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Fiasco Press www.fiascopress.org Journal of Swarm Scholarship

Plato’s Dialogical Structure and Socrates as the Physician of

the Soul

Jafar Al-Mondhiry

I. INTRODUCTION

Health, broadly considered, provides one with the vigor to pursue life. Our precarious hold on

health is one of the central human struggles, and in many important ways the pursuit and

maintenance of health is an indispensable condition for human flourishing. One view of Plato’s

dialogues takes philosophy to be the care of the soul; that philosophy has as its goal the

sustenance and guidance of the soul to a state of virtue and moral health. Through this lens,

philosophical activity can be identified as the turning of souls toward the Good in a way that is

gradual, cooperative, and particular to the individual engaged. Through dialogical interaction

with a philosopher and philosophy in general, the soul can be examined, critiqued, and advanced

by a transformative relationship to the Good. Similarly, medicine and healthcare professionals

treat patients and steward the sick through a unique process of recovery that rehabilitates and

reorients the body back towards a state of health.

It is the task of this paper to explore the similarities between the methods, attitudes, and

goals at work in medicine and this kind philosophical care of the soul as it is variously

demonstrated in the Platonic dialogues. Specific attention to the ways medicine and the task of

the physician are referenced within the wider action of the dialogues will serve to explain what

significance, if any, this comparison has for Plato’s portrayal of the philosophical life, the way it


is taught and shared, and to what end. This paper takes as a guiding principle the sentiments

expressed widely across the dialogues, but perhaps most succinctly by Socrates in Alcibiades 2,

that “the state or soul that is to live aright must hold fast to this knowledge [of the Good], exactly

as a sick man does to a doctor.”

Exploring the implications of this model first demands an interrogation of the form of the

dialogues themselves, with an attempt at understanding why Plato chose to illustrate philosophy

in this way. It is my contention that an analogous understanding of the health of the body and the

health of the soul – philosophy characterized by a concern for the latter – lends itself to a

sensitive understanding of the structure and movement of the dialogues and, more importantly,

the characters within them. In particular, an overarching concern with philosophical health and

healing may better frame the way Socrates engages his interlocutors in a process of probing

criticism and exhortation. To this extent, I will try to show that what Plato depicts are scenes of

moral diagnosis and treatment in dialogues such as the Gorgias and the Protagoras, amongst

others. The care of the soul in these encounters requires a personal relationship between the

philosopher and the interlocutor that models itself after the physician-patient relationship, as the

insights of the former work to redirect and rectify the maladies of the latter. Success in this

engagement is variably determined by the dimensions of just such a relationship. Finally, the

unique and complex features of moral and physical health, in their related but distinct

understandings, will allow the limits and value of this analogy to take shape.

At base, what this paper means to address is the bare fact that Plato did not simply

espouse his beliefs as a direct and consistent set of propositions, either in his own voice or by

way of Socrates. Instead, the bulk of what we are given are dramatic dialogues: scenes of


conversation and engagement, movement and change between characters, topics, values and

beliefs. What we need to interrogate, then, is the manifest and latent content of these encounters,

and what kinds of patterns and themes emerge. Taken this way, we would already be justified in

questioning the persistent references to medicine that occur and recur in almost every dialogue.

A major Plato scholar of the early 20th Century, Werner Jaeger, was one of the first to describe

the significance of such references in a way that frames and introduces this discussion:

Plato speaks of doctors and medicine in such high terms that, even if the early medical literature of Greece were entirely lost, we should need no further evidence to infer that, during the last fifth and the fourth centuries before Christ, the social and intellectual prestige of the Greek medical profession was very high indeed. Plato thinks of the doctor as the representative of a highly specialized and refined department of knowledge; and also the embodiment of a professional code which is rigorous enough to be a perfect model of the proper relation between knowledge and its purpose in practical conduct… It is no exaggeration to say that Socrates’ doctrine of ethical knowledge, on which so many of the arguments in Plato’s dialogues turn, would be unthinkable without that model of medical science, to which he so often refers. Of all the branches of human knowledge then existing (including mathematics and natural science) medicine is the most closely akin to the ethical science of Socrates.

It remains an open question whether Plato actually develops just such a coherent and

rigorous doctrine of “ethical science” through the dialogues. Indeed, any reading which distills

and systematizes what the dialogues show cannot unequivocally be said to represent Plato’s view

or the intentions of the dialogues as a whole. Such attempts necessarily move past the very

content dialogues, and fail to address the work on its terms or the author’s. What little writing

we do have from Plato directly through the Letters does not prima facie eliminate the esoteric

quality of these works or explain any ethical system or philosophical doctrines that underlie the

writing. Certain attention to key passages written in the Seventh Letter, however, I believe

shows that the dialogues were animated by a particular conception of the philosophy that may


illuminate both their structure and guiding concern.

