The Last Days of Socrates

by Plato

  ‘Besides, Socrates,’ rejoined Cebes, ‘there is that theory which you have often mentioned to us61 – that what we call learning62 is really just recollection. 73(a) If that is true, then surely what we recollect now we must have learned at some time before; which is impossible unless our souls existed somewhere before they entered this human shape. So in that way too it seems likely that the soul is immortal.’

  ‘How did the proof of that theory go, Cebes?’ broke in Simmias. ‘Remind me, because at the moment I can’t quite remember.’63

  ‘One very good argument,’ said Cebes, ‘is that when people are asked questions, if the question is put in the right way they can answer everything correctly, which they could not possibly do unless they were in possession of knowledge and (b) a correct explanation.64 Then again, if you confront people with a diagram65 or anything like that, the way in which they react provides the clearest proof that the theory is correct.’

  ‘And if you don’t find that convincing, Simmias,’ said Socrates, ‘see whether this appeals to you. I suppose that you find it hard to understand how what we call learning can be recollection?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Simmias. ‘All that I want is to be helped to do what we are talking about – to recollect. I can practically remember enough to satisfy me already, from the way Cebes set about explaining it; but I should be none the less glad to hear how you meant to explain it.’

  (c) ‘I look at it in this way,’ said Socrates. ‘We are agreed, I suppose, that if a person is to be reminded of anything, he must first know it at some time or other?’

  ‘Quite so.’

  ‘Are we also agreed in calling it recollection when knowledge comes in a particular way? I will explain it rather like this. Suppose that a person on seeing or hearing or otherwise noticing one thing not only becomes conscious of that thing but also thinks of something else which is an object of a (d) different sort of knowledge; are we not justified in saying that he was reminded of the object which he thought of?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Let me give you an example. It’s a different thing, I suppose you will agree, to know a man and to know a lyre.’

  ‘Yes, certainly.’

  ‘Well, you know what happens to lovers when they see a lyre or a piece of clothing or any other private property of the lad they love; when they recognize the lyre, their minds conjure up a picture of the lad who owns it. That is recollection. In the same way the sight of Simmias often reminds one of Cebes; and of course there are thousands of other examples.’

  ‘Yes, of course there are thousands,’ said Simmias.

  (e) ‘So by recollection we mean the sort of experience which I have just described, especially when it happens with reference to things which we had not taken a look at for such a long time that we had forgotten them.’

  ‘Quite so.’

  ‘Well, then, is it possible for a person who sees a picture of a horse or a musical instrument to be reminded of a person, or for someone who sees a picture of Simmias to be reminded of Cebes?’

  ‘Perfectly.’

  ‘And is it possible for someone who sees a portrait of Simmias to be reminded of Simmias himself?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ 74(a)

  ‘Does it not follow from all this that recollection may be caused either by similar or by dissimilar objects?’66

  ‘Yes, it does.’

  ‘When you are reminded by similarity, surely you must also be conscious whether the similarity is perfect or only partial.’

  ‘Yes, you must.’

  ‘Here is a further step,’67 said Socrates. ‘We admit, I suppose, that there is such a thing as equality – not the equality of stick to stick and stone to stone, and so on, but something beyond all that and distinct from it – absolute equality. Are we to admit this or not?’

  ‘Yes indeed,’ said Simmias, ‘most emphatically.’68 (b)

  ‘And do we know what it is?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Where did we get our knowledge? Was it not as a result of the particular examples that we mentioned just now – from seeing equal sticks or stones or other equal objects – that the notion of equality came to mind, although it is something quite distinct from them?69 Look at it in this way. Is it not true that equal stones and sticks, the very same ones, sometimes appear equal to one and unequal to another?’70

  ‘Certainly.’

  (c) ‘Well, now, have you ever thought that what were actually equal71 were unequal, or that equality was inequality?’72

  ‘No, never, Socrates.’

  ‘Then these equal things are not the same as actual equality.’

  ‘Not in the least, as I see it, Socrates.’

  ‘And yet it is these equal things that have actively brought to mind your knowledge of absolute equality, although they are distinct from it?’

  ‘Perfectly true.’

  ‘Whether it is similar to them or dissimilar?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘It makes no difference,’ said Socrates. ‘So long as the sight (d) of one thing suggests another to you, it must be a cause of recollection, whether the two things are alike or not.’73

  ‘Quite so.’

  ‘Well, now,’ he said, ‘what do we find in the case of the equal sticks and other things of which we were speaking just now: do they seem to us to be equal in the sense of actual equality, or do they fall short of it in so far as they only approximate to equality? Or don’t they fall short at all?’74

  ‘They do,’ said Simmias, ‘a long way.’

