride)
is more to be prized. Thirdly, as Socrates explains to Meletus in
his trial ( Apology 26a), when someone does something unintentionally, it
is correct to instruct him privately and not to summon the attention of
the public. Alkibiades is not ignorant on purpose; Socrates should
privately instruct him. It is also probable that Alkibiades will only
accept private criticism which doesn't threaten his status.
And perhaps fourthly, if Socrates were to insult Alkibiades in
public the many would conclude that there was a schizm between them.
Because they are men whose natures are akin, and because of their
(symbolic) representation of politics and philosophy, or power and knowledge,
any differences they have must remain private. It is in their best
interest as well as the interest of the public, that everyone per¬ ceive
the two as being indivisible. And as was observed earlier, even the
wisest politicians must appear perfectly confident of their knowledge and
plans. This is best done if they conceal their private doubts and display
complete trust in their advisors, providing a united front when facing
the many. When Socrates suggests Perikles is a possible exception,
Alkibiades names some of the wise men with whom Perikles conversed to
obtain his wisdom. Those whom he names are conventionally held to be
wise; Alkibiades might not refer to the same people by the end of this
conversation with Socrates. In any event, upon Alkibiades' mention of the
wise men, Socrates insinuates that Perikles' wisdom may be in
doubt. Anybody who is wise in some subject is able to make another wise
in it, just as Alkibiades' writing teacher taught Alkibiades, and
whomever else he wishes, about letters. The person who learns is also
then able to en¬ lighten another man. The same holds true of the harper
and the trainer (but apparently not the flute player, cf. 106e). The
ability to point to one's student and to show his capability is a fine
proof of knowing anything. If Perikles didn't make either of his sons
wise, or Alkibiades' brother (Kleinias the madman) ,why is Alkibiades in
his sorry condition? Alkibiades confesses that he is at fault for not
paying attention to Perikles. Still, he swears by the king of gods that
there isn't any Athenian or stranger or slave or foreman who is said to
have become wise through conversation with Perikles, as various students
of sophists have been said to have become wise and erudite through
lessons. Socrates doesn't need to explicate the conclusion. Instead, he
asks Alkibiades what he intends to do. The conclusion of the
argument is never uttered. It is obviously meant to question Perikles'
wisdom, but rather than spell it out, the topic is abruptly changed. If
Perikles were dead, not alive and in power, piety would not admit of even
this much criticism to be levied. Alkibiades would be expected to defend
his uncle against those outside the family; and all Athenians to defend
him against critics from other poleis . In addition, if this was a public
discussion, civic propriety would demand silence in front of the many
concerning one's doubts about the country's leaders. But since they are
indeed alone, and need not worry about the effects on others of their
discussion of Perikles' wisdom, they might have concluded the argument.
The curious reader will likely examine various reasons for not finishing
it. Three possibilities appear to be somewhat supported by the discussion
to this point. One notices, to begin with, that it would be
adequate for the argument, if a person could be found who was reputed to
have gained wisdom from Perikles. Given that a reputation among the many
has not been highly regarded previously in the dialogue, there seems
little need to press this point in the argument. If a man was said to
have been made wise by Perikles, the criteria by which that judgment
would be made seem much less reliable than the criteria whereby the many
evaluate a man's skill in letters. There is no proof of Perikles' ability
to make another wise in finding someone who is reputed to be wise.
Conversely, Perikles may well have made someone wise who did not also
achieve the reputation for wisdom. A second point in
connection with the argument is that the three subjects mentioned are
those in which Alkibiades has had lessons. Alkibiades has ability in them, yet
cannot point to people whom he has made wise in letters, harping or
wrestling. That does not seem sufficient proof that he is ignorant (thus
that his master was ignorant and so on) . It is also not clear that
Alkibiades' teachers could have made any student whomsoever they wished,
wise in these subjects; Perikles 1 sons must have achieved their
reputation as simpletons (118e) from failing at something. Knowledge
cannot require, for proof, that one has successfully taught someone else.
Not all people try to teach what they know. There must be other proofs of
competence, such as winning at wrestling, or pleasing an audience through
harping. Similarly, not having taught someone may not prove one's
ignorance; it may just indicate unwilling and incapable students.
Alkibiades, for example, didn't learn to play the flute. There is no
indication that his teacher was incapable - either of playing or of
teaching. Alkibiades is said to have refused to learn it becaus e of
con¬ siderations of his own. It might also be suggested that pointing
to students doesn't solve the major problem of proving someone's
knowledge. Is it any easier to recognize knowledge in a student
than in a teacher? A third closely connected point is that some
knowledge may be of such significance that the wise man properly
spends his time actively 98 using it (e.g., by ruling)
and not teaching it. Perikles, through ruling, may have made the
Athenians as a whole better off, and perhaps even increased their
knowledge somewhat. Had his son and heirs to his power observed his
example while he was in office, they too might have become wiser. Adding
further endorsement to this notion is the quite reasonable supposition
that some of the things a wise politician knows cannot be taught through
speech but only through example, just as some kinds of knowledge must be
gained by experience. He may communicate his teaching through his example,
or even less obviously, through whatever institutions or customs he
has established or revised. Some subjects
should probably also be kept secret for the state, and some
types of prudential judgement are acquired only be guided
experience. Perikles's very silence, indeed, may be a testimony to
his political wisdom. In response to Socrates' question as to what
Alkibiades will do, the young man suggests that they put their heads
together (119b). This marks the completion of Alkibiades' turning around.
Alkibiades, who began the discussion annoyed and haughty has requested
Socrates' assistance in escaping his predicament. He is ready to accept
Socrates' advice. This locution (of putting their heads together) will be
echoed later by Socrates (124c) and will mark another stage of their
journey together. The central portion of the dialogue, the portion
between the two joinings of their heads, is what shall be taken up
next. Since most of the men who do the work of the polis are
uneducated (119b), Alkibiades presumes he is assured of gaining an easy
victory over them on the basis of his natural qualities. If they were
educated, he would have to take some care with his learning, just as much
training is required to compete with athletes. But they are ignorant
amateurs and should be no challenge. Socrates launches into
an exclamatory derision of this "best of men." What he has just
said is unworthy of the looks and other resources of his. Alkibiades
doesn't know what Socrates means by this and Socrates responds that he is
vexed for Alkibiades and for his love. Alkibiades shouldn't expect this
contest to be with these men here. When Alkibiades inquires with whom his
contest is to be, Socrates asks if that is a question worthy of a man who
considers himself superior. Alkibiades wants to ascertain if Socrates is
suggesting that his contest is not with these men, the politicians of the
polis . This passage is central to the First Alkibiades . The answer
im¬ plicit in Socrates' response I deem to be far more profound than it
might seem to the casual observer. Hopefully the analysis here will
support this judgement and show as well, that this question of the
contest (agon) is a paramount question in Alkibiades' life, in the lives
of all superior men, and in the quest for the good as characterized by
political philosophy. If Alkibiades' ambition is really unworthy of
him, if he thinks he ought to strive only be be as competent as the
Athenians, then Socrates is vexed for his love. Earlier (104e) the reader
was informed that Socrates would have had to put aside his love for
Alkibiades if Alkibiades proved not to have such a high ambition. Thus
Socrates was attracted to Alkibiades' striving nature. He followed the
youth about for so long because Alkibiades' desires for power were
growing. What thus differ¬ entiates Alkibiades from other youths (such as
several of those with whom Socrates is shown in the dialogues, to have
spent time) is that he has more exalted ambitions than they. Should
Socrates come to the con¬ clusion that Alkibiades does not in fact have
this surpassing will for power, the philosopher would be forced to put
away his love for Alkibiades. Now, after some discussion, it seems there
is a possibility that Alkibiades wants only to be as great as other
politicians. Many boys wish this; Alkibiades' eros would not be
outstanding. Were this true, it would indeed be no wonder if Socrates
were vexed for his love. However, it appears that this is just
something Alkibiades has said (119c.3, 9). Socrates' love is not
released, so Alkibiades passes this, the test of Socrates' love. It is at
this point in the dialogue that one can finally discern the character of
the test. The question, really, is what constitutes a high enough
ambition. An athlete must try to find out with whom to train and fight,
for how long, how closely, and at what time (119b; 107d-108b). He
determines all of this himself; he determines, in other words, the extent
of his ambition to improve and care for himself in terms of his contest.
That with whom he fights determines how he prepares himself. The contest
is thus a standard against which to judge his achievement.
The next step appears to be obvious: for the athlete of the soul as
well as the athlete of the body, the question is with whom ought he
contest. Socrates suggests shortly that should Alkibiades' ambition be to
rule Athens, then his contest would rightly be with other rulers, namely
the Spartan kings and the Great King of Persia. Since Socrates apparently
proceeds to compare in some detail the Spartan and Persian princes'
preparations for the contest, the surface impression is that Alkibiades
really must presume his contest to be with the Persians and Spartans. The
reader remembers, however, that Alkibiades would rather die than be
limited to ruling Athens (105b-c). What is the proper contest for someone
who desires to rule the known, civilized world and to have his rule
endure beyond his own lifetime; what is the preparation requisite for
truly great politics? At this point the question of the contest assumes
an added significance. The reference cannot be any actual ruler; the
inquiry has encountered another dimension of complexity. The larger
significance is, it is suspected, connected to the earlier, discussion
about the role of the very concept of the superior man in political
philosophy, particularly in understanding the nature of man. The very
idea that a contest for which one ought to prepare oneself is with
something not actualized by men of the world (at least not in an obvious
sense since it cannot be any actual ruler) poses problems for some views
of human nature. For example, in the opinion of those who believe that
man's "nature" is simply what he actually is, or what is
"out there"; the actual men of the world and their demonstrated
range of possibilities are what indicate the nature of man. On this
view, man's nature, typically is understood to be some kind of
statistical norm. These people will agree that politics is limited by man
and thought about political things is thus limited by man's nature, but
they will not con¬ cede the necessity of looking toward the best
man. The argument to counter this position is importantly epistemo¬
logical. It is almost a surety that any specific individual will deviate
from the norm to some degree, and the difference can only be described as
tending to be higher or lower than, or more or less than, the norm. This
deviation, which is to one side or other of the norm, makes the
individual either better or worse than the norm. Thus individuals, it may
be said, can be arranged hierarchically based on their position relative
to the norm and "the better”. Whenever one tries to account
for an individual's hierarchical position vis a vis the norm, it is done
in terms of circumstances which limit or fail to limit his realization of
his potential. Since no one is satisfied with an explanation of a
deviation such as "that is under¬ standable, 25% of the cases are
higher than normal," some explanation of why this individual stopped
short, or proceeded further than average is called for. 100 The implicit
understanding of the potential, or of the proper/ideal proportions, then,
is what allows for comparison between individuals. By extension, this
understanding of the potential, whether or not it is actualized, is what
provides the ability to judge between regimes or societies. The amount a
polity varies (or its best men, or its average men) from the potential is
the measure of its quality relative to other polities. The explanation of
this variation (geo¬ graphic location, form of regime, economic
dependency, or other standard reasons) will be in terms of factors which
limit it from nearing, or allow it to approach nearer the goal.
As it is not uniformly better to have more and not less the normal
of any characteristic, any consistent judgement of deviation from the
norm must be made in light of the best. Indeed, it usually is, either
explicitly or implicitly. This teleological basis of comparison is the
common-sensical one, the prescientific basis of judgement. When someone
is heard to remark "what a man," one most certainly does not understand
him to be suggesting that the man in question has precisely normal
characteristics. Evaluating education provides a clear and fitting
example of how the potential, not the norm, serves as the standard for
judging. A teacher does not attempt to teach his students to conform to
the norm in literary, or mathematical ability. It would be ludicrous for
him to stop teaching mid-year, say, because the normal number of his
students reached the norm of literacy for their age. Indeed, education
itself can be seen as an attempt to exceed the norm (in the direction of
excellence) and thereby to raise it. That can only be done if there is a
standard other than the norm from which to judge the norm itself. The
superior man understands this. He competes with the best, not the norm.
As a youth he comes to know that a question central to his ambition,
or will for power is that of his proper contest. The
theoretical question of how one knows with whom to compete is very
difficult although it may (for a long time) have a straightforward
practical solution. It is at the interface between the normally accepted
solution and the search for the real answer that Alkibiades and Socrates
find themselves, here in the middle of their conversation. For most
people during part of their lives, and for many people all of their life,
the next step in one's striving, the next contestant one must face, is
relatively easy to establish. Just as a wrestler pro¬ ceeds naturally
from local victory through stages toward world champion¬ ship, so too
does political ambition have ready referents - up to a point. It is at
that point that Alkibiades finds himself now, no doubt partly with the
help of Socrates prodding his ambitions (e.g., 105b. ff, 105e). What had
made it relatively easy to know his contestant before were the pictures
of the best men as Alkibiades understood them, namely politically
successful men, Kyros and Xerxes (much as an ambitious wrestler usually
knows that a world championship title is held by some¬ one in
particular). Alkibiades' path had been guided. Socrates has chosen to
address Alkibiades now, perhaps because Alkibiades' ambition is high
enough that the conventional models no longer suffice. Alkibiades is at
the stage wherein he must discover what the truly best man is, actual
examples have run out. He recognizes that he needs Socrates' help (119b);
no one else has indicated that Alkibiades' contest might take place
beyond the regular sphere of politics, with contestants other than the
actual rulers of the world. But how is he to discover the best man in
order that he may compete? This is the theoretical question of most
significance to man, and could possibly be solved in a number of ways.
Within the confines of the dialogue, however, this analysis will not move
further than to recognize both the question/ and its centrality to
political philosophy. 101 To note in passing, however, there may be many
other questions behind that of the best man. There may, for example, be
more than one kind of best man, and a decision between them may involve
looking at a more prior notion of "best." At any rate, it
has been shown that it is apparently no accident that the central
question in a dialogue on the nature of man is a question by a superior
youth as to his proper contest. What is not yet understood is why a
philosophic man's eros is devoted to a youth whose erotic ambition is for
great politics, a will to power over the whole world. By means of a
thinly veiled reference to Athen's Imperial Navy, over which Alkibiades
would later have full powers as commander, Socrates attempts to
illustrate to the youth the importance of choosing and recog¬ nizing the
proper contestants. Supposing, for example, Alkibiades were intending to
pilot a trireme into a sea battle, he would view being as capable as his
fellows merely a necessary qualification. If he means to act nobly (
kalos ) for himself and his city, he would want to so far sur¬ pass his
fellows as to make them feel only worthy enough to fight under him, not
against him. It doesn't seem fitting for a leader to be satis¬ fied with
being better than his soldiers while neglecting the scheming and drilling
necessary if his focus is the enemy's leaders. Alkibiades asks to whom
Socrates is referring and Socrates responds with another question. Is
Alkibiades unaware that their city often wars with Sparta and the Great
King? If he intends to lead their polis , he'd correctly suppose
his contest was with the Spartan and Persian kings. His contest is not
with the likes of Meidias who retain a slavish nature and try to run the
polis by flattering, not ruling it. If he looks to that sort for his
goal, then indeed he needn't learn what's required for the greatest
contest, or perform what needs exercising, or prepare himself adequately
for a political career. Alkibiades, the best of men, has to consider the
implications of believing that the Spartan generals and the Persian kings
are like all others (i.e., no better than normal). 103 Firstly, one takes
more care of oneself if one thinks the opponents worthy, and no harm is
done taking care of oneself. Assuredly that sufficiently
establishes that it is bad to hold the opinion that they are no
better than anyone else. Almost as a second thought, Socrates
turns to another criterion which might indicate why having a
certain opinion is bad - truth (cf. Republic 386c). There is
another reason, he continues, namely that the opinion is probably
false. It is likely that better natures come from well-born
families where they will in the end become virtuous in the event they are
well brought up. The Spartan and Persian kings, descended from
Perseus, the son of Zeus, are to be compared with Socrates' and
Alkibiades' ancestral lines to see if they are inferior. 100 Alkibiades
is quick to point out that his goes back to Zeus as well, and Socrates
adds that he comes from Zeus through Daidalos and Hephaistos, son of
Zeus. Since ancestral origin in Zeus won't qualitatively differentiate
the families, Socrates points out that in both cases - Sparta and Persia
- every step in the line was a king, whereas both Socrates and
Alkibiades (and their fathers) are private men. The royal families seem
to win the first round. The homelands of the various families could be
next com¬ pared, but it is likely that Alkibiades' her itage,
which Socrates is able to describe in detail, would arouse laughter. In
ancestry and in birth and breeding, those people are superior, for, as
Alkibiades should have observed, Spartan kings have their wives guarded so
that no one outside the line could corrupt the queen, and the Persians
have such awe for the king that no one would dare, including the
queen. With the conclusion of Socrates' and Alkibiades' examination
of the various ancestries of the men, and before proceeding to the
dis¬ cussions of their births and nurtures, a brief pause is called for
to look at the general problem of descent and the philosophic
significance to have in this dialogue. References to familial
descent are diffused throughout the First Alkibiades . It begins by
calling attention to Alkibiades' ancestry and five times in the dialogue
is he referred to as the son of Kleinias. On two occasions he is even addressed
as the son of Deinomakhe. If that weren't enough, this dialogue
marks one of only two occasions on which Socrates' mother, the midwife
Phainarete, is named (cf. Theaitetos 149a). The central of the things on
which Socrates said Alkibiades prides himself is his family, and Socrates
scrutinizes it at the greatest length. The sons of Perikles are
mentioned, as are other familial relations such as the brother of
Alkibiades. The lineages of the Persian kings, of the Spartan kings, of
Alkibiades and Socrates are probed, and Socrates reveals that he has
bothered to learn and to repeat the details. The mothers of the Persian
kings and Spartan kings are given an important role in the dialogue, and
in general the question of ancestry is noticeably dominant, warranting
the reader's exploration. As already discussed in the beginning,
the reference to Alkibiades' descent might have philosophic significance
in the dialogue. Here again, the context of the concern about descent is
explicitly the consideration of the natures of men. Better natures usually
come from better ancestors (as long as they also have good nurtures). At
the time of birth, an individual's ancestry is almost the only indication
of his nature, the most important exception being, of course, his sex.
