The Theaetetus, replete with references to Socrates’ impending trial and execution,5 opens the five-dialogue exploration of what it is to lead the examined life of a philosopher. Philosophy begins in wonder (Tht. 155d3) with the study of mathematical patterns, and, in Socrates’ case, ends - if it ends - with his death as presented in the Phaedo. Although the Theaetetus stands first in Plato’s narrative, it is rarely read in that context because of its overwhelming philosophical importance in distinguishing perceptions and true beliefs from knowledge.° Yet the Athenians’ failure to make precisely these distinctions is crucial to what happened in 399. Why the polis executed Socrates comes starkly into focus four times in the dialogue, showing that - however well intentioned - the Athenians mistook their friend for their enemy and killed him.
The first is a famous passage (Tht. 148e-151d) in which Socrates likens himself to his mother, Phaenarete, for both are midwives, she of bodies, he of minds. As she is beyond child-bearing age, he is beyond wisdom-bearing age. As she runs the risk of being confused with unjust and unscientific procurers when she practices her art, he runs the risk of being confused with sophists when he practices his (cf. 164c-d). Through Socrates’ maieutic art, others ‘‘have themselves discovered many admirable things in themselves, and given birth to them’’ (150d6-8).7 He admits he is considered strange and has a reputation for questioning others and making them suffer birth pains without proffering his own views; some men want to bite him when he disabuses them of the silliness they believe. As he draws the midwifery comparison, Socrates presages what he will later say in court: that his mission is compelled by the god; that he has a personal daimonion or spiritual monitor,8 which here sometimes forbids his association with youths who return to him after choosing bad company; and that no god can wish evil to man - the denial of which serves as an example of ‘‘silliness.’’ The gods acknowledged by the polis were those of the poets, gods who often wished, and even caused, evil; but Socrates acknowledged no such gods. Plato makes it easy to imagine Socrates playing into the hands of his accusers, for Socrates volunteers examples of youths whose corruption he could not prevent and says Homer’s gods Oceanus and Tethys are really flux and motion (152e7-8, cf. 180d), that Homer’s golden chain is the sun (153c9-d1).
A second perspective arises out of the discussion of Protagorean relativism. If knowledge is perception, then every juryman is ‘‘no worse in point of wisdom than anyone whatever, man or even god’’ (162c2-5; cf. majority opinion, 171a). Protagoras, impersonated by Socrates, says: ‘‘about matters that concern the state, too - things which are admirable or dishonorable, just or unjust, in conformity with religion or not - it will hold that whatever sort of thing any state thinks to be, and lays down as, lawful for itself actually is, in strict truth, lawful for it’’ (Tht. 172a1-b5; cf. 167c-d, 177c-d, Prt. 320d-328d); from which it follows that if Athens thinks it is just, then it is just for the city that it execute Socrates. But it is another matter entirely, Socrates objects, when one considers justice not judicially but legislatively, that is, considers what laws ought to be enacted in the interest of the polis - for a polis can judge its own good incorrectly. ‘‘Whatever word it [the state] applies to it [the good], that’s surely what a state aims at when it legislates, and it lays down all its laws, to the best of its ability and judgment, as being most useful for itself’’ (Tht. 177e4-6; cf. 179a), says Socrates. However, one state’s decision may approximate the truth, actual justice, less well than another’s, and the counselor-gadfly of one polis may be wiser than that of another (cf. 177d). The implication is that Socrates’ execution could be legalistically just yet unjust in itself, unjust by nature, thereby raising two further issues pursued in the Apology and in the Crito:. whether a citizen must obey an unjust law, and whether punishment is justifiable. If a polis unwillingly does wrong, it deserves instruction, not punishment - as Socrates replies to his Athenian jury (Ap. 26a).
The third is the central section, well known as the philosophical digression ( Tht. 172c-177c) comparing the practical man and the philosopher, corresponding to ‘‘two patterns set up in that which is.’’9 The description of the philosopher shows why the polis would condemn him. In Athens, philosophers are completely misunderstood; they ‘‘look ridiculous when they go into the law courts’’ (172c4-6), and worse. The philosopher’s inexperience in court is mistaken for stupidity, his inability to discredit others personally is ridiculed, his genuine amusement is taken for silliness; he thinks of rulers as livestock keepers, fails to value property, wealth, or noble ancestry; he is arrogant, ignorant, and incompetent (174c-175b). If such a man should violate the law as well, wouldn’t it be right to kill him? Two further opinions Socrates expresses about the philosopher of the digression will feature in the undoing of Socrates himself: he studies natural science (173e-174a), and his gods are not those of the city (176b-c). For such a godlike man, ‘‘the fact is that it’s only his body that’s in the state, here on a visit’’ (173e2-5); he ‘‘ought to try to escape from here to there as quickly’’ as he can (176a8-b1).
Fourth and finally, while discussing whether knowledge is true judgment, Socrates asks Theaetetus whether a jury has knowledge when it has been persuaded to a true judgment by an orator or a skilled litigant (201a-c) - reflecting exactly Socrates’ situation with his own jury. By the strict letter of the law, Socrates is guilty of not believing in the vengeful Olympian gods of the Athenians and the poets, and thus his jury is persuaded to a true judgment by the orator Lycon and the skilled litigant Anytus, if not by the feckless Meletus. But the result is legalistic justice, not justice itself; it reflects a correct judgment, but not knowledge. As the digression puts it, the point is ‘‘to give up asking ‘What injustice am I doing to you, or you to me?’ in favor of the investigation of justice and injustice themselves’’ (Tht. 175c1-2).
World History
