Euthydemus

This dialogue is Plato’s attempt at debasing the philosophy of Sophists (paid teachers of philosophy and rhetoric) by showing how it is eristic in nature, meaning that it isn’t meant to prove any kind of point, it is made to easily deal with any rebuttal so they look smarter for defending it.

The main conflict of the dialogue is the difference between the Sophists arguing in favour of things being absolute (if something is wrong then it cannot be right, meaning that it is 100% wrong), while Socrates tries to prove that they aren’t making any sense.

The dialogue is framed as Socrates telling his friend Crito about an encounter he had with two Sophists named Euthydemus and Dionysodorus while hanging around in athe local change room.

“The teaching of virtue, is our principal occupation; and we believe we can impart it better and quicker than any man”

You may notice a template emerging from the dialogues, with Socrates demeaning himself and acting amazed about how someone else can perfectly explain a concept he thought to be impossible to explain.

Lazy writing from Plato aside, the brothers insist that they fully understand virtue and can teach it to any man, and Socrates enthusiastically asks them to teach their virtue to a young man, Cleinias, as everyone loves him and wants him to be a great man.

Euthydemus begins teaching the young man:

“O Cleinias, are those who learn the wise or the ignorant? “

While the young man anxiously crunches away at this problem in his head, the other brother, Dionysodorus quietly gloats to Socrates.

“Whichever he answers”, said Dionysodorus, leaning forward so as to catch my ear, his face beaming with laughter, “I prophesy that he will be refuted, Socrates.”

This is meant to give us readers a clear insight into the underhanded tactics that the Sophists used to gain reputation for being wise.

This argument has two answers:

• Those who learn are wise because they will gain knowledge to become wise.
• Those who learn are ignorant because to learn you must be ignorant.

Now if we looked at this from a realistic perspective, we could say that those who learn are ignorant and wise, as you have to be ignorant to be taught, while it is wise to gain knowledge and wisdom.

What the brothers do is they argue completely from a theoretical and absolute perspective so that they can trap people who are less confident than them into accepting any argument they choose. For them, if someone is ignorant, they cannot be wise, because wisdom and ignorance are opposing forces, and they’ve already proven them to be ignorant, and vice versa.

These kind of arguments have a lot of holes, as everything in life defaults to shades of gray, but the brothers don’t have to explore the inconsistencies in their arguments, even if their last point contradicts their current one. All they have to do is seem more intelligent than their opponent but refuting all their points, labelling their argument intelligent and correct, making them wise in the eyes of onlookers.

These arguments have become scarily relevant today with the rise of political influencers like Ben Shapiro and Jordan Peterson, becoming thought of as wise men in the eyes of people who follow them, just because they seem smarter than their opponents and they can follow the logic of their points.

Ben Shapiro is a great example of why we need to be careful of these kinds of arguments. Slow down his speech back down below the speed of sound and what he’s actually saying becomes truly idiotic, with his solution to coastal risks of flooding due to climate change being selling your house and moving, and his solution to global warming being bombing the Chinese and Indian coal mines he thinks are polluting the most.

That’s enough talking of lesser men, let’s get back to how the brothers are working the crowd.

Euthydemus proceeded: There are some whom you would call teachers, are there not?

The boy assented.
And they are the teachers of those who learn-the grammar-master and the lyre master used to teach you and other boys; and you were the learners?

Yes.
And when you were learners you did not as yet know the things which you were learning?

No, he said.
And were you wise then?
No, indeed, he said.
But if you were not wise you were unlearned?
Certainly.
You then, learning what you did not know, were unlearned when you were learning?

The youth nodded assent.
Then the unlearned learn, and not the wise, Cleinias, as you imagine.

This gains the admiration of the crowd, as Euthydemus proves Cleinias correct with his clever questioning

However the brothers are not done with him yet, and Dionysodorus comes in with more rhetoric

Yes, Cleinias; and when the grammar master dictated anything to you, were they the wise boys or the unlearned who learned the dictation? 

The wise, replied Cleinias. 
Then after all the wise are the learners and not the unlearned; and your last answer to Euthydemus was wrong. 

Once again the crowd goes wild at this, which is weird, because all they’ve done is bring up two opposing points one after another, with all they have in common being that they discredit the other.