But, as suggested by Socrates' inclusion of the proviso that they be well
brought up (120e), a final account of man's nature must look to ends not
only origins, and to his nurture, not only descent. Nurture ( paideia) is
intended to mean a comprehensive sense of education, including much more
than formal school¬ ing; indeed, it suggests virtually everything that
affects one's up¬ bringing. The importance of this facet in the
development of a man's nature becomes more obvious when one remembers the
different character¬ istics of offspring of the same family (e.g.,
Kleinias and Alkibiades, both sons of Kleinias and Deinomakhe, or the
sons of Ariston participating in the Republic ). These suggestions, added
to the already remarked upon importance of nurture in a man's life,
mutually support the contention that nature is to be understood in terms
of a fulfilled end providing a standard for nurture. The nature of man,
if it is to be understood in terms of a telos , his fulfilled potential,
must be more than that which he is born as. An individual's nature, then,
is a function of his descent and his nurture. Often they are
supplementary, at least super¬ ficially; better families being better
educated, they are that much more aware and concerned with the nurture of
their offspring. 'Human nature' would be distinguished from any
individual's nature in so far as it obviously does not undergo nurture;
but if properly understood, it pro¬ vides the standard for the nurture of
individuals. To the point of birth, then, ancestry is the decisive
feature in a man's nature, and thus sets limits on his nature. When his
life begins, that turns around, and education and practice become the key
foci for a man's development. After birth a man cannot alter his ancestry,
and nurture assumes its role in shaping his being, his
nature. The issue is addressed in a rather puzzling way by
Socrates' claim that his ancestry goes through Daidalos to
Hephaistos, the son of Zeus. This serves to establish (as
authoritatively as in the case of the others) that he is well-born.
It does nothing to counter Alkibiades' claim that he, like the
Persian and Spartan kings, is descended from Zeus (all of them
claiming descent from the king of the Olympians); in other words, it
does not appear to serve a purpose in the explicit argument and the
reader is drawn to wonder why he says it. Upon examination
one discovers that this is not the regular story. Normally in
accounts of the myths, the paternal heritage of Hephaistos is
ambiguous at best . Hesiod relates that Hephaistos was born from Hera
109 with no consort. Hera did not mate with a man; Haphaistos
had no father. 1 '*’ 0 Socrates thus descends from a line begun by
a woman - the queen of the heavens, the goddess of marriage and
childbirth (cf. Theaitetos 148e-151e; also 157c, 160e-161e, 184b, 210b-c;
Statesman 268b). By mentioning Hephaistos as an ancestor, Socrates is
drawing attention to the feminine aspect of his lineage. An understanding
of the feminine is crucial to an account of human nature. The
male/female division is the most fundamental one for mankind, rendering
humans into two groups (cf. Symposium 190d-192d). The sexes and their
attraction to each other provide the most basic illustration of eros ,
perhaps man's most powerful (as well as his most problematic) drive or
passion. Other considerations include the female role in the early
nurture of children (Republic 450c) and thus the certain, if indirect
effect of sex on the polls (it is not even necessary to add the suspicions
about a more subtle part for femininity reserved in the natures of some
superior men, the philosophers). Given this, it is quite possible that
Socrates is sug¬ gesting the importance of the male/female division in
his employment of 'descent' as an extended philosophic metaphor for human
nature. A brief digression concerning Hephaistos and Daidalos may
be use¬ ful at this point. Daidalos was a legendary ingenious craftsman,
in¬ ventor and sculptor (famous for his animate sculptures). He is said
to have slain an apprentice who showed enough promise to threaten
Daidalos' supremacy, and he fled to Krete. In Krete he devised a hollow
wooden cow which allowed the queen to mate with a bull. The offspring was
the Minotaur. Daidalos constructed the famous labyrinth into which
select Athenian youths were led annually, eventually to be devoured by
the Minotaur. ^ Daidalos, however, was suspected of supplying the
youth Theseus (soon to become a great political founder) with a means to
exit from the maze and was jailed with his son Ikaros. A well known
legend tells of their flight. Minos, the Kretan king was eventually
killed in his pursuit of Daidalos. Hephaistos was the divine
and remarkably gifted craftsman of the Olympians, himself one of the
twelve major gods. Cast from the heavens as an infant, Hephaistos
remained crippled. He was, as far as can be told, the only Olympian deity
who was not of surpassingly beautiful physical form. It is interesting
that Socrates would claim descent from him. Hephaistos was noted as a
master craftsman and manufactured many wondrous things for the gods and
heroes. His most remarkable work might have been that of constructing the
articles for the defence of the noted warrior, Akhilleus, the most famous
of which was the shield (Homer, Iliad y XVIII/ 368-617). The
next topic discussed in this, the longest speech in the dialogue, is the
nurture of the Persian youths. Subsequently Socrates discourses
about Spartan and Persian wealth and he considers various possible
reactions to Alkibiades' contest with the young leaders of both
countries. The account Socrates presents raises questions as to his
possible intentions. It is quite likely that Socrates and Xenaphon,
who also gives an account of the nurture of the Persian prince,
have more in mind than mere interesting description. Their
interpretations and presentations of the subject differ too
markedly for their purposes to have been simply to report the way of life in
another country. Thus, rather than worry over matters of historical
accuracy, the more curious features of Socrates' account will be
considered, such as the relative emphasis on wealth over qualities of
soul, and the rather lengthy speculation about the queens', not the
kings', regard for their sons. In pointed contrast to the
Athenians, of whose births the neighbors do not even hear, when the heir
to the Persian throne is born the first festivities take place within the
palace and from then on all of Asia celebrates his birthday. The young
child is cared for by the best of the king's eunuchs, instead of an
insignificant nurse, and he is highly honored for shaping the limbs of
the body. Until the boy is perhaps seven years old, then, his attendant
is not a woman who would provide a motherly kind of care, nor a man who
would provide an example of masculinity and manliness, but a neutered
person. The manly Alkibiades, as well as the reader, might well wonder as
to the effect this would have on the boy, and whether it is the intended
effect. At the age of seven the boys learn to ride horses and
commence to hunt. This physical activity, it seems, continues until the
age of four¬ teen when four of the most esteemed Persians become the
boys' tutors. They represent four of the virtues, being severally
wise, just, temperate, and courageous. The teaching of piety is conducted
by the wisest tutor of the four (which certainly allows for a number of
interesting possi¬ bilities) . He instructs the youth in the religion of
Zoroaster, or in the worship of the gods, and he teaches the boy that
which pertains to a king - certainly an impressive task. The just tutor
teaches him to be completely truthful (122a); the temperate tutor to be
king and free man overall of the pleasures and not to be a slave to
anyone, and the brave tutor trains him to be unafraid, for fear is
slavery. Alkibiades had instead an old (and therefore otherwise
domestically useless) servant to be his tutor. Socrates
suspends discussion of the nurture of Alkibiades' competitors. It would
promise to be a long description and too much of a task (122b). He
professes that what he has already reported should suggest what follows.
Thereby Socrates challenges the reader to examine the manner in which
this seemingly too brief description of nurture at least indicates what a
complete account might entail. This appears to be the point in the
dialogue which provides the most fitting opportunity to explicitly and
comprehensively consider nurture. It has become clear to Socrates and
Alkibiades that the correct nurture is essential to the greatest contest,
and Socrates leaves Alkibiades (and the reader) with the impression that
he regards the Persian nurture to be appropriate. One might thus presume
that an examination of Persian practices would make apparent the more
important philosophical questions about nurture. Socrates had been
specific in noticing the subjects of instruction received by Alkibiades
(106e), and the reader might follow likewise in observing the lessons of
the Persian princes. On the face of it, Socrates provides more detail
regarding this aspect of their nurture than others, so it might be prudent
to begin by reflecting upon the teaching of religion and kingly things,
of truth-telling, of mastering pleasures, and of mastering fears. Perhaps
the Persian system indicates how these virtues are properly seen as one,
or how they are arranged together, for one sus¬ pects that conflicts
might normally arise in their transmission. These subjects are being
taught by separate masters. A consistent nurture demands that they are
all compatible, or that they can agree upon some way of deciding
differences. If the four tutors can all recognize that one of them ought
to command, this would seem to imply that wisdom some¬ how encompasses
all other virtues. In that case, the attendance of the one wise man would
appear to be the most desirable in the education of a young man. The wise
man's possession of the gamut of virtues would supply the prince with a
model of how they properly fit together. With¬ out a recognized
hierarchy, there might be conflicts between the virtues. Indeed, as the
reader has had occasion to observe in an earlier context of the dialogue,
two of the substantive things taught by two different tutors may conflict
strongly. There are times when a king ought not to be honest. The teacher
of justice then would be suggesting things at odds with that which
pertains to a king. How would the boys know which advice to choose,
independently of any other instruction? In addition, Socrates suggests
that the bravest Persian (literally the 'manliest') tells or teaches the
youth to fear nothing, for any fear is slavery. But surely the
expertise of the tutor of courage would seem to consist in his knowing what to
fear and what not to fear. Otherwise the youth would not become
courageous but reckless. Not all fears indicate that one is a slave: any
good man should run out of the way of a herd of stampeding cattle, an
experienced mountain climber is properly wary of crumbling rock, and even
brave swimmers ought to remain well clear of whirlpools. For this to be
taught it appears that the courageous tutor would have to be in agreement
with the tutor of wisdom. These sorts of difficulties seem to be
perennial, and a system of nurture which can overcome them would provide
a fine model, it seems, for education into virtues. If the Persian tutors
could indeed show the virtues to be harmonious, it would be of
considerable benefit to Alkibiades to under¬ stand precisely how it is
accomplished. The question of what is to be taught leads readily to
a considera¬ tion of how to determine who is to teach. The problem of
ascertaining the competence of teachers seems to be a continuing one (as
the reader of this dialogue has several occasions to observe - e.g.,
llOe, ff.). But besides their public reputation there is no indication of
the criteria employed in the selection of the Persian tutors. To this
point in the dialogue, two criteria have been acknowledged as
establishing qualifica¬ tion for teaching (or for the knowledge requisite
for teaching). Agree¬ ment between teachers on their subject matter
(lllb-c) is important for determining who is a proper instructor, as is a
man's ability to refer to knowledgeable students (118d). As has already
been indicated, both of these present interesting difficulties. Neither,
however, is clearly or obviously applicable to the Persian situation. The
present king might prove to be the only student to whom they can point
(in which case they may be as old as Zopyros) and he might well be the
only one in a position to agree with them. It is conceivable that some
kinds of knowledge are of such difficulty that one cannot expect too many
people to agree. If the Persians have indeed solved the problems of
choosing tutors, and of reconciling public reputation for virtue with
actual possession of virtue, they have overcome what appears to be a most
persistent diffi¬ culty regarding human nurture. Another
issue which surfaces in Socrates' short account of the Persian
educational system is that of the correct age to begin such nurture.
Education to manhood begins at about the age of puberty for the prince.
If the virtues are not already quite entrenched in his habits or thoughts
(in which latter case he would have needed another source of instruction
besides the tutors - as perhaps one might say the Iliad and Odyssey
provide for Athenian youths such as Alkibiades), it is doubtful that they
could be inculcated at the age of fourteen. Socrates is completely silent
about the Persians' prior education to virtue, dis¬ closing only that
they began riding horses and participating in "the hunt." Since
both of those activities demand some presence of mind, one may presume
that early Persian education was not neglected. This earliest phase of
education is of the utmost importance, however, for if the boy had been a
coward for fourteen years, one might suspect tutoring by a man at that
point would not likely make him manly. And to make temperate a lad
accustomed to indulgence would be exceedingly difficult. Forcibly
restricting his consumption would not have a lasting effect un¬ less
there were some thing to draw upon within the understanding of the boy,
but Socrates supplies Alkibiades with no hint as to what that might be.
Presently the young man will be reminded of Aesop's fables and the
various stories that children hear. If, in order to qualify as
proper nurturing, such activities as children participate in - e.g., music
and gymnastics - ought to be carried out in a certain mode or with
certain rules (cf. Republic 377a-e; 376c-414c), Socrates gives no
indication of their manner here. Unless stories and activities build a
respect for piety and justice, and the like, it is not obvious that the
respect will be developed when someone is in his mid-teens. It would seem
difficult, if not impossible, to erase years of improper musical and
gymnastic education. Socrates remains distressingly silent about so very
much of the Persian (or proper) method of preparing young men for the
great contest. The only one who would care about Alkibiades 1
birth, nurture or education, would be some chance lover he happened to
have, Socrates says in reference to his seemingly unique interest in
Alkibiades' nature (122b). He concludes what was presumably the account
of the education of the Persian princes, intimating that Alkibiades would
be shamed by a comparison of the wealth, luxury, robes and various
refinements of the Persians. It is odd that he would mention such items
in the context immediately following the list of subjects the tutors were
to teach in the education of the soul of the king - including the
complete mastery of all pleasure. It is even more curious that he would
deign to mention these in the context of making Alkibiades sensitive to
what was required for his preparation for his proper contest. The historical
Alkibiades, it seems, would not be so insensitive to these luxuries as to
need reminding of them, and the dialogue to this point has not given any
indica¬ tion that these things of the body are important to the
training Alkibiades needs by way of preparing for politics. The fact that
Socrates expressly asserts that Alkibiades would be ashamed at having
less of those things corroborates the suggestion that more is going on in
this long speech than is obvious at the surface. Briefly, and
in a manner that doesn't appear to make qualities of soul too appealing,
Socrates lists eleven excellences of the Spartans: temperance,
orderliness, readiness, easily contented, great-mindedness,
well-orderedness, manliness, patient endurance, labor loving, contest
loving and honor loving. Socrates neither described these glowingly, nor
explains how the Spartans come to possess them. He merely lists them.
Then, interestingly, he remarks that Alkibiades in comparison is a child
. He does not say that Alkibiades would be ashamed, or that he would
lose, but that he had somehow not yet attained them. Like some children
presumably, he may have the potential to grow into them if they are part
of the best nature. There is no implication, then, that Alkibiades'
nature is fundamentally lacking in any of these virtues, and this is of
special interest to the reader given the more or less general agreement,
even during his lifetime, as to his wantonness. Socrates here suggests
that Alkibiades is like a child with respect to the best
nature. This part of Socrates' speech reveals two possible
alternatives to the Persian education, alternatives compatible with the
acquisition of virtue. A Spartan nurture was successful in giving
Spartans the set of virtues Socrates listed. Since Alkibiades obviously
cannot regain the innocence necessary to benefit from early disciplined
habituation, and since Socrates nevertheless understands him to be able
to grow into virtue in some sense, there must be another way open to him.
This twenty year old "child" has had some early exposure to
virtue, at least through poetry, and perhaps it is through this youthful
persuasion that Socrates will aid him in his education. Indeed Socrates
appeals often to his sense of the honorable and noble - which is related
to virtue even if improperly understood by Alkibiades. As the dialogue
proceeds from this point/ Socrates appears to be importantly concerned
with making Alkibiades virtuous through philosophy. He is trying to
persuade Alkibiades to let his reason rule him in his life, most
importantly in his desire to know himself. Perhaps, on this account, one
might acquire virtue in two ways, a Spartan nurture, for example, and
through philosophy. Again, however, Socrates stops before he has
said everything he might have said, and turns to the subject of wealth.
