Thoughts on Laches
The next installment of the
shorter ethical works is another definitional dialogue, Laches named
after an Athenian general. The ostensible goal in this one is to define the
word courage and, as usual, it ends in aporia. The dialogue begins with two
fathers and friends, Lysimachus and Melesius who want Nicias’ and Laches’ opinions
on how to bring their children up. They grew up soft and spoiled and have no
real accomplishments to speak of due to their fathers’ wealth and neglect. They
do not feel equipped to guide their children correctly. Although this is surely
a poor state of affairs to find yourself in, it is good that they proclaim
their inability and seek advice from people wiser than themselves. They are
keenly aware that raising children is a massive responsibility and do not want
to screw it up. Socrates agrees, “Children
are your riches, and upon their turning out well or ill depends the whole order
of their father’s house” (185a). Lysimachus and Melesius do well in approaching
Laches and Nicias since they are both generals known for their bravery as well
as politicians. Nicias is the more well known, his exploits in Sicily being
recorded in Thucydides history of the Peloponnesian War (Books 6 and 7). His
courage on the battlefield was unmatched, but he was not so courageous in the
political arena. He was afraid to tell the Athenian people how weak they were
compared to the Spartans. I think this is part of the dialogue’s message – we should
have courage in all areas, not just one. In fact, it shows how
compartmentalized we can be, just like Nicias – heroic in battle, and pusillanimous
in the battle room.
Lysimachus and Melesius want to
know what studies or pastimes they should encourage their children to
participate in to make them good men. The generals say they should also get
Socrates opinion since he has proven himself to be an excellent giver of
advice. He recommended an excellent music teacher for Nicias’ son and he is
also a veteran who served with Laches at the battle of Delium (181b), and a
father as well. Lysimachus and Melesius bring up the fact that they were
thinking of letting their sons learn the new technique of fighting in armor.
Socrates humbly defers to the generals and will give his advice after them.
Nicias approves of this art for several reasons. He believes it will improve
their health and fitness, it will instill the ambition in them necessary to
learn more about becoming a warrior, and it will make them strong and fearsome
to the enemy. Besides all that, it also has the benefit of giving them
something to do, so they don’t just sit around with idle hands and get into the
useless amusements typical of young men. Laches disapproves of this art because
he doesn’t see it as useful. If it were good in warfare, then the
Lacedaemonians would’ve been using it since they are the world’s best warriors,
but they don’t. It hasn’t passed the test of time; he doesn’t know a single
person who has learned this that is renown for valor.
Socrates is invoked to break the
tie and settle the dispute. He immediately chastises them. The truth isn’t
democratic – the fact that a majority of people agree means nothing. As he puts
it, “A good decision is based on knowledge and not numbers” (184e). What they need
is to ascertain if any of them are an expert in this matter. This confuses
everyone present because they all know they aren’t experts in this new
technique. They don’t realize that Socrates is thinking more deeply. This
specific technique has a telos (end), and that end is improving the children –
that’s what they need to examine – their ability to guide people. It is not a
good idea to experiment with your children; they are utterly unique, you can’t
take the mistakes back, and psychological damage is extremely difficult and
time consuming to repair. Socrates asks them all point blank, “Who are they
who, having been worthless persons, have become under your care good and noble”
(187a)? You can either be taught by someone else or be an autodidact, it doesn’t
matter so long as you can prove you have the skills. Barring that, you should
find someone who does have the skill to make people better versions of
themselves and have them teach your children.
Nicias warns the parents that
getting into an argument with Socrates is a dangerous business. He pulls no
punches and will not let you go until he has thoroughly sifted you and made you
acutely aware of your own shortcomings (188a). This is what got Socrates killed
later on. Nicias admires this aspect of Socrates’ personality, but is just
warning the men that if they ask Socrates advice, they are going to go through
the ringer, but it is worth it. As Nicias puts it, “he who does not fly from
reproof will be sure to take more heed of his afterlife. As Solon says, he will
wish and desire to be learning so long as he lives and will not think that old
age of itself brings wisdom” (Solon, fr. 10) (188b). It’s good that Socrates
will point out their flaws, so they know what to fix. We also learn from this
that learning should be a lifelong pursuit oriented towards the next life. We
also shouldn’t assume that old people are wiser than younger ones, nor the opposite.
Wisdom is like any other skill; it is proven in deeds. This reminds me of St.
Macarius the Great, one of the early desert fathers. He was younger than most
of the desert monks, but they came to him for wisdom because he had it, even
though he was decades younger than them. Being good at something is a function
of work and reflection, not just sand passing through the hourglass.
Laches is eager to hear Socrates
out, because he loves it when a man’s words and actions are in harmony and
hates when they are not. It is a rarer combination than we’d like to think, but
he was there with Socrates in battle and knows he is a valiant and virtuous
man. Socrates begins by saying that we must know what something is before we
can begin to improve it. How can you improve a shoe if you don’t know what a
shoe is? Therefore, unless we know what we are talking about, we should never
give advice. Examining the whole of virtue is far too ambitious of a project,
so Socrates will examine a specific one – that of courage. When asked what
courage is, Laches gives the first definition – it is not abandoning your post.
