The Laches is an entertaining and thought-provoking piece of philosophical drama.1 It combines lively depiction of character, which occasionally comes close to caricature, with serious discussion of philosophical issues. However, this very combination poses a fundamental problem of interpretation: what is the relation between the philosophical and the dramatic elements?
First, a summary of the plot:
Two elderly Athenians, Lysimachus and Melesias, have invited their friends, the distinguished generals Nicias and Laches, to join them in watching a display of military training given by a reputed expert, Stesilaus. Feeling that their own education was neglected, Lysimachus and Melesias are anxious to provide their sons with the opportunities and advantages they themselves missed,2 and they would like to know whether the generals think the course offered by Stesilaus is worthwhile. They would also be grateful for any advice on education which Nicias and Laches are able to give. Laches is surprised that he and Nicias have been preferred to Socrates, who is something of an authority on educational matters and happens to have been standing near them watching the display. It appears, moreover, that Socrates is the son of an old friend of Lysimachus and so can be relied upon to be sympathetic to his problem. Socrates is indeed happy to join in the discussion, but characteristically suggests that the older and more experienced men should give their view first. Nicias is strongly in favour of professional instruction, but his colleague has serious doubts and is inclined to think that it does more harm than good.
Lysimachus now turns to Socrates, who refuses to be drawn into giving a casting vote: he feels that the real need is for an expert opinion, and that the two generals must each prove their qualification to the title before offering any further advice. Military training is a kind of education, so it is in the latter that they must demonstrate their expertise. The aim of education, Socrates argues, is to instil goodness (aretē), and it follows that the mark of an educational expert will be his ability to give an account of goodness and ‘say what it is’. He therefore suggests that they prove their fitness to offer advice by giving such an account, if not of goodness itself, at least of bravery (andreia), the part of goodness which is most relevant to military training.
Laches takes up the challenge with a confidence that betrays his philosophical inexperience. He is a military man and naturally thinks in military terms: for him it is the mark of a brave man to stand his ground and fight. Socrates agrees, but gently explains that this is not the kind of answer he had expected. Bravery is not confined to the battlefield, and there are many other examples which one could choose to illustrate what it means to call someone brave. To give an account, however, is a matter of examining all these different examples and uncovering in them the common element that makes them all examples of bravery.
Laches takes the point and now suggests that bravery is endurance (karteria). This is the kind of answer for which Socrates has been looking, but it seems to be inadequate. There must be some distinction, Socrates argues, between the mere stubbornness of the fool and the wise man’s rationally determined endurance. However, as the discussion proceeds, both Socrates and Laches find themselves forced to admit that a man who is foolish can act more bravely than a man who is wise. This is a serious difficulty, as it contradicts their basic conviction that ignorance is always bad, whereas bravery and wisdom are always good. They see no way to reconcile the conflict and are in a state of confusion (aporia),1 totally at a loss how to proceed. Can Nicias help?
Nicias believes he can. He is an intellectual. Unlike Laches, he is familiar with philosophical discussions, and his approach is altogether more sophisticated. This does nothing to endear him to his colleague, who is scornful of what he regards as academic pretensions, and it takes all Socrates’ tact to avoid a premature end to the debate. What so irritates Laches is Nicias’ view that bravery is a special kind of knowledge. If true, as Socrates points out, this would mean that it is a mistake to say, as we often do, that animals and children are brave, because they cannot in the strictest sense know anything. Without pressing the point, however, he turns the discussion to inquire more deeply into the kind of knowledge that bravery might be, and another difficulty emerges. Nicias says that bravery is ‘the knowledge of what is fearful or encouraging’, and in the final argument (1976–1996) Socrates takes him through the stages of a proof that this knowledge is equivalent to the knowledge of good and evil. He then points out that the knowledge of good and evil is too wide a definition for bravery alone. If virtue is knowledge, Nicias has defined not bravery but goodness itself, of which bravery was said to be only a part.
Nicias remains convinced that his account is not far from the truth, but as neither he nor his companions can suggest how to proceed, the discussion draws to a close leaving the issue unresolved. In the circumstances, Socrates feels unable to accept an invitation to act as teacher to the sons of Lysimachus and Melesias and suggests that they look for a real expert, so that they may all discover where they have gone wrong.
As this summary reveals, the Laches is a skilful combination of the dramatic and the philosophical. How are we to understand the work as a whole? There have been three main answers.1
A. The first might be termed the dramatic interpretation.2 At one time it was not uncommon to study the Laches more as a piece of literature than as a philosophical work in its own right. The dialogue was thought to provide a useful and entertaining introduction to Socrates and his method of argument, and there were hints of the contribution he had made to the development of Greek ethical thought. Yet it seemed that the primary purpose of the Laches was the defence and commemoration of a respected friend and teacher. It was a dialogue about a philosopher rather than itself a significant piece of philosophy; it was the work of a youthfully enthusiastic Plato who had not yet settled to serious philosophical contemplation.
Three points could be made in defence of this judgement:
1. The Laches has a much more dramatic flavour than some of Plato’s other dialogues, particularly those thought to belong to a late stage of his career. The characters are sketched firmly, and the twists and turns of the conversation are skilfully presented. Among the more notable moments are Lysimachus’ recognition of Socrates as a friend of his family (180c–181d); the humorous account of Stesilaus’ embarrassment when serving in the marines (1830–184b); and in the later pages, Socrates’ tactful control of Laches’ frustration and irritability (e.g. 196a-c). However, as Plato preferred the dialogue form to the systematic exposition of a treatise, the particular dramatic merits of the Laches are not in themselves incompatible with a purpose that is primarily philosophical.
2. Powerful tributes to Socrates’ personal bravery and intellectual ability are woven into the conversation. There is indeed little doubt that Plato intended to arouse the reader’s admiration for his teacher; but it does not follow that the Laches is primarily an apologetic work.
3. The Laches appears to be inconclusive. A problem is posed, but no solution is reached. This ought not, however, to damage the credibility of the dialogue as a work of serious philosophy, since a number of important issues are raised. In the course of the discussion distinctions are made between bravery and recklessness, and between ‘technical’ knowledge and knowledge of moral value.1 There are also no fewer than three different accounts of bravery, the first of which is framed in terms of behaviour (190d–192b), the second in terms of a trat of character (192b–193d), and the third in terms of a special kind of knowledge (194C–196C). Moreover, the last of these accounts is shown by Socrates to be equivalent to a definition of goodness as a whole (sumpasa aretē), and as this was originally to be the goal of the discussion (190b), it might be argued that the Laches is not so inconclusive after all. Neither of the two remaining interpretations (B and C below) regard the apparently aporetic conclusion as a problem: it is taken to be an invitation for the reader to use the material in the dialogue to make the next moves in the argument for himself. B. The second interpretation is the philosophical one. On this view drama is secondary to philosophy. The first half of the dialogue is seen as no more than an attractive backdrop to an important philosophical debate, namely the attempt to define bravery (189d ff.), and hence critical attention is concentrated upon the two key passages it which the generals’ rival definitions are developed, Laches’ in terms of a trait of character (192b–193d), and Nicias’ in terms of a special kind of knowledge (197e–199e). It is at once apparent that this interpretation is open to the objection that by failing to take account of what it sees as a purely introductory section it makes no sense of the dialogue as a whole.2 In reply, however, it could be said that an examination of the debate about bravery in isolation might at least lead to a proper understanding of the philosophical point Plato intended to make in writing the Laches. On the basis of the two key passages noted above it has often been suggested that Socrates’ conversation with Laches is simply a device to prepare the reader for the more sophisticated account of bravery given by Nicias, and that it is this last definition that the Laches is intended to endorse. The dialogue is thus held to provide an intellectualist account of bravery and to raise, for perhaps the first time, the problem of the unity of the virtues.1 However, it seems that this is not the only, or even the best, way in which these passages can be understood.2
For consider first the discussion of Laches’ second account of bravery (192b–193d). Laches believes that bravery is a trait of character, namely endurance; but this definition soon proves to be inadequate, since it permits the unacceptable conclusion that even foolhardy stubbornness is to be included under the heading of bravery. In order to overcome the problem Socrates introduces the qualification that bravery is endurance with wisdom, but this only leads to a further problem: he finds he can produce examples in which the conditions of endurance and wisdom appear to have been fulfilled, but in which Laches is adamant that there is no question of bravery being shown. It seems that the definition is too wide, but without waiting to reflect on that possibility, Socrates continues to produce examples for Laches to consider. In these new examples the more foolish of two people appears to be the braver, and Socrates and Laches find that they are now trying to hold three contradictory propositions:
(a) Bravery is good
(b) Endurance with foolishness is bad
(c) Endurance with foolishness is bravery.
It has often been suggested that the reader is to respond to the problem by rejecting the current definition, namely that bravery is endurance with wisdom, and Laches’ original definition, namely that bravery is simply endurance. However, this would be to misunderstand the nature of the problem. The difficulty arises not from the element of endurance, but from that of wisdom. How can it be that a fool can be braver than a wise man? That seems to be the equivalent of saying that a bad man is better than a good man. The discussion, therefore, has shown that there is a problem for any account of bravery which has a cognitive element; it has not shown that such an account cannot contain any reference to endurance or a trait of character. Laches’ insight is never explicitly rejected in the dialogue itself, and indeed Socrates continues to treat it as a possible basis for further discussion (194a).
Secondly, to turn to the final argument against Nicias’ account (1976–1996),1 there can be no intellectualist account of bravery unless the problem raised by the discussion of Laches’ revised second account (endurance with wisdom) is solved. Nicias, however, succeeds in overcoming the difficulty by insisting on a greater precision in the use of terms (194c–196c; cf. 197a–b). He clears the way for his own definition by distinguishing between different kinds of knowledge, technical knowledge and knowledge of moral value. Yet, even so, he faces a problem. Socrates shows him that this new definition is equivalent to saying that bravery is the knowledge of good and evil, and hence they now find themselves in their turn trying to hold three contradictory propositions:
(a) Bravery is a part of goodness
(b) Bravery is the knowledge of good and evil
(c) The knowledge of good and evil is goodness.
The suggestion has often been made that the reader is intended to reject (a) and reconcile (b) and (c) by accepting the notion of the unity of the virtues. However, it might be objected that Socrates effectively rules out (b) when he claims that Nicias has failed to find the definition of bravery. Moreover, at the conclusion of the discussion both he and Nicias seem to reaffirm their support for (a). It has been argued in defence that Nicias’ definition, ‘bravery is knowledge of what is fearful and of what is encouraging’, is based on a remark of Socrates (194d); but it is unreasonable to maintain that Plato could not have intended to modify any view which he chose to label as Socrates’ own, particularly when, as in the present case, that view seems to be criticized by the character of Socrates himself.