In fact, Scorates claims that he must not keep silent with regard to
riches if Alkibiades thinks about them at all. Thus, according to Socrates,
not only is it not strange to turn from the soul to wealth, but it is
even appropriate. Socrates must attest to the riches of Spartans, who in
land and slaves and horses and herds far outdo any estate in Athens, and
he most especially needs to report on the wealth of gold and silver
privately held in Lakedaimon. As proof for this assertion, which
certainly runs counter to almost anyone's notion of Spartan life,
Socrates uses a fable within this fabulous story. Socrates
assumes Alkibiades has learned Aesop's fables - somehow - for without
supplying any other details he simply mentions that there are many tracks
of wealth going into Sparta and none coming out. In order to explain
Socrates' otherwise cryptic remarks, the children's fable will be
recounted. Aesop's story concerns an old lion who must eat by his wits
because he can no longer hunt or fight. He lies in a cave pretending to
be ill and when any animals visit him he devours them. A fox eventually
happens by, but seeing through the ruse he remains outside the cave. When ths
lion asks why he doesn't come in, the fox responds that he sees too many
tracks entering the cave and none leaving it. The lion and the fox
represent the classic confrontation between power and knowledge. 114 One
notices that in the fable the animals generally believe an opinion that
proves to be a fatal mistake. The fox doesn't. He avoids the error. The
implication is that Socrates and Alkibiades have avoided an important
mistake that the rest of the Greeks have made. One can only speculate on
what it is precisely. They seem to be the only ones aware of one of
Sparta's qualities, a quality which, oddly, is in some sense essential to
Alkibiades' contest. Perhaps Socrates' use of the fable merely suggests
that erroneous opinions about the nature of one's true contestant may
prove fatal, but there may be more to it than that. This
fable fittingly appears in the broad context of nurture; myths and fables
are generally recognized for their pedagogic value. Any metaphoric
connection this fable brings to mind with the more famous Allegory
of the Cave in Plato's Republic will necessarily be speculative. But they
are not altogether out of place. The cave, in a sense, represents
the condition of most people's nurtures and thus represents a fitting
setting for a fable related in this dialogue. Given Socrates' fears of
what will happen to Alkibiades (132a, 135e) and Alkibiades' own concern
for the demos , the suggested image of people (otherwise fit enough to be
outside) being enticed into the cave and unable to leave it might be
appropriate. At any rate, in terms of the argument for Sparta's
wealth, this evidence does nothing to show that the wealth is privately
held. It is apparent, after all, that the evidence indicates gold is
pouring into Spsi’ts. from all over Greece, but not coining' out of the
country, whereas Socrates seems to interpret this as private, not public
wealth. Perhaps the reader may infer from this that a difference between
city and man is being subtly implied. Socrates is suggesting that wealth
is an important part of the contest, and yet he includes himself in the
contest at a number of points. This rather inconclusive and ambiguous
reference to the wealth of Sparta and the Spartans might suggest that the
difference between the city and man regarding riches, may be that great
wealth is good for a city (for example, as Thucydides observes, wealth
facilitates warmaking), and is thus something a ruler should know how to
acquire - but not so good for an individual. Socrates' next statement
supports this interpretation. A king's being wealthy might not mean that
he uses it privately. Socrates informs Alkibiades that the king possesses
the most wealth of any Spartans for there is a special tribute to him
(123a- b) . In any case, however great the Spartan fortunes appear
compared with the fortunes of other Greeks, they are a mere pittance next
to the Persian king's treasures. Socrates was told this himself by a
trustworthy person who gathered his information by travelling and finding
out what the local inhabitants said. Socrates treats this as valuable
information, yet which, given his chosen way of life, he couldn't have
acquired firsthand. Large tracts of land are reserved for adorning
the Persian queen with clothes, individual items having land specially
set aside for them. There were fertile regions known as the "king's
wife's girdle," veil, etc.Certainly an indication of wealth, it also
seems to suggest a wanton luxury, especially on the part of women (and
which men flatter with gifts). Returning to the supposed
contest between Alkibiades and the Spartan and the Persian kings, Socrates
adopts a very curious framework for the bulk of the remainder of this
discourse. He continues in terms of the thoughts of the mother of the
king and proceeds as though she were, in part, in a dialogue with
Alkibiades 1 mother, Deinomakhe. If she found out that the son of
Deinomakhe was challenging her son, the king's mother, Amestris, would
wonder on what Alkibiades could be trusting. The manner in which Socrates
has the challenge introduced to Amestris does not reveal either of the
men's names. Only their mothers are referred to - and the cost of the
mothers' apparel seems to be as important to the challenge or contest as
the size of the sons' estates. Only after he is told that the barbarian
queen is wondering does the reader find out that her son's name is
Artaxerxes and that she is aware that it is Alkibiades who is
challenging her son. She might well have been completely ignorant of the
existence of Deinomakhe's family, or she may have thought it was
Kleinias, the madman (118e), who was the son involved. Since there is no
contest with regards to wealth - either in land or clothing - Alkibiades
must be relying on his industry and wisdom - the only thing the Greeks
have of any worth. Perhaps because she is a barbarian, or because
of some inability on her part, or maybe some subtlety of the Greeks, she
doesn't recognize the Greeks' speaking ability as one of their greatest
accomplishments. Indeed, both in the dialogue and historically, it was
his speaking ability on which Alkibiades was to concentrate much of his
effort, and through which he achieved many of his triumphs. Greeks in
general and Athenians in particular spent much time cultivating the art
of speaking. Sophists and rhetoricians abounded. Rhapsodists and actors
took part in the many dramatic festivals at Athens. Orators and
politicians addressed crowds of people almost daily Cor so it
seems). Socrates continues. If she were to be informed (with
reference to Alkibiades' wisdom and industriousness) that he was not yet
twenty, and was utterly uneducated, and further, was quite satisfied with
himself and re¬ fused his lover's suggestion to learn, take care of
himself and exercise his habits before he entered a contest with the
king, she would again be full of wonder. She would ask to what the youth
could appeal and would conclude Socrates and Alkibiades (and Deinomakhe)
were mad if they thought he could contend with her son in beauty ( kalos
), stature, birth, wealth, and the nature of his soul (123e). The last
quality, the nature of the soul, has the most direct bearing on the theme
of the dialogue, and as the reader remembers, is the promised but not
previously included part of the list of reasons for Alkibiades' high
opinion of himself (104a. ff.). Since it is also the most difficult to
evaluate, one might reasonably wonder what authority Amestris' judgement
commands. It is feasible for the reader to suspect that this is simply
Socrates' reminder that a mother generally favors her own son. But
perhaps her position and experience as wife and mother to kings enables
her in some sense to judge souls. Lampido, another woman, the
daughter, wife and mother of three different kings, would also wonder,
Socrates proposes, at Alkibiades' desire to contest with her son, despite
his comparatively ignoble ( kakos ) upbringing. Socrates closes the
discussion with the mothers of kings by asking Alkibiades if it is not
shameful that the mothers and wives (literally, "the women belonging
to the kings ) of their enemies have a better notion than they of the
qualities necessary for a person who wants to contend with
them. The problem of understanding human nature includes centrally
the problem of understanding sex and the differences between men and
women. Thus political philosophy necessarily addresses these matters.
Half of a polity is made up of women and the correct ordering of a polity
re¬ quires that women, as well as men, do what is appropriate.
However, discovering the truth about the sexes is not simple in any
event, partly at least because of one's exclusion from personal knowledge
about the other sex; and it has become an arduous task to gather honest
opinions from which to begin reflecting. The discussion of
women in this central portion of the dialogue is invested with political
significance by what is explored later re¬ garding the respective tasks
of men and women (e.g., 126e-127b). Before proceeding to study the rest
of this long speech, it may be useful to briefly sketch two problem
areas. Firstly the outline of some of the range of philosophic
alternatives presented by mankind's division into two sexes will be
roughly traced out. This will foreshadow the later discussion of the work
appropriate to the sexes. Secondly, a suggestion shall be ventured as to
one aspect of how 'wonder' and philosophy may be properly understood to
have a feminine element - an aspect that is con¬ nected to a very
important theme of this dialogue. Thus, in order to dispel some of
the confusion before returning to the dialogue, the division of the sexes
may imply, in terms of an understanding of human nature, that there is
either one ideal that both sexes strive towards, or there is more than
one. If there is one goal or end, it might be either the 'feminine,' the
'masculine, a combina¬ tion of the traits of both sexes, or a
transcendent "humanness" that rises above sexuality. The first
may be dismissed unless one is willing to posit that everything is
"out-of-whack" in nature and all the wrong people have
been doing great human deeds. Traditionally, the dominant opinion has implicitly
been that the characteristics of 'human' are for the most part those
called 'masculine', or that males typically embody these characteristics
to a greater extent. Should this be correct, then one may be warranted in
considering nature simply "unfair" in making half of the people
significantly weaker and less able to attain those character¬ istics.
Should the single ideal for both sexes be a combination of the
characteristics of both sexes, still other difficulties arise. A normal
understanding of masculine and feminine refers to traits that are quite
distinct; those who most combine the traits, or strike a mean, appear to
be those who are most sexually confused. The other possibility
mentioned was that there be two (or more) sets of characteristics - one
for man and one for woman. The difficulty with this alternative is unlike
the difficulties encountered in the one- model proposal. One problem with
having an ideal for each sex, or even with identifying some human
characteristics more with one sex than the other, is that all of the
philosophic questions regarding the fitting place of each sex still
remain to be considered. Some version of this latter alternative
seems to be endorsed later in the First Alkibiades (126e-127b). There it
is agreed £md agreement frequently is the most easily met of the
suggested possible criteria of knowledge mentioned in the dialogue) that
there are separate jobs for men and women. Accordingly, men and women are
said to be rightly unable to understand each other's jobs and thus cannot
agree on matters sur¬ rounding those jobs. One of the
implications of this, however, unmentioned by either Socrates or
Alkibiades, is that women therefore ought not to nurture young sons. A
woman does not and cannot grasp what it is to be a man and to have manly
virtue. Thus they cannot raise manly boys. However, this is contrary to
common sense. One would think that if there was any task for which a
woman should be suited (even if it demands more care than is often
believed) it would be motherhood. Because of this a mother would have to
learn a man's business if she would bear great sons. At this point the
problems of the surface account of the First Alkibiades become apparent
to even the least reflective reader. If it is the same task, or if
the same body of knowledge (or opinion) is necessary for being a great
man as for raising a great man, then at least in one case the subjects of
study for men and women are not exclusive. Women dominate the young lives
of children. They must be able to turn a boy's ambitions and desires in
the proper direction until the menfolk take over. Since it would pose
practical problems for her to attempt to do so in deed, she must proceed
primarily through speech, in¬ cluding judicious praise and blame, and
that is why the fables and myths women relate ought to be of great
concern to the men (cf. for example. Republic 377b-c). If, on the other
hand, it requires completely differ¬ ent knowledge to raise great sons
than it does to be great men, then men, by the argument of the dialogue
should not expect to know women's work. If this is the proper
philosophic conclusion the reader is to reach, then it is not so
obviously disgraceful for the womenfolk to know better than Socrates and
Alkibiades what it takes to enter the contest (124a). The disgrace, it
seems, would consist in being unable to see the contra¬ dictions in the
surface account of the First Alkibiades , and thus not being in a
position to accept its invitation to delve deeper into the problem of
human nature. At this point a speculation may be ventured as to
why, in this dialogue, wonder takes on a feminine expression, and
why elsewhere. Philosophy herself is described as feiminine Ce.g.,
Republic 495-b-c, 536c, 495e; Gorgias 482a; cf. also Letter VII
328e, Republic 499c-d, 548b-c, 607b). One might say that a woman's
secretiveness enhances her seductiveness. Women are concerned with
appearance (cf. 123c; the very apparel of the mothers of great sons
is catalogued) . Philosophy and women may be more alluring when
disclosure ("disclothesure") of their innermost selves requires
a certain persistence on the part of their suitors. Philosophy in its
most beguiling expression is woman-like. When subtle and hidden,
its mystery enhances its attractiveness. Perhaps it will be suggested -
perhaps for great men to be drawn to philosophy she must adopt a feminine
mode of expression, in addition to the promise of a greater power; if
viewed as a goddess she must be veiled, not wholly naked. To
further explore the analogue in terms of expression, one notices that
women are cautious of themselves and protective of their own. They are
aware, and often pass this awareness on to men that in some circles they
must be addressed or adorned in a certain manner in order to avoid
ridicule and appear respectable. As well, a woman's protection of her
young is expected. Philosophy, properly expressed, should be careful to
avoid harming the innocent; and a truly political philosopher should be
protective of those who will not benefit from knowing the truth. If the
truth is disruptive to the community, for example, he should be most
reluctant to announce it publicly. The liberal notion that every truth is
to be shared by all might be seen to defeminize philosophy. Women, too in
speech will lie and dissemble to protect their own; in deed, they are
more courageous in retreat, able to bear the loss of much in order to
ensure the integrity of that of which they are certain is of most im¬
portance . Political philosophy is not only philosophy about
politics; it is doing (or at least expressing) all of one's
philosophizing in a politic way. Its expression would be
"feminine." This suggestion at least appears to square with the
role of women in the dialogue. It accounts for the mothers' lively
concern over the welfare and status of the power¬ ful; it provides a
possible understanding of how the 'masculine' and 'feminine' may have
complementary tasks; it connects the female to 'wonder'; it lets the
reader see the enormous significance of speech to politics; it reminds
one of the power of eros as a factor in philosophy, in politics, in
Socrates' attraction to Alkibiades, and in man's attraction to philosophy;
it helps to explain why both lines of descent, the maternal as well as
the paternal, are emphasized in the cases of the man coveting power and
the man seeking knowledge. Through the very ex¬ pression of either,
politics and philosophy become interconnected. Socrates addresses
Alkibiades as a blessed man and tells him to attend him and the Delphic
inscription, "know thyself." These people (presumably Socrates
is referring to the enemy, with whose wives they were speaking; however, the
analysis has indicated why the referent is left ambiguous: there is a
deeper sense of 'contest' here than war with Persians and Spartans) are
Socrates' and Alkibiades' competitors, not those whom Alkibiades thinks.
Only industriousness and techne will give them ascendancy over their real
competitors. Alkibiades will fail in achieving a reputation among Greeks
and barbarians if he lacks those qualities. And Socrates can see that
Alkibiades desires that reputation more than anyone else ever loved
anything. The reader may have noticed that the two qualities
Socrates men¬ tions are very similar to the qualities of the Greeks
mentioned by the barbarian queen above. Socrates is implicitly raising
the Greeks above the barbarians by making the Greek qualities the most
important, and he diminishes the significance of their victory in terms
of wealth and land. He thus simultaneously indicts them on two
counts. They do not recognize that Alkibiades is their big challenge,
sothey are in the disgraceful condition of which Alkibiades was accused,
namely not having an eye to their enemies but to their fellows. By
raising the Greek virtues above the barbarian qualities, Socrates
throws yet more doubt on the view that they are indeed the proper
contestants for Alkibiades. It is interesting that the barbarian queen
knew or believed these were the Greek's qualities but she did not
correctly estimate their importance. Another wonderful feature of
this longest speech in the First Alkibiades is the last line: "I
believe you are more desirous of it than anyone else is of
anything," (124b). Socrates ascribes to Alkibiades an extreme eros .
It may even be a stranger erotic attraction or will to power than that
marked by Socrates' eros for Alkibiades. But the philosopher wants to
help and is able to see Alkibiades' will. Socrates even includes himself
in the contest. Socrates is indeed a curious man. So ends the
longest speech in the dialogue. Alkibiades agrees. He wants that.
Socrates' speech seems very true. Alkibiades has been impressed with
Socrates' big thoughts about politics, for Socrates had indicated that he
is familiar enough with the greatest foreign political powers to make
plausible/credible his implicit is* orf or explicit criticism of them. Socrates
has also tacitly approved of Alkibiades 1 ambitions to rule not only
Athens, but an empire over the known world. Alkibiades must be impressed
with this sentiment in democratic Athens. In addition to all this,
Socrates has hinted to the youth that there is something yet bigger.
Alkibiades requests Socrates' assistance and will do whatever Socrates
wants. He begs to know what is the proper care he must take of
himself. Socrates echoes Alkibiades' sentiment that they must put
their heads together (124c; cf. 119b). This is an off-quoted line
from Homer's 119 Iliad. In the Iliad the decision had been
made- that information must be attained from and about the Trojans
by spying on their camp. The brave warrior, Diomedes, volunteered to go,
and asked the wily Odysseus to accompany him. Two heads were better than
one and the best wits of all the Greek heroes were the wits of Odysseus.
Diomedes recognized this and suggested they put their heads together as
they proceed to trail the enemy to their camp, enter it and hunt for
information necessary to an Akhaian victory. Needless to say,
the parallels between the Homeric account, the situation between
Alkibiades and Socrates, and the Aesopian fable, are intriguing. When
Alkibiades uttered these lines previously, it was appropriate in that he
requested the philosopher (the cunning man) to go with him. Alkibiades
and Socrates, like Diomedes and Odysseus, must enter the camp of the
enemy to see what they were up against in this contest of contests, so to
speak. Alkibiades, assuming the role of Diomedes, in a sense initiated
the foray although an older, wiser man had supplied the occasion for it.
Alkibiades had to be made to request Socrates' assistance. The part of
the dialogue following Alkibiades's quoting of Homer was a discussion of the
contest of the superior man and ostensibly an examination of the elements
of the contest. They thoroughly examined the enemy in an attempt to
understand the very nature of this most important challenge.
This time, however, the wilier one (Socrates/Odysseus) is asking
Alkibiades/Diomedes to join heads with him. The first use of the quote
served to establish the importance of its link to power and knowledge.
The second mention of the quote is perhaps intended to point to a
con¬ sideration of the interconnectedness of power and knowledge. In what
way do power and knowledge need each other? What draws Socrates and
Alkibiades together? The modern reader, unlike the Athenian
reader, might find an example from Plato more helpful than one from
Homer. Some of the elements of the relationship are vividly
displayed in the drama of the opening passages of the Republic .
