THE EXAMINED LIFE EXAMINED

AN INVESTIGATION OF AS CHARACTERIZED IN THE “FORGOTTEN” DIALOGUES AND

A THESIS

Presented to

The Faculty of the Department of Political Science

Colorado College

Professor Timothy Fuller, Advisor

______

In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Bachelor of Arts

By

Samantha Albert

May 2015

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Acknowledgements

I would like to sincerely thank Professor Timothy Fuller for so generously supporting me through my thesis project. I am grateful for his sage advice, judicious observations and most importantly, for encouraging me to live the examined life.

I would also like to thank my family for their unwavering love and encouragement during my four years at CC.

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Colorado College Honor Code

On my honor I have neither given nor received unauthorized aid on this thesis project.

Samantha Albert

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Table of Contents

Introduction ...... 5 Socrates as Stingray, Midwife, and Gadfly ...... 6 Examination of Hipparchus ...... 8 Examination of ...... 15 Examination of Lovers ...... 22 Examination of Cleitophon ...... 26 Examination of Alcibiades I ...... 28 Examination of Apology ...... 45 Conclusion ...... 55

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Introduction

Many of us may think that we know Socrates. At one point in our lives we may have been given a glimpse of this man through his portrayal in well-known

Platonic dialogues like the , , or Apology. While these are all important works that shed light on Socrates as philosopher and teacher, they do not represent the man in his entirety. My goal in this paper is to produce a more “multi- dimensional” characterization of Socrates by examining several “forgotten” Platonic dialogues. The intention of this paper is to produce a more comprehensive characterization of Socrates so as to examine whether Athens was justified in ultimately trying Socrates and putting him to death. I seek to assess how these

“forgotten” dialogues shed light upon the conflict between Socrates and Athens and fundamentally how they elucidate the conflict between philosophy and politics.

Understanding these conflicts should help contribute to a better understanding of

Socrates, his method of enquiry, and his ability to teach others.

While Socrates can be characterized in many different ways, some of the best characterization techniques are the use of three analogies, the stingray, the midwife, and the gadfly. In light of his trial in Apology, these analogies are a catalyst for the various ways that Socrates can be best understood throughout all Platonic dialogues. Because these analogies are a good representation of Socrates’s character, they will be used throughout this paper. A brief explanation of each analogy is necessary before I begin my expositions of the various “forgotten” dialogues.

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Socrates as Stingray, Midwife, and Gadfly

The stingray analogy originates from ’s dialogue , in which the individual that Socrates is engaged in conversation with recognizes the perplexity that Socrates seems to create in others. The comrade engaged with Socrates exclaims that he is “like the broad torpedo fish [stingray], for it makes anyone who comes close and touches it feel numb, and you seem to have had that kind of effect on me, for both my mind and tongue are numb, and I have no answer to give you”

(80b). In other words, Socrates seems to instill a sort of paralysis in others by engaging them in dialogue. Socrates responds by stating that “if the torpedo fish

[stingray] is itself numb and so makes others numb, then I resemble it, but not otherwise, for I myself do not have the answer when I perplex others, but I am more perplexed than anyone when I cause perplexity in others” (80c). This analogy helps to characterize Socrates as a man who has the power to paralyze thought, both in others and in himself. This is important because it shows that he is not afraid to ask perplexing questions—to make others truly think and to experience discomfort in dialoguing. Socrates points out, however, that it is not simply numbing paralysis that he may instill in others, but also within himself. This shows that there are no evident answers in the pursuit of wisdom, as Socrates also struggles with the difficult questions that he raises in each dialogue.

The midwife analogy comes from Plato’s dialogue . In discussing midwifery with a comrade, Socrates states that in his version of midwifery, “I attend men and not women; and look after their souls when they are in labour, and not after their bodies: and the triumph of my art is in thoroughly examining whether the 7 thought which the mind of the young man brings forth is a false idol or a noble and true birth” (150 b-c). This analogy best explains Socrates as a man who allows others to realize their own thoughts on their quest for wisdom. Socrates does not engage in dialogue to offer answers to others, but to allow others to discover their own answers. Socrates as midwife helps to birth one’s thoughts and recollections.

His role as midwife prompts others to recall the things that they may have known before they entered the bodily world.

The gadfly analogy originates from Apology. In responding to his accusations during his trial, Socrates states that he was “attached to this city by the god—though it seems a ridiculous thing to say—as upon a great and noble horse which was somewhat sluggish because of its size and needed to be stirred up by a kind of gadfly…. I never cease to rouse each and every one of you, to persuade and reproach you all day long and everywhere I find myself in your company” (30e). Socrates likens himself to a gadfly in the same sense that a gadfly has the ability to jolt a horse. Through Socrates’s method of dialogue, he is able to engage with others and allow them to contemplate questions that they may otherwise have failed to acknowledge. Throughout this process Socrates, as gadfly, has the opportunity to insight a sort of awakening in others, by hopefully allowing them to realize new and thought provoking ideas. Sometimes this works out well, and individuals leave

Socrates with a renewed sense of understanding and realization. More often than not however, Socrates increases other’s confusion and puzzlement, by failing to

“answer” the questions that they ask. The feeling that Socrates has somehow “failed” them in answering their questions has contributed to a negative perception of 8

Socrates, one that is a theme throughout the following “forgotten” dialogues, and one that contributes to the ultimate as seen in Apology.

Examination of Hipparchus

Plato’s Hipparchus begins with the questions, “what is the love of gain?” and

“who are the lovers of gain?” (225a) Characteristically some Socratic dialogues begin with the “what is…?” question. This is an important recognition because, as seen in Hipparchus, Socrates makes it clear that he is not simply seeking an example of gain, or justice, etc., but wants to know what the core meaning of gain is—evident in the “what is” question. Ultimately the question is, what is gain in and of itself? Key to this argument is the fundamental difference between what appears to be gain and what real gain actually is. One of the points that Socrates will make is that, while everyone is a lover of gain, moreover there are different types of gain that can be pursued.

In response to Socrates’s gain question, the Comrade responds by stating that he believes the lovers of gain to be those who think it meaningful to make gains from things that are worthless (225a). While the Comrade attempts to define gain here, at this point he does not actually answer the “what is the love of gain?” question. Instead, the Comrade makes it seem as if those that like worthwhile things do not love gain. Furthermore, no one is going to pursue something that they know is not worth pursuing. Thus what is required is a genuine knowledge of what something is, not of what it appears to be. While all human beings have a drive to gain something, there is a hierarchy of gain that can be pursued. A lack of knowledge 9 about this hierarchy of gain can sometimes lead to a mistaken view of what should be gained, therefore leading to a misunderstanding of what gain actually is.

A common theme throughout the Platonic dialogues is a character’s inability or lack of desire to answer Socrates’s initial question. The Comrade’s lack of appropriate response to the “what is” question leads Socrates to respond by asking whether those who think it is meaningful to make gains from worthless things actually know that the things being pursued are worthless. The Comrade responds by claiming that those pursuing gain do in fact know that they are pursuing worthless things, but that they still pursue them anyhow. As a clarifying technique,

Socrates compares this definition of the lover of gain to that of a farmer. He asks whether the Comrade would liken the lover of gain who knowingly pursues worthless things to a farmer who plants knowing that his plants are worthless.

While this technique would seem like it would clarify Socrates’s point, it does not, and the Comrade, once again, does not answer Socrates’s initial question, but instead redefines the definition of the lover of gain as someone who “thinks he ought to make a gain from everything” (225b). At this point in the dialogue, we get a different glimpse of Socrates as he responds to the Comrade’s new definition.

Socrates responds with a direct critique of the Comrade’s inability to answer the questions he has asked. Socrates even calls out the Comrade for responding aimlessly and for not paying attention. Hoping to enlighten the Comrade once more,

Socrates repeats the original question in a new form: “don’t you agree that the lover of gain knows about the worth of this thing from which he considers it worthwhile to make a gain?” (225c). This begins a characteristic back and forth question and 10 answer aspect of the dialogue in which Socrates attempts to pull knowledge from the Comrade by asking a series of questions. This is a good example of Socrates as a midwife in so much as he is allowing the Comrade to come to a better understanding of gain by pulling knowledge from him through questioning. This is characteristic of

Socrates, as a question and answer style dialogue is the most prominent form of communication between Socrates and others who he engages with.

Socrates continues questioning the Comrade by asking what person knows the worth of plants, to which the Comrade replies that farmers do. Socrates then asks if the Comrade knows of any farmer “who knows he plants a worthless plant and thinks to make a gain from it?” (226a). The Comrade admits that he does not, and Socrates asks the same for a horseman, pilot, general, and aulos player. The purpose of these repetitive questions is to make the point that the Comrade has mistakenly defined gain. Socrates wants the Comrade to understand that the lovers of gain are not like a figurative farmer who mistakenly plants worthless things and still hopes to make a gain from them. Instead, lovers of gain are those who actually know that things are worthless and attempt to make a gain from them anyway. The

Comrade, still not quite understanding what Socrates is saying reaffirms his original definition by stating that lovers of gain are “those, who out of greed, are always striving preternaturally for insignificant things of little or no worth in loving gain”

(226e).

Thus begins renewed questioning by Socrates in which he leads the Comrade down a new path. He begins by asking whether the lovers of gain love gain. The answer seems obvious, but it is important for leading the Comrade towards a better 11 understanding of gain. After both agree that the lovers of gain do love gain, Socrates asks whether gain is the opposite of loss, to which the Comrade replies that it is.

