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Luigi Speranza -- Grice e Carando:
la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale di Socrate – scuola
di Pettinengo – filosofia piemontese -- filosofia italiana – Luigi Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco di H. P. Grice,
The Swimming-Pool Library (Pettinengo). Filosofo piemontese. Filosofo italiano. Pettinengo, Biella, Piemonte. 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 enhanced
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 disfiguring 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' continuation 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 overturning 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 noteworthy 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
opportunity to link him with the act since he was already suspected of
pro¬faning the Eleusian Mysteries and of generally having a hybristic disregard
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, particularly
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. However, 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 forthcoming, 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 nearby island to levy funds. He left instructions not to
engage the enemy under any circumstances, but during his absence a battle
was fought nonetheless. 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 appearances, 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 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 improving 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 circumstances in which they found
themselves, but as these were decidedly different, so too were their manners of
adaptation. Socrates remained exclusively 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 conformity with all major Athenian
conventions, Socrates was st ill considered 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 contemptuous 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 relationship 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 hemlock,
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 unlikely 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 extraordinary 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 reflecting
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 comprehend 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 themselves 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 significance 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 persuading 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 constituted 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 between 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 disbelief 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 explored 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 something 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
attractiveness. 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 representing 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 experiences 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 repercussions 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 maintain 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. Accordingly, 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
influenced 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 transforms 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 comprehensive 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 particularly 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 appears, 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 understanding
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 participant, as there might be were they to insult
or publicly challenge someone's authority. Conventional piety and
civic-mindedness need place no limitations on the depth of the inquiry;
the only limits are those implicit 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 participation, 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 before 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
perhaps 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 differentiate 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 impossible 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 attesting 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 conceivably 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 importance 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 understanding 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 concerned 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
reflection 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 suggests that there is a special need to have reasons
presented. Perhaps Alkibiades' understanding of his own feelings either
is wrong or insufficient; 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 purportedly 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 significantly 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, including
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 inappropriateness 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 bothering 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 released 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 possible 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 important 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
understanding 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 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
discourse 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 careful
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 circumstances. 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 considered 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 interlocutor (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
important 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, prefacing 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 platform, 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 considerations 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 effective 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
inquiry 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 something altogether different, such as
entertainment through reading a story, one may discover that another way
of life is better. The argument 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. Propaganda 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
importance 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 unrelated) 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 influence 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 importantly 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 consideration 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. 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 unfortunate 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 comprehensive '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 unlawful 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, 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 cannot.
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
answering but in fact points out an important example to the contrary.
The Greek language is taught by the many quite capably even though they
cannot 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 exemplifies 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 distinguishes 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 someone 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 (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). 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 individual, 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 concerning 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 possibility 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 responsible 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, moreover, 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 referred 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 arguments 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 [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. The just and the advantageous
are not the same, for great injustices 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. 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 encounter 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
concerning 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 influences 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 themselves.
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 persuades
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 sentiments - 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 proposing 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
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 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 inconsistently maintain in speech what they do not uphold in deed. This
is the most immediate level on which to recognize the problem of the
relation 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, 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. Something 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 understand 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 conclusions 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 performing 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
advantageous. 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.
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. 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 required 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 distinction. 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
reformulation 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 continually 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 contradictory 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 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 perceive 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 enlighten 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
considerations 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 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 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,
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 implicit 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 differentiates 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 conclusion 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 concede the
necessity of looking toward the best man. The argument to counter
this position is importantly epistemological. 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 understandable, 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 (geographic 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 proceeds naturally from local victory through stages toward world
championship, 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 someone 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 recognizing 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 surpass 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 satisfied 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 compared, 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 discussions 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 schooling; indeed, it suggests
virtually everything that affects one's upbringing. The importance of this
facet in the development of a man's nature becomes more obvious when one
remembers the different characteristics 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 superficially; 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 provides 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; Statesman). 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 suggesting 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 useful at this point.
Daidalos was a legendary ingenious craftsman, inventor 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).
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 fourteen 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 possibilities) . 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 suspects 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 somehow 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. Without 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
understand precisely how it is accomplished. The question of what
is to be taught leads readily to a consideration 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 qualification for teaching (or for the knowledge
requisite for teaching). Agreement 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 difficulty 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, disclosing 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 unless 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), 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. 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 indication 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 refused 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
requires 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 regarding 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 connected 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 combination 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 characteristics. 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. 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 surrounding 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, including 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). If, on the other hand, it requires completely
different 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
contradictions 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 importance. 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 powerful; 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 expression 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 mentions 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 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 consideration 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 especially interesting is the significance of these opening lines
for the themes of the First Alkibiades . The first speaker in the
Republic provides 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 suggest 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. Presumably, 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.) Perhaps 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 combat 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 remarks 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 horsemanship, 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 meaningful 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
discussing 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. 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 controlled 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 players who lead
singers and employ dancers; Alkibiades means ruling men who share life as
fellow citizens and conduct business. Socrates inquires 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 discovered 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 something 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 extent 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 performing in unison . Perhaps
political rule is properly understood as involving 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.