It seems that the two key philosophical passages, considered in themselves, do not suggest any single solution to the problem of defining bravery; instead there is a range of possibilities. On the one hand, the Laches may be intended to support the notion of the unity of the virtues, or at least the weaker claim that one cannot have one virtue unless one has them all; on the other hand, there may be a suggestion of some account which differs from the intellectualist account offered by Nicias, or simply an inconclusive debate. The philosophical interpretation provides no means of deciding between these options, and we are brought back to the criticism that it fails to make sense of the dialogue as a whole. Is there any other way of looking at the Laches which might shed some light on Plato’s intentions?
C. The third interpretation is the philosophico-dramatic one. This is an attempt to see the dialogue as a unified whole. The Laches is regarded as ‘a balanced work of art, in which character and action illuminate the thought, and the thought is in turn a judgement on the characters’.1 On this view critical study of the key philosophical passages is combined with an understanding of the dialogue which depends on the structure of the work and the role of the leading characters. Those who have studied the Laches in this way suggest that the dialogue rejects an account of bravery in terms of endurance alone, and an account in terms of knowledge alone, in order to point the reader towards a compromise in which bravery is defined in terms of knowledge and endurance. Such a solution to the problem is close to the revised version of Laches’ second account, namely that bravery is endurance with wisdom; and although this definition is criticized in the dialogue itself, the suggestion that it is Plato’s preferred solution can be supported from both the philosophical and the dramatic points of view.
Firstly, if we recall the results of the discussion of the key philosophical passages, we will see that there is nothing in the argumentation of the Laches which explicitly excludes the suggested compromise definition. It was not clear that the dialogue endorsed Nicias’ intellectualist account, nor that it revealed any difficulty in regarding endurance as at least a necessary condition for bravery. Moreover, we saw that the problem which Socrates and Laches encountered over their definition in terms of endurance with wisdom was one which Nicias overcame in order to validate his own account of bravery as a special kind of knowledge. Nicias was able to draw a distinction between technical knowledge and knowledge of moral value, and it was by failing to note this distinction that Socrates and Laches had gone astray. It seemed, for example, that they were committed to the paradox that a fool could be braver than a wise man; but in fact they need only have argued that a (technical) novice could indeed be braver than a (technical) expert if the qualification ‘with wisdom’ were interpreted as ‘provided he has a correct understanding of the moral nature and consequences of his action’, and not as referring merely to technical competence. Could it not be, therefore, that Plato intended the reader to see the relevance of Nicias’ distinction and so come to the view that bravery might be endurance with the knowledge of good and evil?
Secondly, as a dramatic work, the Laches is said to fall into two balanced halves, in each of which are opposed two contrasting points of view:1
1. In the first half the generals tackle Lysimachus’ question about the value of military training. Nicias offers what could be termed an intellectualist answer (181d-182d), and puts his emphasis on the advantages to be gained from the possession of knowledge. He refers in passing to his belief that the training promotes bravery, but otherwise confines his attention to commending the professional and ‘scientific’ approach to warfare. Laches then replies with a weak attempt to belittle the practical benefits of which his colleague has spoken (182d-184c), but astutely points out that there is more to a successful soldier than a knowledge of the art of war. Military training cannot promote bravery, he asserts, it can only inspire confidence, and without the right temperament such confidence in one’s own expertise is potentially dangerous.
2. The conflicting attitudes of Nicias and Laches are picked up again in the second half of the dialogue, where Socrates is pursuing a definition of bravery. This time it is Laches who goes first. Guided by Socrates, he makes a creditable attempt at a definition, despite a false start which was caused by his inexperience in learned debate. As he begins with the belief that bravery is primarily a matter of sticking to one’s guns, Laches is drawn to describe it in terms of a trait of character, a kind of endurance (karteria), but is prepared to concede that there could also be an element of wisdom involved. Nicias, however, believes bravery must be more than recklessness or the willingness to take risks. He is far more interested in the cognitive aspect, which is for him the distinguishing mark of a virtue, and defines bravery as a special kind of knowledge.
The two views opposed in both halves of the dialogue reflect traits within the personalities of the two generals. Each, it is argued, typifies the strengths and weaknesses of the position he adopts: Plato has provided a commentary on the debate through the characters of the participants.2
Laches is clearly brave and determined as a soldier, but his bravery is confined to action: he is ready to abandon the intellectual discussion when the going becomes hard. Nicias, in contrast, is a thoughtful and intelligent man, perfectly at home with academic conversation and resolved to carry on the inquiry to the end. His contemporaries, however, were aware that this resolution did not extend beyond his intellectual pursuits. His record as a general reveals a tendency to caution which is often excessive, and in the Laches there seem to be several veiled anachronistic references to the demise of the Sicilian expedition in 413, when Nicias’ failure to retreat quickly enough from the blockade of Syracuse brought an Athenian army to disaster.1
The ideal, of course, would be a man who could combine the strengths of both Nicias and Laches, a man such as Laches describes at the pivotal point of the dialogue as a ‘true musician’ whose words are in harmony with his actions (188d). Both generals are united in regarding the third main character, Socrates, as such a person. He is the perfect compromise, praised by Laches for his bravery in action and by Nicias for his wisdom in debate. The ‘dramatic’ interpretation, it is suggested, is to this extent correct: the Laches is in certain respects a eulogy of Socrates, for in the character of Socrates Plato offers a clue to solving the problem posed in the discussion. The inconclusive ending invites the reader to supply the missing piece of the jigsaw, and if it is to match Socrates’ character, that piece must also be a combination of the strengths to be found in the definitions of both Nicias and Laches. Thus the structure of the work, together with the character sketches, is thought to point, independently of the philosophical arguments, to an account of bravery which combines both endurance and knowledge.2
Therefore, of the three ways in which our question of the relation of the dramatic and philosophical elements in the Laches has been answered – (A) dramatic, (B) philosophical and (C) philosophico-dramatic – (A) would not now generally be accepted for the reasons stated above, but both (B) and (C) are still strongly supported. It would seem, however, that (C) best fits an analysis of the philosophical sections, and also respects the artistic integrity of the dialogue.3
The differing interpretations have inevitably given rise to divergent opinions on the relationship between the Laches and other Platonic dialogues.4 The dramatic interpretation (A) assumes that the Laches is an early work without direct relevance to the philosophical issues raised in the more mature studies. The philosophical interpretation (B) also favours an early date on the grounds that it reflects the thought of the historical Socrates, and is the point of departure for the more developed account of his views found in the Protagoras (349e-351b). There Socrates’ partner in the discussion, the sophist Protagoras, denies that knowledge is sufficient for virtue and maintains that there are further requirements, namely the constitution of the people concerned, and the proper training of their characters. These additional elements will produce, in the case of bravery, the appropriate degree of endurance to avoid either inactivity or recklessness. Socrates attacks this position, arguing for the intellectualist definition offered by Nicias in the Laches, and accepts the consequence that all the virtues must collapse into one undifferentiated virtue.
The philosophico-dramatic interpretation (C), however, has often been thought to place the Laches later than the Protagoras and to regard it as correcting the earlier work by advocating against Socrates a position closer to that of Protagoras.1 On this view the Laches corresponds closely to Book IV of the Republic, where another account of bravery is found. In the Republic Plato develops the doctrine of the tripartite division of the soul. The human soul is said to be formed of three distinct parts: reason, spirit and appetite. Reason may conflict with appetite, and to prevail against appetite it must have the support of the spirit. Bravery consists in the alliance of reason and the spirited part against desire, and it is therefore defined in terms of both cognitive and non-cognitive elements.
The account of bravery found in the Republic and, according to the philosophico-dramatic interpretation, also in the Laches, is an advance on Socratic intellectualism in two main ways. First, it escapes from the paradoxical claim that all the virtues are really one; second, it allows for weakness of will (akrasia),2 which the Socratic view cannot explain, by introducing the possibility of internal conflict between reason and appetite.
There is, however, at least one respect in which the Laches continues to share a difficulty with the Socratic account. In the Laches Socrates introduces a very broad concept of bravery,3 namely that it is the virtue shown in pursuing a chosen course of action in the face of opposition, internal or external. This is an extension of the usual concept, and leads to the problem of how to distinguish bravery from self-control (sōphrosunē), since resistance to certain desires, for example for food, would not generally be regarded as bravery. It is worth noting that, to avoid such problems, Aristotle confined bravery in the strict sense to the battlefield, treating all other usages of the word as metaphorical, and similarly regarded self-control as displayed primarily in the checking of certainbasic appetites.1
The Laches poses, as we have seen, a particular problem of interpretation: what is the relation between the philosophical and dramatic elements of the dialogue? This, however, is only one aspect of a more general problem which is fundamental to the way we think and talk about the world – the problem of the relation between drama and philosophy, science and art. We are accustomed to think of the artist and the scientist in quite different terms: their work seems to have different purposes, to use different kinds of language and to be assessed by different standards; but within the Platonic dialogues such polarization is less evident. Protagoras, for example, in the dialogue named after him, asks whether he should defend his view that virtue can be taught by a story or myth (muthos, not so narrow or pejorative a word in Greek), or by a reasoned exposition (logos), and both he and his audience clearly regard these as genuine alternatives. A philosophical drama, such as the Laches, will use both logos and muthos to achieve its purpose, blending reasoned argument and dramatic techniques in an appeal to both rational and intuitive faculties. It is, therefore, a challenge to the way in which we distinguish art and science. The Laches should make us think again about the nature of our language (not only verbal, but musical and graphic and indeed all other kinds), and prompt us to ask whether the technical language of science is really ‘truer’ or more valid than the imaginative and metaphorical language of art. It should also cause us to think about the purpose of artistic endeavour and consider whether art, like science, is not ultimately the pursuit of truth.
[1] Has Military Training a Place in Higher Education?
[2] Laches Introduces Socrates to the Discussion
[3] Nicias on the Virtues of Military Training
[4] Laches on the Futility of Military Training
[5] The Need for Expert Advice: Are the Generals Qualified to Speak about Education?
[6] The Generals Agree to Cooperate with Socrates and Put Their Expertise to the Test
[1] The Need to Define Bravery
[2] Laches’ First Definition: To be Brave is to Stand and Fight
[3] Laches’ Second Definition: Bravery is Endurance
[4] Impasse: Nicias is Asked to Help
[5] Nicias’ Definition: Bravery is a Special Kind of Knowledge
[6] Implications of Nicias’ Definition: Can Animals and Children be Brave?
[7] Nicias Has Defined Goodness, Not Bravery
[8] The Discussion Breaks Up: Socrates Suggests They All Have Much to Learn
SOCRATES
LYSIMACHUS: Son of the statesman Aristides. An Athenian gentleman reputed to have been given the best education his city could provide (Meno 94a).