  (e) ‘Suppose that when you see something you say to yourself, “This thing which I can see is intended to be like something else, but it falls short and cannot be really like it, only a poor imitation”; don’t you agree with me that anyone who is conscious of this must in fact have previous knowledge of that thing which he says the other inadequately resembles?’

  ‘Certainly he must.’

  ‘Well then, is our own experience of equal things and actual equality like this?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Then we must have had some previous knowledge of 75(a) equality before the time when we first realized, on seeing equal things, that they were striving after equality, but fell short of it.’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘And at the same time we are agreed also upon this point, that this notion of deficiency75 did not and could not have occurred to us except by sight or touch or one of the other senses. I am treating all senses as being all the same.’

  ‘They are the same, Socrates, for the purpose of our argument.’

  ‘So it must be as a result of the senses that we obtained the notion that all sensible equals are striving to realize actual (b) equality but falling short of it.76 Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘So before we began to see and hear and otherwise perceive equals77 we must somewhere have acquired the knowledge of equality as it really is; otherwise we could never have realized, by using it as a standard for comparison, that all equal objects of sense are desirous of being like it, but are only imperfect copies.’78

  ‘That is the logical conclusion, Socrates.’

  ‘Did we not begin to see and hear and utilize our other senses from the moment of birth?’79

  ‘Certainly.’

  (c) ‘But we admitted that we must have obtained our knowledge of equality before we obtained them.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So we must have obtained it before birth.’

  ‘So it seems.’

  ‘Then if we obtained it before our birth, and kept hold of it when we were born,80 we had knowledge, both before and at the moment of birth, not only of what’s actually equal, or greater or smaller,81 but of all such things. Our present argument applies no more to equality itself than it does to (d) beauty itself, or goodness, justice, holiness – all those qualities, I maintain, which we designate in our question-and-answer discussions by the term “itself”. So we would have had to ob
tain knowledge of all these things before our birth.’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘And unless we invariably forget it after obtaining it, we must always be born knowing and continue to know all through our lives; because “to know” means simply to retain the knowledge which one has acquired, and not to lose it. Is not what we call “forgetting” simply the loss of knowledge, Simmias?’

  (e)‘Most certainly, Socrates.’

  ‘And if it is true that we acquired our knowledge before our birth, and lost it at the moment of birth, but afterwards by pertinent exercise of our senses, recover the knowledge which we had once before, I suppose that what we call “learning” will be the recovery of our own knowledge; and surely we should be right in calling this “recollection”.’

  ‘Quite so.’

  76a ‘Yes, because we saw that it is possible for the perception of an object by sight or hearing or any of the other senses to suggest to the percipient another associated object which he has forgotten (whether there is any similarity or not). So, as I maintain, there are two alternatives: either we are all born with knowledge of these standards, and retain it throughout our lives; or else, when we speak of people learning, they are simply recollecting what they knew before; in other words, learning is recollection.’

  ‘Yes, that must be so, Socrates.’

  ‘Which do you choose, then, Simmias? That we are born (b) with knowledge, or that we recollect after we are born the things of which we possessed knowledge before we were born?’

  ‘I don’t know which to choose on the spur of the moment, Socrates.’

  ‘Well, here is another choice for you to make. What do you think about this? Can a person who knows a subject thoroughly explain what he knows?’82

  ‘Most certainly he can.’

  ‘Do you think that everyone can explain these questions about which we have just been talking?’

  ‘I should like to think so,’ said Simmias, ‘but I am very much afraid that by this time tomorrow there will be no one on this earth who can give a worthwhile explanation.’83

  (c) ‘So you don’t think Simmias, that everyone has knowledge about them?’

  ‘Far from it.’

  ‘Then they just recollect what they once learned.’

  ‘That must be the right answer.’

  ‘When do our souls acquire this knowledge? It cannot be after the beginning of our mortal life.’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Then it must be before.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then our souls had a previous existence, Simmias, before they took on this human shape – they were independent of our bodies and had intelligence.’84

  ‘Unless perhaps it is at the moment of birth that we acquire knowledge of these things, Socrates; there is still that time available.’

  ‘No doubt, my dear fellow, but just tell me, what other (d) time is there to lose it in? We have just agreed that we do not possess it when we are born. Do we lose it at the same moment that we acquire it? Or can you suggest any other time?’