The messenger boy runs between the many strong and the few 120 ...
wise. His role is similar to that of the auxiliary class of the
dialogue but is substantively reversed. Although he is the
go-between who carries the orders of one group to the other and has the
ability to use physical means to execute those orders (he causes Socrates
literally to "turn around," and he takes hold of Socrates'
cloak), he is carrying orders from those fit to be ruled to those fit to
rule. What is es¬ pecially interesting is the significance of these
opening lines for the themes of the First Alkibiades . The first speaker
in the Republic pro¬ vides the connection between the powerful and the
wise . And he speaks to effect their halt. There has to be a compromise
between those who know but are fewer in number, and those who are
stronger and more numer¬ ous but are unwise. The slave introduces
the problem of the competing claims to rule despite the fact that he has
been conventionally stripped of his. Polemarkhos, on behalf
of the many (which includes a son of Ariston) uses number and strength as
his claims over the actions of Socrates and Glaukon. Socrates suggests
that speech opens up one other possibility. Perhaps the Few could
persuade the Many. He does not sug¬ gest that the many use speech to
persuade the few to remain (although this is what in fact happens when
Adeimantos appeals to the novelty of a torch race). Polemarkhos asks
"could you really persuade if we don't listen?" and by that he
indicates a limit to the power of speech. Later in the dialogue it
is interesting that the two potential rulers of the evening's discussion,
Thrasymakhos and Socrates, seem to fight it out with words or at least
have a contest. The general problem of the proper relation between
strength and wisdom might be helpfully illuminated by close examination
of examples such as those drawn from the Republic , the Iliad and Aesop's
fable. In any event, Socrates and Alkibiades must again join heads.
Pre¬ sumably, the reader may infer, the examination of the Spartans and
Persians was insufficient. (That was suspected from the outset because
Alkibiades would rather die than be limited to Athens. Sparta and Persia
would be the proper contestants for someone intending only to rule
Europe.) Per¬ haps they will now set out to discover the real enemy, the
true contestant. The remainder of the dialogue, in a sense, is a
discussion of how to com¬ bat ignorance of oneself. One might suggest
that this is, in a crucial sense, the enemy of which Alkibiades is as yet
not fully aware. Socrates, by switching his position with
Alkibiades vis-a-vis the guote, reminds the reader that Odysseus was no
slouch at courage and that Diomedes was no fool. It also foreshadows the
switch in their roles made explicit at the end of the dialogue. But even
more importantly, Socrates tells Alkibiades that he is in the same
position as Alkibiades. He needs to take proper care of himself too, and
requires education. His case is identical to Alkibiades' except in one
respect. Alkibiades' guardian Perikles is not as good as Socrates'
guardian god, who until now guarded Socrates against talking with
Alkibiades. Trusting his guardian, Socrates is led to say that Alkibiades
will not be able to achieve his ambitions except through Socrates.
This rather enigmatic passage of the First Alkibiades (124c) seems
to reveal yet another aspect of the relation between knowledge and power.
If language is central to understanding knowledge and power, it is thus
instructive about the essential difference, if there is one, between men
who want power and men who want knowledge. Socrates says that his
guardian (presumably the daimon or god, 103a-b, 105e), who would not let
him waste words (105e) is essentially what makes his case different than
that of Alkibiades. In response to Alkibiades' question, Socrates only
emphasizes that his guardian is better than Perikles, Alkibiades'
guardian, possibly because it kept him silent until this day. Is Socrates
perhaps essentially different from Alkibiades because he knows when to be
silent? The reader is aware that according to most people, Socrates and
Alkibiades would seem to differ on all important grounds. Their looks,
family, wealth and various other features of their lives are in marked
contrast. Socrates, however, disregards them totally, and fastens his
attention on his guardian. And the only thing the reader knows about his
guardian is that it affects Socrates' speech. Socrates claims that
because he trusts in the god he is able to say (he does not sense
opposition to his saying) that Alkibiades needs Socrates. To this
Alkibiades retorts that Socrates is jesting or playing like a
child. Not only may one wonder what is being referred to as a 121
jest, but one notices that Socrates surprisingly acknowledges that
maybe he is. He asserts, at any rate, he is speaking truly when he
re¬ marks that they need to take care of themselves - all men do, but
they in particular must. Socrates thereby firmly situates himself
and Alkibiades above the common lot of men. He also implies that the
higher, not the lower, is deserving of extra care. Needless to say, the
notion that more effort is to be spent on making the best men even better
is quite at odds with modern liberal views. Alkibiades
agrees, recognizing the need on his part, and Socrates joins in fearing
he also requires care. The answer for the comrades demands that there be
no giving up or softening on their part. It would not befit them to
relinquish any determination. They desire to become as accomplished as
possible in the virtue that is the aim of men who are good in managing
affairs. Were one concerned with affairs of horseman¬ ship, one would
apply to horsemen, just as if one should mean nautical affairs one would
address a seaman. With which men's business are they concerned, queries
Socrates. Alkibiades responds assured that it is the affairs of the
gentlemen ( kalos kai agathos) to whom they must attend, and these are
clearly the intelligent rather than the unintelligent. Everyone is
good only in that of which he has intelligence (125a). While the
shoemaker is good at the manufacture of shoes, he is bad at the making of
clothing. However, on that account the same man is both bad and good and
one cannot uphold that the good man is at the same time bad (but cf.
116a). Alkibiades must clarify whom he means by the good man. By altering
the emphasis of the discussion to specific intelligence or skills,
Socrates has effectively prevented Alkibiades from answering
"gentlemen" again, even if he would think that the affairs of
gentlemen in democracies are the affairs with which a good ruler should
be concerned. Given his purported ambitions, it is understandable
that Alkibiades thinks good men are those with the power to rule in a
polis (125b). Since there are a variety of subjects over which to rule,
or hold power, Socrates wants to clarify that it is men and not, for
example, horses, to which Alkibiades refers. Socrates undoubtedly knew
that Alkibiades meant men instead of horses; the pestiness of the question
attracts the attention of the reader and he is reminded of the famous
analogy of the city made by Socrates in the Apology . Therein, the city
is likened to a great horse ( Apology 30e). It would thus not be wholly
inappropriate to interpret this bizarre question in a manner which,
though not apparent to Alkibiades, would provide a perhaps more meaning¬
ful analysis. Socrates might be asking Alkibiades if he intends to rule a
city or to rule men (in a city). It is not altogether out of place to adopt
the analogy here; corroborating support is given by the very subtle
philosophic distinctions involved later in distinguishing ruling cities
from ruling men (cf. 133e). For example, cities are not erotic, whereas
men are; cities can attain self-sufficiency, whereas men cannot. It does
not demand excessive reflection to see how erotic striving and the
interdependency of men affects the issues of ruling them. What is good
for a man, too, may differ from what is good for a city (as mentioned
above with reference to wealth), and in some cases may even be
incompatible with it. These are all issues which demand the consideration
of rulers and political thinkers. Additional endorsement for the
suitability of the analogy between city and man for interpreting this
passage, is provided by Socrates in his very next statement. He asks if
Alkibiades means ruling over sick men (125b). Earlier (107b-c) the two
had been dis¬ cussing what qualified someone to give advice about a sick
city. Alkibiades doesn't mean good rule to be ruling men at sea
or while they are harvesting (though generalship and farming, or defence
and agriculture, are essential to a city). He also doesn't conclude that
good rule is useful for men who are doing nothing (as Polemarkhos is
driven to conclude that justice is useful for things that are not in use
- Republic 333c-e). In a sense Alkibiades is right. Rulers rule men when
they are doing things such as transacting business, and making use of
each other and whatever makes up a political life (125c). But rule in a precise,
but inclusive, sense is also rule over men when they are inactive. The
thoughts and very dreams are ruled by the true rulers, who have con¬
trolled or understood all the influences upon men. Socrates fastens
onto one of these and tries to find out what kind of rule
Alkibiades means by ruling over men who make use of men. Alkibiades
does not mean the pilot's virtue of ruling over mariners who make
use of rowers, nor does he mean the chorus teacher who rules flute
122 players who lead singers and employ dancers; Alkibiades
means ruling men who share life as fellow citizens and conduct business.
Socrates in¬ quires as to which techne gives that ability as the pilot's
techne gives the ability to rule fellow sailors, and the chorus teacher's
ability to rule fellow singers. At this point the attentive reader
notices that Socrates has slightly altered the example. He has introduced
an element of equality. When the consideration of the polis was made explicit,
the pilot and chorus teacher became "fellows" -"fellow
sailors" and "fellow singers." This serves at least to
suggest that citizenship in the polis is an equalizing element in
political life. To consider oneself a fellow citizen with another implies
a kind of fraternity and equality that draws people together. Despite,
say, the existence of differences within the city, people who are fellow
citizens often are closer to each other than they are to outsiders who
may otherwise be more similar. There is another sense in which Socrates'
shift to calling each expert a "fellow" illuminates something
about the city. This is dis¬ covered when one wonders why Socrates
employed two examples - the chorus teacher and the pilot. One
reason for using more than a single example is that there is more than
one point to illustrate. It is then up to the reader to scrutinize the
examples to see how they importantly differ. The onus is on the reader,
and this is a tactic used often in the dialogues. Someone is much more
likely to reflect upon something he discovered than some¬ thing that is
unearthed for him. One important distinction between these two technae is
that a pilot is a "fellow sailor" in a way that the chorus
teacher is not a "fellow singer." Even in the event a pilot
shares in none of the work of the crew rules (as the chorus teacher need
not actually sing), if the ship sinks, he sinks with it. So too does the
ruler of a city fall when his city falls. This is merely one aspect of
the analogy of the ship-of-state, but it suffices to remind one that the
ruler of a polity must identify with the polity, perhaps even to the ex¬
tent that he sees the fate of the polity as his fate (cf. Republic 412d).
Perhaps more importantly, there is a distinction between the chorus
master and the pilot which significantly illuminates the task of
political rule. A pilot directs sailors doing a variety of tasks that make
sailing possible# whereas the chorus master directed singers per¬ forming
in unison . Perhaps political rule is properly understood as in¬ volving
both. Alkibiades suggests that the techne of the ruler (the
fellow- citizen) is good counsel# but as the pilot gives good not evil
counsel for the preservation of his passengers, Socrates tries to find
out what end the good counsel of the ruler serves. Alkibiades proposed
that the good counsel is for the better management and preservation of
the polis (126a). In the next stage of the discussion
Socrates makes a number of moves that affect the outcome of the argument
but he doesn't make a point of explicating them to Alkibiades. Socrates
asks what it is that becomes present or absent with better management and
preservation . He suggests that if Alkibiades were to ask him the same
question with respect to the body, Socrates would reply that health
became present and disease absent. That is not sufficient. He pretends
Alkibiades would ask what happened in a better condition of the eyes# and
he would reply that sight came and blindness went. So too deafness and
hearing are absent and present when ears are improved and getting better
treatment . Socrates would like Alkibiades# now# to answer as to what
happens when a state is improved and has better treatment and management
. Alkibiades thinks that friend¬ ship will be present and hatred and
faction will be absent. From the simple preservation of the
passangers of a ship# Socrates has moved to preservation and better
management# to improved and getting better treatment# to improvement,
better treatment and management. Simple preservation# of course# is only
good (and the goal of an appropriate techne) when the condition of a
thing is pronounced to be satisfactory, such that any change would be for
the worse. In a ship the pilot only has to preserve the lives of his
passengers by his techne , he does not have to either make lives or
improve them. In so far as a city is in¬ volved with more than mere life,
but is aiming at the good life, mere preservation of the citizens is not
sufficient. Socrates' subtle trans¬ formation indicates the treatment
necessary in politics. Another point that Socrates has implicitly
raised is the hierarchy of technae . This may be quite important to an
understanding of politics and what it can properly order within its
domain. Socrates employs the examples of the body and the eyes (126a-b).
The eyes are, however, a part of the body. The body cannot be said to be
healthy unless its parts, including the eyes, are healthy; the eyes will not
see well in a generally diseased body. The two do interrelate, but have
essentially different virtues. The virtue of the eyes and thus the techne
attached to that virtue, are under/within the domain of the body and its
virtue, health. The doctor, then, has an art of a different order
than the optometrist. (The doctor and his techne may have competition for
the care of the body; the gymnastics expert has already been met and he
certainly has things to say about the management of the body - cf. 128c
but the principle there would be a comprehensive techne .) Given the
example of the relation of the parts to the whole, perhaps Socrates is
suggesting that there is an analogue in the city: the health of the whole
city and the sight of a part of the city. The reader is curious if the
same relation would hold as to which techne had the natural priority over
the other. Would the interests of the whole rule the interests of a part
of the city? Socrates' examples of the body and the part of the
body could, in yet another manner, lead toward contemplation of the
political. There is a possible connection between all three. The doctor
might well have to decide to sacrifice the sight of an eye in the
interests of the whole body. Perhaps the ruler (the man possessing the
political techne) would have to decide to sacrifice the health (or even
life) of individuals (may¬ be even ones as important as the
"eyes" of the city) for the well-being of the polis . Thus,
analogously# the political art properly rules the various technae of the
body. Earlier the reader had occasion to be introduced to a system
of hierarchies (108c-e). Therein he found that harping was ruled by music
and wrestling by gymnastics. Gymnastics, as the techne of the body, is,
it is suggested, ruled by politics. Perhaps music should also be ruled
by politics. In the Republic , gymnastics is to the body roughly what
music is to the soul. Both, however, are directed by politics and are a
major concern of political men. It is fortunate for Alkibiades that he
is familiar with harping and gymnastics (106e), so that as a politician
he will be able to advise on their proper performance. One already has
reason to suspect that the other subject in which Alkibiades took lessons
is properly under the domain of politics. Alkibiades believes
that the better management of a state will bring friendship into it and
remove hatred and faction. Socrates in¬ quires if he means agreement or
disagreement by friendship. Alkibiades replies that agreement is meant,
but one must notice that this sig¬ nificantly reduces the area of concern
to which Alkibiades had given voice. He had mentioned two kinds of
strife, and one needn t think long and hard to notice that friendship
normally connotes much more than agreement. Socrates next asks which
techne causes states to agree about numbers; does the same art,
arithmetic, cause individuals to agree among each other and with
themselves. In addition to whatever suspicion one entertains that this is
not the kind of agreement Alkibiades meant when he thought friendship
would be brought into a city with better management/ one must keep in
mind the similarity between this and an earlier argument (111c). In
almost the same words, people agreed "with others or by them¬ selves"
and states agreed, with regard to speaking Greek, or more pre¬ cisely,
with naming. There are two features of this argument which should be
explored. Firstly, one might reflect upon whether agreement between
states is always essentially similar to agreement between people, or
agreement with oneself. People can fool themselves and they can possess
their own "language." Separate states may have separate weights
and measures, say, but individuals within a state must agree.
Secondly, there may be more than one kind of agreement with which the
reader should be concerned in this dialogue. This might be most apparent
were there different factors which compelled different people, in
different circum¬ stances, to agree. Men sometimes arrive at the same
conclusions through different reasons. The first two examples
employed by Socrates illuminate both of these points. Arithmetic and
mensuration are about as far apart as it is possible to be in terms of
the nature of the agreement. Mensuration is simply convention or
agreement, and yet its entire existence depends on people's knowing the
standards agreed upon. Numbers, on the contrary, need absolutely no
agreement (except linguistically in the names given to numbers) and no
amount of agreement can change what they are and their relation to each
other. The third example represents the type of agreement much
closer to that with which it is believed conventional politics is
permeated. It is the example of the scales — long symbolic of justice.
Agreement with people and states about weights on scales depends on a
number of factors, as does judgement about politics. There is something
empirical to observe, namely the action as well as the various weights;
there is a constant possibility of cheating (on one side or another) against
which they must take guard; there is a judgement to be made which is
often close, difficult and of crucial importance, and there is the
general problem of which side of the scale/polity is to receive the
goods, and what is the standard against which the goods are measured. To
spell out only one politically important aspect of this last factor,
consider the difference between deciding that a certain standard of life
is to pro¬ vide the measure for the distribution of goods, and deciding
that a certain set of goods are to be distributed evenly without such a
standard. In one case the well off would receive no goods, they being the
standard; in the other case all would supposedly have an equal chance of
receiving goods. Other political factors are involved in determining what
should be weighed, what its value is, who should preside over the
weighing, and what kind of scale is to be used. The third example, the
scales, surely appears to be more pertinent to Socrates and Alkibiades
than either of the other two, although one notices that both arithmetic
and mensuration are involved in weighing. Alkibiades is
requested to make a spirited effort to tell Socrates what the agreement
is, the art which achieves it, and whether all parties agree the same
way. Alkibiades supposes it is the friendship of father and mother to
child, brother to brother and woman to man (126e). A good ruler would be
able to make the people feel like a family - their fellow citizens like
fellow kin. This seems to be a sound opinion of Alkibiades; many actual
cities are structured around families or clans or based on legends of
common ancestry (cf. Republic 414c-415d) . There is a complication,
however, which is not addressed by either participant in the dialogue.
Socrates had suggested three parts to the analysis of agreement - its
nature, the art that achieves it, and whether all agree in the same way.
Alkibiades in his response suggests three types of friendship which may differ
dramatically in all of the respects Socrates had mentioned. And the
political significance of the three kinds of friendship also has
different and very far-reaching effects. Consider the different ties, and
feelings that characterize man-woman relation¬ ships. And imagine the
different character of a regime that is patterned not on the parent-child
relation, but instead characterized by male-female attraction!