MELESIAS: A friend of Lysimachus. Son of the politician Thucydides (not to be confused with the historian), but unable to follow his father’s distinguished career. He was trained to be one of the best wrestlers in Athens (meno 94c), and is known to have been a member of the oligarchic council set up to rule the city in 411 (Thucydides VIII.86.9).
NICIAS: Son of Niceratus. A prominent Athenian politician who opposed the policies of the extreme democrats. Although frequently elected as general, his record was marred by a disastrous defeat in Sicily in 413, which cost him his life.
LACHES: Son of Melanopus. An Athenian general prominent in the Peloponnesian War until his death in action at the battle of Mantinea in 418.
ARISTIDES: Son of Lysimachus. At the time of this dialogue he was still a young boy. He is mentioned in the Theaetetus (151a) and in the Theages (130a ff.) as a pupil of socrates who left his studies too earlyand lapsed from his teacher’s high standards.
A[1]. Has Military Training a Place in Higher Education?
The main purpose of this first section is to set the scene and the subject of the dialogue. Lysimachus and Melesias have a problem: how are they to ensure that their sons will grow up to be good men and do well for themselves? They see the solution in some kind of higher education, perhaps including military training, and so seek the advice of two generals, Nicias and Laches.
To be good (agathos) a man had to possess goodness (aretē), which was identified with a set of virtues (aretai), including bravery (andreia): cf. 198a. Lysimachus assumes (a) that these virtues can be taught, or at least that education is necessary to acquire or develop them, and (b) that the generals are suitable men to advise him on the value of military training, being experienced soldiers and fellow parents. Socrates is to question both these assumptions as the dialogue proceeds.
LYSIMACHUS: Well, Nicias and Laches, you have watched our man at [178a] his military training, 1 and since my friend Melesias and I didn’t explain at the time our reason for asking you to come and watch him with us, we’ll explain it now. In your case, we believe we ought to be perfectly frank. There are, you see, some people who scoff at men like yourselves, and if someone asks for advice, they won’t say what they really believe. [b] They aim at what they think the person consulting them wants to hear, and offer him something quite different from their real opinion. but you, we thought, were not only capable of forming an opinion, but having done so would speak your minds straightforwardly: that’s why we invited you along to ask your advice on the problem we’re now going to put to you. This is all by way of a long preamble to the following problem. The two [179a] boys here are our sons: this is Melesias’ son, who is called Thucydides after his grandfather, and this is mine, also named after his grandfather, my father – we call him Aristides.2 Now, we have decided to take these boys in hand, in so far as we possibly can, and not – as most parents do when their children have reached their teens – let them do whatever they want; now is the time to start doing our utmost to take care of them. Well, we knew that you both had sons too, and it occurred to us that you, if [b] anyone, would have been concerned about the kind of education which would make first-rate men of them: but if by any chance you don’t happen to have given any thought to such a question, may we remind you that it isn’t something you should neglect, and invite you to join us in arranging some way to take care of our children?
Now, you must let us tell you, Nicias and Laches, what made us reach this decision, even if it is a slightly long story. The fact is, you see, that Melesias here and I are in the habit of having dinner together, and the boys dine with us. Well now, as I said to begin with, we’ll be perfectly [c] frank with you. We can each tell these young men a great many stories about our own fathers’ impressive record of wartime and peacetime achievements in the administration of the allied cities and the government at home;1 but neither of us can tell them about anything we’ve achieved ourselves. So, of course, we feel ashamed that the boys should realize this, and we blame our fathers for allowing us to run wild once we became teenagers, while they were busy with other people’s affairs.2 We explain [d] all this to the boys, telling them that if they fail to take themselves in hand, and ignore our advice, they’ll be complete nonentities; on the other hand, if they do take care of themselves, they’ll probably turn out to be worthy of their names.
They say, in fact, that they will do as they’re told; so we’re now considering what discipline or occupation would make the best possible men of them. Someone suggested this discipline to us, on the grounds that for a [e] young man to undertake military training is a fine thing. He spoke highly of the man you’ve just seen giving the display, and urged us to watch him in action. So we decided that we should go and see the man for ourselves and take you along too, partly so that you could watch him with us, and partly also so that you could share our discussion – if you’re willing – on the care of our sons. That’s the problem we wanted to share with you. Now it’s up to you to [180a] give us your advice – both on this particular discipline, as to whether or not you think one ought to study it; and on others, if there’s any other discipline or activity you can recommend for a young man – and to tell us what you’ll do about sharing our discussion.
A[2]. Laches Introduces Socrates to the Discussion
The generals willingly agree to help Lysimachus and Melesias. Laches, noticing Socrates close by, introduces him as something of an expert on education, a view which Nicias confirms. His credentials are excellent: not only has he considerable experience of higher education in various forms, but he is also an outstandingly brave man in his own right. Moreover, it transpires that Socrates is under an obligation to help out, as his father was a close friend of Lysimachus. This passage (cf. A(6)) can be read purely as a defence of Socrates against the kind of criticism which led to his execution (see pp. 33–4). Adherents of the philosophico-dramatic interpretation treat it as serving to establish Socrates as a man who combines moral worth with intellectual ability, in contrast to Nicias and Laches who are each depicted as relatively one-sided characters. The relation of these character sketches to the purpose of the dialogue is discussed on p. 75ff. It is typical of Socrates’ philosophical approach, as revealed by Plato, that he should plead ignorance of the matter in question and invite the others to state their opinions first.
NICIAS: I certainly have nothing but praise for what you intend to do, Lysimachus and Melesias, and I’m quite prepared to join you; I may say the same, I think, for Laches here?
LACHES: Yes, you’re quite right, Nicias. The remark Lysimachus [b] made just now about his father and Melesias’ father was very apposite, in my opinion, not only to their situation, but to ours and that of everyone involved in affairs of state. As he says, it’s almost always the case, whether it’s a question of their children or whatever else it might be, that their private affairs are handled carelessly and neglected. So in that respect I can agree with you, Lysimachus; but I’m surprised that you’re asking us for advice on your sons’ education and you aren’t asking Socrates here: [c] because, in the first place, he comes from your own township,1 and, in the second, he always spends his time in places where one might find the kind of thing you’re in search of for the children – some creditable discipline or pursuit.
LYSIMACHUS: Do you mean to say that Socrates here has taken an interest in this kind of thing, Laches?
LACHES: Yes, he certainly has, Lysimachus.
NICIAS: I might perhaps be in as good a position as Laches to vouch for that. As a matter of fact, quite recently I myself was introduced by him to a music-teacher for my son – a student of Agathocles called Damon,1 not [d] only a very accomplished musician, but all in all as valuable a companion for children of that age as one could hope for.
LYSIMACHUS: Socrates, and Nicias and Laches, people of my age really can’t keep in touch with the younger generation any more, we just potter around at home most of the time feeling our age. But Socrates, son of Sophroniscus, if you can also give some good advice to this man from your home town, you ought to do so. And it’s only right that you should, when [e] in fact you’re a friend of the family through your father. Your father and I, you know, were always close friends, and to the day he died we never had an argument.
In fact, I did remember one thing while these gentlemen were talking just now: when the boys are discussing things together at home, they often mention someone called Socrates and speak very highly of him, but I never asked them if they meant Sophroniscus’ son. Well now, boys, tell [181a] me, is this the Socrates you were for ever talking about?
ARISTIDES: Certainly, He’s the one, father.
LYSIMACHUS: By all that’s wonderful,2 Socrates, it’s good to know you’re a credit to your father – he was a fine man3 – and also to discover that we’ll both be treating each other’s family affairs as our own!
LACHES: What’s more, Lysimachus, you mustn’t let him slip away. I’ve seen him in a quite different context proving a credit not just to his father, but also to his country. He marched back with me in the retreat [b] from Delium4 and, I assure you, had the rest of the troops been prepared to follow his example, our city would now have its head held high and would never have taken such a terrible fall.5
LYSIMACHUS: When your conduct wins the praise of men of such authority, this is praise indeed, Socrates! It’s a joy to hear, let me tell you. I’m delighted to know you’re so well respected and I’d like you for your part to think of me as one of your closest friends. You really ought to have [c] come calling on us before now, you know; you should have made yourself at home with us, as you had every right to. But, as it is, starting from today, now we’ve recognized each other, you must make a point of taking us into your confidence and get to know us and these youngsters of ours, and then you and they can continue our friendship. However, I’m sure you’ll see to that and we’ll remind you about it later; but what do you say about the problem we had started to tackle? What do you think? Is it a suitable discipline for these young men or not – doing some military training, I mean?
SOCRATES: Well, Lysimachus, on that matter I’ll certainly try to give you any advice I can, and I’ll also try to do everything you invite me to [d] do. But I think it’s only right that since I’m younger than these gentlemenand rather inexperienced in the field, I should listen to what they have to say first and learn from them. Then, if I have anything else to add to what they’ve said, I should explain my position and try to convince you and our friends here. Well now, nicias, won’t one of you start us off?
A[3]. Nicias on the Virtues of Military Training
Nicias makes a number of points in favour of military training, which he believes (a) promotes physical fitness, (b) prepares a man for the military duties of a citizen, (c) gives one the edge over unskilled opponents, (d) promotes an interest in military science, (e) makes one braver, and (f) encourages a soldierly appearance.
Nicias emerges as a thoughtful and intelligent man. His case is primarily theoretical, and is indicative of the growing professionalism which entered Greek warfare in the latter part of the fifth century. In relation to the rest of the dialogue, the most significant point is (e), which assumes that bravery can be taught: for the Greeks, what could be taught was knowledge, hence (e) is an anticipation of Nicias’ definition of bravery as a special kind of knowledge in B(5).
NICIAS: There’s no difficulty about that, Socrates. You see, I take the view that for young men to have a firm understanding of the subject in question is an advantage in many ways. first of all, although they usually [e] like to fritter away their free time on other activities, as you know, it’s a good idea for them to spend their time doing this instead, which is bound to make them fit and healthy, since it is at least as serious, and requires just as much hard effort, as any other physical exercise. Moreover, it’s [182a] also a kind of exercise which, like riding, should be very much the business of a free man:1 we are athletes taking part in a contest, you see, and the only people who get training for the conditions under which we have to compete are those who are trained in the use of military equipment. So later on this discipline will be of some benefit in an actual confrontation, when the army is drawn up in ranks and you have to fight as part of a large body of men; but its greatest benefit will be felt when the ranks are broken, and you suddenly have to fight man to man, either in chasing and attacking a man who puts up a defence, or in retreating and warding off attack yourself. A man with a good grasp of this discipline would come to [b] no harm if he had only one opponent to deal with, and perhaps not even if he had more than one; and it would give him the edge, whatever the situation. Then again, this kind of training provides men with the incentive to pursue another worthwhile discipline, because anyone who has done military training will be keen to progress to the next stage and learn about the deployment of troops; and when he has mastered that and taken a pride in it, he’ll hurry on to discover all there is to know about strategy. Now, it’s clear that it is both honourable and worthwhile to study and [c] practise all the disciplines and activities related to those, and that this particular discipline may serve as a starting-point for them. And we can make this additional point, which is not unimportant, that the possession of this same knowledge will make any individual a great deal braver and more daring in battle than he would otherwise be. And, even if some people think it’s rather a trivial point, we shouldn’t regard it as too insignificant to mention that it will produce a rather smart appearance in the very situations in which a soldier ought to look smart, and in which, at [d] the same time, a smartly turned-out appearance will make more of a formidable impression on the enemy.