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 friendship 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 involved with more than mere life, but is aiming at the good life,
mere preservation of the citizens is not sufficient. Socrates' subtle
transformation 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. 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 (maybe
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 inquires if he means agreement or disagreement by friendship.
Alkibiades replies that agreement is meant, but one must notice that this
significantly 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 themselves" and states agreed, with regard to
speaking Greek, or more precisely, 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 circumstances, 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 provide 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 relationships. 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 performing 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
friendship, 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, perhaps 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 understanding 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
compatible. 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 correct 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 answering 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)
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 recognize 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 compare 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
understanding of the First Alkibiades is that Socrates has succeeded in
convincing 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 argument that taking proper care of
one's belongings is an art different from care of oneself (128d). But
perhaps one should survey the entire argument 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 belongings 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. Already
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 combined 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" 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. 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 introduction 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 highmindedness 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 remain. 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.
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
utterances. 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 greathearted Erekhtheos," as one like no other born on earth for
the arrangement 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 belongings 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 exercises 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 belongs 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 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. 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 opportunity 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 belongings 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. 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. These others,
it seems, would be doctors and gymnastics trainers - the only experts of
the body explicitly recognized in the dialogue. Remembering that neither doctor
or trainer knows himself, 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. Someone 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 discussion of the one
techne that presides over all the bodies and belongings. 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 circumstances 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 understood 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 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 godless 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 hierarchically 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 ambiguous 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 importance 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 existence 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. Dissenters 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 disbelief in religious authority in the interests of those in the
community who depend on religious conviction for their good conduct. Most
consider 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 contrary, 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 concern 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 concern. 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 important
to the life of knowledge. Both play a part in Alkibiades' education 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 friendship 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. Throughout the
discussion 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. In addition, at
yet another level, it has been frequently observed 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 flattering 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' unquenchable 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 intensity 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 implicitly 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 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 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 insufficient, and that I was in a position to remedy that
inadequacy. As a rule of thumb in interpretation one should not begin
with such presuppositions. 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. We
are also told she had dresses worth fifty minae. 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 (henceforth
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 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. Plato,
Symposium 220e-221c; Plutarch VII. 4; Diadoros cf. Thucydides, History of the
Peloponnesian War. Thucydudes, Cf. also Plutarch, Plutarch, XIV. 6-9;
Thucydides Plutarch, XIII. 3-5. Cf. Aristotle's discussion in his
Politics, Thucydides, Diodoros, Thucydides, Thucydides, Plutarch, XVIII. 1-2;
Thucydides.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, Thucydides, Plutarch, Thucydides, Thucydides,
VI. 48-50. Thucydides, Thucydides,
Plutarch, Diodoros, Thucydides, Plutarch, Thucydides, Plutarch, Thucydides,
Thucydides, Plutarch; cf. also Plato, Alkibiades, where Plato's mention might
provide some support for a claim that the motive was other than
lust. 35. Thucydides, Plutarch, Plutarch, Thucydides, Diodoros,
XIII. 41. iv-42iii; Plutarch, Thucydides Thucydides, Thucydides, VIII. 97. For
an excellent and beautiful examination of this in Thucydides, read Leo Strauss,
"Preliminary Observations of the Gods in Thucydides' Work."
INTERPRETATION, Nijhoff, The Hague,
Netherlands. Plutarch, Xenophon, Hellenika, Diodoros Xenophon,
Hellenika, I, i, 9-10; Plutarch, Xenophon, Hellenika,
Xenophon, Hellenika, I, iv, 8-17; Plutarch, Xenophon,
Hellenika, I, iv, 20-21; Plutarch,Plutarch, Diodoros, Plutarch, Xenophon,
Hellenika I, v, 11-16; Plutarch, Plutarch, Diodoros, Plutarch. 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; cf. Aristophanes, Clouds, Plato, Symposium,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. Cf. for example: Plato, Gorgias 500c, Aristotle,
Politics 1324a24 ff., Rousseau, Social Contract, Marx, Theses on
Feuerbach, Hobbes, Leviathan, edited by C. B. MacPherson, Pelican Books,
Middlesex 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 connection
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, 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 speaking 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 speculation 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. 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 understanding the thing. The prescientific, or
common-sensical, understanding of things is a teleological one. The superior/ideal/proper
characteristic 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. For this kind of detailed information, I
found the Word Index to Plato, by 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). 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 (perhaps indeed the one Socrates is suggesting to Alkibiades)
can be understood 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. 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. Cf. Republic. 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. 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 invites 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. 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 display 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.
