The Socratic Turn. Dustin Sebell

What it is broadly concerned with is either the problem of death or, more on the face of it, the immortality of the soul. The bulk of the conversation is initiated when Simmias and Cebes, the two youths with whom he chiefly speaks on this occasion, charge Socrates, respectively, with neglecting them, his friends (63a7–9), on one hand, and with neglecting himself (62d8–e7), on the other, by going to his death so willingly. In response to his young friends’ reservations about his justice and wisdom (prudence), Socrates musters a defense or an “apology” on his behalf (63b1–2). Whatever else that apology (63e8–70b5) may accomplish, though, it does not even try to meet the steep condition that Socrates himself stipulates it must meet if it is to be a successful one (63b5–9, 69d7–e4). In the wake of its failure (69e5–70b4), which he immediately admits (70b5), Socrates sets out to meet the condition in question. He sets out, that is, to establish the soul’s immortality. He characterizes his attempt along these lines rather strangely, however, as one that is both an examination and a mythology (compare 61e1–2 with 70b6 and 70c4). Stranger still, he does this despite having made it perfectly clear that, as capable as he is of making speeches or reasoned arguments (logoi), he cannot mythologize (61b5, cf. 108d1–9, 114d1–2)—the philosopher follows reason (84a7–b1, Crito 46b4–6).¹⁸ However these oddities may have to be understood,¹⁹ Socrates’ initial battery of (three: 70c4–72d10, 73c5–76e7, 78b4–80d4) arguments (or myths) pertaining to the immortality of the soul prepares the ground for a “repetition” of his apology (80d5–84b4) that, having been thus prepared, is somewhat more persuasive to his young friends than the original (compare 88c8–d8 as well as 84c1–d3 with 69e5–70b4). It too persuades no one in the long run, however. Simmias and Cebes are moved almost at once to offer up objections (84d4–88b8). As for Socrates himself, immediately after concluding the battery of arguments, even (or precisely) he admits that they have, in the final analysis, been a failure (84c5–8, cf. 85d4–e2, 86d4–e4, 95b5–6).²⁰ And yet, while Socrates was incredulous all along, the same cannot be said for many of those listening, who had indeed, as they believed, been fully persuaded by him (88c1–d8). These poor listeners are not freed from the pleasant spell cast by Socrates’ arguments until Simmias and Cebes offer up their objections (88c8–d8). After rallying them, in consideration of the pain and, what is more, the hostility to reason all too easily incited by the breaking of the spell (89a10–91c6), Socrates disposes in the first place, “somehow” (95a4–6), of Simmias’ objection (91e2–95a6). He then turns to the objection of Cebes. And it is in place of, or as, a reply to Cebes’ objection, that Socrates gives at this point in the conversation his intellectual autobiography. Let us therefore take a somewhat closer look at the circumstances surrounding this event.