Then Socrates asks whether anyone exists for whom it is good to suffer loss, and if, in fact, loss is bad. If this is the case, then human beings are harmed by loss, and loss is therefore a bad thing. If gain is the opposite of loss, then gain is good. This culminates in Socrates asking whether those who love the good are also lovers of gain. The Comrade believes this to be true. Socrates then wonders if the Comrade and he love whatever is good; “don’t all human beings seem to you to love the good things and to hate the bad?” (227c). Socrates also asks whether the Comrade and he had agreed that gain is good. If these are both true, as the Comrade admits, then everyone turns out to be a lover of gain, and yet this goes against what they had concluded earlier, that no one is a lover of gain (227c).

Following this uncertainty in defining gain, the conversation continues, ultimately leading to Socrates’s claim that the Comrade is purposefully trying to deceive him. The Comrade argues that it is actually Socrates that is deceiving him.

This is an important part of the dialogue because it illuminates the seemingly deceptive nature of Socrates that some Athenians emphasize in his trial. After presenting the story of the tyrant Hipparchus, as a way of proving that Socrates will not deceive the Comrade, Socrates allows the Comrade to take new control over the conversation. Socrates says, “I am willing, as in a game of draughts, to let you change anything you want of what was said in the argument so that you won’t think you are being deceived” (229e). Socrates returns to their previous discussion and asks whether the Comrade would like to change any of the statements they had agreed 12 upon. Both agree that some gain is good and some gain is bad. Socrates leads the

Comrade forward by convincing him that good and bad gain are equally “gain,” like good and bad food are both food, and good and evil human beings are not more or less human.

Socrates goes on to ask “when you say that decent gain and evil gain are both gain, what do you see to be the same in both—the thing that is actually gain?”

(231a). Before the Comrade can respond, Socrates asks him to consider the next question: “do you call a gain every possession that one has obtained either by spending nothing or by spending less and getting more?” (231a). Socrates, after discussing gain as related to possession and gain as related to worth acknowledges that he and the Comrade have now concluded three or four times that the gainful is good (232a). Therefore “bad gain” is not gainful. Socrates concludes by reminding the Comrade where their discussion began—with the Comrade arguing, “the good do want to profit not from every gain but only from those gains that are good, not from the evil” (232a). Socrates asks the Comrade whether their argument compels them to agree that all gains are good, to which the Comrade acknowledges that it has compelled him but not persuaded him. Some “gains” are really losses. While this argument is externally powerful, an important question to ponder is whether the

Comrade actually internalizes it. The Comrade even admits that the argument has compelled him but not persuaded him—an implication that perhaps Socrates has failed in officially convincing the Comrade of the gain argument.

Does the Comrade have a misunderstanding of persuasion and the importance of the of dialogue? (232b). Socrates may compel 13 someone to understand something, but when the other is not in the presence of

Socrates, many of the “old ways” appear to come rushing back. When one is with

Socrates, dialogue appears to work, but when one is not with him there is a question as to whether one retains a clear picture of what they were originally accomplishing by dialoguing with him. This is not so much that one has been persuaded, but that one has grasped the argument. The distinction between being compelled and persuaded is, on one hand, being forced to accept a conclusion because you cannot deny it, and on the other hand, fully taking it in upon yourself and embracing it. In his final attempt to persuade the Comrade and bring him closer to an understanding of gain, Socrates convinces the Comrade that because all human beings want good things and the evil love gain, which the Comrade agrees with, then all human beings would therefore have to be lovers of gain (232c).

The important distinction here is that it is not simply the love of gain, but the type of gain one loves. What are the types of gains that one can love, what are the gains beyond just bodily gains like health and satiation? There are many, and

Socrates’s reason for asking the gain question is to move beyond just physical and bodily understandings of gain. An example of a gain that goes beyond the bodily is when Socrates states that “the unexamined life is not worth living”—an idea that surfaces during his trial in Apology. Another example for understanding the differences in gain would be to look at the tripartite soul as discussed in Republic.

Material gains, honor/glory gains, and wisdom gains represent the three aspects of the tripartite soul. All three are an option for gain, so the question is, which becomes the “animating spirit” for you respectively? For Socrates, the greatest gain, the most 14 advantageous “animating spirit,” would be those beyond the bodily—the gains of wisdom. In a philosophic sense, humans are born incomplete seeking completion, and the gains of wisdom begin to fill this sense of incompleteness.

The term philosophy itself means the love of wisdom. The philosopher is thus someone who wishes to gain wisdom. The gain of wisdom however, is much different than the gain of honors or awards, as it is something good in and of itself.

Conceptions of what we desire to gain are available to all human beings, whether it is in the form of money, political prestige, etc., as someone pursuing money is not unaware of making gains in political prestige. The question then, is not whether human beings desire gains, but what the worthwhile gains are that someone should be pursuing. This is difficult to ascertain in a world where something that looks like a gain has no intrinsic value other than bringing temporary happiness. The deeper sense in the Platonic teachings is that if you know what is best, you will inevitably pursue it. Therefore coming to an understanding, a better knowledge of, what is best is the first step in pursuing worthwhile gains. Knowledge is virtue, and the person who has clear knowledge of what true gain is, truly understands it.

In the case of the Hipparchus we can criticize others for pursuing gains simply for self-benefit, but what is the alternative to pursuing gains? Someone who pursues nothing? The ultimate point that Socrates makes in Hipparchus is that there can be better and worse gains. Even though there is not an answer at the end of

Hipparchus as to what is best to gain, at least there is an understanding that it is important to pursue better gains—we are offered an insight into different gains. 15

Hipparchus shows us that Socrates increases uncertainty in individuals who are not persuaded by his dialoguing techniques. We also see that there are rarely answers given to the initial “what is” question asked at the beginning of many of the Platonic dialogues. While the dialogue aims to answer the “what is gain?” question, if we get hung up on the question of whether gain is important, we become paralyzed

(Socrates acting as stingray)—paralyzed in the sense of being inhibited for action.

Examination of Minos

Socrates begins the Minos with the question, “what is law, for us?” (313a), or

“what is law as a whole?” (313b). The Comrade responds by stating that law is the things that are lawfully accepted (313b). Socrates counters by asking whether the

Comrade believes that speech is the things that are spoken, sight the things that are seen, and hearing the things that are heard? This is important because it is a method for allowing the Comrade to see the fault in his first definition of law. Once the

Comrade is made aware that he cannot explain [capital “L”] Law with the actual of the city (as is understood by the analogy of sight, speech and hearing), Socrates asks the Comrade to rethink his original question.

The Comrade offers a second definition of law stating, “these official opinions and decrees passed by votes… this whole, law, is the official opinion of the city”

(314c). Socrates believes that perhaps this is put nobly, but that they should continue their dialogue by answering a series of new questions. Socrates asks the

Comrade whether he believes some are wise, and whether they are thus wise through wisdom. The Comrade believes this to be the case. Socrates then takes it a 16 step further by asking whether the Comrade believes that the just are just through justice, the law lawful through law, and the lawless lawless through lawlessness. The

Comrade believes all of these to be true. Once Socrates allows the Comrade to make this association, he makes a connection between law and justice by asking whether the lawful are just and the lawless unjust. Once the Comrade agrees, Socrates consequently links justice and law to being noble, and injustice and lawlessness to being shameful, and asks whether law ought to be thought of as something noble and be sought after as something good—to which the Comrade agrees.

The point of this part of the dialogue is to allow the Comrade to see that his initial definition of law, as being the official opinion of the city, is defective. This is because Socrates points out that while some official opinions may be good, others may be wicked. Here Socrates points out that he and the Comrade had already agreed that law is not wicked, and therefore can conclude that law perhaps cannot be perfectly realized in the official opinions of the city because of the existence of wicked opinions (314e). Laws are thus efforts to be law-abiding in the right way.

This leads to a discussion about the significance of opinion, as Socrates acknowledges that law must consist of some sort of opinion, but that it could not be wicked opinion. What makes opinion worthy? Socrates asks if true opinion is worthy opinion. But this leads Socrates to ask whether the definition of ‘true’ is the discovery of what is. After the Comrade agrees to this statement, Socrates creates a third definition of law: “law…wishes to be the discovery of what is” (315a). The laws of the city are thus to be judged by [capital “L”] Law. The opinions of the city, manifested in the laws of the city, are not necessarily knowledge of Law. The laws of 17 the city are derivative from Law – but are inadequate in some way. Law secures order; hence laws are the search for right order; and they can and will be altered as the search goes on in the pursuit of the true or just order.

At this point in the dialogue, the Comrade begins to express uncertainty.

Instead of agreeing with this definition of law, the Comrade questions Socrates, and asks: if law is truly the discovery of what is, then why don’t people use the same laws in the same matters at all times? (315a). Socrates attempts to answer this question by saying that, the law wishes to be the discovery of what is, even if human beings are incapable of discovering what the law wishes (315b). The Comrade responds to this statement by offering examples of situations in which the law is applied inconsistently. This is a unique part of the dialogue, as it is the first time that the Comrade speaks up for a lengthy amount of time (315b-d). Socrates responds to the Comrade’s speech by acknowledging that he had not thought of the examples that the Comrade has offered, but that it is not helpful for the Comrade to give lengthy speeches (315d).