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 demands 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. Presumably 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. However, when it is an extreme question of health - e.g.,
starvation, a plague - a question of life or death, they do. The condition 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; 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. 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. Perhaps he is implying a
difference between power and actual military capability. 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. 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, 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). 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) is in the Republic 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. The reader of the dialogue has already been reminded of
the Allegory of the Cave, also in the context of nurture. Sydenham,
Works of Plato, 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:
"[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. 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 reputation. 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. This is not intended to challenge Prof.
Bloom's interpretation ( The Republic of Plato, p. 311). As far as I am capable
of understanding 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. 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 [citato da H. P. Grice] 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. 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. 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
quasitemperance based on right opinion? 127. This is what Socrates'
anonymous companion at the beginning of Protagoras suggests to Socrates
with respect to Alkibiades. 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; Laws 772a, 833c, 854d, 873b, 925a; Kratylos 403b;
Phaidros; Menexenos; Statesman; Sophist. This word for release,
apallattetai, has only been used for the release of eros to this point in
the dialogue. 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. 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. 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 interplay 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. 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. 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 statement. 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
ground for such study. Aristophanes. The Eleven Comedies . New York:
Liveright, The King James BIBLE. Nashville, U.S.A.: Kedeka,Bloedow, E. F.
Alcibiades Reexamined . Weisbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1973.
Bloom, Allan D. The Republic of Plato . Translated, with Notes and
an Interpretive Essay, by Allan Bloom. New York: Basic Books, Brandwood,
Leonard. A Word Index to Plato . Leeds: W. S. Maney and Son, Ltd.,
1976. Brumbaugh, R. S. Plato for the Modern Age . U.S.A.: Crowell
Collier Press, Churchill, Winston. Great Contemporaries . London:
Macmillan; Craig, Leon H. An Introduction to Plato's Republic . Edmonton:
printed and bound by the University of Alberta, de Romilly,
Jacqueline. Thucydides and Athenian Imperialism . Translated by Philip
Thody. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, Diodorus Siculus. Diodorus of Sicily . Tr.
Oldfather; Loeb Classical Library, London: Heinemann, Friedlander,
Plato, New York: Bollingen Series, 1958. Grene, David; and
Richmond Lattimore, eds. The Complete Greek Tragedies . Aeschylus I, tr.
Lattimore; Euripides I, translated by Lattimore. Chicago, Grote. Plat o
and the Other Companions of Sokrates . London: John Murray, 1885.
Hamilton and Cairns. Plato: The Collected Dialogues . Princeton,
Bollingen Series, Hammond and Scullard, The Oxford Classical Dictionary,
Clarendon, Herodotus. The Histories . Tr. Powell; Oxford, Hesiod. Hesiod . Tr. Lattimore.
Ann Arbor: Michigan; Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan . Ed. Macpherson.
Middlesex, England: Pelican, Homer. Iliad . Translated by Richmond
Lattimore. New York: Harper and Row, Homer. Odyssey . Translated by
Richard Lattimore. New York: Harper and Row, Jensen, Nietzsche and
Liberation: The Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future,"
Interpretation . 6:2. The Hague: Nijhoff, Jowett, B., ed. The Dialogues
of Plato Translated by Jowett. Oxford: Oxford University Press, Clarendon
Press, MACHIAVELLO MACHIAVELLI (si veda), The Prince . Tr. and ed. by Musa.
New York: St. Martin's. Marx, Theses on Feuerbach," The
Marx-Engels Reader . Ed. Tucker. New Tork: Norton, McKeon, Richard, ed. The
Basic Works of Aristotle . New York: Random House, Olympiodorus.
Commentary on the First Alkibiades of Plato. Critical texts and Indices
by L. G. Wes ter ink'. Amsterdam:‘ North-Holland,O'Neill, William. Proclus:
Alkibiades I A Translation and Commentary. The Hague: Nijhoff, Paulys-Wissowa.
Real-Encyclopoedie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft . Stuttgart:
Metzler Buchhandlung, Plato. Plato in Twelve Volumes . Loeb Classical Library;
translated by R. G. Bury, H. N. Fowler, W. Lamb, P. Shorey; London:
Heinemann, Plutarch. Lives . Loeb Classical Library, tr. Perrin. London: Heinemann,
Rousseau, J.-J. The Social Contract . Translated and edited by R.
