A contemporary coin depicting Archelaus, King of Macedonia. (Image source: Wikipedia)

2,094 words

Part 7 of 14 (Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here, Part 5 here, Part 6 here)

Doing Injustice vs. Suffering It

Polus grudgingly accepts Socrates’ argument that tyrants and demagogues don’t enjoy real power, since real power is the ability to attain well-being. Yet Polus doesn’t really believe it. Nor does he think that Socrates believes it, either. Polus says that Socrates surely envies the power to rob, imprison, or kill anyone he pleases, whether justly or unjustly. Socrates replies that no, he does not envy unjust men. He pities them because they are wretched (athlios). (The Greek athlios does not mean feeling bad, just as eudaimonia does not mean feeling good. Instead, like eudaimonia, athlios has a strong sense of an objective state of being, to be wretched both physically and mentally. Oddly, the word’s original meaning is related to athlete: a contender in a contest. But to be athlios is to be a loser.)

Polus is incredulous. How can tyrants or powerful orators be wretched and pitiful?

Polus asks if Socrates pities those who kill justly. Socrates says no, because they are not wretched. But still, he does not envy the hangman his job.

Polus asks if those who are killed unjustly are wretched. No, says Socrates, they are to be pitied, but they are not made wretched just by being killed unjustly. Their killers, however, are made wretched by injustice.

Socrates explains that “doing injustice is the greatest of evils.” Polus asks, “Is not suffering injustice a greater evil?” Socrates replies “Certainly not.”

When Polus asks Socrates “Would you rather suffer than do injustice?,” Socrates replies, “I would not like either, but if I must choose between them, I would rather suffer than do.”

Let’s pause here to take stock. To make sense of what Socrates is saying, we must keep six sets of distinctions in mind:

1. Body vs. soul. Both bodies and souls may be harmed or helped by justice and injustice.
2. Things we do vs. things that happen to us, or, to put them more economically, deeds vs. fortune. We do deeds. Fortune happens to us.
3. Deeds can be just or unjust.
4. Fortune can be good or bad.
5. Deeds can be praiseworthy or blameworthy: good deeds are praiseworthy; bad deeds are blameworthy.
6. Fortune can be enviable or unenviable. We envy good fortune. We do not envy bad fortune. We can also envy good deeds and not envy bad deeds. But we don’t praise and blame people for their good or bad fortune, because humans are not responsible for fortune.

These distinctions can be combined into a table:

Deeds done justly are good deeds. Good deeds may harm the body. For instance, behaving courageously in battle exposes us to wounds or death. But good deeds improve the soul, which is why they are praiseworthy. We also think good character is enviable.

Deeds done unjustly are bad deeds. Bad deeds may benefit the body. For instance, cowardice in battle may save one’s skin. But bad deeds harm the soul, which is why they are blameworthy and not enviable.

If something is done to you justly, that is good fortune. Good fortune may harm your body. For instance, just punishment for a crime. There is some question whether punishment will actually improve one’s soul, expiate one’s crimes, make one no longer worthy of blame, and even lead to happiness. None of that may be possible. But Socrates at least affirms that not being punished will make one more miserable than if one is caught. At best, punishment may only halt one’s further degradation and deepening misery. But even that may be enviable.

If something is done to you unjustly, that is bad fortune. Bad fortune may harm your body. For instance, unjust punishment for a crime. But bad fortune cannot harm your soul. Or, to put it more precisely: it cannot harm your soul unless you let it. In other words, our souls can be harmed only by our own deeds, not by misfortune. People can make you physically miserable, but they can’t make you into a monster unless you cooperate with them. (We must leave aside the case of extreme abuse in childhood, which destroys people before they attain moral agency. Aristotle would classify such people as “bestial,” i.e., submoral and subhuman.) Thus a victim of unjust punishment is not enviable because of his physical state. But neither is he spiritually corrupted and blameworthy.

Thus, when Socrates says he would prefer neither to do nor to suffer injustice, he is saying that he wishes to act justly and be acted upon justly. But if he had to choose between suffering and doing injustice, he would prefer to suffer it. Why? Because the soul is more important than the body. Doing injustice always corrupts the soul. But merely suffering injustice does not corrupt the soul.

The Case of Tyrants

Polus’ response to this is telling: “Then you would not wish to be a tyrant?” To which Socrates replies, “Not if you mean by tyranny what I mean,” which would be doing injustice. Polus makes clear that tyranny is “the power of doing whatever seems good to you in a city, killing, banishing, doing all things as you like.”

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Socrates points out that anyone could take a knife to the agora and stab anyone he pleases. Which implies the question: “What makes tyrants so special?” To which Polus replies: Because if you stabbed a person at random, you “would be certain to be punished.” In other words, what sets tyrants apart is that they can get away with their crimes. Polus is assuming that “punishment is an evil.”