This part of the dialogue is critical because it characterizes Socrates as someone who is unwilling to engage in rhetoric. Instead of agreeing with the

Comrade and allowing him to continue with his speech, he says that they must instead investigate in common with each other in order to accomplish anything meaningful (315d-e). Socrates reinforces the method of asking and answering, and asks the Comrade if he would like to move forward with his method.

Socrates thus continues his questioning by asking whether just things are just and unjust things are unjust, and whether this is believed by everyone at all 18 times. Socrates continues with this by asking whether the Comrade would agree then that things that weigh more are heavier and things that way less are lighter.

After the Comrade agrees to these things, Socrates returns to the issue of law. He states, “the noble things… are everywhere lawfully accepted as noble and the shameful things as shameful but not the shameful things as noble or the noble things as shameful” (316b). The argument then turns towards the question of being, where

Socrates states that things that are, are lawfully accepted as being, and because of this, the person mistaken about what is, is therefore mistaken about the legal. Laws are an effort, an attempt at justice. While the Comrade can accept this point, he claims that it is his hard for him to be fully persuaded, as he cannot understand why society never ceases to change the laws. The important problem acknowledged here is the distinction between the temporal and the eternal. With regard to law, there are laws, but there is also [capital “L”] Law. While laws are temporal—consistently changing due to instability in the world, [capital “L”] Law should be eternal.

Understanding the permanence of [capital “L”] Law should help us look beyond the instability of changing laws. It is the cave problem reexamined—the problem of experiencing a world of only shadows, when the sun exists nearby outside of the cave.

Socrates, understanding this dilemma, alters the conversation so as to allow the Comrade to understand more clearly. He discusses how all doctors, Greeks and barbarians alike, accept medical writings and understand them to be medical law.

This is the same with agricultural law, gardening law, and cooking law. Once the

Comrade understands this, Socrates asks, “whose… are the writings and legal 19 customs concerning the organizing of a city? Don’t they then belong to those who have knowledge of how to rule a city?” (317a). Socrates believes that the statesmen and kings are the ones with working knowledge of how to rule a city, which would mean that the laws of the city are thus political writings. Both Socrates and the

Comrade believe that those who have such knowledge of the city would surely not write different things at different times about the same things. In other words, they would not change one set of legal customs for another. Socrates ultimately declares that, having gone through the series of questions; the Comrade will agree that law is the discovery of what is (317d). Of course, each city has its own conditions, so the achievement of what is just requires assessment of what is locally possible.

After leading the Comrade down another road of question and answer,

Socrates commands the Comrade to declare that the king knows the best laws for the human soul (318a). After the Comrade agrees, perhaps through a bit of coercion,

Socrates commends him on finally speaking nobly. In an effort to push the Comrade towards the wisdom of truly understanding law, Socrates offers examples of existing good kings and lawgivers: Rhadamanthus and Minos. The Comrade disagrees with the latter being good however, and claims that he knows of Minos as an unjust and savage man.

At this point in the dialogue it moves away from the classic Socratic question and answer method to a speech beginning with Socrates accusing the Comrade of telling lies about Minos (318d). The Comrade has a view of Minos that Socrates counters with another perspective—an example of pitting one authority against another (318d). In fact, Socrates takes it so far so as to accuse the Comrade of 20 impious speech. In looking towards Apology, it could be such accusations against those engaged in dialogue with Socrates that led the Athenians to be distrustful of him and his methods of teaching. While Socrates has good intentions—he wants others to realize and understand ideas—his methods for getting others to realize and understand are unconventional. As is the case with the three analogies, the stingray, the midwife, and the gadfly, Socrates perplexes, shocks, and aids in the birthing of one’s thoughts.

Socrates acknowledges at the end of his speech that mythical accounts of

Minos as being a cruel man were most likely spread by the naïve poetical man, as

“the poets wield great power over opinion” (320e). Socrates states this to show that there is a difference between rhetoric and dialogue. Tragedy is the most pleasing and “soul-alluring” form of poetic entertainment, and it makes sense that poets would choose the tragic elements of Minos’s life to write about. Because poets have thrived on sharing the tragic elements of Minos’s life, people remain unaware of one of his grandest contributions: “his laws are unchanged, since they belong to one who discovered well the truth of what is, in regard to organizing a city” (321b). The point of Socrates’s speech on Minos is to allow the Comrade to see the importance of law as something that is closely tied to the truth of what is. Unfortunately, this is still an ambiguous answer, and even after Socrates allows the Comrade to see that the good lawgiver allows the body to grow strong through good and exercise, the dialogue concludes with the Comrade unable to answer what the good lawgiver would give to the soul. 21

There are many opinions in a single city. In the Greek Polis, the setting for many of the Platonic dialogues, where the focus is on debate and dialogue, there is consequentially a wide variety of opinions. As long as people argue in defense of opinions, however, dialogue appears to fail. In the case of the Minos dialogue, arguing in the realm of opinion leads to the lack of a stable conception of law. In our attempts to be persuasive through expression of opinions, we cannot just make long speeches and engage in rhetoric. The Minos dialogue is important because it represents the important difference between rhetoric and dialogue. It is a comment on how we are supposed to read Platonic dialogues, and if we desire to come to a common agreement we must understand and engage in the action of dialogue.

Throughout Minos the Comrade expresses uncertainty about what he knows

(321d). This represents a theme of uncertainty that appears throughout these

Platonic dialogues, and perhaps sheds light upon the ultimate conflict between

Socrates and Athens. Perhaps it is a natural tendency for people to ask the “what is?” question, as people desire answers to things that they do not understand. Or do people actually avoid this question? People may attempt to avoid the “what is” question by providing an opinion, thereby shutting down the dialogue process.

Providing an opinion is like giving an illustration—they give an answer without understanding what the question actually asks.

In the process of engaging with the “what is” question, some forget that they may not find the answer that they seek. Partaking in dialogue with Socrates is a process towards a better understanding of an initial question, but it can be misconceived. Socrates does not play his role to provide every answer. Instead he 22 plays a role as an enabler of wisdom. If those who engage in dialogue with him fail to understand this method of teaching, they may, consequently despise the very process that they desired to participate in to begin with. The raising of uncertainty and the failure to answer questions surrounding law and justice could explain why some saw Socrates as a threat to the city. His actions were a disturbance to the common thinking of the time and “inconveniently” coerced those to think outside of the reality as they imagined it.

Examination of Lovers

Plato’s Lovers begins with a fight between two lovers—a fight for the attention of Socrates. Throughout the dialogue there is a dramatic overtone— something that is erotic and not just intellectual. Ultimately this dialogue deals with what it means to philosophize—the fundamental question.

Plato’s Lovers begins with an introduction that is different from a number of other dialogues. Instead of stating an explicit question in the “what is?” form,

Socrates proceeds to recount an experience. He begins by saying, “I entered the place of Dionysius the schoolteacher, and there I saw those of the young who are reputed to be most remarkable for their looks…” (132a). The rest of the dialogue continues in this rather descriptive fashion—as more of a narrative of a dialogue rather than a present dialogue. The argument that then ensues is one regarding the importance of philosophizing. A dichotomy is created between one lover—who “has passed his whole life putting others in a headlock,” (132c) and another who has

“spent his time on music” (132d). Socrates then directs the question to both lovers 23 in asking, “whether it seems to you to be noble or not to philosophize?”(132d). To answer such a question necessitates the need to know what type of activity philosophizing is.

By directing this question at the lovers he simultaneously manages to gain the complete attention of the others in the room—an illustration of his intellectual influence over others in their desire to know. While one lover agrees that philosophizing is noble, this allows Socrates to ask the next question: “what is it to philosophize?” (133c). The lover’s response seems to lack a genuine explanation of what philosophizing is by equating philosophizing with learning many things throughout one’s life (133c). Once again, this is an example of someone avoiding the

“what is?” question by offering an illustration/opinion of the concept at hand.

Realizing that his question has not been answered, Socrates attempts to draw in the other lover (of athletics) by asking whether “men are in good condition, with regard to their bodies, from much exercise,” or if it is “from the measured amount?”

(134b). The lover agrees that in the case of both exercise and food it would be a result of the measured amount. Socrates is then able to convince the lover that it is the measured amount in all cases that is the most beneficial to man—even in the case of the soul (134d). He continues and asks who would determine the measured amount good for the body (the doctor or trainer), and who would determine the measured amount for the sowing of seed (the farmer), but reaches a barrier when asking: “who is in charge of determining the measured amount for the soul of things to be learned?” (134e). 24

This stand still leads Socrates to redirect the conversation to ask what types of things can be learned since one cannot learn everything (135a). One lover responds by saying that one should learn all that one can learn (all forms of art)

(134b). Socrates counters however, and claims that by this logic, “to philosophize likewise brings about some such thing in those who practice this pursuit, that they are inferior to the first-raters in understanding of the arts, but by having the second place, they are superior to the others, and thus the one who has philosophized becomes a sort of second-best man in everything” (135e-136a). The argument continues with Socrates asking about the usefulness of a philosopher—all agree that the philosopher is not useful in certain situations, like in cases of sickness, assisting storm-stricken ships, etc. (136d).

After summarizing the arguments thus far, the dialogue continues in a question and answer style, similar to parts of the Hipparchus and Minos, involving the discussion of punishment and moderation. Ultimately the dialogue concludes with Socrates claiming that one of the lovers believes that it is acceptable for the philosopher to play the role of third or second best, to not always have to take the lead, and that philosophy is “far from being much learning and preoccupation with the arts” (139a). While this is one conclusion, it fails to adequately answer the question of what philosophizing is. As seen in Hipparchus and Minos, Socrates has raised an important question, but has been left without a sufficient answer.