Masters and J. Masters. New York: St. Martin's, RYLE (citato da H. P.
Grice), Plato's Progress. Cambridge, Schleiermacher. Introduction to the
Dialogues of Plato . Translated by W. Dobson. Cambridge: J. et j. j.
Deighton, Shorey, Paul. What Plato Said . Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1933. Solzhenitsyn, A. "Harvard Commencement
Address." Harvard, Strauss, Leo. "Preliminary Observations of the
Gods in Thucydides Work," Interpretation, The Hague z Martinus
Nijhoff, 1974. Sydenham, Floyer, transl. The Works of Plato . Vol.
I. Edited by Thomas Taylor. London: R. Wilks, Taylor, A. E. Plato: The
Man and His Work . New York: Meridian, Thucydides. History of the Peloponnesian
War . Translated by Rex Warner; Introduction and Notes by M. I. Finley.
Middlesex, England: Penguin, 1954. Westlake, H. D.
Individuals in Thucydides . Cambridge. Ennio Carando. Keywords: l’amore
platonico, l’amore socratico, l’implicatura di Socrate, filosofo socratico,
Socrate, Alcibiade. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carando” – The
Swimming-Pool Library.
Luigi Speranza -- Grice e Carapelle:
la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale – linguaggio e
metafilosofia – linguaggio oggetto – meta-linguaggio – Peano – Tarski 1944 – bootstrapping
– scula di Napoli – filosofia napoletana – filosofia campanese -- filosofia
italiana – Luigi Speranza, pel Gruppo di Gioco di H. P. Grice, The
Swimming-Pool Library (Napoli). Filosofo
napoletano. Filosofia campanese. Filosofo italiano. Napoli, Campania. Grice: “I
like Carcano; I cannot say he is an ultra-original philosopher, but I may – My
favourite is actually a tract on him, on ‘meta-philosophy,’ or rather ‘language
and metaphilosophy,’ which is what I’m all about! How philosophers misuse
‘believe,’ say – but Carcano has also philosophised on issues that seem very
strange to Italians, like ‘logica e analisi,’ ‘semantica’ and ‘filosofia del
linguaggio’ – brilliantly!” Quarto Duca di Montaltino, Nobile dei
Marchesi di C.. Noto per i suoi studi di fenomenologia, semantica, filosofia
del linguaggio e più in generale di filosofia analitica. Studia a Napoli,
durante i quali si formò alla scuola di Aliotta e si dedica allo studio delle
scienze. Studia a Napoli e Roma. Sulla scia teoretica del suo tutore volle
approfondire le problematiche poste dalla filosofia e riesaminare attentamente
il linguaggio in uso. La sua tesi centrale è che correnti come il pragmatismo,
il positivismo, la fenomenologia, l'esistenzialismo e la psicoanalisi, fossero
il portato dell'esigenza teoretica di una maggiore chiarezza – la chiarezza non
e sufficiente -- delle varie questioni che emergevano da una crisi culturale,
vitale ed esistenziale. Al centro di tale crisi giganteggia la polemica fra
senza senso metafisico e senso anti-metafisica, soprattutto a causa del vigore
critico del positivismo logico, contro il quale a sua volta lui -- che ritiene
necessaria una sostanziale alleanza o quantomeno un aperto dialogo fra la
metafisica e la scienza -- pone diversi rilievi critici, principale dei quali è
quello di minare alla base l'unità dell'esperienza, alla Oakeshott -- che senza
una cornice o una struttura metafisica in cui inserirsi rimarrebbe
indefinitamente frammentata in percezioni fra loro irrelate. A questo
inconveniente si può rimediare temperando il positivismo con lo
sperimentalismo, ovvero accompagnando alla piena accettazione del metodo una
piena apertura all’esperienza così come “esperienza” è stata intesa, ad
esempio, nella fenomenologia intenzionalista intersoggetiva di Husserl. In
questo senso si può procedere a mantenere una costante tensione sui problemi
posti dalla filosofia, in opposizione a ogni dogma di sistema, e al contempo
non cadere nell'angoscia a cui conduce lo scetticismo radicale che tutto
rifiuta, compresa l'esperienza. Non si tratterebbe dunque per la filosofia di
definire verità immutabili ma di sincronizzarsi col ritmo del metodo basato
sull’esperienza fenomenologico, sussumendo i risultati sperimentali e
integrandoli nel continuum di una struttura metafisica mediante il ponte
dell'esperienza. Altre opere: “Filosofia e civiltà” (Perrella, Roma); Filosofia
(Foro Italiano, Roma); Il problema filosofico. Fratelli Bocca, Roma); La
semantica, Fratelli Bocca, Roma – cf. Grice, “Semantics and Metaphysics”)
Metodologia filosofica, una rivoluzione filosofica minore. Libreria scientifica
editrice, Napoli. Esistenza ed alienazione” (MILANI, Padova); Scienza
unificata, Unita della scienza (Sansoni, Firenze); Analisi e forma logica (MILANI,
Padova); Il concetto di informativita, MILANI, Padova); La filosofia
linguistica, Bulzoni Editore, Roma. Dizionario biografico degli italiani, Roma.