      After the initial battery of Socrates’ arguments, it is apparent to Cebes that, whatever else those arguments have achieved, they have not even advanced beyond square one when it comes to establishing the soul’s immortality (compare 86e6–87a1 with 77b1–c6 as well as 69e5–70b4). According to Socrates’ second recapitulation of it (95b5–e4), then, “the sum and substance”²¹ of what Cebes seeks by means of his objection (at 86e6–88b8) is, quite simply, to be shown that the soul is imperishable as well as deathless (95b8–c1). And he seeks this demonstration, as Socrates, going somewhat beyond what Cebes had actually said, suggests, on the assumption that it is something that can be achieved by human beings (compare 95b8–e2 with 88a10–b8). Indeed, Cebes goes so far as to hope that Socrates, in particular, is in possession of the demonstration himself and, moreover, able to impart it to others (95a7–b4; as does Simmias: 63c8–d3). But, having said that, as Socrates’ first recapitulation would have it, the truth about the immortality of the soul is, in Cebes’ view, “unclear to everyone,” including Socrates (91d2–9). Besides going somewhat beyond what Cebes had actually said once again (compare 91d2–9 with 88a10–b8), Socrates’ first recapitulation will eventually part ways with the second on the question of the limits of human knowledge.²² Yet Cebes accepted it, too, as an accurate representation of his objection (91e1)! What is the import of the difference between the two recapitulations and, in the next place, of Cebes’ failure to notice it? Looking back, one sees that Cebes’ original objection had not made it entirely clear whether he views it as possible or impossible for human beings to grasp the truth about the soul’s immortality. And Socrates may have wanted to clear up the ambiguity. Dispensing with the pretense that his recapitulations of the objection are meant to compensate for his own faulty memory (91c7–8ff.), he eventually indicates that they are in fact intended to bring out Cebes’ view as accurately as possible (95e2–4). In the event, if Cebes’ view was not entirely clear to Socrates from the objection alone, his response to Socrates’ recapitulations does serve to clarify it. For Cebes’ failure even to notice the difference between Socrates’ two opposed recapitulations implies that his view is, on the whole, somehow well represented by both of them. He wavers, in other words, between the one position (that it is possible for human beings to grasp the truth about the soul’s immortality) and the other (that it is not); he does not know what the limits of human knowledge are. In this way, the larger question of human knowledge and its limits begins to emerge from the request for knowledge of the soul’s immortality. We are not totally unprepared, therefore, for what happens following Socrates’ second recapitulation of Cebes’ objection.

      After silently deliberating for a long time, Socrates says that the demonstration of the soul’s immortality, the demonstration Cebes seeks, presupposes a thoroughgoing study of “the cause concerning generation and corruption as a whole” (compare 95e8–96a1 with 95b8–c1). Knowledge of the immortality of the soul presupposes, that is to say, knowledge of the whole world. And this makes sense, as will become clearer later, since what a part of the whole, for example, the human soul, can do or suffer cannot be fully known until the ultimate cause or causes (of it) are fully known. Socrates’ very first argument (70c4–72d10) had, in keeping with this, addressed the question of immortality in the context of the larger question of the cause of generation and corruption (70d7–e1, 72a11–d3). As promising as this start was, the treatment of the larger question was far from adequate. Accordingly, if his initial battery of arguments for the soul’s immortality did not advance beyond square one, this is perhaps in part because they were not preceded by an adequate treatment of the question that Socrates himself regards as the truly prior one. Now, by way of illustrating what the asking of that prior question really involves, Socrates goes on to give his intellectual autobiography, which is an account of his own experience asking it (95e8–96a3).²³ And so the most obvious, but not the only, reason for the intellectual autobiography’s place in the Phaedo is this: full knowledge of death presupposes full knowledge of the whole.

      Chapter 2

      What Is Science?

      The Young Socrates’ Motives

      As a young man, Socrates was merely carrying on a long-standing tradition of reflection. For he was wonderfully desirous of that wisdom called, already, “inquiry concerning nature” (96a5–7, compare Laws 891b8–c9), which is said to go back to Thales.¹ He desired this wisdom² or this natural science, as we may also call it, as wonderfully as he did not for its own sake but because (96a7) of his opinion that it was “magnificent” or “overweening” to possess it, that is, to know the causes of each thing. Still, the young Socrates’ desire to know cannot be reduced altogether to this opinion, which stems from a desire on his part for something other than knowledge.³ His desire to know was indeed, at the outset, complicated or adulterated by the admixture of another desire, a desire for whatever was magnificent in his opinion. But had it not happened to seem magnificent to him to possess it, the young Socrates might still have desired such knowledge (on its own account), only not so wonderfully. That is to say, his unadulterated desire to know would perhaps be unencumbered by wonder. And Socrates’ well-known suggestion in the Theaetetus, that “this experience, wondering, belongs very much to the philosopher,” supports this. “For,” he goes on to say, by way of qualification, “there is no other beginning of philosophy than this” (155d2–4).⁴

      The Uncertainty of Natural Science