Lysis

Philia is a Greek word that translates roughly to brotherly love, so our closest idea in the modern age would be the widely beloved Bromance. Like a good proportion of modern bromances, there is the potential for romantic or erotic love to blossom, which the young man which causes the dialogue to happen wishes to have with a certain man named Lysis.

Socrates narrates the dialogue as he and a friend walk around Athens and are greeted by a young man named Hippothales who Socrates can clearly see is in love with a boy named Lysis. The friend that is with them talks about how he has been deafened by Hippothales’ constant gushing about Lysis, whether it is in prose, poetry or song.

O ridiculous Hippothales! how can you be making and singing hymns in honour of yourself before you have won?

But my songs and verses, he said, are not in honour of myself, Socrates.

You think not? I said.
Nay, but what do you think? he replied.
Most assuredly, I said, those songs are all in your own honour; for if you win your beautiful love, your discourses and songs will be a glory, to you, and may be truly regarded as hymns of praise composed in honour of you who have conquered and won such a love; but if he slips away from you, the more you have praised him, the more ridiculous you will look at having lost this fairest and best of blessings; and therefore the wise lover does not praise his beloved until he has won him, because he is afraid of accidents. There is also another danger; the fair, when any one praises or magnifies them, are filled with the spirit of pride and vain-glory. Do you not agree with me?

Yes, he said.
And the more vain-glorious they are, the more difficult is the capture of them?

I believe you.
What should you say of a hunter who frightened away his prey, and made the capture of the animals which he is hunting more difficult?

He would be a bad hunter, undoubtedly.
Yes; and if, instead of soothing them, he were to infuriate them with words and songs, that would show a great want of wit: do you not agree.

Yes.
And now reflect, Hippothales, and see whether you are not guilty of all these errors in writing poetry. For I can hardly suppose that you will affirm a man to be a good poet who injures himself by his poetry.

Hippothales accepts that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and that his main worry that’s stopping him from pursuing Lysis is that he doesn’t have anything in common with him to talk about. Socrates then plans to talk to Lysis himself to show Hippothales how he can too.

They enter the building where he is and draw him in with conversation. Once he is well and truly in the conversation, Socrates jumps into a discussion with him about why his parents love him but still treat him the way that they do:

I dare say, Lysis, I said, that your father and mother love you very much.

Certainly, he said.
And they would wish you to be perfectly happy.
Yes.
But do you think that any one is happy who is in the condition of a slave, and who cannot do what he likes?

I should think not indeed, he said.
And if your father and mother love you, and desire that you should be happy, no one can doubt that they are very ready to promote your happiness.

Certainly, he replied.
And do they then permit you to do what you like, and never rebuke you or hinder you from doing what you desire?

Yes, indeed, Socrates; there are a great many things which they hinder me from doing.

What do you mean? I said. Do they want you to be happy, and yet hinder you from doing what you like? For example, if you want to mount one of your father’s chariots, and take the reins at a race, they will not allow you to do so-they will prevent you?

Certainly, he said, they will not allow me to do so.
Whom then will they allow?
There is a charioteer, whom my father pays for driving.
And do they trust a hireling more than you? and may he do what he likes with the horses? and do they pay him for this?

They do.
But I dare say that you may take the whip and guide the mule-cart if you like;-they will permit that?

Permit me! indeed they will not.
Then, I said, may no one use the whip to the mules?
Yes, he said, the muleteer.
And is he a slave or a free man?
A slave, he said.
And do they esteem a slave of more value than you who are their son? And do they entrust their property to him rather than to you? and allow him to do what he likes, when they prohibit you? Answer me now: Are you your own master, or do they not even allow that?

Nay, he said; of course they do not allow it.
Then you have a master?
Yes, my tutor; there he is.
And is he a slave?
To be sure; he is our slave, he replied.
Surely, I said, this is a strange thing, that a free man should be governed by a slave. And what does he do with you?

He takes me to my teachers.
You do not mean to say that your teachers also rule over you?
Of course they do.
Then I must say that your father is pleased to inflict many lords and masters on you. But at any rate when you go home to your mother, she will let you have your own way, and will not interfere with your happiness; her wool, or the piece of cloth which she is weaving, are at your disposal: I am sure that there is nothing to hinder you from touching her wooden spathe, or her comb, or any other of her spinning implements.

Nay, Socrates, he replied, laughing; not only does she hinder me, but I should be beaten if I were to touch one of them.

Well, I said, this is amazing. And did you ever behave ill to your father or your mother?