Ben altrimenti articolato e puntuale ci sembra l'intervento operato sulla
fenomenologia da C., ed allievo di Aliotta a Napoli e pur fedele estensore
delle sue teorie, sulle quali, per questo mo tivo, ci siamo nell'ultima parte
dilungati sorvolando sullo scarso ruolo t-he gioca in esse l'opera di Husserl.
L'iter formativo di C. interseca
situazioni ed esperienze riscontrabili, come ve dremo, anche in altri giovani
filosofi della stessa generazione. Di più, nel.suo caso, c'è una singolare e
probabilmente indotta analogia con la vicenda teoretica del primo Husserl. In
realtà, scrive l'autore in un brano autobiografico io non posso dire di essere
venuto alla filosofia in maniera diretta, per un'intima voca zione alla
speculazione o per un normale maturarsi dei miei studi e della mia men talità
giovanile, ma questa era soprattutto caratterizzata da un'intensa passione
pèrle scienze e da una viva disposizione per la matematica. Questo germinale
orientamento, unito a una sensibilità religiosa che non tarderà a manifestarsi,
ebbe come primo e scontato effetto di allontanare C. dall'area neo-idealistica,
il cui radicale immanentismo, la esclusione dei concetti di peccato e di grazia
e l'avversione per ogni for- P. Filiasi
C., 17 ruolo della metodologia nel rinnovamento della filo sofia
contemporanea, La filosofia contemporanea in Italia. Invito al dialogo, Asti,
Arethusa. ma di naturalismo, non potevano in alcun modo essere accettati.
Di qui un sentimento di estraneità e di insoddisfazione subito denunciati fin
dai primi scritti, l'intima perplessità e la difficoltà di orientarsi in una
temperie culturale già decisa e fissata nelle sue grandi linee da altri. E,
d'altro canto, un naturale rivolgersi al problema metodologico, come pre
liminare assunzione di consapevolezza circa i percorsi teoretici che con
veniva seguire per ottenere uno scopo valido, senza tuttavia ancora nul la
presumere circa la necessità di quei percorsi o la natura di questo sco po. In
tal senso, l'elaborazione di una qualsivoglia metodologia doveva prevedere come
esito programmatico, da un lato, una sorta di epochizza- zione delle grandi
tematiche metafisiche e della tradizionale formulazione dèi problemi,
dall'altro lato, un lungo e paziente lavoro di analisi, con fronto,
chiarificazióne e comprensione che consentisse di recuperare, di quelle
tematiche e di quei problemi, il contenuto più autentico. Ma più lo sguardo
critico del giovane filòsofo andrà maturando fino ad abbracciare nel suo
complesso il controverso panorama culturale del tempo, più quel programma
iniziale perderà la sua connotazione prope deutica per trasformarsi in compito
destinale, in una ' fighi for clarity* che assumeva i termini di un radicale
esame di coscienza nei confronti della filosofia. Scrive Filiasi Carcano:
Confesserò che varie volte ho avuto ed ho l'impressione di non aver abba
stanza compreso, e per questo alla mia spontanea insoddisfazione (al tempo
stesso scientifica e religiosa) si mescola un senso di incomprensione. Questo
stato d'animo spiega bene il mio atteggiamento che non è propriamente di
critica, ma ha piut tosto il carattere di un prescindere, di una sospensione
del giudizio, di una messa in parentesi, in attesa di una più matura
riflessione 56. Al fondo dei dualismi e delle vuote polemiche che, nella
comunità filoso- fica italiana degli anni Trenta, sembravano prevaricare sulle
più urgenti esigenze scientifiche e di sviluppo, Filiasi Carcano coglie i
sintomi dì un conflitto epocale, di una inquietudine psicologica e di
un'incertezza morale che andranno a comporsi in una vera e propria
fenomenologia della crisi. ' Crisi della civiltà ', anzitutto, come recita il
titolo della sua opera prima, dove al desiderio di fuggire l'alternativa del
dogmatismo fa da 55 Per questi punti mi sono riferito a M. L. Gavazzo, Paolo
Filiasi Carcano,. «Filosofia oggi»; * P; Filiasi Carcano, // ruolo della
metodologia, Cfr. C., Crisi della
civiltà e orientamenti della filosofia contraltare l'eterno dissidio tra
ragione e fede. Crisi esistenziale, di con seguenza, dovuta al prevalere delle
tendenze scettiche e antimetafisiche su quelle spirituali e religiose. Crisi
della filosofia, infine, fondata sulla raggiunta consapevolezza del suo
carattere problematico, sull'incapacità di realizzare interamente la pienezza
del suo concetto. Come moto di reazione immediata occorreva allora, oltreché
circoscrivere le proprie pre tese conoscitive ponendosi su un piano
risolutamente pragmatico, assur gere ad una più compiuta presa di coscienza
storica e conciliare la filoso fia con una mentalità scientificamente educata.