This is what Plato wants to teach readers about the Sophists and those who use fallacious arguments like these to make themselves seem more intelligent than they are. While they’ve done some decent reasoning (even if it’s based on absolute theory), you need to realize that they haven’t made a point; their argument contradicts itself but shows no greater truth as a result, it is just a poor argument.

After having been run through another fallacious argument, the young lad is left quite confused, so Socrates comes in to explain the brothers’ tactics.

The two foreign gentlemen, perceiving that you did not know, wanted to explain to you that the word “to learn” has two meanings, and is used, first, in the sense of acquiring knowledge of some matter of which you previously have no knowledge, and also, when you have the knowledge, in the sense of reviewing this matter, whether something done or spoken by the light of this newly-acquired knowledge; the latter is generally called “knowing” rather than “learning,” but the word “learning” is also used; and you did not see, as they explained to you, that the term is employed of two opposite sorts of men, of those who know, and of those who do not know.

There was a similar trick in the second question, when they asked you whether men learn what they know or what they do not know. These parts of learning are not serious, and therefore I say that the gentlemen are not serious, but are only playing with you.

For if a man had all that sort of knowledge that ever was, he would not be at all the wiser; he would only be able to play with men, tripping them up and over setting them with distinctions of words. He would be like a person who pulls away a stool from some one when he is about to sit down, and then laughs and makes merry at the sight of his friend overturned and laid on his back.

While the translation does make the language quite stiff and formal, it is pretty simple to understand his explanation.

Now that he’s shaken the illusion of their debating prowess, Socrates comes in with a question of his own, that’s meant to actually teach the person being asked:

what human being is there who does not desire happiness? 

There is no one, said Cleinias, who does not. 
Well, then, I said, since we all of us desire happiness, how can we be happy?-that is the next question. Shall we not be happy if we have many good things? And this, perhaps, is even a more simple question than the first, for there can be no doubt of the answer. 

He assented. 
And what things do we esteem good? No solemn sage is required to tell us this, which may be easily answered; for every one will say that wealth is a good. 

Certainly, he said. 
And are not health and beauty goods, and other personal gifts? 
He agreed. 
Can there be any doubt that good birth, and power, and honours in one’s own land, are goods? 

He assented. 
And what other goods are there? I said. What do you say of temperance, justice, courage: do you not verily and indeed think, Cleinias, that we shall be more right in ranking them as goods than in not ranking them as goods? For a dispute might possibly arise about this. What then do you say? 

They are goods, said Cleinias. 
Very well, I said; and where in the company shall we find a place for wisdom-among the goods or not? 

Among the goods. 
And now, I said, think whether we have left out any considerable goods. 

I do not think that we have, said Cleinias. 
Upon recollection, I said, indeed I am afraid that we have left out the greatest of them all. 

What is that? he asked. 
Fortune, Cleinias, I replied; which all, even the most foolish, admit to be the greatest of goods. 

True, he said. 
On second thoughts, I added, how narrowly, O son of Axiochus, have you and I escaped making a laughing-stock of ourselves to the strangers. 

Why do you say so? 
Why, because we have already spoken of good-fortune, and are but repeating ourselves. 

What do you mean? 
I mean that there is something ridiculous in again putting forward good-fortune, which has a place in the list already, and saying the same thing twice over. 

He asked what was the meaning of this, and I replied: Surely wisdom is good-fortune; even a child may know that. 

The simple-minded youth was amazed; and, observing his surprise, I said to him: Do you not know, Cleinias, that flute-players are most fortunate and successful in performing on the flute? 

He assented. 
And are not the scribes most fortunate in writing and reading letters? 

Certainly. 
Amid the dangers of the sea, again, are any more fortunate on the whole than wise pilots? 

None, certainly. 
And if you were engaged in war, in whose company would you rather take the risk-in company with a wise general, or with a foolish one? 

With a wise one. 
And if you were ill, whom would you rather have as a companion in a dangerous illness-a wise physician, or an ignorant one? 

A wise one. 
You think, I said, that to act with a wise man is more fortunate than to act with an ignorant one? 

He assented. 
Then wisdom always makes men fortunate: for by wisdom no man would ever err, and therefore he must act rightly and succeed, or his wisdom would be wisdom no longer. 

We contrived at last, somehow or other, to agree in a general conclusion, that he who had wisdom had no need of fortune. I then recalled to his mind the previous state of the question. You remember, I said, our making the admission that we should be happy and fortunate if many good things were present with us? 