In a dialogue on the nature of man in which there is already
support for the notion that "descent" and "family" figure
prominently in the analysis of man's nature, it seems likely that the
three kinds of familial (or potentially familial) relationships mentioned
here would be worthy of close and serious reflection. Socrates, however,
does not take Alkibiades to task on this, but turns to an examination of
the notion that friendship is agreement, and the question of whether or
not they can exist in a polis . Socrates had himself suggested that
Alkibiades meant agreement by friendship (126c), and in this argument
that restricted sense of friendship plays a significant role in their
arriving at the unpalatable conclusion. The argument leads to the
assertion that friendship and agreement cannot arise in a state where
each person does his own business. asks Alkibiades if a
man can agree with a woman about wool—working when he doesn't have
knowledge of it and she does. And further, does he have any need to
agree, since it is a woman's accomplishment? A woman, too, could not come to
agreement with a man about soldiering if she didn't learn it - and it is
a business for men. There are some parts of knowledge appropriate to
women and some to men on this account (127a) and in those skills there is
no agreement between men and women and hence no friendship - if
friendship is agreement. Thus men and women are not befriended by each
other so far as they are per¬ forming their own jobs, and polities are
not well-ordered if each person does his own business (127b). This
conclusion is unacceptable to Alkibiades; he thinks a well-ordered polity
is one abounding in friend¬ ship, but also that it is precisely each
party doing his own business that brings such friendship into being.
Socrates points out that this goes against the argument. He asks if
Alkibiades means friendship can occur without agreement, or that
agreement in something may arise when some have knowledge while others do
not. These are presumably the steps in the argument which are susceptible
to attack. Socrates incidentally provides another opening in the argument
that could show the conclusion to be wrong. He points out that justice is
the doing of one's own work and that justice and friendship are tied
together. But Alkibiades, per¬ haps remembering his shame (109b-116d),
does not pursue this angle, having learned that the topic of justice is
difficult. In order to determine what, if anything, was wrongly said,
various stages of the argument will now be examined. By
beginning with the consideration of why anyone would suppose a state was
well-ordered when each person did his own business, one observes that
otherwise every individual would argue about everything done by
everybody. The reader may well share Alkibiades suspicion that what makes
a state well-ordered is that each does what he is capable of and trusts
the others to do the same. This indicates, perhaps, the major problems
with the discussion between Socrates and Alkibiades. Firstly, there are
many ways that friendship depends less upon agreement than on the lack of
serious disagreement. Secondly, agreement can occur, or be taken for
granted, in a number of ways other than by both parties having
knowledge. As revealed earlier in the dialogue, Alkibiades would
readily trust an expert in steering a ship as well as in fancy cooking
(117c-d). Regardless of whether it was a man's or a woman’s task, he
would agree with the expert because of his skill. In these instances he
agreed precisely because he had no knowledge and they did. Of course,
faith in expertise may be misplaced, or experts may lose perspective in
under¬ standing the position of their techne relative to others. But
though concord and well-ordered polities do not necessarily arise when
people trust in expertise, friendship and agreement can come about
through each man's doing his own business. Agreement between
people, thus, may come about when one recognizes his ignorance. It may
also arise through their holding similar opinion on the issue, or when
one holds an opinion compatible with knowledge possessed by another. For
example, a woman may merely have opinions about soldiering, but those
opinions may allow for agreement with men, who alone can have knowledge.
Soldiering is a man's work, but while men are at war the women may wonder
about what they are doing, or read stories about the war, or form
opinions from talking to other soldiers' wives, or have confidence in
what their soldier—husbands tell them. There is also a sense in
which, if war is business for men, women don't even need opinions about
how it is conducted for they are not on the battlefield. They need only
agree on its importance and they need not even necessarily agree on why
it is important (unless they are raising sons). Women will often agree
with men about waging war on grounds other than the men's. For example,
glory isn't a prime motivator for most women's complying with their
husbands' desires to wage war. It has been suggested that agreement may
arise on the basis of opinion and not knowledge, and further that
opinions need not be similar, merely com¬ patible. As long as the war is
agreed to by both sexes, friendship will be in evidence regardless of
their respective views of the motives of war. Apathy or some other
type of disregard for certain kinds of work may also eliminate
disagreement and discord, provided that it isn't a result of lack of
respect for the person's profession. For example, a man and a woman might
never disagree about wool-working He may not care how a spindle operates
and would not think of interfering. And he certainly wouldn't have to be
skilled at the techne of wool-working to agree with his wife whenever she
voiced her views - his agreement with her would rest on his approval of
the resulting coat. Socrates has not obtained from Alkibiades'
speech the power to learn what the nature of the friendship is that good
men must have. Alkibiades, invoking all the gods (he cannot be sure who
has dominion over the branch of knowledge he is trying to identify),
fears that he doesn't even know what he says, and has for some time been
in a very disgraceful condition. But Socrates reminds him that this is
the cor¬ rect time for Alkibiades to perceive his condition, not at the
age of fifty, for then it would be difficult to take the proper care. In
answer¬ ing Alkibiades' question as to what he should do now that he is
aware of his condition, Socrates replies he need only answer the
questions Socrates puts to him. With the favor of the god (if they can
trust in Socrates' divination - cf. 107b, 115a) both of them shall be
improved. What Socrates may have just implied is that while
Alkibiades' speech is unable to supply the power to even name the
qualities of a good man, Socratic speech in itself has the power to
actually make them better. All Alkibiades must do is respond to the
questions Socrates asks. The proper use of language, it is suggested, has
the power to make good men. One may object that speech cannot have that
effect upon a listener who is not in a condition of recognizing his ignorance,
but one must also recog¬ nize that speech has the power to bring men to
that realization. Almost half of the First Alkibiades is overtly devoted
to this task. Indeed it seems unlikely that people perceive their plight
except through some form of the human use of language except when they
are visually able to com¬ pare themselves to others. It would be
difficult to physically coerce men into perceiving their condition. An
emotional attempt to draw a person's awarness - such as a mother's tears
at her son's plight - needs speech to direct it; the son must learn what
has upset her. Speech is also necessary to point to an example of a
person who has come to a realization of his ignorance. Socrates or
someone like him, might discern his condition by himself, but even he
surely spent a great deal of time conversing with others to see that
their confidence in their opinions was unfounded. In any event, what is
important for the under¬ standing of the First Alkibiades is that
Socrates has succeeded in con¬ vincing Alkibiades that thoughtful
dialogue is more imperative for him at this point than Athenian
politics. Together they set out to discover (cf. 109e) what is
required to take proper care of oneself; in the event that they have
never previously done so, they will assume complete ignorance. For
example, perhaps one takes care of oneself while taking care of one's
things (128a). They are not sure but Socrates will agree with Alkibiades
at the end of the argu¬ ment that taking proper care of one's belongings
is an art different from care of oneself (128d). But perhaps one should
survey the entire argu¬ ment before commenting upon it.
Alkibiades doesn't understand the first question as to whether a
man takes care of feet when he takes care of what belongs to his feet, so
Socrates explains by pointing out that there are things which belong to
the hand. A ring, for example, belongs to nothing but a finger. So too a
shoe belongs to a foot and clothes to the body. Alkibiades still doesn't
understand what it means to say that taking care of shoes is taking care
of feet, so Socrates employs another fact. One may speak of taking
correct care of this or that thing, and taking proper care makes
something better. The art of shoemaking makes shoes better and it is by
that art that we take care of shoes. But it is by the art of making feet
better, not by shoemaking, that we improve feet. That art is the same art
whereby the whole body is improved, namely gymnastic. Gymnastic
takes care of the foot; shoemaking takes care of what belongs to the
foot. Gymnastic takes care of the hand; ring engraving takes care of what
belongs to the hand. Gymnastic takes care of the body; weaving and other
crafts take care of what belongs to the body. Thus taking care of a
thing and taking care of its belongings involve separate arts. Socrates
repeats this conclusion after suggesting that care of one's
belongings does not mean one takes care of oneself. Further support
is here recognized, in this dialogue, for a hierarchical arrangement of
the technae , but that simultaneously somewhat qualifies the conclusion of
the argument. Gymnastic is the art of taking care of the body and
it thus must weave into a pattern all of the arts of taking care of
the belongings of the body and of its parts. Its very control over
those arts, however, indicates that they are of some importance to
the body. Because they have a common superior goal, the taking care
of the body, they are not as separate as the argument would
suggest. Just as shoes in bad repair can harm feet, shoes well made
may improve feet (cf. 121d, for shaping the body). They are often
made in view of the health or beauty of the body as are clothes and
rings. Because things which surround one affect one, as one's
activities and one's reliance on some sorts of possessions affect
one, proper care for the be- 123 longings of the body
may improve one's body. Socrates continues. Even if one cannot yet
ascertain which art takes care of oneself, one can say that it is not an
art concerned with improving one's belongings, but one that makes one
better. Further, just as one couldn't have known the art that improves
shoes or rings if one didn't know a shoe or a ring, so it is impossible
that one should know the techna that makes one better if one doesn't know
oneself (124a). Socrates asks if it is easy to know oneself and that
therefore the writer at Delphi was not profound, or if it is a difficult
thing and not for everybody. Alkibiades replies that it seems sometimes
easy and sometimes hard. Thereupon Socrates suggests that regardless of
its ease or difficulty, knowledge of oneself is necessary in order to
know what the proper care of oneself is. It may be inferred from this
that most people do not know themselves and are not in a position to know
what the proper care of themselves is. They might be better off should
they adopt the opinions of those who know, or be cared for by those who
know more. In order to understand themselves, the two men must find out
how, generally, the 'self' of a thing can be seen (129b),
Alkibiades figures Socrates has spoken correctly about the way to
proceed, but instead of 124 thus proceeding, Socrates
interrupts in the name of Zeus and asks whether Alkibiades is talking to
Socrates and Socrates to Alkibiades. Indeed they are. Thus Socrates says,
he is the talker and Alkibiades the hearer. This is a thoroughly baffling
interruption, for not only is its purpose unclear, but it is contradictory.
They have just agreed that both were talking. Socrates pushes
onward. Socrates uses speech in talking (one suspects that most people
do). Talking and using speech are the same thing, but the user and the
thing he uses are not the same thing. A shoemaker who cuts uses tools,
but is himself quite different from a tool; so also is a harper not the
same as what he uses when harping. The shoemaker uses not only
tools but his hands and his eyes, so, if the user and the thing used are
different, then the shoemaker and harper are different from the hands and
eyes they use. So too, since man uses his whole body, he must be
different from his body. Man must be the user of the body, and it is the
soul which uses and rules the body. No one, he claims, can disagree with
the remark that man is one of three things. Alkibiades may or may not
disagree, but he needs a bit of clarification. Man must be soul, or
body, or both as one whole. Al¬ ready admitted is the proposition that it
is man that rules the body, and the argument has shown that the body is
ruled by something else, so the body deesn't rule itself. What remains is
the soul. The unlikeliest thing in the world is the combination of
both, gQQj-^-(- 0 g suggests (130b) , for if one of the combined ones was
said not to share in the rule, then the two obviously could not rule. It
is not necessary to point out to the reader that the possibility of a
body's share in the rule was never denied, nor to indicate that what
Socrates ostensibly regards as the unlikeliest thing of all, is
what it seems most reasonable to suspect to be very like the truth.
Emotions and appetites, so closely connected with the body, are a
dominant and dominating part of one's life. They account for a major part
of people's lives, and even to a large extent influence their reason (a
faculty which most agree is not tied to the body in the same way). The
soul might be seen to be at least partly ruled by the body if it is
appetites and emotions which affect whether or not reason is used and
influence what kind of decisions will be rationally determined.
Anyhow, according to Socrates, if it is not the body, or the com¬
bined body and soul, then man must either be nothing at all, or he must
be the soul (130c). But the reader is aware that only on the briefest of
glances does this square with "the statement that no one could
dissent to," (cf. 130a). Man cannot be 'nothing' according to that
statement any more than he can be anything else whatsoever, such as
'dog,' 'gold,' 'dream,' etc. 'Nothing' was not one of the
alternatives. Alkibiades swears that he needs no clearer proof that
the soul is man, and ruler of the body, but Socrates, overruling the
authority of Alkibiades' oath, responds that the proof is merely
tolerable, sufficing only until they discover that which they have just
passed by because of its complexity. Unaware that anything had been
by-passed (Socrates had interrupted that part of the discussion with his
first conventional oath - 129b), the puzzled Alkibiades asks Socrates. He
receives the reply that they haven't been considering what generally
makes the self of a thing discoverable, but have been looking at
particular cases (130d; cf. 129b). Perhaps that will suffice, for the
soul surely must be said to have a more absolute possession of us than
anything else. So, whenever Alkibiades and Socrates converse with
each other, it is soul conversing with soul; the souls using words
(130d.l). Socrates, when he uses speech, talks with Alkibiades' soul, not
his face. Socratic speech is thus essentially different from the speech
of the crowds of suitors who conversed with Alkibiades (103a, cf. also
106b). If Socrates' soul talks with Alkibiades' soul and if Alkibiades is
truly listening, then it is Alkibiades' soul, not one of his belongings
that hears Socrates (cf. 129b-c). Someone who says "know
thyself" (cf. 124a, 129a) means "know thy soul"; knowing
the things that belong to the body means knowing what is his, but not
what he is. The reader will note how the last two steps of the
argument subtly, yet definitely, indicate the ambiguous nature of the
body's position in this analysis. Someone who knows only the belongings
of the body will not know the man. According to the argument proper,
someone who knew the body, too, would still only know a man's
possessions, not his being. Socrates continues, pressing the
argument to show that no doctor or trainer, insofar as he is a doctor or
a trainer, knows himself. Farmers and tradesmen are still more
remote, for their arts teach only what belongs to the body (which is
itself only a possession of the man) and not the man (131a). Indeed, most
people recognize a man by his body, not by his soul, which reveals his
true nature. 126 gocrates pauses briefly to introduce
consideration of a virtue. Seemingly out of the blue, he remarks that
"if knowing oneself is temperance" then no craftsman is
temperate by his te c h ne (131b). Because of this the good man disdains
to learn the technae . This sudden intro¬ duction of the virtue/ defining
temperance as self-knowledge/ will assume importance later in the
dialogue (e.g., at 133c). Returning to the argument, Socrates
proposes that one who cares for the body cares for his possessions. One
who cares for his money cares not for himself, nor for his possessions,
but for something yet more remote. He has ceased to do his own
business. Those who love Alkibiades' body don't love Alkibiades but
his possessions. The real lover is the one who loves his soul. The
one who loves the body would depart when the body's bloom is over,
whereas the lover of the soul remains as long as it still tends to the
better. Socrates is the one that remained; the others left when the bloom
of the body was over. Silently accepting this insult to his looks, one of
his possessions, Alkibiades recognizes the compliment paid to himself.
The account of the cause of Socrates' remaining and the others'
departure, however, has changed somewhat from the beginning CIO3b, 104c).
Then the lovers left because a quality of Alkibiades' soul was too much
for them (but not for Socrates) to handle. Now it is a decline in a
quality of the body that apparently caused them to depart, but it is
still an appreciation of the soul that retains Socrates' interest.
Perhaps the significance of this basic shift is to indicate to
Alkibiades the true justification for his self-esteem. His highminded¬
ness was based on his physical qualities and their possessions, not on
his soul. Socrates may be insulting the other lovers, but he is at the
same time making it difficult for Alkibiades to lose his pride in the
things of the body. Thus Socrates' reinterpretation of the reasons for
the lovers' departure reinforces the point of the argument, namely
that one's soul is more worthy of attention and consideration than one's
body. Alkibiades is glad that Socrates has stayed and wants him to
re¬ main. He shall, at Socrates' request, endeavour to remain as
handsome as he can. So Alkibiades, the son of Kleinias, "has
only one lover and 128 that a cherished one,"
Socrates, son of Sophroniskos and Phainarite. Now Alkibiades knows
why Socrates alone did not depart. He loves Alkibiades, not merely what
belongs to Alkibiades (131e). Socrates will never forsake
Alkibiades as long as he (his soul) is not deformed by the Athenian
people. In fact that is what especially concerns Socrates. His greatest
fear is that Alkibiades will be damaged through becoming a lover of the
demos - it has happened to many good Athenians. The face (not the soul?)
of the "people of great-hearted Erekhtheos" is fair, but to see
the demos stripped is another thing. As the dialogue approaches its end,
Socrates becomes poetic in his utter¬ ances. On this occasion he
prophetically quotes Homer ( Iliad II, 547). When listing the
participants on the Akhaian side of the Trojan War, Homer describes
the leader of the Athenians, the "people of the great¬ hearted
Erekhtheos," as one like no other born on earth for the arrange¬
ment and ordering of horses and fighters. Alkibiades would become famous
for his attempts to order poleis and his arranging of naval military
forces. In the Gorgias, Scorates relates a myth about the final
judgement of men, and one of the interesting features of the story is
that the judges and those to be judged are stripped of clothes and bodies
( Gorgias 523a-527e). 129 All that is judged is the soul. This allows the
judges to perceive the reality beneath the appearance that a body and its
belong¬ ings provide. Flatterers (120b) would not be as able to get to
the Blessed Isles/ although actually, in political regimes, living judges
are often fooled by appearances. Judges too are stripped so that they
could see soul to soul (133b; cf. Gorgias 523d), and would be less likely
to be moved by rhetoric, poetry, physical beauty or any other of the
elements that are tied to the body through, for example, the emotions and
appetites. It seems thus good advice for anyone who desires to enter
politics that he get a stripped view of the demos . In addition, those
familiar with the myth in the Gorgias might recognize the importance of
Alkibiades stripping himself, and coming to know his own soul, before he
enters politics. Socrates is advising Alkibiades to take the proper
precautions. He is to exercise seriously, learning all that must be known
prior to an entry into politics (132b). Presumably this knowledge will
counteract the charm of the people. Alkibiades wants to know what the proper
exer¬ cises are, and Socrates says they have established one important
thing and that is knowing what to take care of. They will not
inadvertently be caring for something else, such as, for example,
something that only be¬ longs to them. The next step, now that they know
upon what to exercise, is to care for the soul and leave the care of the
body and its possessions to others. If they could discover
how to obtain knowledge of the soul, they would truly "know
themselves." For the third time Socrates refers to the Delphic
inscription (132c; 124a, 129a) and he claims he has discovered another
interpretation of it which he can illustrate only by the example of
sight. Should someone say "see thyself" to one's eye, the eye
would have to look at something, like a mirror, or the thing in the eye
that is like a mirror (132d-e). The pupil of the eye reflects the face
of the person looking into it like a mirror. Looking at anything
else (except mirrors, water, polished shields, etc.) won't reflect it.