At this point, Socrates has gotten Polus to accept that true freedom and power is doing what is good for oneself. But he has not yet explained the connection between benefitting oneself and justice. Socrates says that deeds “are good when they are just, and evil when they are unjust.”

Polus scoffs that Socrates is usually hard to refute, but even a child could refute that claim. Socrates says he would be in the child’s debt if he could be relieved of his error, and Polus’ debt as well.

Polus offers an example from current events: Archelaus, the son of Perdiccas, had just become the King of Macedonia. This would place the dialogue in 413 BCE. Polus thinks that we can know that Archelaus is happy simply because he is now a king and can do whatever he pleases. Socrates says he cannot determine if the man is happy or wretched without getting to know him, meaning getting to know his character.

Polus, however, sneers at this. He thinks one can make such a judgment from afar, based simply on Archelaus’ position in life. Polus says, “Then clearly, Socrates, you would say that you did not even know whether the Great King is happy,” as if this were a reductio ad absurdum of his position. The Great King is how the Greeks referred to the Persian Emperor, by far the richest and most powerful man in their world. As far as Polus is concerned, if any man is happy, it would have to be the Great King.

To this Socrates makes a surprising response: “And I should speak the truth; for I do not know how he stands in the matter of education [paideia] and justice [dike].” Polus is incredulous, asking, “Does happiness consist entirely of these?” Socrates replies flatly, “Yes, indeed, Polus, that is my doctrine; men and women who are noble and good [kalon kagathon] are also happy, as I maintain, and the unjust and evil are wretched.” These are very straightforward knowledge claims from the philosopher who allegedly claimed that he knew only his own ignorance.

Socrates’ principle implies that Archelaus is wretched if he is wicked. Polus then lists the wicked acts by which Archelaus seized the Macedonian throne, after which Socrates chides him for presenting a speech, not an argument, much less a refutation of his views. But Polus is certain that Socrates already agrees with him. Why wouldn’t he, since everyone else apparently believes what Polus believes?

Socrates then launches into a speech on proof in which he contrasts how rhetoricians persuade in the court of law with how philosophers persuade in dialogue. In the law courts, the more witnesses of good repute who support an unjust cause, the more likely it is to triumph, whereas men with justice on their side may fail without witnesses on their side as well. Polus can cite all the great men of Athens in favor of his views, but that does not matter, for it cannot convince Socrates that he is wrong. Only a better argument can do that.

You can buy Greg Johnson’s From Plato to Postmodernism here

If argument is all that matters, then Socrates wins if he can make Polus corroborate his words, and Polus wins if he can make Socrates corroborate his. The rest of society does not matter at all.

The distinction between these two forms of argument is important, because they are arguing about moral questions. Moral knowledge is honorable. Moral ignorance is shameful. Beyond that, the chief moral questions are the nature of happiness and misery, which are not matters of idle speculation. They are of vital practical importance for all men, because we care about our happiness and our wretchedness.

Socrates then asks Polus if he believes that an “unjust” man can be “happy.” Polus says yes. Then Socrates asks if an unjust man will still be happy if he is punished. Polus says, “Certainly not. In that case he will be most wretched.” Socrates, however, holds the precise opposite view. An unjust man cannot be happy under any circumstances, but he will be most wretched if he does not have the good fortune of being caught and properly punished.

Polus scoffs at this, launching into another speech:

What do you mean? If a man is detected in an unjust attempt to make himself a tyrant, and when detected is racked, castrated, has his eyes burned out, and — after having had all sorts of great injuries inflicted on him, and having seen his wife and children suffer the like — is at last impaled or tarred and burned alive, will he be happier than if he escapes, becomes a tyrant, and continues his whole life doing what he likes and holding the reins of government, the envy and admiration both of citizens and strangers? Is that the paradox which, as you say, cannot be refuted?

Socrates just brushes this off as more rhetoric: “Now, wellborn Polus, you are just trying to raise goosebumps instead of refuting me. Just before you were calling witnesses. But please refresh my memory a little. Did you say, ‘in an unjust attempt to make himself a tyrant’?”

Polus says, “Yes.” To which Socrates responds that neither will be happy, the successful tyrant or the unsuccessful one, but the successful tyrant will be the more wretched. Even though the unsuccessful tyrant meets a terrible end, at least it will be brief, and it will halt a long decline even deeper into infamy.

Polus simply laughs. When Socrates chides him that laughter is not an argument, Polus turns to the crowd and states that nobody would agree with Socrates. Socrates replies, “O Polus, I am not a public man.” Then he recounts his incompetence in taking a vote the previous year (which would set this dialogue in 405 BCE). Now, as then, Socrates is not cut out for counting votes.

But if Polus has a better argument, Socrates is all ears. But if not, Socrates wants to take over, for he believes that he can win the argument by producing only one witness: Polus himself. He is confident, because “I believe that you and I and every man really believe that doing injustice is worse than suffering it, and not to be punished is worse than being punished.” Polus, of course, is skeptical. But he agrees to be questioned.