Evident in Lovers is the lover’s enchantment with Socrates. Socrates is also charmed with the young lovers he is engaged with—“I don’t know what the lovers felt, but as for myself, I was stricken wild. For I’m always stricken wild by the young 25 and beautiful” (135a). This sets the dialogue apart from Hipparchus and Minos, because even though the dialogue concludes with unanswered questions like the others, the seemingly positive interactions between Socrates and the lovers dampens the effect of uncertainty that is created by the lack of an answer to the

“what is philosophizing?” question (135a, 136b, 139a). While Socrates may be unable to answer such a question, the role that he plays in this dialogue characterizes him as a more than worthy teacher in the city of Athens—one revered by the youth. This offers unique insight into Socrates, one that may counter characterizations of him found in dialogues like Apology, where he is characterized as corrupting the youth and going against the conventions of Athenian society.

This, however, could be read another way. The underlying erotic tone in this dialogue is perhaps exactly what the Athenians misunderstood and abhorred.

Socrates’ ability to “coerce” the youth into engaging in what could be viewed as

“impious” dialogue, is threatening to those who misunderstand his methods of teaching. By engaging in a dialogue about philosophizing with the young lovers,

Socrates is committing one of the very actions that he was eventually brought to trial for.

In Platonic thought, reason rules the passions. This, however, does not mean that there is a complete separation between reason and passion, and Lovers is a commentary on the relationship between reason and passion as related to philosophizing. Philosophizing is not the action of knowing everything; it is the action of seeking wisdom, as lovers seek love. Whatever philosophy is—the lovers 26 are left without an adequate definition of philosophizing—it is not to be a “master carpenter” (135c)—something that perhaps the Athenians fail to understand.

Examination of Cleitophon

Cleitophon begins with Socrates’s account of a conversation between

Cleitophon and Lysias where Cleitophon has supposedly criticized Socrates and praised Thrasymachos. Requesting a chance to clarify his argument, Cleitophon claims that he will be able to shed light upon both the good and bad opinions he has expressed about Socrates. Allowing him to speak, Socrates claims that whatever

Cleitophon brings to light, he would gladly work on improving areas where he appears to be lacking.

After commending Socrates on areas that he approves of, Cleitophon states that the biggest issue he has had with Socrates is with the discussion of justice: “now someone could perhaps bring the same charge against you as regards justice, that you are none the more a knower of justice just because you eulogize it finely”

(410c). Cleitophon is attracted to Socrates, but is ultimately disappointed with his methods. The eventual indictment is that either Socrates is capable of making people interested in justice and cannot tell them what it is or that he is refusing to tell people what justice is. Similarly, Socrates appears to be an encourager of wisdom but cannot tell people what wisdom actually is, or how one can ultimately attain it. Fundamentally, the acquisition of wisdom is up to us. Even teachers can be obstacles if students cannot move beyond the action of teaching. Cleitophon claims,

“for I shall maintain, Socrates, that to a human being who has not been exhorted, 27 you are worth everything but that to one that has been exhorted, you are almost even a stumbling block in the way of his arriving at his goal of virtue and becoming a happy man” (410e). Cleitophon is fundamentally an indictment of Socrates—unique in its presentation. It is one of the few dialogues where a speech is given and

Socrates does not play a main role.

When studying any of the Platonic dialogues, there is a strong tendency to idealize and sentimentalize Socrates. He excites in people the desire to learn something that they did not know, or perhaps did not realize that they did not know.

Yet, sometimes, if not often, this desire leads to uncertainty and dissatisfaction, as we want Socrates to provide the answers that we cannot find for ourselves. What we must understand is, that knowledge and wisdom are not the same thing. While

Socrates can offer a sort of “answer,” something that would be considered knowledge, this “answer” is not wisdom. Socrates might, instead, awaken a desire for wisdom—like the gadfly awakening the horse. He is simply a catalyst for discovering wisdom not the provider of answers—we must find wisdom on our own.

As Cleitophon acknowledges, while Socrates is the catalyst for enquiry, at a certain point he can become an obstacle to completing it. Socrates appears then, to be much better at questioning than providing answers. In this sense we can return to the gadfly and stingray analogies and see that Socrates, through the action of exposing others to unsettling questions that have no answers, is capable of

“stinging” people into perplexity and sometimes realization. Recognizing this is perhaps at the core of the Athenian juror’s dissatisfaction with Socrates and one of 28 the reasons he was brought to trial. The Athenians seem to misunderstand the

Socratic method of questioning and answering. It is not Socrates’s duty to provide easy answers for every difficult question raised. In fact, “answers” may be misleading—if inquiry is the pursuit of deeper engagement, or gazing upon the divine (). In fact, it would seem that his duty is the complete opposite—to allow someone to engage in a difficult dialogue to enlighten their understanding, with the hopes that they will continue to pursue answers on their own. Fundamentally, this is the definition of philosophizing, an action that Socrates holds as one of the highest forms of action.

Examination of Alcibiades I

Alcibiades I begins with Socrates’s questioning of Alcibiades—asking him whether he understands why Socrates is now persistent in engaging with him after previously avoiding a confrontation. While this dialogue does not begin like the others I have examined (with the “what is?” question) it is highly illuminating of

Socrates. Even within the first couple of sentences we are given a characterization of

Socrates that perhaps we have not seen before. This is seen when Socrates acknowledges that there has existed a “certain demonic opposition” that has disallowed him to converse with Alcibiades. While he does not say exactly what this

“opposition” is, he tells Alcibiades that he will learn of its power later. Socrates believes that this power no longer has a hold on him now, which is why he is able to engage in dialogue with Alcibiades. While this is an overall ambiguous statement, we 29 know that Socrates is driven by a strong internal voice as seen in other dialogues like Apology.

The reason that Socrates has approached Alcibiades is unclear at first.

Alcibiades states that he had intended to approach Socrates anyway, as he was already curious about “just what it is you want and what you hope you look to in making a nuisance of yourself, always taking such trouble to be present wherever I happen to be” (104d). Even here we get a glimpse of Socrates as a man that is deemed a “nuisance,” not simply as a fellow curious man. While we do not quite know of the intimate workings of the relationship between Socrates and Alcibiades at this point, there still appears to be an obvious clash between the curious

“nuisance” of a philosopher, and the dignified . Perhaps Socrates’s reputation precedes him—once characterized by Aristophanes as a man with his head in —and Alcibiades, the budding politician, is wary to engage with such a man. Or perhaps it is simply the age-old clash between philosophy and politics. In order to elucidate the reasoning for Socrates’s own curiosity, Socrates suggests that he and Alcibiades engage in a dialogue. Alcibiades agrees to this, and the conversation begins.

Like the dialogue Lovers, Alcibiades I deals with a lover’s curiosity and concern. In this case however, Socrates represents the curious concerned lover, where he is determined to understand why Alcibiades chooses to live and act the way that he does. Socrates asks Alcibiades whether he would “prove to the

Athenians that [he is] deserving of being honored more than Pericles or anyone else who has ever existed and, having proved this, that [he] will have very great power in 30 the city; and if [he is] very great here, that [he] will be so as well among the other

Greeks…” (105b).

Socrates acknowledges, however, that Alcibiades may not understand what this statement has to do with “the account [he] said [he] would give of why he

[won’t] abandon me” (105c-d). Socrates answers this by claiming that it would not be possible for Alcibiades to achieve such great things without him. At this point,

Socrates has made the bold claim that there is no other individual, relative or friend, that is as valuable as Socrates himself, nor capable of bestowing the power

Alcibiades desires. It is only now that the god has granted Socrates the ability to converse with Alcibiades on this topic.

This is a bold statement made on Socrates’s part, but Alcibiades agrees to hear him through. Socrates begins by stating that they will not be engaging in long speeches, but instead will engage in questioning and answering—the classic

Socratic method. The first question that Socrates asks is “What is it that the

Athenians have in mind to deliberate about that has caused you to get up to advise them? Are these matters that you have greater knowledge of than they?” (106c).

Alcibiades responds that he does indeed know better than the Athenians do.

Socrates continues along this same line of thought and encourages Alcibiades to understand where he has learned the things that he knows, ultimately concluding with the question: “what you happen to have knowledge of now, therefore, at one time you did not believe you knew? (106e). With this answer Socrates begins to list the things that he knows that Alcibiades has indeed learned—writing letters, playing the cithara, wrestling, etc. These are all things that Alcibiades has certainly 31 learned, but Socrates appears to twist this accumulated knowledge by asking whether Alcibiades would ever counsel the Athenians on letters, the cithara, or wrestling. Socrates uses this all to make the point that “advising on any matter, belongs…to the man who knows” (107b).

Socrates then asks what Alcibiades would be advising the Athenians on, to which Alcibiades answers their own affairs (107c). Socrates probes further and allows Alcibiades to state that the type of affairs he would advise on would be “when they are deliberating on war…or on peace, or some other of the city’s affairs”

(107d). Further, Socrates and Alcibiades agree that in advising on such matters it would make sense that the leader would advise war and peace measures based on whom it is better to go to war or make peace with, and for how much time it is better to perpetuate war or peace. Ultimately the concept that they are dealing with is the concept of what makes something “better.” Continuing this line of thought

Socrates claims that what is “better” in wrestling is “gymnastical” (108b). Socrates then attempts to allow Alcibiades to understand what is considered “better” in the case of waging war or keeping peace. Socrates is ashamed that Alcibiades cannot answer this question, and points out that if they were discussing food, Alcibiades would easily be able to say that what is “better” in the case of food is that which is

“healthier.”