  ‘No, of course not, Socrates; I didn’t realize what nonsense I was talking.’85

  (e) ‘Well, how do we stand now, Simmias? If all these things which we’re for ever talking about, a Beauty, a Goodness, and all such entities, really exist – if it is to them that we refer all the objects of our physical perception as copies to their patterns, as we rediscover our own former knowledge of them – does it not follow that our souls too must exist even before our birth, whereas if they do not exist, our discussion would seem to be a waste of time? Is this the position, that it is just as inevitable that our souls exist before our birth as it is that these realities exist, and that without the one there’s not the other?’86

  ‘I find it very compelling, Socrates,’ said Simmias, ‘that there should be this same inevitability. It suits me very well that your argument should have recourse to the thesis that 77(a) our soul’s existence before our birth is a similar case to the existence of these realities of yours. I cannot imagine anything more self-evident than the fact that Beauty and Goodness and all the rest that you mentioned just now exist in the fullest possible sense. In my opinion the proof is quite satisfactory.’

  The combination of the recollection argument with the opposites argument becomes a proof for the existence of an afterlife. If the argument from opposites were adequate, then the recollection argument would not strictly be needed, but the latter seems to have commanded more conviction, and it also suggested something relevant to Plato’s purpose about what ‘being dead’ might be like. Once the recollection argument gives additional credence to the notion of a stock of disembodied and intelligent souls waiting to be born, we need no more convincing that the soul can live apart from the body (so that at the very least being apart from the body cannot in itself kill off the soul), and we should be faced with the problem of explaining the origin of those disembodied souls if it were not from previous soul–body combinations.

  ‘What about Cebes?’ said Socrates. ‘We must convince Cebes too.’

  ‘To the best of my belief he is satisfied,’ replied Simmias. ‘It’s true that he’s the most determined of persons in refusing to be convinced by argument, but I should think that he needs nothing more to satisfy him that our souls existed before birth. As for their still existing after we are dead, even I don’t (b) feel that that has been proved, Socrates; the problem that Cebes mentioned still applies – the ordinary man’s fear that the soul may be disintegrated at the very moment of his death, and that this may be the end of its existence. Supposing that there is some other source from which it is constituted at birth, and that it exists before it enters a human body: after it has entered one, is there any reason why, at the moment of release, it should not come to an end and be destroyed itself?’

  ‘Quite right, Simmias,’ said Cebes. ‘It seems that we’ve (c) managed to prove about half of what we wanted – that the soul existed before birth – but now we need also to prove that it will exist after death no less than before birth, if our proof is to be complete.’

  ‘It has been proved already, Simmias and Cebes,’ said Socrates, ‘if you’re prepared to combine this last argument with the one about which we agreed before, that every living thing (d) comes from the dead. If (i) the soul exists before birth, and if (ii) when it’s born into life, it can only be born from death or the dead state, surely it must also exist after death, bearing in mind that it has to be born again. So the point which you mention has been proved already. Even so I believe that you and Simmias would like to hammer out the issue still more, and that you’re afraid, as children are, that when the soul emerges from the body the wind may really puff it away and (e) scatter it – especially when it’s a person’s luck to die with a gale blowing rather than in a calm!’87

  Cebes laughed. ‘Suppose that we are afraid, Socrates,’ he said, ‘and try to convince us. Or not so much that it’s our true selves who are afraid – perhaps there’s a kind of child with this kind of fear hidden in us too. Try to persuade him not to be afraid of death as though it were a bogey.’

  ‘What you should do,’ said Socrates, ‘is to pronounce an enchantment over him every day until you have charmed his fears away.’

  ‘But, Socrates,’ said Simmias, ‘where shall we find an 78(a) enchanter who understands these spells,88 now that you are leaving us?’

  ‘Greece is a large country, Cebes,’ he replied, ‘which must have good men in it; and there are many foreign races too. You must ransack all of them in your search for this enchanter, without sparing money or trouble; because you could not spend your money more opportunely on any other object. And you must search also by your own united efforts; because you may not easily find anyone better fitted for the task than yourselves.’

  ‘We will see to that,’ said Cebes. ‘But let’s get back to the

  point where we left off, if you don’t mind.’ (b)

  ‘Of course not; why should I?’

  �
��Splendid,’ said Cebes.

  The Argument from Affinity. The unseen soul, particularly when it avoids the company of the body, is more like the unchanging and indestructible Ideas than the visible, changing, perishable entities we are familiar with.89 According to the epistemology of the Meno, to which the Phaedo is in general closely related, one cannot hope to know what sort a thing is until one has discovered what it is. Here Socrates argues from one property of the soul to another, but not from what it actually is. He will later be able to show the lack of total conviction which flows from this kind of argument, and discuss more fully what the soul is in the course of his reply to the doubts that still linger.

  ‘We ought, I think,’ said Socrates, ‘to ask ourselves this: What sort of thing is it that would naturally suffer the fate of being dispersed? What sort of thing should we be afraid of this happening to, and what should we not? When we have answered this, we should next consider to which class the soul belongs; and then we shall know whether to feel confidence or fear about the fate of our souls.’