II. DIALOGICAL STRUCTURE, THE SEVENTH LETTER AND CARE OF THE SOUL

The ‘Proto-Essay’ View

To reiterate the question posed above, it seems we are forced to ask (as a preliminary to

any conscientious reading of Plato) why he chose to write in dialogues rather than simply

announce his views in some other form. While debate, discussion and puzzlement remains and

will remain in the scholarship, it is worth noting some prominent conceptions that bear upon this

topic. In a close reading of some of the late dialogues where the significance of the dialogical

form is less apparent, Kenneth Sayre summarizes what he calls the popularized ‘proto-essay’

view of Plato’s writings. This understanding of the dialogues (which he opposes to his own),

takes Plato’s guiding intention in writing to be the construction of rigorously tested philosophical

arguments, supported by explanations of effective methods for procuring philosophical

conclusions. From this perspective, the dialogical form was not itself significant for the

transmission of the philosophical ideas articulated. Instead, the dialogues operated as a literary

device for the convenience of its Greek audience accustomed to such dramatic forms. Or

perhaps they were simply an imaginative failing on Plato’s part to reformulate transcriptions of

the dialogues with his late teacher, the later dialogues like the Timaeus and Critias showing a

progression to a more overtly essay-type form. The final conclusion following these

assumptions of the ‘proto-essay’ view is then that the philosophical ideas prominent within the

dialogues represent Plato’s own beliefs, from which we can construct his philosophical system.


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Aside from the unavoidable problems of speculation in understanding the text this way,

there are several concrete elements in the dialogues which point to problems with the ‘proto-

essay’ view. First, if Plato meant to espouse a set of stable philosophical assertions, we are left to

wonder why so many of the dialogues end in apparent aporia, or at least without a clean

conclusion. In the Protagoras, for example, we are given an elaborate exchange between

Socrates and the famous sophist of the dialogue’s namesake that ends with each speaker coming

to contradict their earlier positions, Socrates himself calling the affair a “hopeless mess” (361c)

and calling for more discussion before any true understanding can be reached. Likewise,

examples from both the early dialogues (e.g., in the Laches where a definition of courage is

pursued) and the late dialogues (e.g., the Theaetetus and the definition of knowledge) show

Socrates questioning his interlocutors through a series of definitions that are proposed and

corrected many times over without a satisfactory conclusion.

Second, and on a related note, Socrates seems to say different things in different

dialogues about the same philosophical issues. To use the Protagoras again, much of Socrates’

late exchange with Protagoras involves a working definition of the Good that Socrates explicitly

equates with the pleasurable.In the Gorgias (a dialogue written chronologically close to the

Protagoras), however, Socrates takes a strong issue with this same definition when it comes out

in his arguments with Polus and Callicles. The nuances and motivations between these

definitions set aside, more explicit examples abound between other dialogues. In the Republic,

for instance, Socrates claims that the soul is tripartite, while in the Phaedo he claims it has no

parts, but that the soul is simple and whole. The difficulties in constructing a clear view of

Plato’s opinions on these cannot easily be dismissed, and at the very least confounds the position

that he used the dialogues as a vehicle for simply asserting his philosophical ideas as the ‘proto-


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essay’ view states.The Seventh Letter

If the dialogues do not give themselves over to a clear and coherent philosophical system

as some might suggest, some clarification of Plato’s intentions might be found in the only works

that bear his voice directly. In particular, the Seventh Letter provides a commentary that reaches

over the whole of Plato’s writings in a way that radically influences our reading of them: “One

statement at any rate I can make in regard to all who have written or who may write with a claim

to knowledge of the subjects to which I devote myself—no matter how they pretend to have

acquired it… Such writers can in my opinion have no real acquaintance with the subject. I

certainly have composed no work in regard to it, nor shall I ever do so in future, for there is no

way of putting it in words like other studies.”

While some writers contest whether Plato genuinely authored this work, Kenneth Sayre

(amongst others) defends the legitimacy of this writing on the grounds that even a forgery shows

great familiarity with and fidelity to Plato’s style and works that show, in his words, “whatever

motives might have underlain forgery would have ruled out disclosure in the form of gross

misrepresentation.” At the very least, one cannot escape the fact that a very similar sentiment is

expressed in the Phaedrus in Socrates’ recounting of the Egyptian myth of King Theuth: “He

would be a very simple person… who should suppose that he had left his 'Art' in writings or who

should accept such an inheritance in the hope that the written word would give anything

intelligible or certain; or who deemed that writing could be any more than a reminder to one

who already knows the subject.”


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This seems to be a rather jarring statement to receive from such a prodigious author. The

rejection expressed in the Seventh Letter would perhaps not be so radical if it were simply a call

against writing, but instead it calls into question any linguistic formulation of philosophy, Plato

stating that “no intelligent person will ever risk putting what he really understands into

language.” Names, descriptions, mathematical formulations, scientific knowledge (episteme),

and all discursive practices are thus all deemed insufficient for the genuine grasp of philosophy,

which further undercuts the notion that Plato had something simple or direct to articulate through

the dialogues. Rather, only a deeper sense of understanding approximates the sense of true being

that is not caught up in linguistic concepts or sense experience. Plato provides a provocative

explanation of the experience further in the letter: “Acquaintance with it [philosophy] must come

rather after frequent conversations with a master about the subject itself and living with it, when,

suddenly, like a blaze kindled by a leaping spark, it is generated in the soul and at once becomes

self-sustaining.”