Socrates continues by asking “don’t you know that when we make war we begin to wage war after accusing each other of some affront and what term we use when we begin?” (109a). Alcibiades responds by saying “we claim that we have been deceived, or done violence to, or deprived of something” (109b). At this point 32

Socrates asks Alcibiades to stop and clarify what he means in each case. To this

Alcibiades responds by asking whether Socrates wants him to distinguish between just and unjust things. After agreeing that they are dealing with matters of justness and unjustness, Socrates asks Alcibiades whether he would advise the Athenians to wage war against those who are just or unjust. Both agree that it would be against the unjust, as waging war against those who are just would be unlawful and not noble. Finally coming to the conclusion of what is considered “better” in waging war and making peace, Socrates convinces Alcibiades to see that “better” with regard to war has to do with what is more just (109c).

Socrates stops Alcibiades here however, and claims that never once had he experienced Alcibiades being taught about determining what is just or unjust.

Alcibiades believes this to be a mocking remark (109d), but Socrates claims that he is not mocking and asks Alcibiades to think about who has taught him about just and unjust things. Ultimately Socrates concludes that there must have been some point in Alcibiades life in which he supposed he might have known the just and unjust things (110a). Socrates believes that even at a young age Alcibiades was aware of being treated justly and unjustly. The point of this conversation is to convince

Alcibiades that perhaps he did not “discover” what is just and unjust, as he had claimed. After further interrogation, Alcibiades tells Socrates that he believes he learned what the just and unjust was from the many (110e)—those whom he engages with in day-to-day life.

This leads into a new conversation about teaching, and whether the many is accomplished at teaching. Socrates asks Alcibiades “how, then, is it likely that you 33 should know the just and unjust things, when you are in such uncertainty and have plainly never learned them from anyone nor discovered them yourself?” (112d). At this point Alcibiades is confused and encourages Socrates to continue. Socrates believes that Alcibiades does in fact have knowledge of the just and unjust things, and that he will better understand this by answering some other questions. Socrates begins by stating that if he were to ask Alcibiades whether one or two is greater, that he would answer two (112e). Socrates asks this question to show that there is a distinct role to be played by the questioner, Socrates, and the answerer, Alcibiades.

It is the answerer, Socrates believes, that does the speaking, that answers the questions being asked. Because of this, Socrates believes that he cannot be held accountable for the claim that Alcibiades does not know the just or unjust things, but that it is Alcibiades himself that believes this to be the case (113c). This distinction leads to an interesting discussion, as Socrates begins to call out Alcibiades for desiring “something new…different proofs, as if the earlier ones were like worn-out old clothes that you will no longer put on, but someone will bring you clean and fresh evidence” for explaining how he understands the just and unjust things (113e).

In the next part of their conversation Socrates attempts to convince

Alcibiades that the just things are advantageous. In the classic Socratic style,

Socrates continues the dialogue by asking Alcibiades questions about what makes something just. He begins by asking the question “you assert that of the just things some are advantageous and some not?” (114e). After Alcibiades agrees with this statement Socrates then asks whether all just things are also noble, and whether all 34 noble things are good, or if some are good and some are bad? Alcibiades believes that some noble things are bad and that some shameful things are thus good.

To clarify this statement Socrates provides an example: “that many who have gone to the aid of a comrade or relative in war have been wounded or killed, while others did not give such aid when they should have and got away safely?” (115b).

Alcibiades believes that this is a suitable example, which leads Socrates to ask “then such aid you call noble with respect to its being an attempt to rescue those who should be rescued, and this is courage? Or not?” (115b). Alcibiades believes that this is true, and also agrees that the outcome of death and wounds from battle is bad.

Socrates points out however, that in this instance, courage and death remain separate, and that the act of coming to aid a friend is not both noble and bad in itself—as the act of aid is noble, but this could lead to wounds or death which is bad.

Both decide that perhaps this is not the greatest example, so Socrates moves on to looking specifically at the act of courage.

Socrates wants to know whether Alcibiades considers courage to be good or bad, and asks whether Alcibiades would choose to have good or bad things for himself. Alcibiades would choose to have the good things and would refuse to be deprived of courage and be considered a coward. Socrates points out that cowardice then, appears to be the ultimate bad among bad things for Alcibiades—equal to death. Socrates points out that Alcibiades is claiming that he believes courage to be among the best things, and death among the worst things. Returning to the example of coming to aid a friend in war, Socrates restates what Alcibiades had agreed to, and asks, “An action of courage that accords with good, you call noble…but bad, at 35 any rate, as an action of death that accords with bad?” (115e). This leads to the conclusion that “if you call one bad insofar as it produces something bad, you must call the other good insofar as it produces something good…and therefore noble insofar as it is good and shameful insofar as it is bad?” (115e). The point of this is to show that, when Alcibiades claims that aiding friends in war is noble but bad, he is essentially saying that the action is good but bad. Bad in this sense is simply the opposite of good—ambiguously defined.

Socrates asks Alcibiades to look at the conversation in another way, and asks,

“Whoever acts nobly, does he not also act well?” (116b). Alcibiades agrees to this, and also agrees that those who act well are also happy. These people are happy because they acquire good things through acting well and nobly. Socrates points out then, that to act well is therefore something good and noble. This shows that perhaps the noble and good are the same thing, and that whatever is found to be noble, is also found to be good. Socrates then asks whether the good things are advantageous, and Alcibiades believes they are. Socrates then asks Alcibiades to remember the conversation they had about the just things, where they had agreed that those who practice the just things practice noble things (116c). Socrates continues this further by asking whether those who practice the noble things therefore practice the good things, and that the good things are advantageous? After

Alcibiades agrees to this, Socrates points out that the just things are necessarily advantageous. Socrates reminds Alcibiades that it is Alcibiades, in the role of answerer, who is saying these things, and that if he were to advise the Athenians and a man claimed that the just things are sometimes bad, that he could laugh at 36 him, because he now knows that the just and advantageous things are one and the same (116e).

Alcibiades responds with exasperations, claiming that he does not know what he is actually saying; “I seem like someone in an altogether strange condition; for at one time things seem a certain way as you question me but at another time another” (116e). This is a good example of the Socrates as stingray, where the answerer finds himself paralyzed in a state of confusion, rethinking and reengaging in the questions at hand. In an attempt to clarify the former questions and ease

Alcibiades’ frustration and confusion, Socrates asks if someone asked Alcibiades whether he had “two eyes or three, or two hands or four, or some other thing of this sort,” whether he “would answer a certain way at one time and a different way at another, or would always answer the same thing?” (116e) Alcibiades believes that in this case he would answer in the same way each time, and Socrates points out that in the cases where he answers in the opposite way it is obvious that he does not know the answer. Socrates points out that in discussing just and unjust, noble and shameful, and bad and good things that Alcibiades seems to wander about in answers—answering one way a certain time and another way a different time.

Socrates asks if perhaps this is the way things are then, “whenever someone does not know something, he necessarily wanders about in his soul concerning this?”

(117b).

This part of the dialogue marks an important turning point—the point at which Socrates encourages Alcibiades to understand that there are things that he does not have knowledge of, but knows that he does not know (117c). Socrates 37 insists that Alcibiades would not wander about concerning himself with things that he does not know, as long as he knows that he does not know them (117c).

Ignorance of supposing one knows when one does not know could lead to improper action. A proper understanding of knowing ensures that one does not go wrong in one’s actions (117d). While a proper understanding of knowing can help produce better action, it is still possible to make mistakes in judgment. Knowing that you do not know certain things simply aids in better judgment.

Socrates continues the dialogue by asking Alcibiades if he could name any greater thing than that which is noble, good, and advantageous (118a). Socrates believes that these are the things that Alcibiades should be “wandering” about the most. Socrates tells Alcibiades that if he were to wander about such things, he would realize that he is not only ignorant of them, but that he claims to know them when he does not (118b). Socrates continues and says; “Alas, then, Alcibiades, what a condition you have come to be in! I hesitate to use the term…it is stupidity, excellent fellow, in its most extreme form that you are living in the midst of, as the argument accuses you as well as you yourself. This is why you are rushing toward the political things before you have been educated. But you are not the only one in this condition—the many among those who practice the things of this city are also, except for a few at any rate, perhaps including your guardian Pericles” (118b). What

Socrates means by “lack of education,” is ambiguous. It appears to mean that

Alcibiades has been given an Athenian education that has directed him towards the political life—something that lacks the well-rounded nature of a philosophical education. By lacking education in the realm of philosophy, Alcibiades is hindered in 38 knowing and therefore hindered in acting in the proper ways. Alcibiades is not the only one who has fallen victim to this however, as Socrates points out that there are many in the city of Athens who are in the same state as Alcibiades.

Alcibiades responds with an interesting remark stating that if the other men of the city were in fact educated, than he would have to learn and practice the things that they know, approaching them like athletes in a competition. He believes however, that the men do not behave as if they know the things of the city, and are therefore underprepared. Because of this, Alcibiades wonders why he would ever go out of his way to practice and learn what others do not know, “for I well know that, where nature is concerned, I will get the better of them by far” (119c). Here ambition still dominates, and Alcibiades appears to have a mistaken view of education and the relationship between human beings. Education is not about getting the better of someone; it is something that is good, advantageous, and noble, in and of itself. It should not be used to do harm, or gain a superior advantage. This represents the differences between sophistic education and philosophic education, where sophistic education seeks to create the great orator, and philosophic education seeks to enlighten those who seek wisdom.