So my opinion is, Lysimachus, as I say, that these subjects ought to be taught to our young men, and I’ve explained why I think so. But I’ll certainly be glad to listen to Laches if he has anything different to say.
A[4] Laches on the Futility of Military Training
Laches argues that there is little point in taking a course in military training as (a) the foremost military power in Greece, Sparta, has no truck with it; (b) experience suggests that the instructors themselves do not profit from their knowledge; and (c) it could only cause a coward to take foolish risks, and make a brave man into the butt of criticism.
Laches has no academic training, and his argument rests entirely on personal observation and experience. Point (a) is not strong, as Sparta had long possessed something similar to the training on offer; (b) is a little unfair, and though cautionary, is scarcely an argument in itself. Point (c), however, is crucial to the structure and meaning of the dialogue: a direct contradiction of Midas’ point (e), it exemplifies Laches’ belief that bravery depends on what you are and not on what you know; for him it is not a kind of knowledge, but a certain kind of behaviour or a certain trait of character (see B[2] and B[3]).
LACHES: Well, Nicias, it’s hard to say of any discipline that it shouldn’t be studied, because it seems to be a good idea to know everything. And if this business of weapon training is a discipline, as the instructors maintain, and as Nicias says, of course it ought to be studied. On the other [e] hand, if it’s not a discipline, and the claims made for it are fraudulent, or if it is a discipline, but not a very serious one, why should we really need to study it?
I say this because I’ve been struck by the following thought: in my opinion, if this training had anything in it, it wouldn’t have escaped the Spartans, whose sole concern in life is to search out and practise whatever [183a] disciplines and pursuits will give them military superiority over others.1 And if it has escaped them, it certainly can’t have escaped these military instructors that no one else in Greece takes such matters as seriously as the Spartans, and hence that if anyone gained the Spartans’ respect in this sphere, he would make a great deal of money in other countries. It’s the same when we honour a tragic poet – which is why no one who thinks he has a flair for tragedy displays his talents by doing the rounds of the other cities outside Attica: he makes straight for Athens, naturally, and stages a performance for an audience here. When it comes to these fighting men, [b] however, it’s my observation that they regard Sparta as a sort of Holy of Holies and they won’t put so much as a toe in the place. They prefer to skirt around it and put on displays for all and sundry, and especially for people who would be the first to agree that their own military standing is far lower than most.
And another thing, Lysimachus: I’ve come across quite a number of [c] these instructors when they’ve been faced with the real thing, and I know the stuff they’re made of. We can see right away how the land lies: not one man who has done this weapon training has ever made a name for himself on active service. It looks almost deliberate! And yet in every other subject the men with high reputations come from the ranks of those who have gone through the appropriate training: by comparison with others, these instructors of ours appear to have been remarkably unfortunate in this respect.
Take Stesilaus:1 we’ve all stood in that huge crowd and watched him giving an exhibition of his skill, and blowing his own trumpet as he did, [d] but I’ve once had a better view of him2 when he made a proper exhibition of himself without intending to! When he was serving as a marine, his ship collided with a merchantman and he went into action carrying a spear with a sort of sickle fastened on the end – the weapon was in a class of its own, of course, like the man himself.3 Now the fellow has never really done anything else worth mentioning, but you must hear the upshot of his clever stunt with his spear-cum-sickle. As he was fighting, the weapon [e] somehow got caught in the other ship’s rigging and it stuck fast; so Stesilaus tugged at it, wanting to pull it free, but with no success – and meanwhile the ships were moving past each other. For a time he dashed along on deck clutching the shaft; but when the other ship began to slip away and pulled him after it, still hanging on to the spear, he let the shaft slide through his hands until he was gripping the very end of the butt. When they noticed his antics, the crew of the merchantman started laughing at [184a] him and clapping; then, when someone hurled a stone on to the deck close to his feet, he let go of the spear and his own ship’s company couldn’t stop themselves from laughing any longer: what a sight it was, that sicklespear of his dangling from the merchantman! Well now, perhaps there is something in this training after all, as Nicias says; but that’s the sort of experience that I’ve always had.[b]
So, as I said at first, either it is a discipline, but of no great use, or it’s not, and people merely claim it is under false pretences; but, whichever way, it’s not worth trying to study. And it would be true to say, I think, that if someone who was a coward were to imagine that he knew all about it, he would become over-confident and then make it all the more obvious what his true colours were. If, on the other hand, he were a brave man, people would watch his every move, and if he made even the slightest mistake, he would have to put up with a great deal of abuse. People have [c] a grudge against men who profess to know such things, so unless a man is strikingly braver than the rest, there’s no way he can avoid becoming a laughing-stock if he claims this kind of knowledge.
That’s my opinion, Lysimachus, on the interest taken in this subject. However, you had better do what I suggested at the beginning: don’t let our friend Socrates slip away; ask him to share his thoughts on the issue with us.
A[5]. The Need for Expert Advice: Are the Generals Qualified to Speak about Education?
Socrates convinces Lysimachus and Melesias that they need expert advice. Military training is only at issue in so far as it may help to educate the boys to their best advantage, so the expert required is an expert in education. Socrates denies such knowledge in his own case and suggests that Lysimachus should challenge Nicias and Laches to prove their title to it by stating (a) those known experts who had trained them, and/or (b) their own record as successful teachers.
Socrates picks up Lysimachus’ assumption that the generals, qua generals, are suitable advisers. Their experience qualifies them to speak on the technical knowledge and practical skills to be derived from military training, as both had done, but not on what was for Lysimachus the real issue, that of developing the boys’ soul or character (psuchē). In speaking of bravery, both generals had touched on this issue, but for Socrates it is as yet unclear whether their opinions are properly grounded in moral knowledge.
LYSIMACHUS: But I am asking you, Socrates, because it seems as if our council1 needs someone to act as umpire. Had our two friends agreed, [d] we wouldn’t have been so much in need of such help; but as it is, since Laches has voted for the opposite to Nicias, as you can see, it’s as well that we should hear your opinion too, and see which of them you vote with.
SOCRATES: What, Lysimachus? Do you intend to follow whatever course the majority of us recommends?
LYSIMACHUS: Yes, what alternative is there, Socrates?
SOCRATES: And how about you, Melesias? Would you do the same? Imagine there was some discussion about the kind of athletic training your son should practise: would you be influenced by the majority of us, or by [e] the man who happened to have trained and exercised under a good coach?2
MELESIAS: By the man who’d been trained, I suppose, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Would he have more influence on you than four of us put together?
MELESIAS: Probably so.
SOCRATES: Yes, because I think that if a decision is to be made properly, then it must be made on the basis of knowledge and not numbers.
MELESIAS: Of course.
SOCRATES: So, what we should do now, first of all, is consider whether we have among us an expert in the subject we’re discussing or not. If we [185a] have, we should take his advice, albeit his alone, and ignore other people; and if we haven’t, we should look for somebody else. Or is it that you and Lysimachus think that all there is at stake here is something that doesn’t really matter, rather than what is in fact the most precious thing you possess? I take it, you see, that a man’s sons may turn out to be good, or they may turn out to be the opposite; but his entire household’s way of life is going to depend on the sort of characters they turn out to be.
MELESIAS: That’s true.
SOCRATES: So we ought to give the matter considerable thought.
MELESIAS: Certainly.
SOCRATES: To follow on from what I was just saying, then, if we were wanting to consider which of us had the most expertise in athletics, how [b] would we go about it? Wouldn’t we choose the man who’d learnt about athletics, who’d practised, and who’d been trained in the sport by top coaches?
MELESIAS: I think so.
SOCRATES: So, even before we consider that, we should ask in what subject we’re looking for teachers, shouldn’t we?
MELESIAS: How do you mean?
SOCRATES: Perhaps it’ll be clearer for you if I put it like this. It strikes me that here we are discussing which of us has become an expert and has had teachers to this end, and which hasn’t, when right from the start we’ve failed to agree what subject it is we’re talking about.[c]
NICIAS: Why, Socrates, isn’t it military training we’re considering, and whether or not young men ought to learn it?
SOCRATES: Yes, of course, Nicias. But when someone is considering whether or not to put some drops in his eyes, what do you suppose he’s thinking about at the time, the drops or his eyes?
NICIAS: His eyes.
SOCRATES: And whenever someone is considering whether or not he should introduce his horse to a bridle, and when he ought to do it, I [d] suppose that then it’s the horse and not the bridle that he’s thinking about, isn’t it?
NICIAS: True.
SOCRATES: So, in a nutshell, whenever someone is considering something for the sake of something else, it’s the latter that he’s actually thinking about – the thing for the sake of which the consideration was made – and not the thing for which he was searching for the sake of the other.
NICIAS: It must be.
SOCRATES: And so we must consider our adviser too, and ask whether he’s an expert in the care of the ‘thing for the sake of which’ we’re considering the subject we are.1
NICIAS: Certainly.
SOCRATES: So, we can now say that we’re considering a subject, and that it’s for the sake of young men’s characters we’re considering it, can’t [e] we?
NICIAS: Yes.
SOCRATES: So what we have to consider is this: is any of us an expert in caring for the character, and able to care for it properly, and which of us has had good teachers?
LACHES: Why, though, Socrates? Haven’t you ever seen people who have become greater experts in some subjects without teachers than others with them?
SOCRATES: Yes, I have, Laches; but in their case you’d be reluctant to accept any claim they might make to be good craftsmen, unless they could show you not just one, but several well-made pieces of work as examples of their skill. [186a]
LACHES: You’re right there.