Several important ideas contained in this passage guide the rest of this project. The first

is that philosophy is not an abstract set of principles or propositions to be discovered and

subordinated to, but a feeling “generated in the soul” of the individual akin to a mental state or

vision—a profound inner change within the soul of the young philosopher. Sayre expresses this

change in a way that suggests a reorientation of the way philosophy is shared: “Given the view

that philosophic understanding is a kind of intellectual discernment that cannot be adequately

expressed in language, the goal of philosophic instruction would be to bring about this state of

mind in the student.” This relates to the second point: that this state of the mind and soul doesn’t

come about on its own, but that only through “frequent conversations with a master” is it able to

generate the spark that brings it to illumination. Thus, philosophy is not to be constructed


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immutably and silently, but brought into the world through the awakening of souls who

participate in a community of dialogue. The relationship between the philosophical master and

student defines how the soul can be brought up to this place of philosophical vigor.

Finally, because philosophy is not a coherent and universal system that one can simply

dispassionately enter into, this state of the soul needs to be cultivated through a rigorous

immersion in philosophical subjects, a “living with it” that demands a constant process of

reconstruction and correction in order to be “self-sustaining.” Plato likens the austerity of such a

process to a change in the whole order of one’s life: “As for those, however, who are not

genuine converts to philosophy…as soon as they see how many subjects there are to study, how

much hard work they involve, and how indispensable it is for the project to adopt a well-ordered

scheme of living [diata], they decide that the plan is difficult if not impossible for them, and so

they really do not prove capable of practicing philosophy.” The philosophical life is one which

demands an intellectual regimen in order to be sustained, and the dialogues themselves might be

read as just such an exercise of the mind for both the interlocutors and the reader.The Health of the Soul

An integration of these insights seems to point to a particular conception of the dialogues

as a whole; namely, that they show a concern for the health of the soul. I liken the experience

described in the Seventh Letter to be something akin to the theory of recollection proposed in the

Meno, in that it represents the potential within every soul to recover a higher state of functioning

defined by its natural propensities. This sentiment is articulated well in this dialogue when

Socrates claims that “virtue, like health, has the same ideal for men, women, children and the

elderly, and the best state of the soul is analogous to the best state of the body”; i.e., there is a


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general norm for the state of the soul which we can appeal to in the pursuit of the virtuous life.

Moreover, the health of the soul is something which, like the health of body, is advanced or

restored by the knowledge and expertise of a healer, who is able through a sustained relationship

to affect and reorient the soul of student/patient towards the Good. The dramatic figure of

Socrates, as he is cast across many of the dialogues in his interactions with different

interlocutors, would thus be what he refers to in the opening strokes of the Protagoras as “a

physician of the soul,” understanding what kinds of words and logos can affect the soul’s health.

Finally, I take note of the “well-ordered living scheme” recommended in the previous

passage as a nod to the idea that cultivating one’s philosophical health is a matter of creating

healthy life habits—the Greek term diata more often referring to a physical as opposed to an

intellectual regimen, usually in a medical context. Philosophy, in its emancipation from strict

propositions and writing, would be concerned with the ideas and words which stir and invigorate

the soul’s health. An excellent description of this appears in the Phaedrus, where Socrates and

Phaedrus call for the “intelligent word graven in the soul of the learner, which can defend itself,

and knows with whom to speak and with whom to be silent… the living word of knowledge

which has a soul, and of which the written word is properly no more than an image.” To be

engaged with philosophy as Socrates engages his interlocutors is thus an organic, dynamic affair

of the soul that responds differently in different situations and is not limited by the propositions

and ideas it produces in this engagement. Similarly, the dramatic Socrates (and we might also

rightfully include the Plato which stands behind him) does not rest content with the conclusions

produced by his conversations, but always exhorts his listeners to continue the pursuit beyond

the fragile instability of the theses continually produced and discarded.


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If the previous arguments have sufficed to give a nuanced view of the dialogues, such

that their overall concern (as dictated primarily by the Seventh Letter) seems to rest on this

conception of philosophy as a care and cultivation of the health of the soul, it remains to be seen

what implications the metaphor to medicine has in this context. While it is readily obvious that a

vocabulary of health and healing brings up medical imagery, a deeper exploration of what this

parallel understanding offers will better illustrate some key concepts and bring attention to the

prominence of this analogy in the dialogues.