No, indeed, he replied.
But why then are they so terribly anxious to prevent you from being happy, and doing as you like?-keeping you all day long in subjection to another, and, in a word, doing nothing which you desire; so that you have no good, as would appear, out of their great possessions, which are under the control of anybody rather than of you, and have no use of your own fair person, which is tended and taken care of by another; while you, Lysis, are master of nobody, and can do nothing?

Why, he said, Socrates, the reason is that I am not of age.
I doubt whether that is the real reason, I said; for I should imagine that your father Democrates, and your mother, do permit you to do many things already, and do not wait until you are of age: for example, if they want anything read or written, you, I presume, would be the first person in the house who is summoned by them.

Very true.
And you would be allowed to write or read the letters in any order which you please, or to take up the lyre and tune the notes, and play with the fingers, or strike with the plectrum, exactly as you please, and neither father nor mother would interfere with you.

That is true, he said.
Then what can be the reason, Lysis, I said, why they allow you to do the one and not the other?

I suppose, he said, because I understand the one, and not the other.
Yes, my dear youth, I said, the reason is not any deficiency of years, but a deficiency of knowledge; and whenever your father thinks that you are wiser than he is, he will instantly commit himself and his possessions to you.

I think so.
Aye, I said; and about your neighbour, too, does not the same rule hold as about your father? If he is satisfied that you know more of housekeeping than he does, will he continue to administer his affairs himself, or will he commit them to you?

I think that he will commit them to me.
Will not the Athenian people, too, entrust their affairs to you when they see that you have wisdom enough to manage them?

What Socrates initially does is draw out a classic idea of why parents treat their children the way they do when they clearly love them. Lysis practically proves this point himself, but slowly pushes it to its limit as he takes the idea to wider and wider lengths. His parents will let him make his own decisions once he is wise enough to make them, that is, wiser than his parents are for his own needs and limits. They’ll let him have these and more because they know and trust him, but Socrates moves on to ironically say that theoretically this should extend to neighbours, cities and nations, just to remind Lysis and the readers that the real world is a lot more complex than just the wisest person ruling.

As all has been said really on that point, Socrates moves on to a discussion about whether love has to be symmetrical or asymmetrical, basically if love has to be two people loving each other, or if it can be one sided.

Is the lover the friend of the beloved, whether he be loved in return, or hated; or is the beloved the friend; or is there no friendship at all on either side, unless they both love one another? 

There would seem to be none at all. 
Then this notion is not in accordance with our previous one. We were saying that both were friends, if one only loved; but now, unless they both love, neither is a friend. 

That appears to be true. 
Then nothing which does not love in return is beloved by a lover? 
I think not. 
Then they are not lovers of horses, whom the horses do not love in return; nor lovers of quails, nor of dogs, nor of wine, nor of gymnastic exercises, who have no return of love; no, nor of wisdom, unless wisdom loves them in return. Or shall we say that they do love them, although they are not beloved by them

The point he seems to be making here is that while the social dynamic of a friendship/relationship with only one person who loves the other is confusing on paper, people love many different things without any kind of love back, so it isn’t too far fetched.

Showing his incredible skill in segways , Socrates goes on to suggest then about three different statements about the nature of friendship (relationships platonic and romantic) that people still talk about today. While he seems to talk about similarity and difference like good and bad in the moral sense, what he says also extends into personality, interests and so on.

• Like attracts Like: people want to be friends with those that are similar to them
• Opposites attract: people want to be friends with those who are opposite to them
• In between: people want to be friends with those who are different but not opposite to them

He starts off with his Like attracts Like argument by suggesting that it seems like the most likely answer, as poets and other philosophers like to use this quote a lot.

But the real meaning of the saying, as I imagine, is, that, the good are like one another, friends to one another; and that the bad, as is often said of them, are never at unity with one another or with themselves; for they are passionate and restless, and anything which is at variance andenmity with itself is not likely to be in union or harmony with any other thing. Do you not agree? 

Yes, I do. 
Then, my friend, those who say that the like is friendly to the like mean to intimate, if I rightly apprehend them, that the good only is the friend of the good, and of him only; but that the evil never attains to any real friendship, either with good or evil. Do you agree? 

He nodded assent. 
Then now we know how to answer the question “Who are friends? for the argument declares “That the good are friends.” 

Yes, he said, that is true. 
Yes, I replied; and yet I am not quite satisfied with this answer. By heaven, and shall I tell you what I suspect? I will. Assuming that like, inasmuch as he is like, is the friend of like, and useful to him-or rather let me try another way of putting the matter: Can like do any good or harm to like which he could not do to himself, or suffer anything from his like which he would not suffer from himself? And if neither can be of any use to the other, how can they be loved by one another? Can they now? 