This answer is a subtle jab at Socrates that belies Laches former praise of him.
The battle of Delium was a tremendous defeat for the Athenians. The courage
that Socrates showed, and that Laches praised, was shown precisely when
Socrates had to abandon his post and retreat. There is so much subtext packed
into such a small amount of space here. In his reply, Socrates shows that we
can be courageous even when we fail. He goes even further and deeper than that,
which was very uncommon at the time. In those days, and even to some extent today,
most people associate courage with physical strength and war. Courage
encompasses a far wider range of things than just being strong and tough in
physical pursuits.
Socrates says that this definition
is far too narrow. You can be courageous, as he was, even when on the run from
the enemy and in different types of warfare than the traditional ones. You can
even be courageous in things completely unrelated to warfare and athletics. It
takes great courage to stand up to a colleague, family member, or a government
(as Nicias should have done). It also takes tremendous courage to confront your
passions and try to overcome them (191d). He is searching for a definition of
courage that would pervade all of these specific instances. He gives an example
to show them that it can be done and how. When we think of quickness, the
underlying feature of this quality is the ability to do things in a small
amount of time. Laches second definition is that courage is wise endurance
(192d). Socrates shows this to be untrue as well, since wisely enduring the ups
and downs of a financial market and wisely waiting for an enemy to leave
without attacking them are not considered courageous. Laches pivots to a third definition,
that courage is when you endure something without knowledge. This makes no
sense at all, it’s indistinguishable from foolishness. It would literally mean
that being courageous is the same as being dumb. Laches can see that he is in
quite a pickle. If you can evade attackers you should, Sun Tzu says as much,
but that isn’t courage. If you do fight when you don’t have to, that is sheer
recklessness and so also isn’t courage. Laches doesn’t know what to say and so
bows out.
Nicias gives us the fourth and
final definition, that courage is a kind of wisdom, specifically, “courage is
the knowledge of that which inspires fear or confidence in war, or in anything”
(195a). Laches scoffs at this answer – wisdom and courage can’t be the same
because then a courageous man with no training would be able to accurately
diagnose disease or do computational astrophysics, etc. Nicias’ counterargument
is that a doctor only knows what causes health and disease, he doesn’t know if
life or death is better in a certain situation (195c). This is a theme that
subtends the arc of all Plato’s work. The highest wisdom is that of good and
evil, knowing what to pay attention to and spend your time on and what not to. Socrates
counters with a profoundly bad argument. He says all people think that lions,
bulls, and other wild beasts are courageous, but if it is a type of wisdom then
they shouldn’t. Nicias grasps the nettle-- of course we shouldn’t consider them
courageous. They are fearless and that is not the same thing. Fearlessness is
rash and senseless, it’s a form of stupidity. It is smart to be afraid in
certain situations. Laches retorts that Nicias is a fool for going against the
dominant tradition of all mankind. This is an argument I have seen often of
late in many different spheres and it is a profoundly stupid one. I agree with
David Bentley Hart when he wrote, “Some traditions are old because they are
truly valuable, while some are valued only because they are old” (back cover of
Women and Ordination in the Orthodox Church). I actually do have
atavistic tendencies, that’s why I love ancient philosophy. But just because something
is old doesn’t mean it is true. That can’t be the only argument. If something
ancient makes no sense, it should be abandoned, after investigation. That’s the
problem I see in modern day politics and religion. Conservatives cling too
tightly to tradition for no reason other than that it is old and are unwilling
to update their understanding. Progressives ditch the baby with the bathwater
and are too willing to embrace the new unflinchingly, while discarding the old
without thought or examination. A middle way of reasoning and ascertaining
truth while reserving judgment is best.
Socrates takes Nicias argument
differently than Laches. When he basically says courage is equivalent to the
knowledge of good and evil, Socrates says he explains too much. It would cover
the whole of virtue and not just courage, which is merely a part of virtue.
Courage cannot be the same as knowing everything about good and evil (199e).
Laches taunts Nicias for failing to find a satisfactory definition whereupon Nicias
reproves him for looking at his neighbor and not at himself (200b). It’s
astonishing to me how close this is to Christ’s pronouncement that we should
take the beam out of our own eye before looking at the speck in our neighbor’s
eye (Mt. 7:3-5). This dialogue ends in aporia, no satisfactory definition of
courage has been found. In the end, both Laches and Nicias agree that they are
not qualified to advise Lysimachus and Melesius on how to raise their children
to be courageous – they defer to Socrates. Socrates also claims ignorance. He
sorely wishes he could help, but he doesn’t have the knowledge required and he
keeps to what he said earlier. We should never give advice unless we are sure
we know what we are talking about. They are wise words and I wish they were
heeded more, especially by myself. The dialogue ends with an exhortation that
educating ourselves so that we can educate our children should have the highest
place in our life.
“Every
one of us should seek out the best teacher whom he can find, first for
ourselves who are greatly in need of one, and then for the youths, regardless
of expense or anything…. If anyone laughs at us for going to school at our age,
I would quote to them the authority of Homer who says, ‘Modesty is not good for
a needy man.’” (Odyssey 17.347) (201a-b)
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