III. THE MEDICAL ANALOGY OF THE DIALOGUES

The Philosopher-Interlocutor/Physician-Patient Relationship

A substantive correlation between Socrates’ activities in the dialogues and the task of the

physician suggests that Socrates himself is subject to or embodies some form of “medical

ethics,” in the most basic sense that he takes as his guiding principle the care of his interlocutor

as the physician takes care of the ill. Acting on this principle entails a fundamental sense of trust

that Plato himself seems to recognize both for the physician and for himself:

One who advises a sick man, living in a way to injure his health, must first effect a reform in his way of living, must he not? And if the patient consents to such a reform, then he may admonish him on other points? If, however, the patient refuses, in my opinion it would be the act of a real man and a good physician to keep clear of advising such a man… This being my firm conviction, whenever anyone asks my advice about any of the most important concerns of his life, such as the acquisition of wealth, or the proper regime for body or soul, then, in case I think that his daily life is fairly well regulated, or that when I give him advice on the matter about which he consults me, he will consent to follow it, under these circumstances I do counsel him with all my heart and do not stop at a mere formal compliance.


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It is the first priority of a physician to know how to engage to the sick individual so as to

understand in what capacity help can be afforded. Just as the ill cannot be moved to take

prescriptions unless they feel to be in trust with the doctor, so also the interlocutor cannot be

successfully engaged unless there is an opening of souls between the interlocutor and the

philosopher. A line from Socrates in the Charmides captures this understanding in both contexts:

“And therefore if the head and body are to be well, you must begin by curing the soul—that is

the first and essential thing. And the cure of the soul, my dear youth, has to be effected by the use

of certain charms, and these charms are fair words.” Thus, the philosopher’s task (and the

physician’s, for that matter) demands the use of words and, I venture further, the open process of

dialogue in order to engage the soul of the interlocutor.

Here, again, Plato makes ample use of the physician as the appropriate model for just

such an engagement. Significantly, certain passages in the Laws create a vision of the medical

practice which goes far beyond what Jaeger described as Plato’s reverence for the physician as

“the representative of a highly specialized and refined department of knowledge”. For Plato,

medicine entails a certain kind of relationship that indicates both the physician and the patient in

a process of healing that promises to be transformative for both parties. Plato demonstrates this

in his distinction between slave doctor and the free practitioner in Book IV of Laws:

A physician of this [slave] kind never gives a servant any account of his complaint, nor asks him for any; he gives him some empirical injunction with an air of finished knowledge, in the brusque fashion of a dictator… The free practitioner, who, for the most part, attends free men, treats their diseases by going into things thoroughly from the beginning… and takes the patient and his family into his confidence. Thus he learns something from the sufferers, and at the same time instructs the invalid to the best of his powers. He does not give his prescriptions until he has won the patient’s support, and when he has done so, he steadily aims at producing complete restoration to healthy by persuading the sufferer into compliance.


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The contrast highlighted here also bears upon the previous distinction made between a

philosophy which produces a profound inner change in the soul of the interlocutor and a

philosophy that establishes immutable principles that one must comport to, in the same sense as

the slave doctor who makes prescriptions in the “brusque fashion of a dictator”. To inspire true

virtue and a sense of the philosophical life, the philosopher must establish a rapport with his

listener such that his words enter into the soul and inspire changes to the interlocutor’s life. It is

only by establishing that “living word” spoken of in the Phaedrus that the philosopher can

promote the sense of the philosophical which is “self-sustaining” and compelling for the

individual. Socrates must convince his listeners to adopt the “well-ordered scheme of living”

that genuine philosophical rigor demands, in the same capacity the physician exhorts his patient

into a similar diata or physical regimen.

Moreover, Socrates encourages his interlocutors “to the best of his powers.” If we take

this to mean the best of the interlocutor’s or patient’s powers, then we get a picture of the very

individualized treatment process that Socrates mobilizes differently in different settings with

different listeners. We are not consigned to think that Socrates contradicts himself across the

dialogues or that one view of the soul or the virtues is the dominant position for him or Plato.

Rather, we can see each occasion for philosophical healing as a moment that allows him to “learn

something from the sufferer” and adapt his methods. Even while he didn’t write much on the

topic himself, Charles Griswold recognized this theme as well, describing the many dialogues as

“medicinal” to the extent that “they vary the treatment with the patient,” and, more

provocatively, that “[t]he medicine is conservatively applied by Plato; philosophy [being] not

beneficial for each and every person.”


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While Griswold mentions these words only in passing, I think they develop an important

point of caution for the medical model of philosophical care. The proper exercise of medicine

means that it is employed in the care of the sick, and the entire nature of physician-patient /

philosopher-interlocutor relationship depends on the dimensions of the illness itself. As Socrates

points out in the Lysias: “a body which is in health has no need whatever of the medical art or of

any assistance, for it is sufficient in itself. And therefore no one in health is friendly with a

physician on account of his health… But the sick man is, I imagine, on account of his sickness.”

More importantly, Socrates goes on to point out that “it is for the sake of health that the medical

art has received the friendship.” Likewise, I take it as a motivating value in the dialogues that

Socrates receives the company of his interlocutors and attends to the health of their soul for the

sake of the Good. Thus, the entire concept of a “philosophical friendship” – based on the care of

another’s soul – relies on this orientation towards the Good in the way medicine is oriented

towards health. Socrates continues: “All such value as this is set not on those things which are

procured for the sake of another thing, but on that for the sake of which all such things are

procured.”