SOCRATES: And so we’re under the same obligation, Laches and Nicias. Lysimachus and Melesias have invited us to discuss their sons, because they’re anxious for the boys’ characters to develop in the best way possible. So, what we must do, if we claim we can, is to point out to them teachers who are known firstly to have been upstanding men in their own right and to have cared for many young men’s characters, and secondly to have taught us also. Alternatively, if one of us can’t claim to have had [b] a teacher, but can describe his own achievements, he’d better point out the men, Athenian or foreign, slave or free, whose characters by common consent have benefited from his efforts. And if we’re not in a position to do either of these things, we ought strongly to recommend that they look for advice elsewhere. When our friends’ sons are at stake, we can’t risk corrupting them, and then having to face the bitter reproaches of people we’re close to.
I’ll be the first to explain my position, then, Lysimachus and Melesias, [c] and I may say I’ve not had any instruction on the subject, although it’s true that it has been a passionate interest of mine ever since I was a boy. But I’ve never been able to pay fees to the sophists1 – the only ones who professed to be able to make a good and honest man of me – and I can’t discover the art for myself even now. However, if Nicias or Laches had learnt or discovered it, I wouldn’t be at all surprised: they’re wealthier than I am, so they can afford to be taught by other people, and they’re older too, so they’ve had time to discover it. They certainly give me the [d] impression they’re able to educate a man – for they’d never have made such a confident display of their opinions on activities that are useful for the young, or are no good at all, unless they were convinced that their knowledge was equal to it. So in general I’ve every confidence in them; but they don’t agree with each other and that has surprised me.
I have in consequence a request to make of you in return, Lysimachus. Laches urged you just now not to let me slip away, but to ask me some questions, and now I urge you not to let Laches or Nicias slip away, but to ask them some questions. Say to them, ‘Socrates says he doesn’t understand this subject in the slightest and isn’t competent to decide which of you is right: he hasn’t been taught, or discovered for himself, [e] anything about that kind of thing at all. And now you, Laches and Nicias, are each to tell us if you’ve met anyone who was highly skilled in bringing up the young, and whether you learnt what you know from someone else or discovered it for yourselves. If you learnt it, could you tell us who taught each of you, and who is in the same profession? Then, if you [187a] haven’t the time yourselves because of affairs of state, we can approach them and offer them a fee, or do them a favour, or both, to persuade them to look after our sons and yours too: otherwise they might turn out to be good for nothing and a disgrace to the family name. But, if you discovered something of the kind for yourselves, could you give us an example of others who have turned under your care from being good-for-nothings into fine, upstanding men? If this is going to be your first venture into the field of education, you see, you must take care that you don’t experiment on your own sons and your friends’ children rather than on a guinea-pig, [b] and that you don’t just prove to be trying to run before you can walk, as the saying goes.2 So, could you tell us how much of all this you claim, or don’t claim, matches your record and resources?’
There, Lysimachus, that’s what you must find out from our friends here, and don’t let them off!
LYSIMACHUS: Well, gentlemen, to my mind socrates’ Scuggestion is admirable: but whether you’re willing to have such questions put to you [c] and are prepared to give an account of yourselves in reply, that you must decide for yourselves, Nicias and Laches. Melesias and I, as I’m sure you must realize, would be delighted if you were willing to give a full answer to all socrates’ questions: as I began by saying at the outset, the reason we invited you to give us advice was that we thought, naturally, you’d taken an interest in this kind of thing, especially as your sons, like ours, are almost old enough to start their education. so, if it’s all the same to [d] you, could you join socrates in discussing the issue and exchange your views with one another? after all, he is right in saying that we’re now discussing our most precious possession. think about it, and decide whether you agree that this is the right way to go about it.
A[6]. The Generals Agree to Cooperate with Socrates and Put Their Expertise to the Test
Both generals agree to comply with Socrates’ suggestion: Nicias because, as he explains to Lysimachus, it is Socrates’ usual procedure, and one with which he is greatly in sympathy; Laches because, to judge from his exceptional conduct at Deliutn, Socrates should be well worth hearing. Lysimachus then asks Socrates to put the questions to them on his behalf.
The section is in many ways an ‘apology’ for Socrates and a justification of his philosophical method. Here again, Nicias’ primary concern is for what men know and say, whereas Laches, by no means so familiar with the intellectual world, is more concerned with what they are and do.
NICIAS: Lysimachus, my friend, it definitely looks to me as though you only know Socrates from what you knew of his father, and that you’ve never had anything to do with him personally. Well, I suppose you might have met him as a boy with his father in your home town, at the temple [e] or at some other gathering of local people, but since he became older you’ve never come across the man, that’s quite clear.
LYSIMACHUS: What exactly makes you think so, Nicias?
NICIAS: You seem not to know that whenever anyone comes face to face with Socrates and has a conversation with him, what invariably happens is that, although they may have started on a completely different subject at first, Socrates will keep heading him off as they’re talking until he has him trapped into giving an account of his present life-style, and of the [188a] way he has spent his life in the past. And once he has him trapped, Socrates won’t let him go before he has well and truly cross-examined him on every angle. Now I’m well acquainted with him, and I know that putting up with this treatment from him is inevitable; and what’s more, I’ll get the same treatment myself, I’m sure of that. I enjoy his company, you see, Lysimachus, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong in suggesting that we haven’t acted properly in the past, or that we’re not doing so now. On the contrary, you’re bound to be more careful about your way of life in [b] future if you don’t shrink from this treatment, but believe, as Solon said,1 that it’s right to go on learning as long as you live, and are prepared to do so because you don’t assume that wisdom is an automatic consequence of old age. To me there’s nothing unusual, or annoying either, about being cross-examined by Socrates; in fact, I was fairly certain some time ago that with Socrates here it wouldn’t be the boys we’d be talking about, but ourselves. So, what I’m saying is that, as far as I’m concerned, there’s no [c] reason why I shouldn’t spend the time with him as he wants; but you’d better see what Laches feels about this kind of thing.
LACHES: I’m very single-minded, Nicias, when it comes to discussions, or if you like, I’m not so much single-minded as in two minds about them.2 Sometimes you’d think I was fond of discussions, but on other occasions it would look as though I hated them. You see, whenever I hear a man talking about goodness or any kind of wisdom – a real man, that is, who lives by his principles – I’m overjoyed, because I can see that the [d] speaker is in tune with his words and that the two go together. Such a man really is, I think, a true musician: he uses the finest mode and has tuned to it not just a lyre or some other entertaining instrument, but he has tuned his own life so that his words harmonize with his actions; and it’s done fairly and squarely in the Dorian mode, the one native mode of Greece, not in the Ionian or, I’ll warrant, in the Phrygian or Lydian modes either.3 In any event, a man like that fills me with pleasure when he speaks, and everyone would assume that I was fond of discussions – I’m so keen [e] to take in what he has to say. But it pains me to hear someone who is quite the opposite, and the more eloquently he seems to speak, the worse it becomes, and then it looks as though I hate discussions.
In Socrates’ case I’m not familiar with his conversation, but I believe I do have prior experience of his conduct, which I found worthy of a man of high principles and total frankness. So, if he has these gifts too, his [189a] wish is mine. I’d be delighted to be questioned by such a man, and I wouldn’t find it at all annoying to learn a lesson or two. I also agree with Solon, adding just one condition: as I grow older, I’m willing to learn a great many things, but only from good men. Let Solon concede that my teacher is himself a good man, otherwise I’ll hate my lessons and seem a slow learner; whereas if my teacher is younger than I am, or isn’t well known as yet, or anything of that sort, I don’t mind at all. So, Socrates, [b] I promise you can teach me and examine me on whatever point you want, and learn whatever I know in return. That’s how I’ve thought about you ever since that day the two of us came through a dangerous experience together, and you proved your mettle in the way any man has to, if he’s going to justify his reputation. So say whatever you like, and don’t take the slightest account of our difference in age.
SOCRATES: It seems we shan’t have to complain that you’re unwilling [c] to think it over and share your thoughts with us!
LYSIMACHUS: Well then, it’s up to us now, Socrates – i say ‘us’, since I’m including you on our side. Could you take my place and consider on behalf of the boys what we need to find out from our friends here, and give us your own advice as you talk things over with them? For myself, you see, the problem is my age: I forget most of the questions I mean to ask – and for that matter most of the answers I hear as well – and if a conversation changes tack in the middle, I don’t remember at all. So could [d] you discuss matters between the three of you and go through what we proposed? I’ll listen, and then Melesias and I will both do whatever you think is best.
Socrates now raises what he believes to be a further, and more fundamental, qualification for a teacher. He holds as a general principle that if one knows one can improve x by adding to it y, and also knows how to add y to x, one must know what y is, and hence be able to say what it is. As educating the boys amounts to adding goodness to them, Nicias and Laches must be able to define goodness if they are to offer any advice on education. Socrates will test them by asking for a definition of bravery, the constituent part of goodness that is particularly relevant to military training.
Socrates has not yet made it clear what ‘to say what it is’ will actually involve. It seems true that a teacher must have some grasp of the result he is trying to achieve, and that he will have some ability to communicate this to other people. However, when Socrates goes on to discuss Laches’ first attempt at a definition, it becomes clear that he has in mind something far stricter than these minimum requirements.
SOCRATES: Well, Nicias and Laches, we’d better do as Lysimachus and Melesias have asked. Now possibly, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for us to examine ourselves thoroughly on the kinds of question we’ve just attempted to consider – the questions regarding the men who have taught us in this branch of education, or those others we’ve turned into better [e] people. However, in my opinion, the following line of inquiry also has a bearing on the same problem and is, if anything, more fundamental to it. You see, if we know that we can improve something by adding something else to it, and we can, moreover, cause the one to be added to the other, clearly we know what it is we’re adding, and we could advise people on the best and easiest means of acquiring it. Now you probably don’t understand what I mean, but if I put it like this, you’ll understand it more easily. if we know that we can improve someone’s eyes by adding sight to [190a] them, and we can, moreover, cause sight to be added to that person’s eyes, clearly we know what sight is, and we could advise people on the best and easiest means of acquiring it. you see, if we didn’t even know what sight is, or what hearing is, then as doctors we’d hardly be worth consulting for advice on ears and eyes and the best way of acquiring hearing and sight. [b]
LACHES: You’re right, Socrates.
SOCRATES: In the present case, Laches, our friends are inviting us to advise them on the means of adding goodness to their sons and so improving their characters, aren’t they?
LACHES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: So the qualification we need is this: we need to know what goodness is, don’t we? Because if we hadn’t a clue what goodness actually is, there’d be no way in which we could possibly give anyone any advice on the best way of acquiring it, would there? [c]
LACHES: No, I don’t think there would, Socrates.
SOCRATES: So, we claim that we do know what it is, Laches.
LACHES: Yes, we do.
SOCRATES: So, since we know what it is, we could also, presumably, say what it is, couldn’t we?
LACHES: Of course.
SOCRATES: Well, in that case, my good friend, let’s not look at goodness as a whole straight away – it might well be a rather lengthy business. Let’s examine part of it first of all and see whether we’re in a position to know about that. We’ll probably find this makes our inquiry easier. [d]
LACHES: By all means, Socrates, let’s do as you wish.