Solo, cioè, il confronto con una seria problematica scientifica (la quale C.
vede realizzata nell'ottica positivista dello sperimentalismo aliottiano) avreb
be potuto segnare per la filosofia l'avvento di una più matura riflessione
intorno alle proprie dinamiche interne e ai propri genuini compiti critici. E a
questo scopo parve a Filiasi Carcano, fin dai suoi studi d'esor dio,
singolarmente soccorrevole proprio l'opera d’Husserl. Scri ve Angiolo Maros
Dell'Oro: A un certo punto si intromise Husserl. C. pensa, o spera, che là
fenomenologia sarebbe stata la scienza delle scienze – REGINA SCIENTIARVM –
Grice --, capace di indicargli la via zu den Sachen selbsf, per dirla con le
parole del suo fondatore. Da allora è stata invece per lui l'enzima patologico
di una problematica acuta. Sùbito rifiutata, in realtà, come idealismo
metafisico, quale eira frettolo samente spacciata in certe grossolane versioni
del tempo (non esclusa, lo abbiamo visto,.quella del suo, maestro), la
fenomenologia viene aggredita alla radice dal giovane studioso, con una cura e
un rigore filologico i quali pure
riscontreremo in altri suoi coetanei — giustificabili solo con l'urgenza di una
richiesta culturale cui l'ambiente nostrano non poteva evidentemente
soddisfare. Non è un caso che C. insista, fin dal suo primo articolo dedicato
ad Husserl, sul valore della fenomeno logia, ad un tempo, emblematico, nel
quadro d'insieme della filosofia contemporanea, e liberatorio rispetto al giogo
dei tradizionali dogmi idealistici che i giovani, soprattutto in Italia, si
sentivano gravare sulle spalle. contemporanea, pref. d’Aliotta, Roma,
Perrella, Cf. Il pensiero scientifico
ìtt Italia 'Creiriòria, Màngiarotti; Cfr. Cartario/ Da Carierò'ad H«w&f/,:«
Ricerche filosofìche. In piena coscienza,
scrive il filosofo se abbiamo voluto scio gliere l'esperienza da una
necessaria interpretazione idealistica, non è stato per forzarla nuovamente nei
quadri di una metafisica esistenziale, ma per ridare ad essa, secondo lo
schietto spirito della fenomenologia, tutta la sua libertà. Tale schiettezza,
corroborata da un carattere decisamente antisistema tico e dal recupero di una
vitale esigenza descrittiva, avrebbe consentito lo schiudersi di un nuovo,
vastissimo territorio di indagine, sospeso tra constatazione positivistica e
determinazione metafisica, ma capace, al tem po stesso, di metter capo ad un
positivismo di grado superiore e ad un più autentico pensare metafisico. Si
trattava, in sostanza, non tanto di dedurre i caratteri di una nuova positività
oppure di rifondare una me- tafisica, quanto piuttosto di guadagnare un più
saldo punto d'osserva zione dal quale far spaziare sul multiverso
esperienziale il proprio sguar do fenomenologicamente addestrato. È in questo
punto che la fenome nologia, riabilitando l'intuizione in quanto fonte
originaria di autorità (Rechtsquelle), operando in base al principio
dell'assenza di presupposti e offrendo i quadri noetico-noematici per la
sistemazione effettiva del suo programma di ricerca, veniva ad innestarsi sul
tronco dello sperimenta lismo di stampo aliottiano, che FC. aveva assimilato a
Napoli negli anni del suo apprendistato filosofia). Il ritorno alle cose stesse
predetto dalla fenomenologia non solo manteneva intatta la coscienza cri tica
rimanendo al di qua di ogni soglia metafisica, ma anche e più che mai serviva a
ribadire il carattere scientifico e descrittivo della filosofia. In un passo si
possono scorrere, a modo di riscontro, i punti di un vero e proprio manifesto
sperimentalista: Descrivere la nostra esperienza nel mondo con l'aiuto della
critica più raffi nata; cercare di raccordarne i vari aspetti in sintesi
sempre più vaste e più com prensive, esprimenti, per cosi dire, gradi diversi
della nostra conoscenza del mon do; non perdere mai il senso profondo della
problematicità continuamente svol- gentesi dal corso stesso della nostra
riflessione; infine stare in guardia contro tutte le astrazioni che rischiano
di alterare e disperdere il ritmo spontaneo della vita: sono questi i
principali motivi dello sperimentalismo e al tempo stesso, i modi mediante i
quali esso va incontro alle più attuali esigenze logiche e metodologiche del
pensiero contemporaneo. D'altro canto, si diceva, non è neppure precluso a
questo program- C., Crisi della civiltà; C., Anti-metafisica e sperimentalismo,
Roma, Perrella ma un esito trascendente, e a fenderlo possibile sarà ancora una
volta, in virtù della sua cruciale natura teoretica, proprio l'atteggiamento
feno menologico. Scrive C. In realtà, il dilemma tra una scienza che escluda
l'intuizione e una intui zione che escluda la scienza, non c'è che su di un