This theme is developed in greater detail in the Gorgias, where Socrates’ discussion of

the differences between real and apparent goods takes shape. He does this by way of comparison

between medicine and pastry-baking on the one hand, and justice and rhetoric on the other, the

former which “always take care—some of the body, the others of the soul—in accord with what

is best,” while the latter only “guesses at the pleasant without the best.” Simply giving an

account of the thing which the physician or the philosopher works toward with the encountered

individual (health and the Good, respectively) is insufficient. Their task must be actively


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transformed by this correspondence or accord between practices and values. On a level which

speaks closer to the nature of the relationship between the physician and the patient, Book I of

the Republic also sheds some light on the selflessness inherent to the healing event, that “no

physician, insofar as he is a physician, considers his own good in what he prescribes, but the

good of the patient,.” In his task, the healer’s concern is not the study or advancement of medical

knowledge or philosophy as such (although this may come in fact as a consequence), but always

“to the subject which he has undertaken to direct; to that he looks, and in everything which he

says and does.” Socrates uses this example in the Republic to construct a view of the ideal

relationship between the rulers and the polis, and despite the troubling paternalistic and eugenic

overtones that come out later, I think these passages prefigure in an important way the values and

attitudes employed in contemporary biomedical ethics.

The exact dimensions of this philosophical or medical “friendship,” however, are not

defined in reference to some abstract ethical principles but with close attention to the illness or

malady at hand. Another analogy to medicine from Socrates in the Laches illustrates this idea:

“When a person considers about applying a medicine to the eyes, would you say that he is

consulting about the medicine or about the eyes? … And in a word, when he considers anything

for the sake of another thing, he thinks of the end and not of the means?” We should be cautious

here not to simply delimit philosophy to a pursuit of instrumental value in caring for the soul.

The point taken is that the methods of philosophy in and of themselves do not constitute some

independent, wholly abstract value, but more so with regard to how they inspire the

philosophical life. The modern diagnostic imaging techniques of our times (X-Ray, MRI, CT

scans) all certainly take on their own value in the way they have revolutionized and advanced

knowledge in many disciplines, but their force would not have been nearly as dramatic if it were


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not for the health of the lives they have improved and the initial call for aid which motivated

their discovery.

By this, I only mean to put emphasis on the fact that it is the personal relationship

between the physician of the soul and the interlocutor with reference to some characterological

or moral malady that determines the tools used in any particular engagement. Although we

might be able to construct a kind of generalized “medicine for the soul” that Socrates develops

with his different methods for engaging his listeners, it is for their particular care that these

methods take shape at all. And this understanding of how to care for the individual comes about

through an understanding of the Good or health that can dictate the specifics of the case.

Socrates develops this idea in the Phaedrus when he states that the simple techniques of

medicine (knowing how to induce warmth, make a patient vomit, use a particular drug) do not

suffice to make one a physician. It is the ability to understand who to apply such a treatment to,

why one should do it (through an account of what the treatment affects in the body), and, as

Ludwig Edelstein suggests, “when the right moment (kairos) has come to act.” This concept of

knowing when the right kairos to intervene or desist with his interlocutors is an especially

important element of the dramatic form as it is displayed in the dialogues, and some suggest it

plays a particularly significant role in the movements of the Protagoras, a play bookended by

references to the hora or fitting time. The general point is that the physician’s task, as well as the

philosopher’s in the dialogue, is to have an understanding of the other’s soul such that the

appropriate and timely intervention may be made. Access to the soul of the interlocutor, which

defines in no small part the quality of the relationship able to be built, depends on the open

process of dialogue previously mentioned, as well as the techniques that Plato has Socrates

employ to generate such a healing dialogue. An exploration of the way this engagement models


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itself on the techniques employed in the physician-patient interaction will further illustrate the

force of this medical analogy.

The Questioning of the Patient/Interlocutor’s Soul

As any physician would readily admit, the patient interview is one of the most

fundamental and indispensable tools for diagnosis, and the ancient Hippocratic writings

contemporary to Plato reflected this. For them, the way the sick received the questions and

prescriptions from the physician was another crucial dimension in sealing a trust between the two

that would result in the patient’s confidence and compliance: “But it is particularly necessary, in

my opinion, for one who discusses this [medicine] to discuss things familiar to ordinary folk…

But if you miss being understood by laymen, and fail to put your hearer in this condition, you

will miss reality.” For the physician of laymen, or for the philosopher with any interlocutor

under her care, adapting the right form of speech allows for words to inspire the “condition”

necessary for self-healing and personal growth. This implies that the patient/interlocutor receive

her words in such a way that they can genuinely respond and be indicated as a full participant in

the process.