SOCRATES: So which part of goodness are we to choose? Clearly, I think, the one to which the subject of military training belongs – and that, I imagine, is generally supposed to be bravery. Isn’t that so?
LACHES: Yes, it certainly is.
Laches answers the request to define bravery by describing the behaviour of a brave infantryman. Socrates, however, points out that a soldier could behave in quite the opposite way and still be thought of as brave; moreover, bravery is by no means confined to the army. What he really requires is a definition that holds good for each and every occasion on which someone could be said to be brave, and he illustrates his meaning by defining quickness.
By giving several examples of the kind offered by Laches, it would be possible to convey an intuitive grasp of the nature of bravery. Socrates, however, goes beyond what it seems reasonable to require of a teacher: firstly, he delimits the usage of the word by citing all the different occasions on which one could be brave (it is worth noting how broad a concept of bravery he is using), and secondly he requires an analytical capacity to produce a definition that holds good for each and every occasion mentioned. It is to be noted that in Socrates’ example quickness and bravery are not truly analogous kinds of quality: being quick is behaving in a certain kind of way, but being brave is a matter of one’s behaviour being caused by a certain mental state (see Irwin, p. 45).
SOCRATES: First of all, then, let’s try to say what bravery is, Laches; and after that we’ll investigate any ways of adding it to young men, in so far as it may be possible to do so by means of various activities and disciplines. So, as i say, try to put into words what bravery is. [e]
LACHES: My word, Socrates, that’s not difficult! If a man is prepared to stand in the ranks, face up to the enemy and not run away, you can be sure that he’s brave.
SOCRATES: You’ve got a good point there, Laches. But it’s probably my fault: I didn’t make myself clear, and the question you’ve answered isn’t the question I meant to ask, but a different one.
LACHES: What do you mean by that, Socrates?
SOCRATES: I’ll explain, if I can. I’m assuming that this man you mentioned [191a] – the one who stands in the ranks and fights the enemy – is a brave man.
LACHES: I certainly think so.
SOCRATES: Yes, and so do I. But what about another man, a man who still fights the enemy, but runs away and doesn’t make a stand?
LACHES: How do you mean, ‘runs away’?
SOCRATES: Well, I suppose just like the Scythians1 are said to fight every bit as much in retreat as in pursuit, and perhaps just like Homer says in praise of Aeneas’ horses that they know how ‘quickly to cover the [b] ground in flight or in pursuit, it makes no odds’, and pays tribute to Aeneas himself for his knowledge of fear, and says he’s a ‘contriver of fear’.2
LACHES: And very properly too, Socrates, because he was talking about chariots, and your point about the Scythians applies to cavalry – that’s the way cavalry go into action, but infantry operate as I described.
SOCRATES: With the possible exception, Laches, of the Spartan infantry. At the battle of Plataea,3 so the story goes, the Spartans came up [c] against the troops with wicker shields,4 but weren’t willing to stand and fight, and fell back. The Persians broke ranks in pursuit; but then the Spartans wheeled round fighting like cavalry and so won that part of the battle.
LACHES: That’s true.
SOCRATES: Well, this is what I meant just now when I said it was my fault you didn’t give a proper answer, because I didn’t phrase the question properly; you see, I wanted to find out not just what it is to be brave as an infantryman, but also as a cavalryman, and as any kind of member of [d] the forces; and not just what it is to be brave during a war, but to be brave in the face of danger at sea; and I wanted to find out what it is to be brave in the face of an illness, in the face of poverty, and in public life; and what’s more not just what it is to be brave in resisting pain or fear, but also in putting up stern opposition to temptation and indulgence – because [e] I’m assuming, Laches, that there are people who are brave in all these situations.
LACHES: Very much so, Socrates.
SOCRATES: So, all these people are brave, but some possess bravery in the face of indulgence, others in the face of pain, temptation or fear; and others in the same circumstances, I imagine, possess cowardice.
LACHES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: What is each of these two qualities – that’s what I wanted to know. So try again, and tell me with respect to bravery first of all what the constant factor in all these situations is – or do you still not understand what I mean?
LACHES: No, not entirely.
SOCRATES: Well, what I mean is this: it’s as if I were asking what [192a] aquickness is, which is a quality present to us in running, playing the lyre, speaking, learning and many other activities, and which we possess in virtually any pursuit worth talking about, in the actions of our hands or legs, or mouth and voice, or mind. Wouldn’t you put it like that too?
LACHES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Suppose, then, someone asked me this question: ‘Socrates, what do you say it is, this quality which in each instance you term quickness?’ I’d reply that for me quickness is the ability to do a lot in a short [b] space of time, whether one is speaking, running or engaged in any other activity.
LACHES: And you’d be quite right.
SOCRATES: Now then, you try, and say what bravery is in the same terms, Laches: what ability is called bravery and is the same in pleasure, pain and all the situations in which we said just now that it was to be found?
Laches now identifies bravery with endurance (karteria). Socrates’ reply falls into two parts. In the first (192c–d), adopting premisses which could for the Greeks be assumed without argument, he moves by deduction to the conclusion that only endurance with wisdom can be a virtue. Then in the second part (192e–193d), he brings forward counter-examples which seem to show not only that endurance with wisdom might not always be brave, but also that it might be braver to show endurance with foolishness. However, the first two examples are really no more than an alternative way of asking what kind of wisdom must be added to endurance to produce bravery: will it be commercial acumen, for instance, or medical science? Laches’ reaction shows that it will be no such thing; but no attempt is made to suggest any further possibilities. In the later examples, he assumes at once that it is foolish, though brave, to face a danger for which one is ill prepared. However, one cannot judge the issue unless one knows what is at stake: it is foolish to take unnecessary risks, but it is not foolish to go forward to almost certain death if, for example, it is known that such action will save the lives of others. Moreover, a man who is ill prepared merely has more opportunity to show his bravery than a man backed by great resources, and it does not follow that one can judge which of the two is braver in absolute terms.
What Socrates and Laches need is the distinction between different kinds of knowledge which Nicias offers when he is asked to help (B[4] and B[5]). Nicias distinguishes between the kind of knowledge a doctor or farmer might have (of what will happen) from the kind of knowledge necessary for bravery (of whether a thing is good or bad). If the revised definition, endurance with wisdom, were to be changed to read ‘endurance with knowledge of good and evil’, the difficulties raised by the counter-examples would disappear; and indeed those who hold the philosopkico-dramatk interpretation of the dialogue believe that it is intended to endorse exactly such a definition of bravery (see p. 75 ff.).
LACHES: I take it, in that case, to be a certain endurance present in one’s character, if I have to mention the element essentially present in all cases.
SOCRATES: Well of course you have, if we’re going to give ourselves [c] an answer to our question! Now, this is how it appears to me: by no means every kind of endurance, I think, can appear to you to be bravery. I make that surmise because I’m almost certain, Laches, that you think of bravery as one of the finer things.
LACHES: One of the finest, you can be sure of that.
SOCRATES: So endurance accompanied by wisdom would be both fine and good, wouldn’t it?
LACHES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: But what of it when accompanied by foolishness? Surely [d] it’s quite the opposite, damaging and detrimental?
LACHES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then are you going to say such a thing is fine, if it’s a detrimental and damaging thing?
LACHES: No, at least not with any justice, Socrates.
SOCRATES: So you won’t agree that this kind of endurance is bravery, on the grounds that it’s not fine, whereas bravery is a fine thing.
LACHES: That’s right.
SOCRATES: So, according to your account, wise endurance will be bravery.
LACHES: So it seems.
SOCRATES: Let’s see now: wise, but wise in what respect? Perhaps in [e] every respect, great or small? Suppose, for instance, someone showed endurance in spending his money wisely, because he realized that if he spent it, he’d make a profit: would you call him brave?
LACHES: Good heavens, I certainly wouldn’t!
SOCRATES: Well, what if a doctor, whose son, or someone else, was suffering from pleurisy and asking for something to eat or drink, showed endurance in refusing to give way?
LACHES: No, there’s no way I’d call that bravery either. [193a]
SOCRATES: Well then, suppose during a war a man showed endurance by being prepared to fight: he has calculated his chances wisely and realized that others will support him, that he’ll be fighting an enemy outnumbered and outclassed by his own side, and that he has the stronger position – now, which would you say is the braver, the man showing endurance with the benefit of this kind of wisdom and these resources, ora man from the opposing camp willing to show endurance in standing against him?
LACHES: I’d say the man in the opposing camp, Socrates. [b]
SOCRATES: But surely his endurance is more foolish than that of the other?
LACHES: Yes, you’re right.
SOCRATES: Then you’ll say that if a man who knows about horseman-ship shows endurance in a cavalry action, he won’t be as brave as a man without such knowledge.
LACHES: Yes, I think so.
SOCRATES: And the same goes for a man who shows endurance with a [c] knowledge of slinging, archery or any other skill.
LACHES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And you’ll say that anyone willing to go down into a well,1 and to dive, and show endurance in this or in some similar activity, will be braver than the experts, although not an expert himself.
LACHES: What else can one say, Socrates?
SOCRATES: Nothing, provided one thinks so.
LACHES: Well, I do.
SOCRATES: Moreover, Laches, when such people take risks and show endurance, they’re perhaps more foolish than those who do the same things with skill.
LACHES: Apparently so.
SOCRATES: Now, we’ve previously shown that without knowledge [d] endurance and daring are disgraceful and damaging, haven’t we?
LACHES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And bravery, we agreed, is a fine thing.
LACHES: Yes, we did.
SOCRATES: But now we’re claiming, on the contrary, that this disgraceful thing, endurance without knowledge, is bravery.
LACHES: Apparently so.
SOCRATES: Then do you think we’ve given a good account?
LACHES: Good heavens, Socrates, I certainly don’t.
Socrates finds that Laches is keen to continue searching for the definition of bravery, but suggests that they invite Nicias to help them get over their difficulty. Although Nicias subsequently diverts his attention towards a purely intellectualist account of bravery, Socrates seems not to abandon entirely a definition in terms of endurance. Indeed, he appears to suggest that such a definition may still turn out to be true, despite the problems which he and Laches have encountered (194a). If it is right to read the section in this way, it may be a clue to the interpretation of the dialogue as a whole, for perhaps Plato did not so much intend to reject Laches’ definition in favour of Nicias’ as to show that no definition of bravery could be adequate unless it incorporated the insights of both the generals.
SOCRATES: So I suppose, to use your words, that we’re not tuned in the Dorian mode, you and I, Laches, since what we do doesn’t harmonize [e] with what we say. If people judged us by our actions, they might well say that we had our share of bravery; but to judge from this conversation, I don’t think they would if they could hear us discussing it.