piano realistico ma non su di un piano fenomenologicamente ridotto: su questo
piano scienza e intuizione tornano ad accordarsi, accogliendo una pluralità di
esperienze, tutte in un certo senso le gittime e primitive, ma tutte viste in
un particolare atteggiamento di spirito che sospende ogni giudizio metafisico.
È questo, com'io l'intendo, il modo particola rissimo con cui la filosofia può
tornare oggi ad occuparsi di metafisica. Certo, nella prospettiva husserliana,
il problema del trascendens puro e semplice, che farà da sfondo a tutto il
percorso speculativo di Filiasi Carcano, sembrava rimanere ingiudicato o,
almeno, intenzionalmente rin viato in una sorta di ' al di là ' conoscitivo,
Ma in ordine alla missione spirituale che l'uomo deve poter esplicare nel mondo
storico, il metodo fenomenologico conserva tutta la sua efficacia. Esso nota C.
nelle ultime pagine del suo Antimetafisica e spe rimentalismo — certo
difficilmente può condurre a risultati, ma compie per lo meno analisi e
descrizioni interessanti, e tanto più notevoli in quanto tende a sollevare il
velo dell'abitudine per farci ritrovare le primitive intuizioni della vita
religiosa. Dato questo suo carattere peculiare e l'orizzonte significativo nel
quale viene assunta fin dal principio, la fenomenologia continuerà a va lere
per Filiasi Carcano come referente teoretico di prim'ordine, accom pagnandolo,
con la tensione e la profondità tipiche delle esperienze fon damentali, in
tutti i futuri sviluppi della sua speculazione. La terza grande area di
interesse per il pensiero hussèrliano negli anni Trenta in Italia, fa capo
all'Università.di Torino e si costituisce prin cipalmente intorno all'attività
4i tre studiosi: il primo, già incontrato e che, in qualche modo, fa da ponte
fra questa e la neoscolastica mila nese è Mazzantini; il secondo è Annibale
Pastore ne parleremo ora che teneva
nell'ateneo torinese la cattedra di filosofia teoretica; C.,. Crisi.della civiltà,:; C., Anti-metafisica
e sperimentalismo. Apparently, Hilbert is the first to use the prefix meta (from
the Greek over) in the sense we use it in meta-language, meta-theory, and now
meta-system. Hilbert introduces the term meta-mathematics to denote a
mathematical theory of mathematical proof. In terms of our control scheme,
Hilbert's MST has a non-trivial representation: a mapping of proofs in the form
of usual mathematical texts (in a natural language with formulas) on the set of
texts in a formal logical language which makes it possible to treat proofs as
precisely defined mathematical objects. This done, the rest is as usual: the
controlled system is a mathematician who proves theorems; the controlling
person is a metamathematician who translates texts into the formal logical
language and controls the work of the mathematician by checking the validity of
his proofs and, possibly mechanically generating proofs in a computer. The
emergence of the metamathematician is an MST. Since we have agreed not to
employ semantically closed languages, we have to use two different languages in
discussing the problem of the definition of truth and, more generally, any
problems in the field of semantics. The first of these languages is the
language which is "talked about" and which is the subject- matter of
the whole discussion; the definition of truth which we are seeking applies
to the sentences of this language. The second is the language in which we
"talk about" the first language, and in terms of which we wish, in
particular, to construct the definition of truth for the first language. We
shall refer to the first language as "the object-language,"and to the
second as "the meta-language." It should be noticed that these terms
"object-language" and "meta- language" have only a relative
sense. If, for instance, we become inter- ested in the notion of truth applying
to sentences, not of our original object-language, but of its meta-language,
the latter becomes automatically the object-language of our discussion; and in
order to define truth for this language, we have to go to a new
meta-language-so to speak, to a meta- language of a higher level. In this way
we arrive at a whole hierarchy of languages. The vocabulary of the
meta-language is to a large extent determined by previously stated conditions
under which a definition of truth will be considered materially adequate. This
definition, as we recall, has to imply all equivalences of the form (T): (T) X
is true if, and only if, p. The definition itself and all the equivalences
implied by it are to be formulated in the meta-language. On the other hand, the
symbol 'p' in (T) stands for an arbitrary sentence of our
object-language. Let “A(p)** mean “I assert p between 5.29 and 5.31’*.
