Thoughts on Meno

 

          Meno is another hard-hitting heavyweight of a dialogue like the last one I commented on, Protagoras. This is up there with the greats, but not quite as good as the last one. This is mainly due to the fact that the doctrine of anamnesis it touts is one I cannot accept, delightfully fanciful though it may be. Here we have an extended reflection on virtue where Socrates more clearly sets forth his position on the subject. What exactly virtue is and whether or not it can be taught are the main ideas in this dialogue and are focused on in a more laser like fashion than in Protagoras. There are also some surprisingly good epiphanies experienced along the way like when Meno realizes that we all desire good, none desires evil and when Socrates gives excellent pedagogical device. I’m fairly certain Meno would make the cut in my top ten dialogues and if not, it would be fairly close.

            The dialogue doesn’t meander at all – it launches off straight to the point. Meno asks Socrates how exactly people grow in virtue. Socrates hasn’t the faintest iota of an idea since he not only couldn’t begin to answer that question, but he also couldn’t even begin to answer what virtue is, and he has never met anyone who could tell him (70c). Imagine if I asked you if Diomedes was rich? How could you answer unless you knew who Diomedes was? That’s why Socrates says Meno is going too many steps ahead. First, they must define virtue and once they know what it is, they can then examine how it is acquired. Meno’s initial foray into defining virtue is a disaster – he just gives a bunch of examples of virtue. Socrates patiently explains to him that a definition requires that they find the essential nature, common character, or essence that is at the core of anything that can be labelled with the term. For example, if I asked you to define the word car and you told me a car is a Ford, a Chevy, a Volkswagen, etc. you would be making the error that Meno made. A proper definition of the word car would be general and would have the common character of all cars. Here is the dictionary definition of the word car: “a four-wheeled road vehicle that is powered by an engine and is able to carry a small number of people.” This is what Socrates is looking for. I’d also like to add that it’s strange that people think Plato’s talk of Forms is illogical, mystical, or just plain weird. The basic premise behind Platonic Forms comes from commonsense. To define something, we must know what is general or common about all the particular instances of a thing – we must know its essential nature – something most people don’t believe in anymore, even though they still use dictionaries.

            The second definition Meno gives is that virtue is the capacity to govern and instruct men. Socrates quickly notes that this is only one among the many virtues and so it’s clear he still doesn’t get what Socrates means by general definition – he means what they all have in common that is the same in all virtues. He chides him for making many out of one like someone who thinks he makes many plates by breaking one into pieces (77a). In addition to this he gives him advice on how to carry himself in debates. Socrates urges him to be mild-mannered and amenable to friendly people, and to try to find common ground with them in a debate, but if they are just looking to argue for arguing’s sake, then he should be very short with them and demand they refute them instead of going out of his way to solve their riddles. This may seem harsh, but from experience, there is no other way to deal with these people. If you act like they are acting in good faith when they are not, they will chew you up and spit you out. I’d still talk to them as long as I saw hope of changing it, though it would cause me to be shorter as Socrates says. Eventually I’d follow the advice of the Lord and not cast my pearls before swine, life is too short (Mt 7:6).

            The third definition he gives is better and shows he is starting to get the hang of the exercise. He defines virtue as the desire for good things and the ability to acquire them. Socrates likes this definition, but he sees a few problems. The first problem is that Socrates thinks that everybody desires good things and I agree. At first, Meno holds onto the idea that some people desire evil things, but Socrates convinces him that this makes no sense. Let’s think about this a while. You too probably think there are people who desire evil things, but you would be wrong if you meant it in the sense that they desire evil things KNOWING that they are evil. Evil is only desired because it is mistaken for good. Think of the drug addict who desires something he knows everyone else thinks is evil. The drug addict would never do it if there was nothing good about it whatsoever. The drug is pleasurable, and pleasure is a GOOD feeling, so he is desiring something good, not something evil. Think of the person contemplating suicide or who hurts themselves either physically, emotionally, or both. They too are doing what they think is good in that situation. Life can get so hard and hurt so much, we feel it is BETTER (which is the proper way of saying good-er) than the alternative. We always seek what is best, we just often make mistakes. This is closely following the coattails of what went on in Protagoras.