LACHES: You’re quite right.
SOCRATES: Well now, do you think it’s good that we’re in this position?
LACHES: No, not at all.
SOCRATES: So do you mind if we abide by part of what we said?
LACHES: What part, and what did we say?
SOCRATES: We said we were to show endurance. So, if you don’t mind, let’s stick to the search and show some endurance, in case Bravery herself [194a] pokes fun at us for not bravely searching for her, when perhaps endurance actually is bravery after all.
LACHES: I’m not prepared to give up too soon, Socrates. It’s true I’m not used to this kind of discussion, but hearing what has been said has made me feel like fighting it out. I’m really annoyed because I can’t find b the words to say what I’m thinking – I’m sure I can see what Bravery is, [b] but somehow or other she has escaped me for the moment, so I can’t find the words to catch her and actually say what she is!
SOCRATES: Well, my friend, the good huntsman must follow the trail and not give up the chase, mustn’t he?
LACHES: Yes, without a doubt.
SOCRATES: Then do you mind if we invite Nicias here to join the hunt? He may be more resourceful than we are.
LACHES: Of course I don’t mind. [c]
SOCRATES: Come on then, Nicias, your friends are floundering in a sea of words! We’ve got ourselves hopelessly confused, so you’d better give us some help, if there’s anything you can do. The hopelessness of our predicament is obvious; but if you tell us what you think bravery is, you’ll get us out of this hopeless state, and you’ll also confirm your own thoughts by putting them into words.
Nicias believes that goodness depends on knowledge, and so for him bravery must be some kind of knowledge, and more specifically the knowledge of which situations are fearful and which are encouraging. Laches is totally opposed to the idea and cites what he believes to be counter-examples. Nicias defends his definition by claiming that Laches has failed to distinguish between two different kinds of knowledge. Laches in turn regards this as splitting hairs, but Socrates persuades him not to abandon the discussion.
It may be significant that Nicias’ definition is said to be derived from Socrates’own beliefs (see p. 74). Laches’ attitude is exactly what one would expect, given his views on military training, but Nicias’ distinction between knowing what will happen and knowing whether it will be good or bad is perfectly valid, and would have helped to solve the problems of Laches’ second definition (see p. 75).
NICIAS: Well, I’ve been thinking for some time now, Socrates, that you two aren’t defining bravery in the right way. You see, you aren’t making use of a very good point I’ve heard you make in the past.
SOCRATES: What sort of point, Nicias?
NICIAS: I’ve often heard you saying that we’re each good in so far as [d] we’re clever, but in so far as we’re ignorant, we’re bad.
SOCRATES: You’re certainly right there, Nicias.
NICIAS: So if a brave man is a good man, it’s obvious that he’s clever.
SOCRATES: Did you hear that, Laches?
LACHES: I did, and I don’t really understand what he means at all.
SOCRATES: Well, I think I do, and I think he’s saying that bravery is some sort of cleverness.
LACHES: What sort of cleverness, Socrates?
SOCRATES: You’re asking him that, I take it? [e]
LACHES: I am.
SOCRATES: Come on, then, Nicias, tell him what sort of cleverness bravery would be on your account. It wouldn’t, I suppose, be cleverness at playing the flute.
NICIAS: Of course it wouldn’t.
SOCRATES: Nor at playing the lyre.
NICIAS: Not at all.
SOCRATES: well, what is it, then? What subject is it knowledge of?
LACHES: That’s the right question to ask him, Socrates: let him tell us what sort of knowledge he says it is.
NICIAS: This is the knowledge I mean, Laches: knowledge of what is fearful and what is encouraging, both in wartime and in all other [195a] situations.
LACHES: What a peculiar thing for him to say, Socrates!
SOCRATES: What makes you say that, Laches?
LACHES: What makes me say that? Surely cleverness has nothing to do with bravery!
SOCRATES: Nicias doesn’t agree.
LACHES: I’ll say he doesn’t! But he’s talking gibberish!
SOCRATES: Then let’s put him straight; let’s not get abusive.
NICIAS: No; but it strikes me, socrates, that laches is keen to have it proved that i’m talking nonsense, because he has just been proved to be doing the self-same thing!
LACHES: You‘re absolutely right, Nicias, and I’ll certainly try to prove [b] it, because you are talking nonsense! For instance, in the case of ill health, doctors are the ones who know the dagners, aren’t they? Or do you think brave men are the ones who know? Or perhaps you’d call doctors brave?
NICIAS: No, not at all.
LACHES: No, and I don’t suppose you’d say the same about farmers either; but they’re surely the ones who know the dangers that are part of agriculture. other skilled people, moreover, all know what is fearful and what is encouraging in their own crafts; but they’re no more brave for [c] that.
SOCRATES: What do you think Laches’ argument is, Nicias? He certainly does seem to have a point.
NICIAS: Yes, he certainly has a point, but it isn’t right.
SOCRATES: How so?
NICIAS: Because he thinks doctors know more about their patients than what is healthy and unhealthy for them.1 But that is surely all they do know: to be healthy might be more dangerous for some people than being ill – but do you think doctors are the ones who know that, Laches? Don’t you think many people would be better off never recovering from an illness? Tell me, do you believe it’s always better to live? Wouldn’t it often [d] be better for some to die?
LACHES: That much I’ll agree.
NICIAS: So do you think that what is fearful is the same for those who’d be better off dead as for those who’d be better off alive?
LACHES: No, I don’t.
NICIAS: Well, do you attribute this knowledge to doctors or to any other skilled person apart from the one who knows what is fearful and what is not – the man I call brave?
SOCRATES: Do you see what he means, Laches?
LACHES: I do indeed: he’s saying brave men are prophets,2 because [e] who else will know whether it’s better for a man to live or die? But what about yourself, Nicias? Are you admitting you’re a prophet, or are you saying you’re neither a prophet nor brave?
NICIAS: What? Prophets? Now you think it’s their business to know what is fearful and what is encouraging, do you?
LACHES: Yes, I do: who else could it be?
NICIAS: The man I’m talking about is a much more likely candidate, my good friend. A prophet’s only duty is to understand the signs of future events – to know whether someone is going to die, fall ill, go bankrupt, or be on the winning or losing side in a war or some other contest. But [196a] deciding which of these it’s better for someone to suffer or not is surely no more the business of a prophet than it is of anyone else!
LACHES: Well, I don’t understand this fellow, Socrates; I don’t see what he’s driving at. He isn’t letting us know whom he calls brave: it’s not a prophet or a doctor, but he isn’t saying who else it might be, unless he means it’s some god. So it looks to me as though Nicias is not prepared to be a gentleman and admit when he’s talking nonsense: he’s twisting [b] and turning to hide the fact that he’s baffled. You and I could have twisted in the same way just now if we’d wanted not to look as though we were contradicting ourselves. If we were arguing in court, there’d be some excuse for such behaviour, but when we’re having a friendly conversation like this, why would anyone waste time dressing himself up with such frippery?
SOCRATES: I can’t see any reason for that either, Laches. But let’s see: [c] it may be that Nicias does think he has a point, and perhaps he isn’t just arguing for argument’s sake. So let’s ask him for a clearer explanation of what he has in mind: if it looks as though he has got something, we’ll concede the point; if not, we’ll tell him why.
LACHES: In that case, Socrates, if you’d like to ask the questions, please go ahead: I rather think I’ve heard enough.
SOCRATES: Well, I’ve no objection to that, Laches; I’ll ask the questions on behalf of us both.
LACHES: Very well, then.
If bravery is a kind of knowledge, how can Nicias account for the fact that certain animals are often said to be brave? Socrates can see two possible replies: either Nicias is flying in the face of accepted usage and denying that animals can be brave, or he accepts that certain animals are brave, and in so doing attributes to them a level of understanding not attained by many human beings. Nicias takes the former alternative, finding fault with what he sees as a general failure to distinguish between cases of bravery and cases of recklessness or fearlessness. Animals and children may sometimes behave as if brave, but they cannot actually be brave, or properly be described as such, because they do not appreciate the danger they face.
In this section Nicias identifies a common intuition that an action can only be virtuous if the agent is aware of what he is doing. However, it is not clear that this awareness must be the strict kind of knowledge which Nicias claims in his definition; it might simply be a matter of realizing the danger, and thus well within the abilities of children and animals. What is really required is an argument to prove that our common usage of the word ‘bravery’ is at fault: it must be shown that bravery, and other virtues, need a rational element whichwould exclude animals. In other Platonic dialogues, e.g. Meno and Phaedo, various arguments are evaluated which aim to prove that knowledge is necessary for virtue; but in the Laches Nicias is allowed to evade the issue. The difficulty of proving the proposition was a constant problem for Socrates and Plato.
SOCRATES: Now, Nicias, tell me – or rather, tell us, since Laches and I are sharing the discussion between us – your argument is that bravery [d] is knowledge of what is fearful and what is encouraging, isn’t it?
NICIAS: Yes.
SOCRATES: And this isn’t something everyone is aware of, since doctors and prophets won’t be aware of it, and won’t be brave, unless they supplement their own knowledge with this particular kind. Isn’t that what you said?
NICIAS: Yes, it was.
SOCRATES: So, it’s actually not something any pig would know, as the [e] saying goes,1 and a pig couldn’t be brave.
NICIAS: No, I think not.
SOCRATES: It’s obvious, Nicias, you don’t believe even the Crommyonian pig2 could have been brave. I don’t mean to be flippant by that remark; I think that if one puts forward this theory, one is forced either to deny that any animal whatsoever is brave, or else to allow that an animal like a lion, or a leopard, or even a wild boar, is clever enough to know things which all but a few human beings find too difficult to understand. And if one has the same concept of bravery as you, one is bound to admit that as far as being brave is concerned, lions, stags, bulls and apes are all in this same position.
LACHES: My word, that’s an excellent point, Socrates! Now let’s have [197a] an honest answer to this, Nicias: are they more intelligent than us, these animals we all agree are brave? Is this what you’re saying? Or have you the nerve to contradict everyone else and not call them brave at all?
NICIAS: Yes, I have, Laches. ‘Brave’ is not a word I use to describe animals, or anything else that’s not afraid of danger because of its own lack of understanding; I prefer ‘fearless’ and ‘foolish’. Or do you suppose I call every little child brave because it doesn’t understand, and so is not afraid of anything? No, I think to be unafraid and to be brave are two [b] quite different things. Bravery and foresight are, in my opinion, things a very small number of people possess; whereas being reckless, daring, fearless and blind to consequences is the norm for the vast majority of men, women, children and animals. So you see, what you and most people call brave, I call reckless: brave actions are those coupled with wisdom, [c] as I said.