They cannot. 
And can he who is not loved be a friend? 
Certainly not. 
But say that the like is not the friend of the like in so far as he is like; still the good may be the friend of the good in so far as he is good? 

True. 
But then again, will not the good, in so far as he is good, be sufficient for himself? Certainly he will. And he who is sufficient wants nothing-that is implied in the word sufficient. 

Of course not. 
And he who wants nothing will desire nothing? 
He will not. 
Neither can he love that which he does not desire? 
He cannot. 
And he who not is not a lover of friend? 
Clearly not. 
What place then is there for friendship, if, when absent, good men have no need of one another (for even when alone they are sufficient for themselves), and when present have no use of one another? How can such persons ever be induced to value one another? 

They cannot. 
And friends they cannot be, unless they value one another? 

If friendship and relationships are always made up of two people who are the same, then what use do they have for the relationship, as nothing is gained by either, as they are both good and like the same things, it would be the social equivalent of being friends with a mirror, and only two great egotists could make it work. Similarly two people who are equally bad couldn’t be friends as they would just treat each other badly.

So Socrates moves on to the next point, that opposites attract.

Potter quarrels with potter, hard with bard, 
Beggar with beggar; and of all other things he affirmed, in like manner, “That of necessity the most like are most full of envy, strife, and hatred of one another, and the most unlike, of friendship. For the poor man is compelled to be the friend of the rich, and the weak requires the aid of the strong, and the sick man of the physician; and every one who is ignorant, has to love and court him who knows.” And indeed he went on to say in grandiloquent language, that the idea of friendship existing between similars is not the truth, but the very reverse of the truth, and that the most opposed are the most friendly; for that everything desires not like but that which is most unlike: for example, the dry desires the moist, the cold the hot, the bitter the sweet, the sharp the blunt, the void the full, the full the void, and so of all other things; for the opposite is the food of the opposite, whereas like receives nothing from like. And I thought that he who said this was a charming man, and that he spoke well. What do the rest of you say? 

I should say, at first hearing, that he is right, said Menexenus. 
Then we are to say that the greatest friendship is of opposites? 
Exactly. 
Yes, Menexenus; but will not that be a monstrous answer? and will not the all-wise eristics be down upon us in triumph, and ask, fairly enough, whether love is not the very opposite of hate; and what answer shall we make to them-must we not admit that they speak the truth? 

We must. 
They will then proceed to ask whether the enemy is the friend of the friend, or the friend the friend of the enemy? 

Neither, he replied. 
Well, but is a just man the friend of the unjust, or the temperate of the intemperate, or the good of the bad? 

I do not see how that is possible. 
And yet, I said, if friendship goes by contraries, the contraries must be friends. 

They must. 
Then neither like and like nor unlike and unlike are friends. 

Socrates quotes Hesiod, who said that because those who are the same are their biggest competition, and those who have little of something want to become friends with those who can improve it, opposites become the best friends, like a sick person becoming friends with a doctor, or a poor man with a rich man.

This works, but Socrates soon refutes it, because in many examples, the qualities of the two people who are opposites are hostile to each other and would stop them from becoming friends. In his words, their qualities need to be friends before they themselves can, and qualities such as justice, commitment, care are mutually exclusive from their opposites.

Finally the discussion tries to find the middle point of the two, but it seems like Socrates has gotten tired of giving those around him straight up answers, as he takes very round-about ways of making his point, and then refutes the points he makes for shallow reasons.

You can read the end dialogue yourself to get an idea for what I mean, but the summary of what he says is that people seek friendship for the sake of healing an evil that is within themself, by seeking the friendship of someone who is good at that thing. He uses good and evil here but that wording is a bit too extreme. If you have the evil of boredom in a certain part of your life, you might find someone with some similar interests to heal your boredom with good company while you’re there, or you might be really good friends with someone who you are pretty similar to, but you respect and learn from their calm demeanor while they respect and learn from your passion.

The main reason he brings up to refute this final theory, is that once that evil or negative thing is gone, there is no need for the good, or the friend, anymore. You do not need medicine once it has healed you, and Socrates said that because of this, no relationships would ever survive as long as they do if his theory was right. This point contains some truth, but it isn’t really strong enough to counter the whole point, which Socrates seems to imply with the dash of irony he throws in when saying it. He uses the disappointment of those around him to justify leaving the conversation, having shown young Hippothales a great way to talk to his crush.

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