For the care of the soul, this task takes added importance. Because the soul does not have

the many brute, physical, macroscopic parts that the body has for simple examination, in order to

care for the soul of his interlocutor, Socrates must get them to open and bear it for scrutiny and

treatment. Mark Moes provides a helpful explanation of Socrates’ ability to identify the

sicknesses within his interlocutor’s soul through his engagement with them:

An important theoretical presupposition of the practice of philosophy as Plato


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understands it seems to be that it is possible to diagnose ways in which a person’s soul has departed from the norm of health by attending to that person’s beliefs and desires… In many of the dialogues, Socrates tests his interlocutors’ responses to questions, suggestions, speeches, myths, and the like, in a way similar to the way physicians test their patients’ responses to various pokes, prods, and other diagnostic tests.

An important conclusion to note from this understanding of Socrates’ “diagnostic” efforts is that

they can only be effective when his interlocutors share their true beliefs and attitudes, and thus

their true soul. Socrates’ commitment to getting at the true soul of his interlocutor is

demonstrated perhaps most dramatically in the Protagoras when he insists that the sophist drop

his elusive character and confront their conversation forthrightly and respond in a way that

would make him accountable for his words: “I’ve got no interest in investigating in this ‘if you

like’ and ‘if that’s what you want’ kind of way; it’s the real you and me I want to test.” The way

Socrates indicates both Protagoras and himself reveals his own vulnerability and accountability

as much as the sophist’s, and reiterates the previous passage from the Laws that points out the

potential for transformation by both physician and interlocutor.

Many parts of this dialogue, in fact, are motivated by this concern for understanding the

“real” Protagoras. The very first lines exchanged between Socrates and the famous sophist make

it clear: “it is you we have come to see.” Later, as their discussion progresses and Socrates makes

several pleas for brevity, the breakdown of the dialogue shows a breakdown in Protagoras’ ability

to answer in his own voice rather than in speeches. Protagoras understood the conversation as a

performance of words, and not as an opportunity for he and Socrates to meet and examine each

other’s souls: “I saw that he was dissatisfied with his own performance in the answers he had

given, and would not of his own free will continue in the role of answerer, and it seemed to me

that it was not my business to remain any longer in the discussions.” Without Protagoras’


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willingness to submit his soul for open critique and understanding, Socrates has nothing to offer

him as a healer concerned for the health of his soul. Again, as the previous passages from the

Seventh Letter and the Laws have noted, it is the physician’s practical wisdom to know if she can

offer any genuine help to her patients, i.e., whether they will open their soul to the process of

healing.

This concern for the true soul of the interlocutor is likewise an animating element in the

Gorgias. Within the first few pages of the dialogue, Socrates mentions not only an interest what

Gorgias’ art is and what he teaches, but he tells Chaerephon to ask the obvious question: who is

he? This concern comes out again later in the dialogue in the heat of his discussion with Polus

about the difference between doing and suffering injustice. Socrates holds Polus to the their

discussion in the hope that it will test his true beliefs and thus his true character, in a way that

again reminds us of the medical backdrop that motivates Socrates’ care for the soul of his

interlocutor: “Submit nobly to the argument as you would to a doctor, and say either yes or no to

my question.”

It is also worth noting that prior to this passage there are many instances where Socrates

attempts to redirect his engagement with these different rhetoricians back towards a true

dialogue. At 448d-e, Socrates rebukes Polus for using rhetoric rather than answering the

question asked of him; at 451d-e, he claims Gorgias is being unclear and giving “debatable”

answers; and at 466a-b, he cuts Polus off from beginning a speech and asks him to stick to a

single question. Perhaps most significantly, the dialogue begins with Callicles’ expectation that

Socrates and Chaerephon had come to listen to Gorgias’ speech, but Socrates is quick to shift this

assumption in a way that seems to frame the whole dialogue: “What you say is good, Callicles.


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But then, would he [Gorgias] be willing to talk [dialegesthai] with us?”

The emphasis on true and excellent political dialogue becomes one of the defining

themes of this work, and Socrates’ interactions with the different interlocutors in this work

attempt to model the excellences of dialogue as a true meeting between open souls. His efforts

are thwarted (to a greater or lesser extent) in each encounter, and his ability to affect the souls of

each of the three interlocutors in their turn seems to be determined to a great extent by the quality

of the dialogue they share. Gorgias, the great rhetorician himself, ends up the most amicable of

the three, but the final encounter between Callicles and Socrates bears a caustic bitterness that

leaves the two at odds through the very end of the dialogue. The significant aspect of their

encounter is Socrates’ failure to build the open philosophical friendship that allows for the

possibility of change in either party. Despite Socrates’ claims to friendship early on in their

discussion, his inability to get Callicles to commit to a single, coherent view leads to a near-

breakdown in the dialogue in a way very similar to that in the Protagoras:

Oh! Oh! Callicles, how all-cunning you are… at one time claiming that things are this way, and at another time that the same things are otherwise, deceiving me! And yet I did not think at the beginning that I was to be deceived by you voluntarily, since you were my friend. But now I have been played false, and it looks like it’s necessary for me… to make do with what is present and to accept from you this that is given.