LACHES: Look how well this fellow thinks he has dressed himself up with an argument, Socrates! There are men everyone agrees are brave, and he’s trying to take this honour away from them.
NICIAS: I’m not referring to you, Laches, so cheer up! I admit you’re clever, and Lamachus too,1 since you’re both brave; and the same goes for plenty of other Athenians.
LACHES: I could say something to that, but I won’t, in case you call me a real son of Aexone!2
SOCRATES: No, don’t say anything, Laches. You see, you don’t seem [d] quite to have realized that he has acquired this cleverness from Damon, a friend of ours, and that Damon spends a great deal of time with Prodicus,3 who is thought, of course, to be the best of the sophists at distinguishing terms like these.
LACHES: Yes, Socrates, and it’s appropriate for a sophist to deal in this sort of subtlety, but hardly for a man the country thinks fit to govern it!
SOCRATES: Surely, my friend, it’s appropriate for a man with the greatest [e] responsibilities to have the greatest wisdom. However, I think it’s worth examining Nicias, to see what he has his eye on in his attempt to pin down this term ‘bravery’.
LACHES: In that case, you consider the point, Socrates.
SOCRATES: I intend to, my dear sir; but don’t think I’m excluding you from sharing the discussion. Do give it your attention, and join me in considering the arguments that are put forward.
LACHES: Very well, then; if you really think it’s necessary.
SOCRATES: Indeed I do.
In this section Socrates raises a difficulty for Nicias by showing that his definition of bravery actually contradicts their initial assumption that bravery is apart of goodness (190c-d). First, Nicias is brought to see that his definition is equivalent to the proposition that bravery is the knowledge of future evil and future good or non-evil. Next, Socrates points out that knowledge is not subject to temporal restrictions: if a doctor knows that a particular drug will cure a particular illness, then he knows that it could have done so yesterday, and will be able to do so tomorrow. Socrates seems to be suggesting that one difference between knowing something and merely having an opinion that happens to be true is that knowledge must be founded on general principles and observed regularities. It follows that the knowledge which Nicias holds to be bravery is none other than the knowledge of some such principles: if one knows about future good and future evil, one must know certain general principles about the nature of all good and evil things, which is, in short, the knowledge of good and evil. Having gained Nicias’ agreement for this step, Socrates then brings out the inconsistency in Nicias’ position. Nicias believes that being virtuous is a matter of possessing certain kinds of knowledge, so he readily agrees that goodness itself is the possession of the ultimate moral knowledge, which is the knowledge of good and evil. It seems that within the terms of his definition Nicias cannot distinguish between bravery and goodness, yet he also wishes to say that there is a difference between them, since bravery is merely a part of goodness. How is the dilemma to be resolved? The Laches offers no explicit answer, but it has often been thought to contain clues to Plato’s own view: the merits of the various suggestions are discussed in the introduction, p. 72 ff.
SOCRATES: Now, Nicias, could you explain it to us again from the beginning? You know we started our discussion by considering bravery [198a] as a part of goodness?
NICIAS: Yes, I do.
SOCRATES: So you did agree with our answer that it’s a part, and hence that there are other parts, which are known collectively as goodness, didn’t you?
NICIAS: Yes, of course.
SOCRATES: Now, you mean the same by these parts as I do, don’t you? For me, besides bravery, the list includes self-control, fairness and othersimilar qualities. isn’t it the same for you?
NICIAS: Certainly. [b]
SOCRATES: Hold on a minute: so far we’re in agreement, but now let’s consider what is fearful and what is encouraging, and make sure that you don’t think they are one thing, while we think they’re another. let me tell you what we think, and if you don’t agree, you can explain why. We think that the things which are fearful are simply those which cause fear, and that the things which are encouraging are those which do not; and fear is caused not by past or present evil, but by the evil that one expects to come, because fear is the expectation of future evil. You do agree with that, don’t you, Laches?
LACHES: I agree entirely, Socrates. [c]
SOCRATES: So there it is, Nicias: our view is that what is fearful is future evil, and what is encouraging is the good, or the absence of evil, that is yet to come. Now, is that how you describe them, or have you some other way?
NICIAS: No, that’s how I describe them.
SOCRATES: And it’s knowledge of these things you call bravery?
NICIAS: Absolutely.
SOCRATES: Then let’s see if you agree with us on yet a third point.
NICIAS: What point is that?
SOCRATES: I’ll explain. It seems to your friend and me, taking account [d] of all objects of knowledge, that it’s never one thing to know how a past event took place, another to know how events are unfolding in the present, and another to know how future events will come about and what the best course for them would be: it’s the same knowledge throughout. For example, health, regardless of time, is the exclusive province of medicine, a single science which reviews the present state of things, and the events of the past, and the way things will develop in the future; and agricultural [e] science is in the same position as regards the produce of the land. And, of course, regarding military affairs, you yourselves would bear me out that it is generalship which always takes the best stock of any situation, particularly one lying in the future: generalship does not expect to be subordinate to prophecy, but to take precedence, because it has a better understanding of a current military situation and the way it will develophence the provision in law that the general has authority over the prophet, [199a] rather than the prophet over the general.1 Are we agreed, Laches?
LACHES: Yes, we are.
SOCRATES: Well now, Nicias, do you agree with us that, when the subject is the same, it’s one and the same kind of knowledge that understands future, present and past?
NICIAS: Yes, that is my view, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And bravery, my friend, is knowledge of what is fearful and what is encouraging, as you say – isn’t that so? [b]
NICIAS: Yes.
SOCRATES: And we’ve agreed that what is fearful and what is encouraging are, respectively, future evil and future good.
NICIAS: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And that it’s the same knowledge that covers the future and all the other stages of the same subjects.
NICIAS: That’s so.
SOCRATES: Then bravery can’t only be knowledge of what is fearful and what is encouraging, because like other kinds of knowledge it understands not only the future stages of good and evil,1 but also the present [c] and the past.
NICIAS: Apparently so.
SOCRATES: So the answer you gave us, Nicias, covers only about a third part of bravery, whereas we asked what bravery is as a whole. and so now, it seems, on your own admission, bravery is knowledge not only of what is fearful and what is encouraging, but according to the way you describe it now, of pretty well the whole subject of good and evil, regardless of time. does that reflect your change of mind, or would you put it [d] differently, Nicias?
NICIAS: No, That’s how it seems to me, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Then does it seem to you, good sir, that a man would inany way lack goodness, if he understood all the different kinds of good, and had an exact knowledge of the course of these in the past, present and future, and a similar understanding of evil? moreover, do you suppose he’d lack self-control, or fairness and holiness, when because of his knowledge of how to behave properly towards the gods and his fellow men, he alone has it in him to avoid what is to be feared and gain what is [e] good?2
NICIAS: I think you have a point there, Socrates.
SOCRATES: So, What you’re now describing, Nicias, won’t be a part of goodness, but goodness in its entirety.
NICIAS: So it seems.
SOCRATES: But we did say that bravery is only one of the parts of goodness.
NICIAS: Yes, we did.
SOCRATES: But what you’re now describing appears not to be so.
NICIAS: No, it seems not.
SOCRATES: So we’ve not discovered what bravery is, Nicias.
NICIAS: No, apparently not.
All the generals can agree is that Lysimackus and Melesias should ask Socrates if he is willing to undertake their sons’ education himself. Socrates, however, feels that he has not emerged from the discussion with greater credit than the others, and declines the invitation. He suggests that when a teacher is found, they should all take lessons, and not just send the boys. The dialogue concludes because all concerned have failed to prove themselves suitably qualified to speak on education.
LACHES: And there was I thinking you’d find it, my dear Nicias – you were so disdainful of the answers I gave Socrates. In fact, with that expertise [200a] you picked up from Damon I quite expected you to make the discovery!
NICIAS: That’s marvellous, Laches, I must say! A moment ago you were shown to know nothing at all about bravery, and now you don’t think it matters any more: so long as I’m shown up in the same light, that’s all that bothers you. We’re both totally ignorant of things any self-respecting man ought to know, but apparently it won’t make any difference to you now! It strikes me you’re behaving in a typically human way – [b] you keep an eye on others, but you never take a good look at yourself. Now, I think I’ve spoken fairly well for the moment on what we were discussing, and if there’s anything unsatisfactory in what has been said, I’ll correct it later with Damon’s help (a man you want to ridicule without ever having met) and with the help of others. And once I have the matter settled, I’ll explain it to you; I won’t begrudge you that – I think you have a lot to learn! [c]
LACHES: And you’re such a clever fellow, I know, Nicias! All the same, as far as the education of their boys goes, my advice to Lysimachus here and Melesias is to dispense with you and me, but not to let our friend Socrates slip away, as I said from the beginning. If my sons were old enough, that’s exactly what I would do.
NICIAS: On that even I agree with you: if Socrates is willing to take charge of the boys, they shouldn’t look any further – I’d be only too pleased to entrust Niceratus to him,1 if he should be willing. But, you see, [d] every time I mention anything about it, he recommends other people and isn’t willing to do it himself. However, why don’t you see if Socrates will take more notice of you, Lysimachus?
LYSIMACHUS: It’s only right he should, Nicias: I’d be willing to do a great deal for him that I’d not be willing to do for scores of other people. What do you say, then, Socrates? Will you do as I ask and wholeheartedly help the boys make the best of themselves?
SOCRATES: It would certainly be a terrible thing, Lysimachus, not to [e] be willing wholeheartedly to help someone make the best of himself. So, if it had become apparent in the course of our discussions just now that I had some knowledge of the matter which our two friends do not, it would be right to make a point of inviting me to do them this kindness; but we’ve all become equally confused. why opt for any particular one of us? I don’t [201a] think any of us is to be preferred; and since that’s the case, you’re to consider whether my advice sounds any good. My suggestion, gentlemen –tell it not in Gath1 – is that we should all cooperate in looking for the best teacher we can find, primarily for ourselves – we need one – and secondly for the boys, and we shouldn’t spare the expense or any other efforts we can make. what I don’t advise is that we allow ourselves to remain in the same condition we’re in now. And if anyone finds it amusing that men of our age think fit to go back to school, I think we should appeal to Homer, [b] who said that ‘modesty sits ill upon a needy man’.2. Let’s not take any notice of what anyone else may say, and let’s all cooperate in seeing to our own needs as well as the boys’.
LYSIMACHUS: Yes, I like that idea of yours, Socrates. I’m the oldest, and I’ll be the keenest to learn with the youngsters! But what you must do for me is this: tomorrow morning I’d like you to call round at my house so we can discuss the matter further – don’t let me down. But for now [c] let’s draw the meeting to a close.
SOCRATES: I’ll do that, Lysimachus. God willing, I’ll call on you tomorrow.