He assented. 
And should we be happy by reason of the presence of good things, if they profited us not, or if they profited us? 

If they profited us, he said. 
And would they profit us, if we only had them and did not use them? For example, if we had a great deal of food and did not eat, or a great deal of drink and did not drink, should we be profited? 

Certainly not, he said. 
Or would an artisan, who had all the implements necessary for his work, and did not use them, be any the better for the possession of them? For example, would a carpenter be any the better for having all his tools and plenty of wood, if he never worked? 

Certainly not, he said. 
And if a person had wealth and all the goods of which we were just now speaking, and did not use them, would he be happy because he possessed them? 

No indeed, Socrates. 
Then, I said, a man who would be happy must not only have the good things, but he must also use them; there is no advantage in merely having them? 

True. 
Well, Cleinias, but if you have the use as well as the possession of good things, is that sufficient to confer happiness? 

Yes, in my opinion. 
And may a person use them either rightly or wrongly? 
He must use them rightly. 
That is quite true, I said. And the wrong use of a thing is far worse than the non-use; for the one is an evil, and the other is neither a good nor an evil. You admit that? 

He assented. 
Now in the working and use of wood, is not that which gives the right use simply the knowledge of the carpenter? 

Nothing else, he said. 
And surely, in the manufacture of vessels, knowledge is that which gives the right way of making them? 

He agreed. 
And in the use of the goods of which we spoke at first-wealth and health and beauty, is not knowledge that which directs us to the right use of them, and regulates our practice about them? 

He assented. 
Then in every possession and every use of a thing, knowledge is that which gives a man not only good-fortune but success? 

He again assented. 
And tell me, I said, O tell me, what do possessions profit a man, if he have neither good sense nor wisdom? Would a man be better off, having and doing many things without wisdom, or a few things with wisdom? Look at the matter thus: If he did fewer things would he not make fewer mistakes? if he made fewer mistakes would he not have fewer misfortunes? and if he had fewer misfortunes would he not be less miserable? 

Certainly, he said. 
And who would do least-a Poor man or a rich man? 
A poor man. 
A weak man or a strong man? 
A weak man. 
A noble man or a mean man? 
A mean man. 
And a coward would do less than a courageous and temperate man? 
Yes. 
And an indolent man less than an active man? 
He assented. 
And a slow man less than a quick; and one who had dull perceptions of seeing and hearing less than one who had keen ones? 

All this was mutually allowed by us. 
Then, I said, Cleinias, the sum of the matter appears to be that the goods of which we spoke before are not to be regarded as goods in themselves, but the degree of good and evil in them depends on whether they are or are not under the guidance of knowledge: under the guidance of ignorance, they are greater evils than their opposites, inasmuch as they are more able to minister to the evil principle which rules them; and when under the guidance of wisdom and prudence, they are greater goods: but in themselves are nothing? 

That, he replied, is obvious. 
What then is the result of what has been said? Is not this the result-that other things are indifferent, and that wisdom is the only good, and ignorance the only evil?

This is a very long quotation, but it is one of the few times when Socrates runs an idea through its full course, in an easy to follow way, that has a point that he accepts as the truth.

This point is that the moral value (good/bad) inherent in all things is derived from the wisdom or ignorance that was used to initiate it. Giving someone a gift is an inherently good thing, however (for example) giving someone in a relationship flowers is a bad thing because you’re being ignorant to that relationship.

Socrates goes on to tell the brothers that this is how he wants them to teach Cleinias, in what he describes as a better and more artful way, leading Dionysodorus to shift his interrogation from the young man to Socrates:

Well, said he, and so you say that you wish Cleinias to become wise? 
Undoubtedly. 
And he is not wise as yet? 
At least his modesty will not allow him to say that he is. 
You wish him, he said, to become wise and not, to be ignorant? 
That we do. 
You wish him to be what he is not, and no longer to be what he is? 
I was thrown into consternation at this. 
Taking advantage of my consternation he added: You wish him no longer to be what he is, which can only mean that you wish him to perish. Pretty lovers and friends they must be who want their favourite not to be, or to perish!