There Socrates takes a hedonist line – all pleasure is good, and all pain is evil. The problem that plagues the world is, essentially, that people make calculation errors. The pleasure you will get from studying hard for 4 years in college and not doing drugs and partying it up, etc. will far outweigh the pain you will undergo to get there and will be far more pleasurable than the pleasure accrued from doing drugs during those 4 years instead. The person who chooses the harder, longer road is actually choosing more pleasure and less pain than the drug addict – in the long run, his road proves to be longer and harder by far. Another typical example is the difference between a lifelong bachelor and a man who decides to stay faithfully married to one woman and have kids. It seems like the bachelor has more fun, but in the long run the married man gets more pleasure and less pain than the bachelor – although by the time the bachelor finds out, it might be too late. The difference between the two is one is able to SEE FURTHER and calculate relative pleasure and pain better than the other one. I think this line of thought conclusively proves that everyone wants good things, and nobody wants bad things, just some are better at judging and calculating which things bring more pleasure than others. The crucial skill is DELAYED gratification, as the Stanford marshmallow experiments prove. What do you think?

After establishing that we all desire good things (whether mistakenly or inappropriately or not), it seems virtue must boil down to the power to acquire the good things we all seek (78b). Socrates wryly notes that we must acquire these good things in a virtuous manner; otherwise, we couldn’t be virtuous. This, however, makes nonsense of the definition. If you are trying to define the word virtue, the word virtue can’t be in the definition. Using the car example above, it would be like defining the word car by referencing the word car in the definition. At this point Meno is in despair at ever finding a definition and so, like a frustrated dog, turns on Socrates – charging him with bewitching him into a state of numbing perplexity and stupidity. He says Socrates is so good at confusing people that he would probably be arrested as a wizard if he ever left Athens (80a). The discussion of the definition of virtue is tabled and a new subject is broached.

Socrates brings up his doctrine that all learning is recollection (anamnesis). Socrates, as many others at the time, believed in reincarnation (81c). He believed that although the body may change, the soul is the immortal and stable part of us that stays the same for eternity. As such, he believed the soul, before it entered the body in this world beheld and knew all things in the other world. Once it came here, it forgot everything. The process we call learning is not really learning, it’s just remembering what we knew before we were born but forgot in the passage to this world. Since he didn’t believe you ever really learned anything in the conventional sense, he also didn’t really believe anyone taught anything either – teachers are people who just help you remember better. Socrates has Meno bring one of his slaves over who has never been exposed to geometry so he can prove his theory. He shows him a series of geometrical figures and begins questioning him. At first, the slave is very confident and answers boldly even though he is wrong. This shows the first stage of learning and the one most people never leave – this is the state of “double ignorance.” Being so dumb you don’t even know you are dumb and so you are therefore highly confident that you are not stupid, although anyone with any knowledge knows you are ignorant.

Socrates helps people get beyond this infantile stage by asking them very difficult questions they don’t have the answers to, and this usually pisses them off a great deal. Socrates shows that this second state of feeling numb and perplexed by aporia is very beneficial, although uncomfortable. It is a bridge on the way to the land of knowledge. When you hit aporia, you may be extremely frustrated that you can’t figure the answer out, but at least you know enough now to know that you don’t know, which is better than before. Also, being in an uncomfortable position gives you a lot of motivation to get out of it – it’s strong pressure to find the answer (84b). This is how Meno felt a little while back when he was calling Socrates a wizard in anger. His problem was taking his frustration at not being able to solve a problem and directing it to Socrates. What he should have done was set himself to the task of finding the definition instead of getting mad at the person asking the questions. Don’t shoot the messenger.