Just as the eye must look into another eye to see itself, so must a
soul look into another soul. In addition it must look to that very part
of the soul which houses the virtue of a soul - wisdom - and any part
like wisdom (133b; cf. 131b). The part of the soul containing knowledge
and thought is the most divine, and since it thus resembles god, whoever
sees it will recognize all that is divine and will get the greatest
knowledge of himself. In order to see one's own soul
properly, then, Socrates suggests that it is necessary to look into
another's soul. Alkibiades must look into someone's soul to obtain
knowledge of himself, and he must possess knowledge of himself in order
to be able to rule himself. This last is a prerequisite for ruling
others. Since it lacks a 'pupil,' the soul doesn't have a readily
available window/mirror for observing another's soul, as the eye does for
observing oneself through another's eye. Such vision of souls can only be
had through speech. Through honest dialogue with trusted friends and
reflection upon what was said and done, one may gain a glimpse of their
soul. The souls must be "stripped" so that words are spoken and
heard truly. Socrates, by being the only lover who remained, and, having
shown his value to Alkibiades, will continue to speak (104e, 105e). He is
offering Alkibiades a look at his soul. This is in keeping, it
appears, with the advice that Alkibiades look to the rational part of the
soul. Socrates is the picture of the rational man; through his speech the
reader is also offered the oppor¬ tunity to try to see into Socrates'
soul to better understand his own. Again, as discussed above, a man's
nature can be understood by looking to the example of the best, even if it
is only an imitation of the best in Dialogues. Socrates now
recalls the earlier mention of temperance as though they had come to some
conclusion regarding the nature of the virtue. They had supposedly
agreed that self-knowledge was temperance (133c; cf. 131b). Lacking
self-knowledge or temperance, one could not know one's belongings,
whether they be good or evil. Without knowing Alkibiades one could not
know if his belongings are his. Ignorance of one's be¬ longings prohibits
familiarity with the belongings of belongings (133d). Socrates reminds
Alkibiades that they have been incorrect in admitting people could know
their belongings if they didn't know themselves (133d-e). This
latter argument raises at least two difficulties. Firstly, it renders
problematic the suggestion that one should leave one's body and
belongings in another's care (132c). These others, it seems, would be
doctors and gymnastics trainers - the only experts of the body ex¬
plicitly recognized in the dialogue. Remembering that neither doctor or
trainer knows himself (131a), one might wonder how he can know Socrates'
and Alkibiades' belongings. He cannot, according to the argument here
(133c-d) know his own belongings without knowing himself and he cannot be
familiar with others' belongings while ignorant of his own. The
argument, secondly, creates a problem with the understanding heretofore
suggested about how men generally conduct their lives. Most people do not
know themselves and do not properly care for themselves. The
argument of the dialogue has intimated that they in fact care for their
belongings. Thus it would seem that, in some sense, they do know their
belongings, just as Alkibiades' lovers, ignorant of Alkibiades and probably
ignorant of themselves, still know that Alkibiades' body belonged to
Alkibiades. And they knew, like he knew C104a-c) that his looks and his
wealth belong to his body. The reader might conclude from this that the
precise knowledge they do not have is knowledge either of what the
belongings should be like, or what their true importance and proper role
in a man's life should be. Knowledge of one's soul would consist, partly,
in knowing how to properly handle one's belongings. That allows one
to do what is right, and not merely do what one likes. It is the
task of one man and one techne (the chief techne in the hierarchy) to
grasp himself, his belongings, and their belongings. Some¬ one who
doesn't know his belongings won't know other mens'. And if he doesn't
know theirs, he won't know those of the polity. This last remark
raises the consideration of what constitutes the belongings of a polity.
And that immediately involves one in reflection upon whether the city has
a body, and a soul. What is the essence of the city? The reader is invited
to explore the analogy to the man, but even more, it is suggested that he
is to reflect upon how to establish the priority of one over the other.
This invitation is indicated by the dis¬ cussion of the one techne that
presides over all the bodies and belong¬ ings. The relation of the city
to the individual man has been of perennial concern to political
thinkers, and a most difficult aspect of the problem terrain involves the
very understanding of the City and Man (cf. 125b). The
question is multiplied threefold with the possibility that an adequate
understanding of the city requires an account of its soul, its body and
its body's belongings. An account of man, it has been suggested in this
dialogue, demands knowing his soul, body, possessions, and the
relation and ordering of each. It is quite possible that what is
proper best for a man will conflict with what is best for a city.
The city might be considered best off if it promotes an average
well-being. Having its norm, or median, slightly higher than the
norm of the next city would indicate it was better off. It is also
possible that the cir¬ cumstances within which each and every man thrives
would not necessarily bring harmony to a city. The problem of
priority is further complicated by the introduction of the notion that
the welfare of each citizen is not equally important to the city. Perhaps
what is best for a city is to have one class of its members excel, or to
have it produce one great man. What is to be under¬ stood as the good of
the city's very soul? Furthermore, even if the welfare of the whole
city is to be identified with the maximum welfare of each citizen, it
might still be the case that the policies of the city need to increase
the welfare of a few people. For example, in time of war the welfare of
the whole polity depends on the welfare of a few men, the armed forces.
As long as war is a threat, the good of the city Cits body, soul, or
possessions) could depend on the exceptional treatment of one class of
its men. Knowledge of the true nature of the polity is essential
for political philosophy and so for proper political decision-making.
Men ignorant of the polity, the citizens, or themselves cannot be
statesmen or economists (133e; cf. Statesman 258e). Such a man, ignorant
of his and others' affairs will not know what he is doing, therefore
making mistakes and doing ill in private and for the demos . He and they
will be wretched. Temperance and goodness are necessary
for well-being, so it is bad men who are wretched. Those who attain
temperance not those who become wealthy, are released from this misery. ^
Similarly, cities need virtue for their well-being, not walls,
triremes, arsenals, numbers or size (134b; The full impact of this
will be felt if one remembers that this dialogue is taking place
immediately prior to the outbreak of the war with Sparta. Athens is
in full flurry of preparation, for she has seen the war coming for
a number of years) . Proper management of the polis by Alkibiades
would be to impart virtue to the citizens and he 131
could not impart it without having it (134c). A good governor has
to acquire the virtue first. Alkibiades shouldn't be looking for
power as it is conventionally understood - the ability to do whatever one
pleases - but he should be looking for justice and temperance. If he and
the state acted in accordance with those two virtues, they would please
god; their eyes focussed on the divine, they will see and know themselves
and their good. If Alkibiades would act this way, Socrates would be ready
to guarantee his well-being (134e). But if he acts with a focus on the
god¬ less and dark, through ignorance of humself his acts will go godless
and dark. Alkibiades has received the Socratic advice to
forget about power as he understands it, in the interest of having real
power over at least himself. Conventionally understood, and in most
applications of it, power is the ability to do what one thinks fit (
Gorgias 469d) . Various technae give to the skilled the power to do what
they think fit to the material on which they are working. The technae ,
however, are hier¬ archically arranged, some ruling others. That is, some
are archetectonic with respect to others. What is actually fit for each
techne is dictated by a logically prior techne . The techne with the most
power is the one that dictates to the other techne what is fit and what
is not. This understanding seems to disclose two elements of
power: the ability to do what one thinks is fit, and knowing what is
fit. If a man can do what he wants but is lacking in intelligence,
the result is likely to be disastrous (135a; Republic 339a-e,
Gorgias 469b, 470a). If a man with tyrannical power were sick and
he couldn't even be talked to, his health would be destroyed. If he
knew nothing about navigation, a man exercising tyrannical power as
a ship's pilot may well 132 cause all on board to
perish. Similarly in a state a power without excellence or virtue
will fare badly. It is not tyrannical power that Alkibiades should
seek but virtue, if he would fare well, and until the time he has virtue,
it is better, more noble and appropriate for a man, as for a child, to be
governed by a better than to try to govern; part of being 'better'
includes knowledge that right rule is in the subject's interest. It is
appropriate for a bad man to be a slave; vice befits a slave,
virtue a free man (135c; it seems strange that vice should be
appropriate for anyone, slave or free, perhaps, rather, it defines a
slave). One should most certainly avoid all slavery and if one can
perceive where one stands, it may not at present be on the side of the
free (135c). Socrates must indicate to Alkibiades the importance of a
clearer understanding of both what he desires, power, and what this
freedom is. In a conventional, and ambigu¬ ous sense, the man with the
most freedom is the king or tyrant who is not sub ject to anyone.
Socrates must educate Alkibiades. The man who wants power like the man
who seeks freedom, doesn't know substantively what he is looking for; the
only power worth having comes with wisdom, which alone can make one
free. Socrates confides to Alkibiades that his condition ought not
to be named since he is a noble ( kalos) man (cf. 118b - is this
another condition which will remain unnamed despite their solitude?).
Alkibiades must endeavour to escape it. If Socrates will it, Alkibiades
replies, he will try. To this Socrates responds that it is only noble to
say "if god wills it." This appears to be Socrates' pious
defence to a higher power. However, since he has drawn attention to the
phrase himself, a reminder may be permitted to the effect that it is not
necessarily quite the conventional piety to which he refers: a strange
parade of deities has been presented for the reader's review in this
dialogue. Alkibiades is eager to agree and wants, fervently, to
trade places with Socrates (135d). From now on Alkibiades will be
attending Socrates. Alkibiades, this time, will follow and observe
Socrates in silence. For twenty years Socrates has been silent toward
Alkibiades, and now, thinking it appropriate to trade places, Alkibiades
recognizes that silence on his part will help fill his true, newly found
needs. In the noise-filled atmosphere of today, it is especially
difficult to appreciate (and thus to find an audience that appreciates)
the im¬ portance of the final aspect of language that will be discussed
in connection with knowledge and power - silence. The use of silence
for emphasis is apparently known to few. But note how a moment of
silence on the television draws one's attention, whether or not the
program was being followed. And an indication of a residual respect for
the power of silence is that one important manner of honoring political
actors and heroes is to observe a moment of silence. Think, too, how
judicious use of silence can make someone ill at ease, or cause them to
re-examine their speech. The words "ominous" and
"heavy" may often be appropriately used to describe silence.
Silence can convey knowledge as well as power, and as the above examplss
may serve to show, it may have a significant role in each. When one begins
to examine the role of silence in the lives of the wise and the powerful,
one begins to see some of the problems of a loud society. To
start with, the reader acquaints himself with the role of silence in
political power. As witnessed in the dialogue, and, as well, in modern
regimes, there are many facets of this. Politicians must be silent about
much. Until recently, national defence was an acceptable excuse for
silence on the part of the leaders of a country. The exist¬ ence of a
professional "news" gathering establishment necessitates that
this silence be total, and not only merely with respect to external
powers, for some things that the enemy must not know must be kept from
the citizens as well (cf. 109c, 124a). Politicians are typically
silent about some things in order to attain office, and about even more
things in order to retain it. Dis¬ senters prudently keep quiet in order
to remain undetained or even alive. Common sense indeed dictates that one
observe a politic silence on a wide variety of occasions. Men in the
public eye may conceal their dis¬ belief in religious authority in the
interests of those in the community who depend on religious conviction
for their good conduct. Most con¬ sider lying in the face of the enemy to
be in the interests of the polity, and all admire man who keeps silent
even in the face of severe enemy torture. Parents often keep silent to
protect their children, either when concerned about outsiders or about
the more general vulnerability of those unable to reason. One
important political use of silence is in terms of the myths and fables
related to children. Inestimable damage may be done when the "noble
lie" that idealistically structures the citizen's understanding of
his regime is repudiated in various respects by the liberal desire to
expose all to the public in the interests of enlightenment. At the point
where children are shown that the great men they look up to are
"merely human," one most clearly sees the harm that may be done
by breaking silence. Everybody becomes really equal, despite appearances
to the con¬ trary, since everyone - even the heroes - acts from deep,
irrational motives, appetites, fears, etc. High ideals and motives for
action are debunked. Since many of the political uses of
silence mentioned above con¬ cern appropriate silence about things known,
the next brief discussion will focus on silence and knowledge. The
primary aspect of the general concern for silence in the life devoted to
the pursuit of knowledge is a function of the twin features of political
awareness and political con¬ cern. Though closely tied to the
aforementioned appropriate uses of silence, this is concerned less with
the disclosure of unsalutary facts about the life and times of men than
with questions and truths of a higher order. For example, if it could be
discerned that man's condition was abysmal, that he would inevitably
become decadent, it would not be politically propitious to announce the
fact on the eight-o'clock newscast There seem to be at least two
situations in which such facts are revealed A politically unaware man
might not realize it; a politically aware but somehow unconcerned man
might not care about the well-being of the community as a whole.
There are at least two additional respects in which silence is im¬
portant to the life of knowledge. Both play a part in Alkibiades' educa¬
tion in the First Alkibiades and contribute to his desire to trade places
with Socrates. Firstly one must be silent to learn what others have
to say. On the face of it, this seems a trivial and fairly obvious
thing to say. However when one appreciates the importance of trust and
friend¬ ship in philosophic discourse, one perceives that the notion of
silence important to this aspect of learning is much broader than the
mere logistics of taking turns speaking. To mention only a single
example, one has to prove one's ability to "keep one's mouth
shut" in order to develop the kind of trust essential to frank
discussion among dialogic partners. Secondly, silence
enhances mystery if there is reason to suspect that the silent know more
than they have revealed. This attraction to the mysterious accounts for
many things, including to mention only one example, the great appeal of
detective stories. If both witnesses and the author did not know more
than they let on in the beginning, if the reader/detective did not have
to take great care in extracting the truth from muddled accounts, it is
not likely that the genre would have the enduring readership it now
enjoys. Both of these might be tied directly to Socrates' initial
silence toward Alkibiades. Socrates had kept quiet until Alkibiades had
reached a certain stage in the development of his ambition. His
prolonged silence, and then his repeated reminders of it, as he begins to
speak, increases Alkibiades' curiosity. As it becomes more and more
apparent to Alkibiades that Socrates knows what he is talking about,
Alkibiades becomes increasingly desirous of learning. He wants Socrates
to reveal the truth to him, the truth he suspects Socrates is keeping to
himself (e.g., 124b, 132b, 127e, 119c, 130d, 131d, 135d). Throughout the
dis¬ cussion the men discuss ever more important subjects and it is
readily apparent that their mutual trust grows at least partly because of
their recognition of what is appropriately kept silent (e.g., 109c,
118b, 135c). In addition, at yet another level, it has been
frequently ob¬ served that Socrates' silence ragarding a part of the
truth, or the necessity of an example, or a segment of the argument,
indicates to the careful reader a greater depth to the issues.
Recognition of this silence increases the philosophic curiosity of the
readers as he attempts to discover both the subject of, and the reason
for, the silence. Alkibiades has suggested that he shall switch
"places" with Socrates. Socrates has attended on him for all
this time and now Alkibiades wants to follow Socrates. This is only one
of a number of "switches" that occur in the turning around of
Alkibiades, witnessed only by Socrates and the careful reader.
In the beginning Socrates says that the lovers of Alkibiades left
because his qualities of soul were too overpowering. He is flatter¬ ing
Alkibiades in order, perhaps, to entice Alkibiades to begin listening. In
the end he suggests they ceased pursuing the youth because the bloom of
his beauty (the appearance of his body) has departed from him. At first
glance this is not complimentary at all. Nevertheless it is now that
Alkibiades claims to want very much to remain and listen. He will even
bear insults silently. At the start Alkibiades is haughty, superior
and self-sufficient. In the end he wishes to please Socrates,
recognizing his need for the power of speech in his coming to know
himself. At first he believes he already knows, and arguments seem
extraneous. By the end he wants to talk over the proper care of his soul
at length with Socrates. Probably the most notable turning around
in the dialogue is the lover—beloved switch between the beginning and the
end (cf. also Symposium 217d). But a number of puzzling features come to
the fore when one attempts to draw out the implications of the change. In
what way is their attraction switched? Socrates is attracted to
Alkibiades' un¬ quenchable eros . Perhaps a mark of its great will for
power is that it is now directed toward Socrates. However, what does that
suggest about Socrates' eros in turn, either in terms of its strength or
its direction? What kind of eros is attracted to a most powerful eros which
in turn is directed back to it? Do Socrates and Alkibiades both have the
same in¬ tensity of desires and are their ambitions not directed toward
the same ends? Perhaps Socrates' answer will suffice. He is
pleased with the well-born man. His eros is like a stork - he has hatched
a winged eros and it returned to care for him. (This is the first
indication that Socrates assumes responsibility for the form of
Alkibiades' desires; it also indicates another whole series of problems
regarding how Alkibiades will "care for" Socrates). They are
kindred souls (or at least have kindred eros) , and their relationship is
now one of mutual aid. Socrates will look into Alkibiades' soul to find
his own and Alkibiades will peer into Socrates' soul in attempting to
discern his. The reader is im¬ plicitly invited to look too; he has the
privilege starting again and examining the souls more closely each time
he returns to the beginning. Alkibiades agrees that that is the
situation in which they find themselves and he will immediately begin to
be concerned with justice. Socrates wishes he'll continue, but expresses
a great fear. In an ironic premonition of both their fates, he says he
doesn't distrust Alkibiades' nature, but, being able to see the might of
the state (cf. 132a), he fears that both of them will be
overpowered.There is always an irony involved in concluding an essay on a
Platonic dialogue. The most fitting ending, it seems, would be to
whet one's appetite for more. This I shall attempt to do by
pointing out an intriguing feature about the dialogue in general.