Then q is “there is a proposition p such that A(p) and p is fake”. The
contradiction emerges from the supposition that q is the proposition p in
question. But if there is a hierarchy of meanings of the word “false**
corresponding to a hierarchy of propositions, we shall have to substitute
for q something more definite, i.e. “there is a proposition p of order «,
such that k{p) and p has falsehood of order n*\ Here n may be any
integer: but whatever integer it is, q will be of order « + i? and will not be
capable of truth or falsehood of order n. Since I make no assertion of
order n, q is false, The hierarchy must extend upwards
indefinitely, but not downwards, since, if it did, language could never
get started. There must, therefore, be a language of lowest type. I
shall define one such language, not the only possible one.* I shall
call this sometimes the “object-language”, sometimes the “primary
language”. My purpose, in the present chapter, is to define and describe
this basic lai^age. The languages which follow in the hierarchy I shall
call secondary, tertiary, and so on; it is to be understood that each
language contains all its predecessors. The primary language, we
shall find, can be defined both logically and psychologically; but before
attempting formal definitions it will be well to make a preliminary
informal explora- tion. It is clear, from Tarski’s argument,
that the words “true” and “false” cannot occur in the primary language;
for these words, as applied to sentences in the language, belong to
the (« -t- language. This does not mean that sentences in the
primary language are neither true nor false, but that, if “/>” is a
sentence in this language, the two sentences “p is true” and “p is false”
belong to the secondary language. This is, indeed, obvious apart from
Tarski’s argument. For, if there is a primary language, its words must
not be such as presuppose the existence of a language. Now “true” and
“false” are words applicable to sentences, and thus presuppose the
existence of language. (I do not mean to deny that a memory consisting of
images, not words, may be “true” or “false”; but this is in a
somewhat different sense, which need not concern us at present.) In
the primary language, therefore, though we can make assertions, we
cannot say that our own assertions or those of others are either true or
false. When I say that we make assertions in the primary
language, I must guard against a misunderstanding, for the word
“assertion” and, since q is not a possible value of p, the argument
that q is also true collapses. The man who says ‘T am telling a lie of
order n” is telling a He, but of order n 4 - I. Other ways of evading the
paradox have been suggested, e.g. by Ramsey, “Foundations of
Mathematics”, p. 48. * My liierarchy of languages is not identical
with Carnap's or Tarski's. Proceeding psychologically, I construct a
language (not the language) fulfilling the logical conditions for the
language of lowest type; I call this the “object-language” or the
“primary language”. In this language, every word “denotes” or “means” a
sensible object or set of such objects, and, when used alone, asserts the
sensible presence of the object, or of one of AN INQUIRY INTO MEANING AND
TRUTH the set of objects, which it denotes or means. In defining
this language, it is necessary to define “denoting” or “meaning” as
applied to object-words, i.e., to the words of this language. Paolo
Filiasi Carcano di Montaltino di Carapelle. Paolo Filiasi Carcano di Montaltino
de Carapelle, quarto duca di Montaltino. Paolo Filiasi Carcano. Paolo Carcano.
Montaltino. Keywords: linguaggio e metafilosofia, semantica, quarto duca di
montaltino, semantica ed esperienza, semantica e fenomenologia, filiasi
carcano, montaltino, carapelle. Refs.: Luigi Speranza, “Grice e Carapelle” –
The Swimming-Pool Library. Carapelle.
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