Socrates responds to this statement with disbelief wondering why Alcibiades would have thought that his “contest” would be against other human beings (119c).

He asks him that if he were able to pilot a warship during battle “would it be enough if you were the best among your fellow sailors with respect to skill in piloting? Or would you suppose that…you should look rather toward those whom are truly your competitors and not, as you are doing now, toward your fellow competitors?” 39

(119d). Socrates asks this to show that there is a difference between seeking contest with other human beings just because, and seeking contest with those that actually deserve to be competed with. Socrates continues, “these, indeed, you must get the better of to the extent that they do not think of competing against you but accept being looked down on and become fellow competitors with you against the enemy—that is, if you really have in mind to perform a deed that is noble and worthy of yourself and the city” (119d-e).

Socrates then asks “if you intend to become a leader of this city, would you be correct in believing that your contest is with the kings of Lacedaemonians and those of the Persians?” (120a). This question leads to the beginning of a longer speech by

Socrates in which he discusses how princes are born and raised to become leaders.

In this speech Socrates makes a connection between kings and the divine. Ultimately this longer speech is to show that Alcibiades is perhaps not prepared to rule—he has not been brought up in the “proper” manner according to what is typically done in the Athenian manner.

After this uncharacteristically long speech, Socrates informs Alcibiades that his own guardian is both better and wiser than any guardian of Alcibiades. His guardian is a god, “the very one who did not let me converse with you before today, and in whom I place my trust when I say that you will gain prominence through not one but me” (124c) (this “god” that Socrates speaks of here is a reference to the voice that Socrates experiences in Apology). The question that arises out of this part of the dialogue is “what is required to rule?” Alcibiades first responds by stating that it is the process of engaging in deals with one another, making use of other human 40 beings (125d). As they continue discussing people and the affairs of the city,

Socrates asks “Then what of the city? By the presence or absence of what does it become better and is it better tended and managed?” (126b). Alcibiades responds by saying “It seems to me, Socrates, that it is when they have friendship for one another and hatred and factional strife are absent” (126c). This illuminates the concept of

“civic friendship” as a principle goal of ruling.

Socrates and Alcibiades continue to engage in conversation and begin to discuss matters of the soul. Socrates believes that it is with the soul that he and

Alcibiades are able to become acquainted (130e). Socrates tells Alcibiades that it is also important, as the Delphic inscription says, to know one’s self and to thus understand the role of the soul. Clarifying this point, Socrates offers an analogy for

Alcibiades. He states that if the eye desires to see itself, it must look at the eye, and at the place in the eye where the eye comes to exist—this being presumably sight

(133b). Similarly, if the soul too were to begin to know itself, it should look at the soul, “and above all at that place in it in which the virtue of the soul—wisdom— comes to exist, and at any other thing to which this happens to be similar” (133b).

Furthermore Socrates asks Alcibiades whether there is anything more divine with regard to the soul than knowing and thinking. Alcibiades believes that there is nothing more divine, leading Socrates to state that therefore this part of the soul is godlike, and anyone who is able to know and understand all that is divine, is thus also to able to know himself (133c). In an attempt to clarify this point further,

Socrates uses a different analogy, one about a mirror, to ask, “just as mirrors are clearer than the reflection in the eye, as well as purer and brighter, so the god 41 happens to be purer and brighter than what is best in our soul?” (133c). After

Alcibiades agrees with this, Socrates continues by stating “in looking to the god, therefore, we shall treat him as the finest mirror, and in human things we shall look to the virtue of the soul. In this way above all, we may see and know ourselves”

(133c).

If one were ignorant of the things that belong to the self, seemingly they would also be ignorant of the things that belong to others (133e). If this were true, then one would also be ignorant of the things of the cities, which would necessarily mean that this type of man could never become a skilled political man. Socrates believes that if one is to practice the things of the city correctly and nobly, that they would need to give the citizens a proper share of virtue (134c). In order for this to happen though, one must first acquire virtue for the self. Therefore it is justice and moderation, and not personal license and rule, that one must have in order to act as ruler in the city—because, if both one and the city act justly and moderately, then one will be acting in a way that pleases the gods (134d).

The dialogue ends with Alcibiades’s final remark: “I want to say the following—that we will probably be changing roles, Socrates, I taking yours and you mine, for from this day nothing can keep me from attending on you, and you from being attended upon by me…and so matters stand, and I shall begin at this moment to take trouble over justice” (135d). Socrates has convinced Alcibiades to be aware of justice and his role in the city as political leader, however Socrates also acknowledges that perhaps the city is too strong, and may ultimately overcome both

Alcibiades and Socrates himself. This appears to be an allusion to Socrates’s 42 impending death. Ultimately Alcibiades is saying the right things, but does he actually grasp what he is saying to Socrates?

Although this dialogue is fundamentally about what makes a good political leader, it raises many important questions. Specifically this dialogue is important because it delves into the significance of the soul, and the necessity of knowing the self above all else. Socrates is characterized in this dialogue as a curious lover who desires his counterpart, Alcibiades, to become more enlightened about the self and the act of ruling. From the beginning of the dialogue we know that Socrates and

Alcibiades have a unique relationship where Socrates has witnessed Alcibiades’ growth and life experiences. We also are told that Socrates was not able to converse with Alcibiades until now, due to some mysterious internal voice that barred him from engaging with him. While this “voice” is left fairly ambiguous throughout the dialogue, it appears in other dialogues like Apology. It may be that Alcibiades had to become open to questioning first before Socrates was able to engage with him.

Socrates desires to engage in dialogue with Alcibiades because he wants

Alcibiades to understand where he is limited as a ruler. He also wants Alcibiades to understand that there is more to ruling than just being fair looking, charismatic, or well liked. To actually understand what it means to rule, is to first understand the role of one’s soul and therefore to “know thyself.”

In more general terms, the question occurs: To qualify for ruling what kind of knowledge or wisdom is needed, and how do you get it? While these questions may not be overtly answered at the end of this dialogue, the answer seems to lie with the importance of the soul. More specifically, through the positive development of the 43 soul and a true knowledge of one’s self. It is not enough to think that one qualification for ruling a city is ambition. While Alcibiades has plenty of ambition, he fails to understand how to properly direct this ambition for the greater good of the city. The dialogue between Alcibiades and Socrates occurs then, as a means for humbling Alcibiades’s ambition. A respectable ruler is thus one who is able to exercise control over the city—something that requires correct ambition. Socrates desires to redirect Alcibiades’s ambition, to allow Alcibiades to better understand the importance of ambition, not to get rid of it. A question to ask is: is there a good and bad form of ambition, as there is a good and bad form of gain in Hipparchus?

The important thing about ambition, like with gain, appears to be how it is directed.

Another question raised throughout this dialogue is whether the pursuit of virtue is at odds with democracy. Alcibiades is clearly pursuing something as a political leader in the city, but it does not appear to be a pursuit of virtue. As he is characterized, Alcibiades is more worried about image and providing, what he deems to be proper counsel. It is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that you know what is best because of your position as leader, especially in the chaos of Democracy where opinions are diverse and often clash.

Looking at Republic, Democracy occurs before Tyranny as one descends the political staircase. Throughout a democratic city, citizens’ desires are disorderly and chaotic. The attempt to get out of this chaos often pushes people to turn towards a

“strong man,” or some form of political leader that, at least externally, looks both capable and ambitious enough to deal with the chaos of the city. This is problematic because turning to a “strong man” could lead to Tyranny if the leader begins to 44 abuse their power and pursue ambition in a negative way. While Socrates believes

Tyranny to be the worst of the political institutions, Democracy is only one step above—it is similarly dysfunctional. Nevertheless, if the ultimate task of the philosopher is to understand souls, then Democracy is perhaps a great place to practice this understanding—as there are many souls in a single city from which to learn and to teach.

The best souls to learn from and teach are those that are willing to engage in conversation. It would seem then, that the youth, those who have open and moldable minds, are most susceptible to good conversation and the accumulation of wisdom. It takes a good character however, to be able to engage in good conversation with the youth so as to push them towards proper wisdom. Socrates has the uncanny ability to be old though young and vice versa. He is able to express wisdom through his life experiences, yet still able to connect to the youth with whom he is engaging. This ability to connect to the youth is an important characteristic—one that appears to be both enlightening and ultimately tragic. The

Athenian youth are drawn to his character, and his ability to speak with them and encourage them to pursue wisdom, but this seems to be misunderstood by the rest of Athens.

The trial and death of Socrates is consistently present in the background of the Platonic dialogues. To an extent, each dialogue contains a contribution to the assessment of Socrates’s life and what it reveals. Each dialogue thus, in some way, expresses commentary on Apology—more specifically about the relation between philosophy and politics. All of the Platonic dialogues provide a refutation against the 45 condemnation of Socrates; in so much as they shed positive light on Socrates’ actions of conversing and engaging others. Unfortunately the misunderstanding and ultimate condemnation comes from the fact that Socrates often challenges what is widely accepted, and in doing so brings discomfort and confusion—paralyzing as stingray, and stinging as gadfly.