If one were to look at the Platonic corpus as a kind of testament
to Socrates, a story by Plato of a Socrates made young and
beautiful regardless of their historical accuracy. For example, the
Theaitetos , Sophist and Statesman all take place at approximately
the same time, shortly before Socrates' trial. Similarly, the
Euthyphro and Apology occur about then. The Crito and Phaido follow
shortly thereafter, and so on. The First Alkibiades has its own
special place. The First Alkibiades may well be the dialogue in
133 which Socrates makes his earliest appearance. The
Platonic tradition has presented us with this as our introduction
to Socrates, to philosophy. Why? This dialogue marks the first
Socratic experience with philosophy that we may witness. Why? The
fateful first meeting between Socrates and Alkibiades is also our
first meeting with Socrates. Why? The reader's introduction to the
philosopher and to philosophizing is in a conversation about a
contest for the best man. Why? One must assume 134
that, for some reason, Plato thought this fitting. Plato, Republic
377a.9-10. The dialogue is known as the First Alkibiades , Alkibiades I
and Alkibiades Major . Its title in Greek is simply Alkibiades but the
conventional titles enable us to distinguish it from the other dialogue
called Alkibiades . Stephanus pagination in the text of this thesis
refers to the First Alkibiades of Plato. The Loeb text (translated by W.
Lamb, 1927) formed the core of the reading. However, whenever a
significant difference was noted between the Lamb translation and that of
Thomas Sydenham ( circa 1800), my own translation forms the basis of the
commentary. Unless otherwise noted, all other works referred to are by
Plato. 2. The major sources for Alkibiades' life are Thucydides,
Xenophon, Plutarch and Plato. It seems to be the case that no history can
be "objective." Since one cannot record everything, a historian
must choose what to write about. Their choice is made on the basis of
their opinion of what is important and therein vanishes the
"objectivity" so sought after but always kept from modern
historians. The superiority of the accounts of the men referred to above
lies partially in that they do not pretend to that
"value-neutral" goal, even though their perspective may
nonetheless be impartial. I wish to take this opportunity to
emphasize the limited importance of the addition of this sketch of the
historical Alkibiades. Were it suggested that such a familiarity were
essential to the understanding of the dialogue, it would be implied that
the dialogue as it stands is in¬ sufficient, and that I was in a position
to remedy that inadequacy. As a rule of thumb in interpretation one
should not begin with such pre¬ suppositions. However, there are a number
of ways in which the reading of the dialogue is enriched by knowing the
career of Alkibiades. For example, the reader who doesn't know that
Alkibiades' intrigues with (and illegitimate son by) the Spartan queen
was a cause of his fleeing from Sparta and a possible motive for his
assassination, would not have a full appreciation of the comment by
Socrates on the security placed around the Spartan queens (121b-c). At all
events, extreme caution is necessary so that extra historical baggage
will not be imported into the dialogue. It might be quite easy to
prematurely evaluate the historical Alkibiades, and thereby misunderstand
the dialogue. 3. We are also told she had dresses worth fifty minae
(123c). Plutarch, Life of Alkibiades , 1.1 (henceforth referred to
simply as Plutarch); Plato, Alkibiades I , 112c, 124c, 118d—e. Plutarch,
II. 4-6. 6. Diodoros Siculus, Diodoros of Sicily , XII. 38. iii-iv
(hence¬ forth Diodoros). 7. This is the Anytos who was
Socrates' accuser. He was also notorious in Athens for being the first
man to bribe a jury (composed of 500 men)! He had been charged with
impiety. Some suspect that Alkibiades' preference for Socrates caused
Anytos to be jealous and that this was a motive for his accusation of
Socrates. 8. Plutarch, IV. 5. 9. The historical
accuracy of the representation is impossible to determine and, so far as
we need be concerned, philosophically irrelevant. 10. Actually
Alkibiades admits this in a dialogue which Plato wrote (cf. Symposium
212c-223b, esp. 215a, ff.). 11. Plutarch, VI. 1. 12.
Plato, Symposium 219e-220e; Plutarch VII. 3. 13. Plato, Symposium
220e-221c; Plutarch VII. 4; Diadoros XIII. 69. i-70. vi; cf. Thucydides,
History of the Peloponnesian War , IV 89- 101 (henceforth:
Thucydides). 14. Thucydudes, V. 40-48. 15. Cf. also
Plutarch, X. 2-3. 16. Plutarch, XIV. 6-9; Thucydides V. 45.
17. Plutarch, XIII. 3-5. Cf. Aristotle's discussion in his Politics
, 1284al5-b35; 1288a25-30; 1302b5-22; 1308bl5-20. 18. Thucydides,
VI. 16-18. 19. Diodoros, XII. 84. i-iii; Thucydides, VI. 9-25,
8-15. 20. Thucydides, VI. 25. 21. Plutarch, XVIII. 1-2;
Thucydides, VI. 26. 22. The Hermai were religious statues, commonly
positioned by the front entrance of a dwelling. Hermes was the god of
travelling and of property. Cf. Thucydides, VI. 27-28.
23. Thucydides, VI. 29; Plutarch, XVIII. 3-XX. 1
24. Thucydides, VI. 46. 25.
Thucydides, VI. 48-50. Thucydides, VI. 48.
27. Thucydides, VI. 50-51. 28. Plutarch, XX. 2-XXI. 6;
Diodoros, XIII. 4 i-iv; Thucydides, VI. 60-61. 29.
Plutarch, XXII. 1-4. 30. Thucydides, VI. 88-93. 31.
Plutarch, XXIII. 1-6. 32. Thucydides, VII. 27-29. 33.
Thucydides, VIII. 6, 11-14. 34. Plutarch, XXIII. 7-8; cf. also
Plato, Alkibiades I , 121b-c where Plato's mention might provide some
support for a claim that the motive was other than lust. 35.
Thucydides, VIII. 45-47; Plutarch, XXV 1-2. 36. Plutarch, XXIV.
3-5. 37. Thucydides, VIII. 48-54. 38. Diodoros, XIII.
41. iv-42iii; Plutarch, XXVI. 1-6. 39. Thucydides, VIII.
72-77. 40. Thucydides, VIII. 89-93. 41. Thucydides,
VIII. 97. For an excellent and beautiful examina¬ tion of this in
Thucydides, read Leo Strauss, "Preliminary Observations of the Gods
in Thucydides' Work." INTERPRETATION , IV:1, Winter 1974, Martinus
Nijhoff, The Hague, Netherlands. 42. Plutarch,
XXVII. 1-4. 43. Xenophon, Hellenika
I, i, 11-18; Diodoros, XIII. 49. iii-52ii 44.
Xenophon, Hellenika, I, i, 9-10; Plutarch, XXVII. 4-XXVIII.
2 45. Xenophon, Hellenika, I, iii,
1-22. 46. Xenophon, Hellenika, I, iv, 8-17;
Plutarch, XXXI. 1-XXXII. 3. 47. Xenophon,
Hellenika, I, iv, 20-21; Plutarch, XXXII. 4-XXXIII. 48.
Plutarch, XXXIV. 2-6. 49.
Diodoros, XIII. 68. i-69. iii. 50. Plutarch, XXIX.
1-2. 51. Xenophon, Hellenika I, v, 11-16; Plutarch, XXXV. 2-XXXVI.
2. 52. Plutarch, XXXVI-XXXVIII. 53. Diodoros, XIV. 11.
i-iv; Plutarch XXXVIII. 4-XXXIX. 5. There are various accounts, the
similar feature being the Spartan instigation. It is not likely that it
was a personal assassination (because of the queen), but it was probably
not purely due to political motives, either. 54. Aristophanes,
Frogs , 1420-1431; cf. Aristophanes, Clouds, 362; Plato, Symposium
221b. 55. Aristophanes, Clouds , 217 ff. 56.
Politically speaking, however, this is not to be thoroughly disregarded,
for in their numbers they can trample even the best of men. 57. Cf.
for example: Plato, Gorgias 500c, Aristotle, Politics 1324a24 ff.,
Rousseau, Social Contract , Book I, Preface and Bk. II, chap. 7, Marx,
Theses on Feuerbach , #11. 58. Hobbes, Leviathan , edited by C. B.
MacPherson, Pelican Books, Middlesex, 1968, page 102 ff. 59.
It is interesting that Socrates uses the promise of power to entice
Alkibiades to listen so that he can persuade him that he doesn't know
what power is. It is very important for the understanding of the dialogue
that the reader remember that Socrates has characterized Alkibiades'
desire for honor (105b) as a desire for power. This is of crucial
significance throughout the dialogue, and in particular in con¬ nection
with Socrates' attempts to teach Alkibiades from whom to desire honor,
and in what real power consists. The reader is advised to keep both in
mind throughout the dialogue. Perhaps at the end he may be in a position
to judge in what the difference consists. 60. The most notorious
example, perhaps, is Martin Heidegger, although he was surely not the
only important man implicated with fascism. 61. Cf. Aiskhylos,
Agamemnon 715-735, and Aristophanes, Frogs 1420-1431, for the metaphor.
The latter is a reference to Alkibiades himself, the former a statement
of the general problem. (f. also Republic 589b; Laws 707a; Kharmides
155d; and Alkibiades I 123a). 62. The fully developed model
resulting from this effort should probably only be made explicit to the educators.
The entire picture (including the hero's thoughts about the cosmos, etc.)
would be baffling to children and most adults, and would thus detract
from their ability to identify with the model. Perhaps a less
thoroughly-developed example would suffice for youths. However, the
entire conception of the best man that the youths are to emulate should
be made explicit. The task is difficult but worth the effort, since the
consistency of two or more features of the model can only be positively
ascertained if he is fully developed. An obvious example of where
conflicts might arise should this not be done is where, say, a very
hybristic, superior and self- confident young man is the leader of the
radical democratic faction of a city. Some kind of conflict is inevitable
there, and those tensions are much more obvious though not necessarily
more penetrating than those caused by incompatible metaphysical
views. 63. For example, Lakhes , Kharmides , Republic , Euthyphro
. 64. These questions are not the same, for in many dialogues
the person named does not have the longest, or even a seemingly major
speak¬ ing part; e.g., Gorgias , Phaedo , Minos , Hipparkhos .Protagoras
, 336d. Here Alkibiades is familiar with Socrates, for he recognizes his
"little joke" about his failing memory. However, Socrates was
not yet notorious throughout Athens, for the eunuch guarding the door did
not recognize him ( Protagoras 314d). Much of this specula¬ tion as to
the date depends on there not being anachronisms between (as opposed to
within) Platonic dialogues. We have no priori reason to believe there are
no anachronisms. However, it might prove to be useful to compare what is
said about the participants in other dialogues. The problem of
anachronisms within dialogues is a different one than we are referring to
in our discussion of the dramatic date. Plato, for a variety of
philosophic purposes, employs anachronisms within dialogues, including
perhaps, that of indicating that the teaching is not time-bound. 66.
This is obviously related to teleology, a way of accounting for things
that concentrates on the fulfilled product, the end or teleos of the
thing and not on its origin, as the most essential for under¬ standing
the thing. The prescientific, or common-sensical, understanding of things
is a teleological one. The superior/ideal/proper character¬ istic of
things somehow inform the ordinary man's understanding of the normal.
This prescientific view is important to return to, for it is such an
outlook, conjoined with curiosity, that gives rise to philosophic
wonder. 67. 103a.1, 104c.4, 104d.4, 104e.l, 123c.8, 123e.3,
124a.2. For this kind of detailed information, I found the Word Index to
Plato , by Leonard Brandwood, an invaluable guide. 68. The
challenge to self-sufficiency is important to every dialogue, to all men.
It is something we all, implicitly or explicitly, strive towards, a key
question about all men's goals. Even these days, one thing that will
still make a man feel ashamed is to have it suggested that he depends on
someone (especially his spouse). The first step toward
self-improvement has to be some degree of self-contempt, and that might
be sparked if Alkibiades realizes his dependency. 69.
Socrates might be saying this to make the youth open up. It isn't purely
complimentary; he doesn't say you are right. (Cf. also Kharmides 158
a-b). I am indebted for this observation to Proclus whose Commentary on
the First Alkibiades , is quite useful and interesting. In order to claim
that something is or is not a cause for wonder, one apparently would have
to employ some kind of criteria. Such criteria would refer to some larger
whole which would render the thing in question either evident or
worthy of wonder or trivial. None of these has been explicitly suggested
in the dialogue with reference either to difficulty of stopping speech or
beginning to talk. 71. It may be important to note that this
discussion refers to political limits, political ambitions. Perhaps a higher
ambition (per¬ haps indeed the one Socrates is suggesting to Alkibiades)
can be under¬ stood as an attempt to tyrannize nature herself, to rule
(by knowing the truth about) even the realm of possibility and not to be
confined by it. 72. One notices that this, by implication, is a
claim by Socrates to know himself, not exactly a modest claim.
73. Interestingly, he does not consider what Alkibiades heard in
such speeches to be part of his education, "comprehensively" listed
at 106e. 74. This appears similar to Socrates' strategy with
Glaukon. Cf. Craig, L.H., An Introduction to Plato's Republic , pp.
138-202; especially pp. 163-4; Bloom, A., "Interpretive Essay,"
in The Republic of Plato , pp. 343-4. 75. Cf. Republic
, 435c. 76. Cf. Republic , 327b, 449b; Kharmides , 153b; Parmenides
, 126a.While imagined contexts may influence one's thinking and speaking
in certain ways, one is not naively assuming that then one will speak and
act the same as one would if the imagined were actualized. Many
things might prevent one from doing as well as one imagined. An example
familair to the readers of Plato might be the construction of the good
city in speech. Cf. 105d, 131e, 123c, and 121a. One might be curious as
to the difference between Phainarete's indoor teaching of Socrates
and Deinomakhe's indoor teaching of Alkibiades. Also perhaps noteworthy
is that Alkibiades was taught indoors by his actual mother: the
masculine side of his nurture was not provided by his natural
father. Except see Hobbes, Leviathan, chapter 29; Plato, Republic ,
372e. And one must remember that when the plague strikes, the city is
dramatically affected. 80. Thucydides, VI. 21; I. 142-3; II.
13. 81. Note two things: (1) Athenians don't debate about this
at the ekklesia ; (2) Alkibiades, as well as the wrestling master, would
be qualified (118c-d). Socrates drops dancing here; perhaps
it is similar enough to wrestling to need no separate mention/ and to provide
no additional material for consideration. But if that were so one might
wonder why it was mentioned in the first place. 83. Perhaps
"all cases" should be qualified to "all cases which are
ruled by an art." The general ambiguity surrounding this remark in¬
vites the reader's reflection on the extent to which Socrates' suggestion
could be seen to be a much more general kind of advice. Perhaps
Alkibiades would be better off imitating Socrates - period. Or perhaps
something else about Socrates' pattern (of life) could be said to provide
"the correct answer in all cases," - he is after all a very rational
man. 84. The referent here is unclear in the dialogue. It could
be 'lawfulness' and 'nobility' just as readily as the 'justice'
which Socrates chooses to consider; that choice significantly shapes the
course of the dialogue. Note: Socrates brought up 'lawful' (even though
there probably is no law in Athens commanding advisors to lie to the
demos in the event they war on just people); whereas Alkibiades' concern
was nobility. 85. This would be especially true if
considerations of justice legitimately stop at the city's walls. Cf. also
Thucydides, I. 75, and compare the relative importance of these motives
in I. 76. This conclusion may not be fair to Alkibiades, for he is
clearly not similar to Kallikles (see below) since he is convinced that
he must speak with Socrates to get to the truth. He wants to keep
talking. But he is still haughty. He has just completed a short dis¬ play
of skill that wasn't sufficiently appreciated by Socrates, and, most
importantly, there will be an unmistakeable point in the dialogue at
which Alkibiades does become serious about learning. Alkibiades will
confess ignorance and that will mark a most important change in his
attitude. His attention here isn't focussed on the premises but on
the conclusion of the argument. 87. There are a number of
possibilities here for speculation as to the cause of his taking refuge -
from shame? from the truth? from the argument? 88. Draughts
is a table game with counters, presumably comparable to chess. Draughts
is a Socratic metaphor for philosophy or dialectics. The example arises
in connection with language, and seem to indicate the reader's
participation in the dialogue. First, of course, Plato must have us in
mind, for Alkibiades cannot know that draughts are Socrates' metaphor for
philosophical dialectics. Second, the metaphor itself de¬ mands
reflecting upon. How not to play is a strange thing to insert. Though
proceeding through negation is often the only way to progress in
philosophy, one doesn't set out to learn how not to play. The many indeed
cannot teach one to philosophize, but the question of how not to
philosophize often has to be answered in light of the many, as does the
question of how not to "argue." The philosopher must show caution
both because of the many's potential strength over himself, and through
his consideration of their irenic co-existence; he must not rock the
boat, so to speak. Cf. Hobbes, Leviathan , p. 100; Genesis 2:19-20.