Without a clear view of what beliefs are truly at stake for Callicles, Socrates is helpless to create

an effective diagnosis or treatment for the deformities in his soul. Socrates’ enterprise rested on

the assumption of friendship and forthrightness between them, and when this was manifestly

destroyed by the harsh rebukes and irascible temperament Callicles demonstrated, the dialogue

stopped being a potentially healing, transformative relationship. As if to salvage the matter,


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Socrates turns his arguments towards the rest of his listeners who have variously shown promise

for improvement, while admitting his failure to Callicles directly: “Truly, Callicles, you

compelled me to engage in popular speaking, by not being willing to answer.” Although Callicles

is not given a chance to respond to the last speech Socrates offers, his final answer makes it clear

that he is unwilling to see beyond a politics of gratification. In this final question to Callicles,

however, Socrates implicitly proves his commitment to working for the sake of the Good.

Explicitly aligning his view with the medical metaphor argued in this paper, he aspires to be the

type of politician who would not simply gratify the polis, but “[fight] with the Athenians so that

they will be as good as possible, as a doctor would do.”

IV. CONCLUSION

In this paper, I have tried to stress the importance of Plato’s dialogical form, as well as

certain key passages in the Seventh Letter which point to a different conception of philosophy

than that provided by the ‘proto-essay’ view. Plato seems to conceive of philosophy in such a

way that it even defies the very form in which we carry his tradition, that is, in writing.

Philosophy is to be taken as a profound personal change affected by rigorous immersion in the

philosophical life and the guidance of a master. To the extent that it demands a “well-ordered

scheme of living,” it seems to point to a certain health of the soul and the many regimens and

restorative measures necessary for its maintenance. Given the esoteric quality and considerable

differences between the views espoused across the many dialogues, it was my contention that

Plato’s intentions in the dialogues be recast as a concern and care for the health of the soul.

Through this lens, the dramatic Socrates’ engagement with his interlocutors could be

modeled after the physician-patient relationship. Such a relationship demands a basic sense of


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trust and fidelity, an openness and vulnerability to be changed by the pressures of dialogue and

healing, and an orientation towards the Good which recognizes the individual in their concrete

situation and problems. I have used the Protagoras and the Gorgias to demonstrate the

difficulties and obstacles endemic to creating the model healing relationship advocated by the

medical metaphor. The breakdowns in these dialogues occur precisely because Socrates’

interlocutors close themselves off from the open process of dialogue that would allow him to

examine their soul and affect a treatment. In spite of this, Socrates’ commitment to the healing

task – to take in his interlocutors as a physician of the soul and struggle with them for their

welfare – still provides a novel and illuminating reading of the dialogues, and could serve as an

invigorating reorientation for other philosophical traditions.

Bibliography“On Ancient Medicine.” Hippocrates, Volume 1. Translated by W. Jones. Cambridge: Harvard

University Press, Loeb Classical Library, 1956.

Brumbaugh, Robert. “Digressions and Dialogue: The Seventh Letter and Plato’s Literary Form” Platonic Writings/Platonic Readings. Ed. Charles L. Griswold. New York: Routledge, 1988. Pg. 84-92. Print.

Edelstein, Ludwig. Ancient Medicine: Selected Papers of Ludwig Edelstein. Ed. O. Temkin Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1967. Pg. 109

Griswold, Charles. Self-Knowledge in Plato’s Phaedrus. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986. Pg 221

Jeager, Werner. Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture.Vol. III. Translated by G. Highet. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1967. Pg. 3

King, Lester S. “Plato’s Concepts of Medicine.”(Journal of the History of Medicine. January (1954): 38-48

Long, Christopher. Lecture on Plato’s Protagoras. The Pennsylvania State University, Fall 2009, PHIL553: Ancient Philosophy Seminar


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Moes, Mark. Plato’s Dialogue Form and the Care of the Soul. New York: Peter Lang Publishing. 2000

Plato. “Alcibiades 2.” Plato in Twelve Volumes. Vol. 8. Translated by W.R.M. Lamb. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1955.

-------. “Charmides.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by Benjamin Jowett. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition.

-------. “Laches.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by Benjamin Jowett. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition

-------. “Laws.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by A.E. Taylor. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition

-------. “Letter VII.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by L.A. Post. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition.

------. “Lysias.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by J. Wright. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition

-------. “Meno.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by W.K.C. Guthrie. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition

-------. “Phaedo.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by Hugh Tredennick. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition.

-------. “Phaedrus.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by R. Hackforth. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition.

-------. “Protagoras.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by W.K.C. Guthrie. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition


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-------. “Republic.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by Paul Shorey. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition.

-------. Gorgias. Translated by James H. Nichols Jr. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1998

-------. Protagoras and Meno. Translated by Adam Beresfprd. New York: Penguin Books, 2005. 331c; my emphasis

Sayre, Kenneth M. “A Maieutic View of Five Late Dialogues.” Methods of Interpreting Plato and His Dialogues. Ed. James Klagge and Nicholas Smith. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992. Pg. 221-243

Sayre, Kenneth M. "Plato's Writings in Light of the Seventh Letter." Platonic Writings/Platonic Readings. Ed. Charles L. Griswold. New York: Routledge, 1988. Pg. 93-109. Print.