Examination of Apology

Apology is an account of the trial of Socrates in Athens. Socrates begins the trial with a speech that acknowledges what he is being accused of. He states that while there were many lies told about him, there was one in particular that was surprising to him, that Athenians should “be careful not to be deceived by an accomplished speaker like [Socrates]” (17b). Socrates argues however, that he does not deem himself an “accomplished speaker,” at least by the standards of those judging him, unless of course, “they call an accomplished speaker the man who speaks the truth” (17b). He uses this statement as an example of how he will not be approaching the trial, as he will speak the truth, but not expressed “in embroidered and stylized phrases like theirs, but things spoken at random and expressed in the first words that come to mind…” (17c). Socrates also acknowledges that even at seventy, this is his first appearance in a court of law, and he is therefore a stranger to the manner of speaking in such a setting (17d). What Socrates acknowledges here is the difference between how he typically converses, through dialogue, and how others converse, through rhetoric. While dialogue is a conversation that aims at truth, rhetoric is stylized oration that lacks real purpose and truth. 46

Socrates argues that there are certain men that sit in the court that have already been persuaded to accuse him of wrongdoing. They are known to have said,

“that there is a man called Socrates, a wise man, a student of all things in the sky and below the earth, who makes the worse argument the stronger” (18b). Such men who spread these rumors are “dangerous accusers” because they believe that men like

Socrates who study such things do not believe in the gods. Because the majority of the jurymen were at such a young age when these rumors were spread, Socrates argues that they were much more easily persuaded to believe such things, and that those who accused Socrates of wrongdoing “won their case by default, as there was no defense” against the rumors (18 b-c).

Socrates clarifies the accusations against him by stating “Socrates is guilty of wrongdoing in that he busies himself studying things in the sky and below the earth; he makes the worse into the stronger argument, and he teaches these same things to others” (19c). He acknowledges that such accusations were the center of a comedy by Aristophanes, where he, Socrates, was depicted as “walking on air” and “talking nonsense,” both of which he feels are entirely inaccurate (19c). Socrates pleads to the jurymen saying “I have no part in it, and on this point I call upon the majority of you as witnesses. I think it right that all those of you who have heard me conversing, and many of you have, should tell each other if any one of you has ever heard me discussing such subjects to any extent at all. From this you will learn that the other things said about me by the majority are of the same kind (19 c-d).

Socrates says that his reputation has arisen out of a “certain kind of wisdom,” one that is a sort of human wisdom that some may claim to possess over others 47

(20d). Socrates gives examples where he compares his own wisdom to others. In the case of politicians, Socrates recalls thinking that “I am wiser than this man; it is likely that neither of us knows anything worthwhile, but he thinks he knows something when he does not, whereas when I do not know, neither do I think I know; so I am likely to be wiser than he to this small extent, that I do not think I know what I do not know” (21e). Here is where Socrates differentiates himself from others who deem themselves wise. While some may claim wisdom in all areas, and may not acknowledge that there are things that they do not know, Socrates acknowledges and admits that he knows that he does not know certain things. This, for Socrates, is the ultimate distinction between thinking you are wise, and having true wisdom.

He believes this misunderstanding of wisdom to be the case, not only with politicians, but with poets and craftsmen as well, saying “I soon realized that poets do not compose their poems with knowledge, but by some inborn talent and by inspiration, like seers and prophets who also say many fine things without any understanding of what they say (22b-c). Craftsmen also appear “to have the same fault as the poets: each of them, because of his success at his craft, thought himself very wise in other most important pursuits, and this error of theirs overshadowed the wisdom they had” (22e). This realization encouraged Socrates to ask himself whether he should prefer to be as he is, “with neither their wisdom nor their ignorance, or to have both. The answer I gave myself and the oracle was that it was to my advantage to be as I am” (22e). 48

Socrates admits that as a result of his realization that it is to his advantage to be as he is, knowing that he does not know, and encouraging others to realize the same, he “acquired much unpopularity, of a kind that is hard to deal with and is a heavy burden; many slanders came from these people and a reputation for wisdom, for in each case the bystanders thought that I myself possessed the wisdom that I proved that my interlocutor did not have” (23a-b). Because of his preoccupation of discussing with others and encouraging others to seek wisdom, Socrates recognizes that he has not had the leisure to engage in public affairs, but instead has lived in poverty because of his service to the god (23c). Because of his absence from the public realm, it is easier to understand why the public perception of him would be so negative. The Athenians only have a characterization of Socrates created by rumor to define him by. He also does not fit into the typical prototype of an Athenian citizen—one that is engaged, seeking wealth, and leading a more public life.

Socrates continues by acknowledging his accusations again: “Socrates is guilty of corrupting the young and of not believing in the gods in whom the city believes, but in other new spiritual things (24c). Socrates argues that Meletus accuses him of corrupting the youth, but that Meletus is acting irresponsibly by bringing people to court on the basis of his concerns with things that he has never before cared about. Socrates attempts to prove this by engaging Meletus in a dialogue. Socrates asks Meletus, “Surely you consider it of the greatest importance that our young men be as good as possible?” Meletus responds “Indeed I do (24c-d).

Socrates then asks Meletus, “Who improves our young men?” Meletus responds that the laws do. Socrates clarifies his question, and restates it as “but 49 what person who has knowledge of the laws to begin with?” Meletus believes that it is these jurymen whom they are both surrounded by. Socrates probes further and asks, “Are these able to educate the young and improve them?” Meletus believes this to be true. Socrates asks if this is true of all of them, or only some of them. Meletus believes that it is all of them. Socrates also asks whether the audience improves the young or not, to which Meletus responds that they do, too (24d).

This attempt at dialogue leads to a dead end, and Socrates argues that either he does not corrupt the young, or that, if he does, he does so unwillingly. Either way

Meletus is lying. If Socrates unwillingly corrupts the young, Athenian law does not require anyone to bring people to court for unwilling wrongdoings, but instead to

“get hold of them privately, to instruct them and exhort them.” For if Socrates were to learn better, he would stop doing what he is unwillingly doing. Socrates acknowledges however, that Meletus has avoided his company and therefore has not instructed him, and has instead brought Socrates to court where punishment is the consequence, not instruction (26a-b).

Socrates continues with his accusations asking Meletus to clarify his accusation against Socrates not believing in the gods. Meletus clarifies that he believes that Socrates does “not believe in gods at all, and that this is what” he teaches to others (26c). Socrates argues that this is not the case, and proceeds to offer Meletus an analogy. He asks, “does any man who does not believe in horses believe in horsemen’s activities? Or in flute-playing activities but not in flute- players...Does any man believe in spiritual activities who does not believe in 50 spirits?” Meletus believes that no one does (27c). Socrates uses this to show that he cannot be accused of not believing in the gods if he believes in spiritual activities.

Socrates, clearly dissatisfied with the accusations, faults Meletus for bringing him to court in the first place, as he appears to be at a loss to find any true wrongdoing of which to accuse Socrates. Socrates believes that “there is no way in which [Meletus] could persuade anyone of even small intelligence that it is possible for one and the same man to believe in spiritual but not also in divine things, and then again for that same man to believe neither in spirits nor in gods nor in heroes” (28a). But what actually happens? He is actually condemned for this.

Getting towards the end of his speech, Socrates examines the concept of death. He states that to fear death “is no other than to think oneself wise when one is not, to think one knows what one does not know. No one knows whether death may not be the greatest of all blessings for a man, yet men fear it as if they knew that it is the greatest of evils. And surely it is the most blameworthy ignorance to believe that one knows what one does not know” (29c). Socrates admits that this is where he differs from most other men. He admits that he has no knowledge of things in the underworld, and because of this he “shall never fear or avoid things of which” he does “not know, whether they may not be good rather than things that [he] knows to be bad” (29c).

Perhaps where Socrates is characterized the best is where he admits that even if the Athenians were to acquit him if he were to agree to not practice philosophy with the knowledge that if he were caught he would be sentenced to death, he would say: “Men of Athens, I am grateful and I am your friend, but I will 51 obey the god rather than you, and as long as I draw breath and am able, I shall not cease to practice philosophy, to exhort you and in my usual way to point out to any one of you whom I happen to meet…” (29d). Thus Socrates shows a divided allegiance—not only to the city, but also to something higher. Socrates stands up for himself and his convictions. Rather than be forced to stop being the person that he is, and cease acting in the ways that he does, Socrates would rather die.

Socrates says this because he believes that he was “attached to this city by the god—though it seems a ridiculous thing to say—as upon a great and noble horse which was somewhat sluggish because of its size and needed to be stirred up by a kind of gadfly. It is to fulfill some such function that I believe the god has placed me in this city. I never cease to rouse each and every one of you, to persuade and reproach you all day long and everywhere I find myself in your company,” (30e) like a gadfly stirring a horse. The analogy of the gadfly is used here to suggest that

Socrates provides an insight that may be a painful awakening. Athenians may thus be wary of Socrates because they want to strictly avoid this sort of painful awakening.

Socrates acknowledges that he has a divine or spiritual sign in his deposition, one that began when he was young. Socrates describes it as a voice that, whenever it speaks, it turns him away from something he may be about to do. It never, however, encourages him to do anything. It is this voice that has prevented him from partaking in public affairs, as it would not have benefitted Socrates, or the city.

Socrates states, “No man will survive who genuinely opposes you or any other crowd and prevents the occurrence of many unjust and illegal happenings in the 52 city. A man who really fights for justice must lead a private, not a public, life if he is to survive for even a short time” (32a). Not to make civic life primary is a potential threat to civic unity. Philosophy and politics must therefore exist in tension with each other.