90. It is interesting that with reference to "running"
(the province of the gymnastics expert or horseman) Socrates mentions
both horses and men. In the example of "health" he mentions
only men. Pre¬ sumably he is indicating that there is some distinction to
be made between men and horses that is relevant to the two technae .
Quite likely this distinction shall prove to be a significant aid in the
analysis of the metaphors of 'physician 1 and 'gymnast' that so pervade
this dialogue. Borrowing the analogy of 'horses' from the Apology (30e),
wherein cities are said to be like horses, one might begin by examining
in what way a gymnastics expert pertains more to the city than does a
doctor, or why "running" and not "disease" is a
subject for consideration in the city, while both are important for men.
Perhaps a good way to begin would be by understanding how, when man's
body becomes the focus for his concerns, the tensions arise between the
public and private realm, between city and man. 91. The
practical political problem, of course, is not simply solved either when
the philosophic determination of 'the many' is made, or when empirical
observation yields the results confirming what 'the many' believe. The
opinions must still be both evaluated and accounted for. 92.
However, when it is an extreme question of health - e.g., starvation, a
plague - a question of life or death, they do. The con¬ dition of the
body does induce people to fight and the condition of the body seems to
be the major concern of most people and is thus probably a real, though
background, cause of most wars and battles. 93. Homer, Odyssey ,
XXII 41-54; XVIII 420-421; XX 264-272, 322- 337, 394. 94. In
Euripides' play, Hippolytos , Phaedra, the wife of Theseus, is in love
with her stepson Hippolytos, and though unwilling to admit, she is unable
to conceal, her love from her old nurse. She describes him so the nurse
has to know, and then says she heard it from herself, not Phaedra.
95. It is undoubtedly some such feature of power as this that
Alkibiades expects Socrates to mention as that power which only he can
give Alkibiades. It may be that Socrates' power is closely tied to speech
- we are not able to make that judgement yet - but Alkibiades is
certainly not prepared for what he gets. The reader is cautioned to
remember that Socrates is assuming power to be the vehicle for
Alkibiades' honor. At least one sense in which this is necessary to
Socrates' designs has come to light. Alkibiades could be convinced
that he should look for honor in a narrower group of people once he
thought they were the people with the secret to power. It is not as
likely that he would come to respect that group (especially not for being
the real keys to power) if he hadn't already had his sense of honor
reformed. Cf. Gorgias , beginning at 499b and continuing through the end.
He certainly doesn't seem to care, although it may be a bluff or a pose.
97. Such as, perhaps, a dagger only partially concealed under his
sleeve - Gorgias 469c-d. 98. This, of course, is from the
perspective of the city. Very powerful arguments have been made to the
contrary. The city may not be the primary concern of the wisest
men. 99. Perhaps it should be pointed out, though, that men who
devote themselves to public affairs frequently neglect their family -
again the tension between public and private is brought to our attention
(cf. Meno, 93a-94e). 100. The fact that oaks grow stunted in
the desert does not mean that the stunted oak of the desert is natural.
The only thing we could argue is natural is that 'natural' science could
explain why the acorn was unable to fulfill its potential, just as
'natural' science can explain how there can be two-headed, gelded, or
feverish horses. In any explanation of this sort the reference is to a
more ideal tree or horse. And any examination of an existing tree or
horse will involve a reference to an even more perfect idea of a tree or
a horse. 101. It may be of no small significance that Socrates uses
the word ' ideas ' in this central passage. It is the only time in
this dialogue that the word is used and it seems at first innocuous.
'Ideas' is another form of ' eidos ' - 'the looks' so famous in the
central epistemological books of the Republic. What is so
exceptional about the " * use here is that it
occurs precisely where the question of the proper contest, the question
of the best man, is raised. Socrates says, "My, my, best of men,
what a thing to say! How unworthy of the looks and other advantages of
yours." We are perhaps being told it is unworthy of 'the looks,'
'the ideas , 1 that Alkibiades does not pose a high enough ambition. The
translators (who never noted this) are not in complete error. Their error
is one of imprecision. The modifier "your" ( soi) is an
enclitic and would have been understood (by Alkibiades) to refer to
"looks" as well as to his other advantages. However, as an
enclitic, it is used as a subtle kind of emphasis, and it is clearly the
"other advantages" that are emphasized. The 'soi' would
normally appear in front of the first of a list of articles. It doesn't
here, and the careful reader of the Greek text would certainly be first
impressed with it as " the looks." The reference to Alkibiades'
looks would be a second thought. And only in someone not familiar with
the Republic or with the epistemological problem of the best man, would
the "second- thought" be weighty anough to drown the first
impression. Incidentally, it is indeed interesting that the word
for the highest metaphysical reality in Plato's works is a word so
closely tied to everyday appearance. Once again there is support for the
dialectical method of questioning and answering, to slowly and carefully
refine the world of common opinion and find truth or the reality behind
appearance. 102. Whether the war justly or unjustly is not
mentioned. I believe that the referent to "others" is left
ambiguous. Note also that here (120c) Socrates speaks of the Spartan
generals ( strategoi ), a subtle change from 'king' (120a) a moment
earlier. Per¬ haps he is implying a difference between power and actual
military capability. 104. This is/ of course/ generally good
advice. Cf. Thucydides I 84: one shouldn't act as though the enemy were
ill-advised. One must build on one's foresight, not on the enemy's
oversight. 105. The important provision of nurture is added to
nature. Cf. 103a and the discussion of the opening words of the
dialogue. 106. Socrates has included himself in the deliberation
explicitly at this point, serving as a reminder to the reader that both
of these superior men should be considered in the various discussions,
not just one. A comparison of them and what they represent will prove
fruitful to the student of the dialogue. 107. Plato, another
son of Ariston, is perhaps smiling here; we recall why it is suspected
that Alkibiades left Sparta and perhaps why he was killed.
Two more facets of this passage are, firstly, that this might be
seen as another challenge by Socrates (in which case we should wonder as
to its purpose). Secondly, it implies that Alkibiades' line may have been
corrupted, or is at least not as secure as a Spartan or Persian one.
Alkibiades cannot be positive that his acknowledged family and kin are
truly his. 108. There is a very important exception and one
significant to this dialogue as well as to political thinking in general.
One may change one's ancestry by mythologizing it (or lying) as Socrates
and Alkibiades have both done. This may serve an ulterior purpose;
recall, for example, the claims of many monarchies to divine right.
109. Hesiod Theogony 928; cf. also Homer, Iliad 571 ff. 110.
The opposite of Athena, Aphrodite ( Symposium 180d), and Orpheus (
Republic 620a). 111. A number of Athenians may have thought this
was much the same effect as Socrates had. He led promising youths into a
maze from which it was difficult to escape. This discussion should
be compared in detail with the education outlined in the Republic . Such
a comparison provides even more material for reflection about the
connection between a man's nurture and his nature. (One significant
contrast: the Persians lack a musical education). 113.
Compare, for example, the difference concerning horseback riding:
Plato, Alkibiades I, 121e; and Xenophon, Kyropaideia , I, iii, 3. Cf., for
example, Machiavelli, The Prince , chapters 18, 19. The only other fox in
the Platonic corpus (besides its being the name of Socrates' deme -
Gorgias 495d) is in the Republic (365c) where the fox is the wily and
subtle deceiver in the facade of justice which is what Adeimantos, in his
elaboration of Glaukon's challenge, suggests is all one needs.
115. The reader of the dialogue has already been reminded of the Allegory
of the Cave, also in the context of nurture, at 111b. 116. Thomas
Sydenham, Works of Plato Vol. I , p. 69, points out - that Herodotos
tells us that this is not exclusively a Persian custom. Egyptians, too,
used all the revenue from some sections of land for the shoes and other
apparel of the queen. Cf. Herodotos, Histories , II, 97. 117. Cf.
Pamela Jensen, "Nietzsche and Liberation: The Prelude to a
Philosophy of the Future ," Interpretation 6:2, p. 104: "[Nietzsche]
does not suppose truth to be God, but a woman, who has good reasons to
hide herself from man: her seductiveness depends upon her
secretiveness..." 118. This greatly compounds the problems of
understanding the two men and their eros . What has heretofore been
interpreted by Socrates as Alkibiades' ambition for power is now
explicitly stated to be an ambition for reputation. Are we to understand
them as more than importantly connected, but essentially similar? And
what are we to make of Socrates' inclusion of himself at precisely this point?
Does he want power too? Reputation? Perhaps we are to see both men (and
maybe even all erotic attraction whatsoever) as willing to have power.
Socrates sees power as coming through knowledge. Alkibiades sees it
as arising from reputa¬ tion. Is Socrates in this dialogue engaged in
teaching Alkibiades to respect wisdom over glory in the interests of some
notion of power? The philosopher and the timocrat come out of (or begin
as) the same class of men in the Republic. The reader should examine what
differences relevant to the gold/philosophic class, if any, are displayed
by Socrates and Alkibiades. Perhaps Socrates' education of Alkibiades
could be seen as a project in alchemy - transforming silver into
gold. 119. Homer, Iliad , X. 224-6. Cf. Protagoras , 348d;
Symposium , 174d; Alkibiades II , 140a; as well as Alkibiades I , 119b,
124c. 120. This is not intended to challenge Prof. Bloom's
interpreta¬ tion ( The Republic of Plato , p. 311). As far as I am
capable of under¬ standing it and the text, his is the correct reading.
However, with respect to this point I believe the dialogue substantiates
reading the group of men with Polemarkhos as the many with power, and
Socrates and Glaukon as the few wise. 121. This is left quite
ambiguous. The jest could refer to: a) Socrates' claim to believe
in the gods b) Socrates' reason as to why his guardian is
better c) Socrates' claim that he is uniquely capable of providing
Alkibiades with power. In the Republic, inodes and rules of music
are considered of paramount political importance. Cf. Republic
376c-403c. 123. Cf. however. Symposium , 174a, 213b. At this stage
of the argument Socrates does not distinguish between the body and the
self. 124. This is the only time Socrates swears by an Olympian god.
He has referred to his own god, the god Alkibiades "talked" to,
a general monotheistic god, and he has sworn upon the "common god of
friendship" (cf. Gorgias 500b, 519e, Euthyphro 6b), as well as
using milder oaths such as 1 Babai 1 (118b, 119c). It would probably be
very interesting to find out how Socrates swears throughout the
dialogues and reflect on their connection to his talk of piety, and of
course, his eventual charge and trial. 125. Strictly
speaking that is the remark on which there won't be disagreement, not the
one following it. "Man is one of three things," is
something no one can disagree with. (He is what he is and any two more
things may be added to make a set of three.) Why does Socrates choose to
say it this way? And why three? Are there three essential elements in
man's nature? As we shall presently see, he does assume a fourth which is
not mentioned at this time. 126. Though first on the list of
Spartan virtues, temperance ( sophrosyne ), a virtue so relevant to the
problem of Alkibiades, does not receive much treatment in this dialogue.
One might also ask: if temperance is knowing oneself, is there a
quasi-virtue, a quasi¬ temperance based on right opinion?
127. This is what Socrates' anonymous companion at the beginning of
Protagoras suggests to Socrates with respect to Alkibiades. 128.
Homer, Odyssey , II. 364. Odysseus' son, Telemakhos, is called the
"only and cherished son" by his nurse when he reveals to her
his plan of setting out on a voyage to discover news about his father.
His voyage too (permitting the application of the metaphor of
descent and human nature) is guarded by a divine being.
Alkibiades/Telemakhos is setting out on a voyage to discover his
nature. 129. For other references to "stripping" in the
dialogues, see Gorgias 523e, 524d; cf. also Republic 601b, 612a, 359d,
361c, 577b, 474a, 452a-d, 457b; Ion 535d; Kharmides 154d, 154e;
Theaitetos 162b, 169b; Laws 772a, 833c, 854d, 873b, 925a; Kratylos
403b; Phaidros 243b; Menexenos 236d; Statesman 304a; Sophist
237d. 130. This word for release (apallattetai) has only been
used for the release of eros to this point in the dialogue (103a, 104c,
104e, 105d). Parenthetically, regarding this last passage, we note also
that the roles of wealth and goodness in well-being have not been
thoroughly 0 xplored. Perhaps he is suggesting a connection between
becoming rich and not becoming temperate. 131. One might
interject here that perhaps the virtues resulting from, say, a Spartan nurture,
do not depend on the virtues of the governors. Perhaps they depend on the
virtue or right opinion of the lawgiver, but maybe not even that. There
might be other counterbalancing factors, as, for example, Alexander
Solzhenitsyn suggests about Russians today - (Harvard Commencement
Address, 1978, e.g., paragraph 22). 132. As was mentioned with
respect to their other occurrences in the dialogue, the metaphors of the
diseased city, physician of the city, doctor of the body, pilot of ship,
ship-of-state and passenger are all worth investigating more thoroughly,
and in relation to each other. There is a dialogue, the Parmenides , in
which the "Young Socrates" speaks. We do not know what to make
of this, but the fact that he is called the "Young" Socrates
somehow distinguishes his role in this, from the other dialogues. He is
not called "Young Socrates" in the Alkibiades I , nor is he
referred to as "Middle-aged Socrates" in the Republic , nor is
he named "Old Socrates" in the Apology . 134. Having come
this far, the reader might want to judge for himself some recent Platonic
scholarship pertaining to the First Alkibiades. In comparatively recent
times the major source of interest in the dialogue has been the popular
dispute about its authenticity. Robert S. Brumbaugh, in Plato for
the Modern Age , (p. 192-3) concludes: But the argument of
the dialogue is clumsy, its dialectic constantly refers us to God for
philosophic answers, and its central point of method - tediously made -
is simply the difficulty of getting the young respondent to make a
generalization. There is almost none of the inter¬ play of concrete
situation and abstract argument that marks the indisputably authentic
early dialogues of Plato. Further, the First Alkibiades includes an
almost textbook summary of the ideas that are central in the
authentic dialogues of Plato's "middle" period; so markedly
that it was in fact used as an introductory textbook for freshman
Platonists by the Neo-Platonic heads of the Academy ... it would be
surprising if this thin illustration of the tediousness of
induction were ever Plato's own exclusive philosophic theme: he had
too many other ideas to explore and offer. Benjamin Jowett,
translator of the dialogue and thus familiar with the writings, says in
his introduction to the translation: ... we have difficulty in
supposing that the same writer, who has given so profound and complex a
notion of the characters both of Alkibiades and Socrates in the
Symposium should have treated them in so thin and superficial a manner as
in the Alkibiades , or that he would have ascribed to the ironical
Socrates the rather unmeaning boast that Alkibiades could not
attain the objects of his ambition without his help; or that he should
have imagined that a mighty nature like his could have been reformed by a
few not very conclusive words of Socrates... There is none of the
undoubted dialogues of Plato in which there is so little dramatic
verisimilitude.Schleiermacher, originator of the charge of spuriousness,
analyzed the dialogue, (pp. 328-336). It is to him that we owe the
current dispute. Saving the best for last: ... there is nothing in
it too difficult or too profound and obscure for even the least
prepared tyro... This ... work ... appears to us but very
insignificant and poor... and ... [genuinely Platonic
passages] may be found sparingly dispersed and floating in a mass
of worthless matter... and ... we must not
imagine for a moment that in these speeches some philosophic secrets or
other are intended to be contained. On the contrary, though many
genuine Platonic doctrines are very closely connected with what is here
said, not even the slightest trace of them is to be met with...
and ... in short, however we may consider it, [the
Alkibiades ] is in this respect either a contradiction of all other
Platonic dialogues, or else Plato's own dialogues are so with reference
to the rest. And whoever does not feel this, we cannot indeed
afford him any advice, but only congratulate him that his notions
of Plato can be so cheaply satisfied... In any event, much could be
said about whether anything important to the philosophic enterprise would
hinge upon the authorship. My comments concerning the issue will be
few. Firstly there is no evidence that could positively establish the
authorship. Even should Plato rise from the dead to hold a press
conference, we are familiar enough with his irony to doubt the straightforwardness
of such a state¬ ment. Secondly, many of the arguments are
based on rather presumptuous beliefs that their proponents have a
thorough understanding of the corpus and how it fits together. I will not
comment further on such self- satisfaction. Thirdly, there
are a number of arguments based on stylistic analyses. If only for the
reason that these implicitly recognize that the dialogue itself must
provide the answer, they will be addressed. Two things must be
said. First, style changes can be willed, so to suggest anything conclusive
about them is to presume to understand the author better than he
understood himself. Second, style is only one of the many facets of a
dialogue, all of which must be taken into account to make a final
judgement. As is surely obvious by now, that takes careful study. And
perhaps all that is required of a dialogue is that it prove a fertile
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Socrate, filosofo socratico, Socrate, Alcibiade. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice
e Carando” – The Swimming-Pool Library.
Monday, April 8, 2024
GRICE E CARANDO
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