By reading this you can notice that Euthydemus prefers to be composed, while Dionysodorus likes to gloat and mock his opponents. This later becomes a point of conflict between the two, but right now it’s used to show the brothers’ clear disregard for the actual topic of virtue, using cheap mockery to say his friends want him dead.

The lover of Cleinias is particularly enraged by this, and becomes the target of Euthydemus’ next interrogation. It is an especially convoluted argument so I’ll just paraphrase it.

“When people lie they speak of things that aren’t true. Things that aren’t true do not exist anywhere. Talking is doing something. Therefore, by speaking something you are bringing it into existence and it cannot be a lie as lies don’t exist.”

This page could be filled with all of the different ways the two brothers distract and flatter themselves with arguments that go the exact same way, but once you’ve read a few you’ve read them all.

After the back and forth gets a bit too predictable, Socrates brings the discussion back to his prior argument:

You, Cleinias, I said, shall remind me at what point we left off. Did we not agree that philosophy should be studied? and was not that our conclusion? 

Yes, he replied. 
And philosophy is the acquisition of knowledge? 
Yes, he said. 
And what knowledge ought we to acquire? May we not answer with absolute truth-A knowledge which will do us good? 

Certainly, he said. 
And should we be any the better if we went about having a knowledge of the places where most gold was hidden in the earth? 

Perhaps we should, he said. 
But have we not already proved, I said, that we should be none the better off, even if without trouble and digging all the gold which there is in the earth were ours? And if we knew how to convert stones into gold, the knowledge would be of no value to us, unless we also knew how to use the gold? Do you not remember? I said. 

I quite remember, he said. 
Nor would any other knowledge, whether of money-making, or of medicine, or of any other art which knows only how to make a thing, and not to use it when made, be of any good to us. Am I not right? 

He agreed. 
And if there were a knowledge which was able to make men immortal, without giving them the knowledge of the way to use the immortality, neither would there be any use in that, if we may argue from the analogy of the previous instances? 

To all this he agreed. 
Then, my dear boy, I said, the knowledge which we want is one that uses as well as makes? 

True, he said. 
And our desire is not to be skillful lyre-makers, or artists of that sort-far otherwise; for with them the art which makes is one, and the art which uses is another. Although they have to do with the same, they are divided: for the art which makes and the art which plays on the lyre differ widely from one another. Am I not right? 

He agreed. 
And clearly we do not want the art of the flute-maker; this is only another of the same sort? 

He assented. 
But suppose, I said, that we were to learn the art of making speeches-would that be the art which would make us happy? 

I should say no, rejoined Cleinias. 
And why should you say so? I asked. 
I see, he replied, that there are some composers of speeches who do not know how to use the speeches which they make, just as the makers of lyres do not know how to use the lyres; and also some who are of themselves unable to compose speeches, but are able to use the speeches which the others make for them; and this proves that the art of making speeches is not the same as the art of using them.

This section of the argument is just a small amount of building on what was said earlier.

A blacksmith can make a sword, but that doesn’t mean that he knows how to use a sword. Similarly those who know how to use swords well usually don’t know how to make swords.

Across every field that Socrates and Cleinias think of, the common feature is that each thing requires someone who knows how to create it well and someone who knows how to use it well for it to be a good thing. For something to be of good quality, it always needs to be directed by the correct way of using it and needs to be good by design as well.

It isn’t said explicitly, but it seems like it was meant that the good use of a bad thing (and the bad use of a good thing) can still be a good thing overall, but it cheapens the goodness inherent in the act, so a moral person will constantly aim for the right actions guided by the right thoughts.

The brothers continue with admirable drive seeing as they’ve been disproved quite a few things. Their last exchange of words summarises the whole conflict quite well:

Why, Socrates, said Dionysodorus, did you ever see a beautiful thing? 

Yes, Dionysodorus, I replied, I have seen many. 
Were they other than the beautiful, or the same as the beautiful? 
Now I was in a great quandary at having to answer this question, and I thought that I was rightly served for having opened my mouth at all: I said however, They are not the same as absolute beauty, but they have beauty present with each of them. 

And are you an ox because an ox is present with you, or are you Dionysodorus, because Dionysodorus is present with you? 

Socrates believes that an attribute can be a part of something without it being whole thing, while Dionysodorus and his brother are committed to his absolutism to the very end.

If you want to understand the points covered at the depth that Plato intended, feel free to read through the dialogue here.