Socrates concludes by saying “if I convinced you by my supplication to do violence to your oath of office, I would be teaching you not to believe that there are gods, and my defense would convict me of not believing in them. This is far from being the case, gentlemen, for I do believe in them as none of my accusers do. I leave it to you and the god to judge me in the way that will be best for me and for you”

(35d). His independence is not intended to lead to political action against the city.

At the end of this dialogue, the jury decides the verdict, and finds Socrates guilty of the accusations presented. Meletus asks for the penalty of death. Socrates responds to this penalty with a sarcastic counter-assessment, asking what he deserves “to suffer or to pay because I have deliberately not led a quiet life but have neglected what occupies most people: wealth, household affairs, the position of general or public orator or the other offices, the political clubs and factions that exist in the city” (36c). Socrates ultimately decides that what he actually deserves is free meals in the Prytaneum (37a). This response shows a mocking, ironic characterization of Socrates, but also shows Socrates as fully believing that he is a friend to the city and should be compensated for being the friend that the city actually needs.

As Socrates comes to terms with his penalty he recognizes that most people will not fully understand why he has acted the way he has throughout the city. He 53 acknowledges that most will not understand that the greatest good for man is to discuss virtue daily, “for the unexamined life is not worth living for me” (38a). This acknowledgement is not an attempt to tell others what to think, but an announcement of Socrates’s own realizations—it is both an external and internal dialogue. It is external in the sense that Socrates is making a public statement about the worth of the unexamined life. It is internal in the sense that it is also a sort of validation for his own actions. Socrates has lived the examined life, and has done so by engaging with and encouraging others to also live the examined life. By stating

“the unexamined life is not worth living for me,” (38a) Socrates is justifying his role as philosopher, teacher, and now the newly condemned.

Socrates is given his eventual conviction because he lacks the ability to act boldly and shamelessly, in the way that most who come to trial might act. Instead of

“lamentations and tears,” he stood up for his actions. Socrates states that he “would much rather die after this kind of defense than live after making the other kind.

Neither I nor any other man should, on trial or in war, contrive to avoid death at any cost” (38e-39a). Socrates could not fight back with the rhetoric that is expected in

Athenian trials. Socrates concludes the dialogue by stating, “Now the hour to part has come. I go to die, you go to live. Which of us goes to the better lot is known to no one, except the god” (42a).

Throughout the Apology we see Socrates’s reference to the daemon—god, voice, conscience. This is the faculty for apprehending beyond visible things, as we cannot completely explain experience with words. The pursuit of knowledge beyond the visible things leads one down a path of seeking wisdom. As you begin the pursuit 54 of wisdom, it takes you out of the practical life—out of spending money, maintaining health, pursuing glory, etc. Once you begin this pursuit, you are drawn “outside” of the cave where you are able to experience a sort of transcendence—like waking from a dream.

A trial in ancient Athens is a contest of speeches where an accuser and a defendant go head to head. The notion of evidence and procedure seem to be sorely lacking. The continuation of the public debate carried on in Athens about the city, like discussions about Socrates’ character and motives, suggests that Socrates’ trial is a matter of who can be more persuasive in a “rhetorical debate.” Jurors who voted to condemn Socrates were not wrong in so far as they saw Socrates as challenging social convention. Yet, while some saw him as a challenger, there were still others that received Socrates and his philosophy (he did live in Athens for 70 years before his condemnation).

Socrates believes that while Athens can kill him, they cannot kill philosophy.

In a sense Socrates has made a friend of death—accepting his condemnation. People may think that they know death, but in reality they know nothing. To make a friend of death suggests the ability to transcend preoccupation with practical life. In the attempt to preserve yourself in the practical life, you ignore the fact that in the long run, you will not succeed, as no one is immortal. The soul is immortal, not the body.

The world outside of the practical life, the world of waking, is the world discovered outside of the cave. The mistake of the Athenians is to think that if they kill Socrates they will once and for all get rid of philosophy. While philosophy is occurring here and now through Socrates, it will continue on through others even without his 55 bodily presence. As long as there are human beings, philosophy will exist, because it is part of human nature to have the potential to experience the transcendent.

Conclusion

Forgetting dialogues like Hipparchus, Minos, Lovers, Cleitophon, and

Alcibiades I gives modern readers a more self-confident sense of Socrates than is warranted. There is a certain dimension of Socrates that modern readers may block out having only read the major Platonic corpus. It is not simply enough to read the

Republic, the Apology, the Gorgias, etc., and when one reads beyond these major dialogues, one finds a more complicated characterization of Socrates. Such characterization is evident in the “forgotten” dialogues that I have examined here— all of which illuminate the ultimate conflict seen between Socrates and the

Athenians during his trial and untimely death.

The trial and death of Socrates represents the tragic dichotomy between philosophy and politics. On one hand, politics, at its core, seems to be primarily maneuvering and manipulating strongly held opinions, rather than elucidating the right or best opinion. Philosophy, on the other hand, seeks that which is right and best—an eternal quest for wisdom. Where politics and philosophy clash is when philosophic enquiry and the search for wisdom are overshadowed by the political loyalty that one must show to the existing regime. There is no easy way to resolve this tragic conflict unless philosophers become kings and kings become philosophers. The is thus the ultimate symbol. This is wishful 56 thinking however, as it would require demanding that the philosopher rule—a possible barrier to philosophic enquiry and the examined life.

Even without the existence of the philosopher king, philosophy still remains important. The importance of philosophizing is to remedy the ailing human condition. There is a disjointedness, an unresolved character to the human condition that human beings lack the ability to overcome—except through dialogue and speech as seen in many of the analogies that Socrates offers through the

Platonic dialogues, just one example being the vision of the perfect city in the

Republic. While grasping analogies and gaining a deeper understanding of reality is a possible solution for some (mainly those willing to engage in philosophic enquiry), it may not be for everyone.

Therefore we try our best to reach this level of philosophizing by seeking answers—the easiest answer to seek being the answer to the “what is” question— many of which were posed in these examined “forgotten” dialogues. The reason we seek an answer to this question is because we desire a direction to pursue. Without the “what is?” question to seek, we may otherwise wander from one answer to another without a stable understanding of what we are actually trying to pursue.

Seeking an answer to this question however, can be unsettling, as it requires an intense deepening of one’s insight. In the Platonic dialogues Socrates desires to enable those he is conversing with to experience this deepening of the insight. Such a change in insight can be positive or painful, as it can lead to sudden realization or extreme uncertainty and confusion. Socrates as stingray, midwife, and gadfly, thus paralyzes, assists, and shocks others into either realization or perplexity. 57

Those engaged in dialogue with Socrates, tend to find themselves experiencing perplexity regarding questions that have been raised. Dialogue thus appears to either cause one to turn towards the philosophic life, or to turn away from it completely as seen with Cleitophon. The point at which one truly accepts movement towards the philosophic life is when one realizes that “[they] know that

[they] do not know,” (21e) and they accept this realization.

It is therefore understandable that the Athenians would seek Socrates’ death.

The themes seen in Aristophanes’ the Clouds, for example, led Athenians to distrust the philosophic life. As the Athenians were manipulated into seeing it, philosophy is dangerous decadence—cleverness in argument, in a world that is strange and self- indulgent. This, however, was a mistaken view, as Aristophanes was likening philosophy to sophistry. Aristophanes may not be entirely wrong, but he is faulted when he implies that philosophy should not exist because it is dangerous.

Philosophy is equated with danger in so far as it questions the conventions of society, but just because it may be dangerous, does not mean that it should not be practiced.

Philosophy deals with things far beyond the city, and while Athenians may have felt that philosophy was dangerous in the sense that it was too far removed from engagements in daily life, it was important. Philosophy questions the adequacy of these engagements, and is also an attempt to put intellectual encounters into ideas that can be explored and shared. Doing this however, reduces the importance and message of philosophy, in so far as it reduces the actual intellectual encounter one experiences. There are many who cannot understand this important intellectual 58 exercise, which is why many fear philosophy and Socrates as its vessel. The ultimate tragedy is that politics and philosophy both excite and antagonize each other—there is fundamentally no easy solution to the human problem. Having insight into this however, can help remedy this, because when we live with moderation and we act as the good citizen we may find ourselves soundly existing in the tension between philosophy and politics.

The ultimate condemnation of Socrates in Apology may be misguided in the sense that the Athenian jury fails to understand that conversing about ideas that bring one closer to wisdom is not a corrupting act, but instead an enlightening act.

The relation between an individual and Socrates, as teacher and student, is the joint endeavor to encounter the divine things. Perhaps it is an erotic relationship, but understood in a transcendent sense, in the pursuit of wisdom. Philosophic enquiry is thus necessary for the pursuit of wisdom, and more importantly for the pursuit of an examined and rewarding life.

Socrates is characterized in many unique ways through out each of the

“forgotten” dialogues examined here. He is characterized as teacher, as lover, as philosopher, and as condemned. He encourages, questions, enlightens, and perplexes. Throughout each dialogue there is unmistakably some kind of knowledge being sought after, even if the initial question is not being answered. Just talking about how great something is, i.e. how great gain or philosophy or justice is, does not explain what it is. This is why Socrates and the Socratic method of dialogue are so important—they allow those in conversation to truly examine a topic, to truly begin to understand a topic, rather than scratching at the surface and leaving empty 59 handed. The failure to understand the importance of Socrates and his methods of engaging others is a failure to understand the importance of a philosophy—a failure to begin living the examined life.

60

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