The conversation at the palaestra continues, and, baited by Socrates, Critias finally enters the discussion. Asked by Critias what he thinks temperance is, Socrates insists that Critias should give his opinion. “I assert to you in plain terms that temperance is the doing of good things,” Critias replies.[9] Exploring this definition, Socrates gives an example of a doctor who might do good things for a patient, and hence act temperately, according to the definition, without, paradoxically, knowing that he had been acting temperately. “But this could never happen, Socrates,” Critias answers. He admits to having misspoken, and amends his definition: “What I mean to say is that temperance is just to know oneself.”[10] He appeals for support to the famous inscription at Delphi that says, “Know thyself,” which he goes on to interpret as the god’s admonition to be temperate and virtuous.
“If then temperance is knowledge,” Socrates responds, “clearly it should be a kind of science that is of some object,” to which Critias agrees. Socrates is interested in the notion of a science (epistēmē) or craft (technē). The crafts—practical or applied sciences—in particular had made great advances in Socrates’ lifetime, crafts such as medicine, shipbuilding, pottery, and architecture. They seemed to apply theoretical insights to achieve practical goods. Socrates often explores ways in which the virtues might be like crafts, in what scholars call the Craft Analogy.[11] So how might temperance be like a craft? We can tell sciences apart by what they study, and we can tell crafts or applied sciences apart by what end they try to achieve. For instance, architecture aims at making buildings, while medicine aims at making people healthy.
But Critias tells Socrates temperance must be radically different from other sciences or arts. “All the other sciences are sciences of something else other than themselves, whereas only this science is a science of other sciences and of itself.”[12] Socrates goes on to suggest that this science should also be a science about the absence of science. If you know that you know something, you should also know when you don’t know something. Consequently, “being temperate and having temperance and knowing oneself come down to this, knowing what you know and what you don’t know.”[13]
At this point the identification of temperance is becoming highly specialized and self-referential. Socrates comments on the oddity of the results. He points out that knowing that one doesn’t know something does not ensure knowing what one doesn’t know. For instance, to know that I am not a scientist does not entail knowing in any accurate way what it is to be a scientist. In that case, one would recognize someone who is ignorant only in one’s own field of expertise. The reason that knowing what we don’t know seemed advantageous was that it would allow one to avoid error in every decision. But the science we are likely to have of what we know and don’t know doesn’t seem to confer the ability to discern between genuine and false knowers. To have the ideal scientific knowledge, we would need to know the past, present, and future equally well. Then we could be sure to attain happiness by eliminating all error.[14]
But what sort of science could confer this knowledge? “That by which one knows good and evil,” answers Critias.[15] At this point Socrates protests that Critias has changed the definition once again, this time apparently abandoning the appeal to self-knowledge. Critias has never explained to us what he means by knowing oneself, and now we must start over again. We have not determined what temperance is, Socrates complains, and now at least he has been shown up as incompetent in his search for truth. Charmides replies that he now can’t tell whether he has or lacks temperance, since he doesn’t know what it is. But he admits that he doesn’t believe that Socrates is ignorant about temperance; he needs the charm Socrates mentioned to be healed. Charmides playfully threatens to coerce Socrates into continuing his discussion.
Socrates’ discussion with Critias and Charmides is no more fruitful than that with Protagoras. Yet in this case, Charmides, like Hippocrates, recognizes the value of the discussion and the hidden resources of Socrates. The discussion that fails to achieve its goal, but comes to an impasse, a dead end, an aporia in Greek, is typical of Socratic discussions as represented by Plato. Such discussions do reveal the shortcomings of self-professed experts such as Protagoras and Critias, and they pique the interest of young students who want to know more. One curious feature about many of the discussions is the fact that Socrates exposes some of his own assumptions for critical examination. It was his own adherence to the view that virtue was not teachable that led to the paradoxical conclusion that virtue was knowledge, but not teachable, in the Protagoras. In the Charmides, Socrates shows that knowing what one knows and doesn’t know is not an adequate account of the virtue of temperance. As we shall see (chs. 24, 29*), it is precisely Socrates’ ability to recognize what he knows and doesn’t know that constitutes what he claims is his small advantage over other people. Here he seems to refute his own claim to superiority.
In fact, Socrates had made a point of his own intellectual caution earlier in the dialogue. Parrying Critias’ accusation that he was trying to win unfairly in the discussion, Socrates had replied that Critias should not think that he has acted for any other reason than “that I might examine what I myself am saying for fear that I might get away with thinking I know something I don’t really know.”[16] Socrates claims to learn along with his interlocutors, and to get his warrant for knowledge from the joint investigation.[17] Yet his own assumptions are always fair game for criticism, and Socrates never claims to win a victory in a debate. Rather, he professes to enter into joint investigations that will, if they succeed, benefit both inquirers mutually–and if they fail, will frustrate both together.
In putting Socrates together with Critias and Charmides (both of whom happen to be relatives of Plato), Plato has also tacitly raised burning practical and political issues. For the two men would later become infamous as the greatest extremists of the Athenian political scene (ch. 21*). The need for moderation could not be more dramatically portrayed; but Socrates was not able to reform the sophist and his protégé. What are we to make of this?
Socrates is now back in Athens. And he is more dedicated than ever to his quest for virtue.
[9].Plato Charmides 163e.
[10].Plato Charmides 164d.
[11]. See Kube 1969; Irwin 1977:71-101; Parry 1996; Roochnik 1996.
[12].Plato Charmides 166c.
[13].Plato Charmides 167a.
[14].Plato Charmides 174a.
[15].Ibid.
[16].Plato Charmides 166c-d.
[17].Plato Charmides 165b-c.