Saving Dialectic through Plato’s Philebus by Benjamin J. Reed A Senior Essay submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree, Bachelor of Arts in the Integral Curriculum of Liberal Arts. Michael Riley, Advisor Saint Mary’s College of California March, 2011 Reed 1 “If I say that it is impossible for me to keep quiet because that means disobeying the god, you will not believe me and will think I am being ironical. On the other hand, if I say that it is the greatest good for a man to discuss virtue everyday and those other things about which you hear me conversing and testing myself and others, for the unexamined life is not worth living for men, you will believe me even less.” (Socrates in the Apology, 38a) Introduction The Philebus ends where few other Platonic Dialogues do, with a concrete and definite answer. At the end of a long and intricate discussion, Protarchus and Socrates come together and declare an answer to the question: what is the good? Unlike most dialogues, which end in a state of confusion—not necessarily without its benefit, but a state of confusion nonetheless—the Philebus soars above, coming not only to a concrete conclusion, but a conclusion about the good. How then does this dialogue achieve an answer when so many have not, and what is Plato trying to show us with this stark contrast in results? What is Dialectic? In order to see how the Philebus is able to succeed where most dialogues fail, this essay will focus on this essay will focus on the dialogues of the Philebus, the Parmenides and the Euthydemus. Of the three, only the Philebus manages to present a satisfactory conclusion to its conversation. The form of the narrative and the subject of inquiry is not what sets these dialogues apart. The Philebus and Parmenides both investigate the forms and the one. The Philebus and the Euthydemus both examine knowledge and virtue. Like most Platonic dialogues, these three also follow the same general form. After a brief exposition which establishes context each dialogue settles into a conversation, not just any type of conversation, but a conversation which aims to be dialectical. If there is any reason as to why the Philebus succeeds where other dialogues fail, it must be because of Reed 2 the conversation that takes place within it, its dialectic. What is it that makes the Philebus’ dialectic better, or at least more successful, than the other dialogues? More generally, what is dialectic and how is it practiced? These questions are at the heart of why the Philebus stands apart, and answering them will be the focus of this essay. The dialectical discourse seen in the Parmenides and Euthydemus raise certain questions about the way in which dialectic is executed. They also bring up questions concerning the very possibility that dialectic can exist as a valid form of inquiry. The Philebus, in contrast, offers the hope of an answer to these questions. Somehow the process which is so vital to establishing a firm foundation for the good in the Philebus is also responsible for the confusion and disillusionment found in the other two dialogues. A closer examination of each dialogue in turn will explain exactly why the Philebus, and its form of dialectic, succeeds when the others fall short. Part 1 - The Parmenides The Parmenides presents the reader with a story about a Socrates who is much younger than the one seen in the majority of Plato’s works. This younger Socrates is only just beginning his career as a philosopher. The Parmenides contrasts this image with that of Parmenides, the leading philosopher of the previous generation, and his accomplished disciple Zeno. Parmenides and Zeno both hail from Elea and just happen to be visiting Athens at the time. This dialogue raises several questions about dialectic, while also showing how dialectic can be useful. A Benefit of Dialectic Parmenides, who at this time is already a celebrated philosopher in Greece, holds as a central tenet that everything in the world is one. Socrates, on the other hand, has a Reed 3 brand new concept that he believes is the foundation of all: the concept of a form “itself by itself” in which all objects partake (Parmenides, 128e). While the concept of the forms will later come to be a cornerstone of Socrates’ philosophical theory, at this stage in his life it is nothing more than a vaguely formed idea. What follows from Socrates’ conversation with Parmenides is the absolute dismantling of young Socrates’ idea (Parmenides, 130-134e). Parmenides rightly points out to Socrates that he is “trying to mark off something beautiful, and just, and good, and each one of the forms, too soon… before you have been properly trained” (Parmenides, 136c). The concept of the forms that Socrates brings with him for discussion is too primitive to hold up to examination. The idea of the form in itself is not a bad one, one which is brought up time and again throughout the Platonic Dialogues. At the time of the Parmenides, however, it is still an unfinished and untested idea. When asked whether forms apply only to some things, like the good and beautiful, or to all things, like mud and hair, Socrates admits that even though the thought has troubled him, “when I get bogged down in that, I hurry away, afraid that I may fall into some pit of nonsense and come to harm” (Parmenides, 130e). These questions, all valid, do indeed lead to a pit of nonsense, or at least to bizarre arguments which become untenable (Parmenides, 134e). Here Parmenides’ dialectic presents us with the positive aspect of dialectic. When Socrates is forced to answer another’s questions, the absurdities within his idea of the forms come to light. Left by himself, or at least without a partner in discourse who is willing to push him—that is, without dialectic—Socrates would have continued to have lived in ignorance, shying away from the questions that frighten him. Dialectic is what Reed 4 brings the tough questions to the fore, and prevents people from living in self-imposed ignorance. The second part of the Parmenides will serve largely as a demonstration of this property of dialectic First Problem and Definition of Dialectic This positive property of dialectic does not make the dismissal of Socrates’ forms any less troubling. Anyone who is even only remotely familiar with Plato’s writings knows that an account of the forms is one of the cornerstones of Socrates’, or at least Plato’s, philosophy. The implications of the nonexistence of forms are far reaching. To borrow the phrasing of Aristotle, all things which we encounter in the world are particulars. Knowledge about a particular can only, by definition, apply to that particular. In order to know anything about things in general we must have knowledge not only about that which is not particular, but particular things must also relate in a definite and unchanging way to these general principles. Not only that, but the general principles must be unchanging and eternal, otherwise knowledge is fleeting. To use Socrates’ phrasing of the problem, as stated in the Philebus: Socrates: Such a person assumes the task of dealing, not with things eternal, but with what comes to be, or has come to be? Parotarchus: Undeniably. Socrates: So how could we assert anything definite about these matters with exact truth if it never did posses nor will posses nor now possesses any kind of sameness? Protarchus: Impossible. Socrates: And how could we ever hope to achieve any kind of certainty about subject matters that in themselves do not possess any certainty? Protarchus: I see no way. Socrates: Then there can be no reason or knowledge that attains the highest truth about these subjects! (Philebus, 59a-b) For Socrates these unchanging principles, from which all particular things partake, are the forms. Without the forms, Socrates is left with no philosophical base to Reed 5 stand on. As Parmenides points out, dismissing the idea of the forms “will destroy the power of dialectic” (Parmenides, 135c). So far a definition of what dialectic is has not been given, either by this paper or by Plato. From the above statements (what Socrates says in the Philebus and what Parmenides says in the Parmenides about the forms and dialectic), however, at least a provisional definition can be made. The forms are those eternal things from which other subjects derive their consistency. Since dialectic is obviously an inquiry into some sort of truth which relies on the forms, dialectic must be the process by which reason “attains the highest truth”, this being knowledge of the unchanging. Until greater insight into the nature of dialectic can be gleaned, this preliminary definition will have to suffice. With the above definition of dialectic, or at least partial understanding, an alarming question arises. If Socrates cannot prove the existence of forms, or even define what they are so that they may exist hypothetically, how can dialectic exist? This problem, the lack of justification for the existence of forms, is the first problem of dialectic. This is the most important question concerning the nature of dialect. Not only does this problem cast doubt about dialectic, but also about knowledge in general. Second Problem of Dialectic Like the older Socrates in other dialogues, Parmenides has not lost faith in dialectic. Do not give up on dialectic, but “…put your [Socrates’] back into it and get more training…” is what he recommends. Even participating in something as mundane as what “people think useless—what the crowd call idle talk”, will help (Parmenides, 135d).