At any rate, the slave ends up being able to correctly answer Socrates questions. Socrates never gave him any instructions or explanations; all he did was ask questions and the slave ended up learning. The only explanation that Socrates can come up for this is that he must have learned it before he was born and just remembered it. This implies the soul is immortal. Socrates isn’t sure if he is correct about all the details of this doctrine, and indeed I think he is wrong here, but I do agree with what he says next.

“One thing I am ready to fight for as long as I can, in word and act – that is, that we shall be better, braver, and more active men if we believe it right to look for what we don’t know than if we believe there is no point in looking because what we don’t know we can never discover” (86b).

I know people like to invoke the mystery card a lot, but I think they should be more hesitant. That sounds like laziness to me, and what’s more, I think it does the opposite of what they are trying to do when playing that card. Saying that God works mysteriously is supposed to suffuse our being with wonder at the immaculate and impressive way God aligns all things in his gorgeous creation. Diligently and inexorably searching for the answers to how he does that sparks more wonder than someone who stops the conversation with, “Who cares, it’s a mystery.” I think it becomes us more to search and look and explore – I think God delights in this. Socrates ends this rumination on learning by giving some advice on how to “remember” better. He says that newly gained knowledge is always inchoate, like images in a dream, it takes time for it to form and solidify in our minds. The best thing we can do to help this solidification process is to use repetition and to look at the same thing from every possible angle—leave no stone unturned. He also remarks that knowledge comes more from questions than from answers (85d). Sage advice.

            They move onto the question of whether or not virtue can be taught. Socrates correctly points out that for something to be teachable, it must be some sort of knowledge. This leads to the fourth definition of virtue: it is a kind of wisdom (88d). One argument in favor of this is that wisdom is the thing that guides all things to the good and virtue also seems to do this. For example, being confident is only good if it is wise to be confident in that specific situation – even learning and discipline are only good if guided by wisdom. Getting a B.A. in 13^th Century Bavarian poetry may not be wise if you aren’t independently wealthy and serial killers can be quite disciplined people. The main argument against this is the same one Socrates brings up in Protagoras, that virtue doesn’t seem like the type of thing that can be taught. Reason being that he has never met anyone who successfully taught or learned it. I think I must disagree with Socrates here. I think Protagoras had some powerful arguments that even seemed to convince Socrates in that dialogue, and I know first-hand people that have grown in virtue. Anyways, Socrates ends up saying that the reason virtue can’t be taught is because it is a divine gift, but this would also mean it isn’t a type of knowledge. I am attracted to the idea that virtue can only be given as a gift directly from God – that seems to ring of truth to me.

If it isn’t knowledge, then what could it be? Socrates makes the distinction between true opinion and knowledge. Though they are equally useful, knowledge is much more certain, in fact, it is infallible.  True opinion has no anchor, no foundation, it is built upon sand and so the slightest rain will bring it crashing down.

“True opinions are a fine thing and do all sorts of good so long as they stay in their place, but they will not stay long. They run away from a man’s mind; so, they are not worth much until you tether them by working out the reason…. Once they are tied down, they become knowledge, and are stable. That is why knowledge is something more valuable than right opinion. What distinguishes one from the other is the tether” (98a)

The final definition of virtue then is that it is divinely inspired and a true opinion, though not knowledge. This entails that the recipients of the gift have no knowledge of their virtue. I think this is quite a good definition, since the saints all unanimously seem to exhibit this – they don’t think they are saints. I do have a lingering misgiving, since I do think virtue must be some type of knowledge, especially since knowledge seems to be higher than opinion. Just like Meno was, I’m frustrated and unsure, because I don’t know the answer to the question – but at least I now am smart enough to know and admit that I am ignorant. Hopefully one day all my questions will be answered. I will do as Socrates asked and continue seek the answers until my dying days and hopefully I will be “better, braver, and more active” for it.