Plato. “Alcibiades 2.” Plato in Twelve Volumes. Vol. 8. Translated by W.R.M. Lamb. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1955. 146e; my emphasis Jeager, Werner. Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture.Vol. III. Translated by G. Highet. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1967. Pg. 3 Sayre, Kenneth M. “A Maieutic View of Five Late Dialogues.” Methods of Interpreting Plato and His Dialogues. Ed. James Klagge and Nicholas Smith. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992. Pg. 221-243 Cf. Plato. “Protagoras.” Translated by W.K.C. Guthrie. 361c Cf. Ibid., 358b Cf. Plato. Gorgias. Translated by James H. Nichols Jr. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1998. 475a; 492a ff Cf. Plato. “Republic.” Translated by Paul Shorey. 435d-444a Cf. Plato. “Phaedo.” Translated by Hugh Tredennick. 78b-84b Plato. “Letter VII.” The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters. Translated by L.A. Post. Ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. New York: Pantheon Books. 1963. Electronic Edition. 341c-d; My emphasis Note: all citations from the dialogues not listing a volume or book should be assumed to come from this source. Cf. Brumbaugh, Robert. “Digressions and Dialogue: The Seventh Letter and Plato’s Literary Form” Platonic Writings/Platonic Readings. Ed. Charles L. Griswold. New York: Routledge, 1988. Pg. 84-92. Print. Sayre, Kenneth M. "Plato's Writings in Light of the Seventh Letter." Platonic Writings/Platonic Readings. Ed. Charles L. Griswold. New York: Routledge, 1988. Pg. 93-109. Print. Plato. “Phaedrus.” Translated by R. Hackforth. 275c-d; my emphasis Plato. “Letter VII.” Translated by L.A. Post. 343a Ibid.,341d Translated by L.A. Post with minor alterations to the italicized words by Mark Moes. [Moes translation found in Plato’s Dialogue Form and the Care of the Soul (New York: Peter Lang Publishing. 2000. Pg. 45-46), to which I am indebted for much of the inspiration for this paper. Sayre, Kenneth M. "Plato's Writings in Light of the Seventh Letter." Pg. 103 Plato. “Letter VII.” Translated by L.A. Post. 340d-e; my emphasis Plato. “Meno.” Translated by W.K.C. Guthrie. 72d-e Plato. “Protagoras.” Translated by W.K.C. Guthrie. 313e Plato. “Phaedrus.” Translated by R. Hackforth. 276a-b; my emphasis Plato. “Letter VII.” Translated by L.A. Post. 330d-331d Plato. “Charmides.” Translated by Benjamin Jowett. 157a See Gorgias, 450a: “medicine too, as it seems, is about speeches” Plato. “Laws.” Translated by A.E. Taylor. 720b-d; my emphasis


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Griswold, Charles. Self-Knowledge in Plato’s Phaedrus. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986. Pg 221 Plato. “Lysias.” Translated by J. Wright. 217a Ibid., 219a; my emphasis Ibid., 219a Plato. Gorgias. Translated by James H. Nichols Jr. 464c; my emphasis Ibid. 465a Plato. “Republic.” Translated by Paul Shorey. 342d Ibid. 342e-343a See Lester S. King’s article “Plato’s Concepts of Medicine.”( Journal of the History of Medicine. January (1954): 38-48) for an overview and discussion of the radical paternalism and eugenics arguments developed in the Republic Interestingly, shortly before these passages about the physician’s overriding concern for the patient, he differentiates the physician from the “money-maker” (341c), claiming the former cannot have fee-earning as a necessary component of his art. Such selflessness that was ostensibly obvious in Plato’s time could provide a sharp corrective to our own. Plato. “Laches.” Translated by Benjamin Jowett. 185c-d Plato. “Phaedrus.” Translated by R. Hackforth. 268a-c

Edelstein, Ludwig. Ancient Medicine: Selected Papers of Ludwig Edelstein. Ed. O. Temkin Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1967. Pg. 109 I give full credit to Christopher Long for developing and sharing these ideas in a class-based discussion of this work (Long, Christopher. Lecture on Plato’s Protagoras. The Pennsylvania State University, Fall 2009, PHIL553: Ancient Philosophy Seminar) “On Ancient Medicine.” Hippocrates, Volume 1. Translated by W. Jones. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, Loeb Classical Library, 1956. Pg. 2; my emphasis Moes, Mark. Plato’s Dialogue Form and the Care of the Soul. New York: Peter Lang Publishing. 2000 Plato. Protagoras and Meno. Translated by Adam Beresfprd. New York: Penguin Books, 2005. 331c; my emphasis Plato, “Protagoras.” Translated by W.K.C. Guthrie. 316b Ibid., 335a-b; my emphasis Plato. Gorgias. Translated by James H. Nichols Jr. 447b-d Ibid., 475d-e Ibid., 447b-c Ibid., 487c-e Ibid., 499b-c Ibid., 519d Ibid., 521a; my emphasis

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