Socrates replies to Protagoras that he did not think that such knowledge could be taught or communicated to another. We can see this fact, he claims, from the practice of Athenian democracy. Whenever there is a technical question to be decided, such as about the construction of public buildings or the design of navy ships, they call in expert architects and engineers. If anyone who is not an expert speaks up on these occasions, he is shouted down. But when the assembly discusses political matters, they let anyone speak, even if he is only a blacksmith or a shoemaker; they do not recognize anyone as a special expert on politics. Furthermore, no one who excels in politics seems to be able to pass his ability on to his children. For instance, Pericles, the great leader of the Athenian democracy, did not teach his skills to his children or have anyone else teach them politics, but left them to “browse around on their own like sacred cattle, on the chance of picking up virtue automatically.” Clinias, the younger brother of Alcibiades, was given to Pericles for Pericles to improve, but he could do nothing with the youth.
“With these facts in mind, Protagoras, I don’t think virtue can be taught.”[12] On the other hand, Socrates assures Protagoras that he admires the sophist’s great learning and experience, and when he hears the latter proclaiming his ability to teach this skill to Hippocrates, he is tempted to believe him. Yet, Socrates insists, Protagoras must explain how it is that he can teach virtue.
There is one major ambiguity already in the discussion: what is meant by ‘virtue’? The Greek term aretē means something like ‘excellence,’ which can be found in any field. But it can, and for Socrates, often does, refer especially to moral excellence or virtue. Which one is Socrates asking about? Socrates’ examples suggest the broader term, but his interest is always in the narrower. In fact the meaning of the term never comes up in the discussion, so the sophist and the philosopher may be talking at cross purposes from the outset.
In asking whether virtue can be taught, Socrates has given Protagoras an ideal platform to advertise his own abilities before his fellow sophists, his students, and would-be students. Yet Socrates has also laid a trap. He has set up the practice of the democracy at Athens as a witness for his claim that there is no political expertise, as there is expertise in the crafts. Protagoras is a foreigner in Athens, and the Athenians are intensely proud of their unique and exemplary political system. If Protagoras criticizes the Athenian constitution, he will risk the anger of his audience and lay himself open to personal attack and perhaps even prosecution. If, on the other hand, he accepts Socrates’ point, he risks conceding that an uneducated blacksmith is just as good a judge of political affairs as the student of a sophist.
Unruffled, Protagoras asks his audience whether he should give his answer as a reasoned dissertation or as a story. They tell him to do as he pleases, and he decides that a story, a parable, will make for more pleasant listening. (It is possible that Plato takes this story from the writings of Protagoras himself.)[13]
“Once upon a time there were gods, but no mortal species,” he begins. “When the appointed time came for them to be born, the gods formed them in the earth by making a mixture from earth, fire and the things that are blended from these. When they were about to bring them to light, they appointed Prometheus and Epimetheus to arrange things and distribute to each creature powers appropriate to it. Epimetheus asked Prometheus to let him make the distribution. ‘I will distribute,’ he said, ‘and you check my work,’ and having convinced Prometheus, he set to work. In his distribution he bestowed on some creatures strength without speed, while the weaker animals he endowed with speed. To some he gave armor, while for others which lacked armor he provided a different capacity as a means of preservation: to those which he endowed with small size, he distributed winged flight or an earthly abode; those to which he gave large size he protected by this very fact. And he made a distribution of the other gifts in this equitable manner. He made these arrangements with care so that no species would become extinct.”[14]
Thus does Protagoras invoke an ancient myth found in Hesiod’s poems, with suitable alterations to prove his own point. Prometheus, whose name means “forethought,” and Epimetheus, or “afterthought,” are charged with providing gifts for each creature. Epimetheus hurried to take charge and could be expected to make a mess of things. True to his name, he failed to plan ahead and ran out of resources before he arrived at the human race. He could give humans no great size or strength for protection. They had no long teeth or sharp claws or pointed antlers for defense. They had no thick fur or hard scales or light feathers to clothe their bodies, but were naked. They had no hooves or paws to walk on, but were barefoot.
When Prometheus came to inspect his brother’s work, he found all the animals well-endowed except man, who was virtually helpless. Having no gifts left to bestow upon humanity, as his brother had used them all up, the Titan stole fire and technology from Hephaestus and Athena and gave them to humans. These powers enabled humans to make for themselves what they lacked. With the help of technology, which required the use of fire, they learned to warm themselves, build homes and make clothing. They learned to name things and communicate, and to raise food for themselves by agriculture. They also built altars to worship and win the gods’ favor.
But there was still a problem for human survival. Though humans had technology, they lacked the political art. Consequently they still lived in small groups, unable to band together to form large communities. Hence they were often killed and devoured by wild beasts which were stronger and swifter than they. When they tried to come together in larger groups, for lack of the appropriate art they ended up wronging each other until their communities dissolved. Zeus saw that the human race was an endangered species and sent his messenger-god Hermes to save them from themselves. He ordered Hermes to confer on humans the virtues of aidōs and dikē—respect and justice—skills that would enable them to get along in society.
“Shall I give them out,” asked Hermes, “as I did the others—that is, on the principle that one trained doctor suffices for many laymen, and so with the other experts? Shall I give out justice and respect for their fellows in this way or impart these gifts to all alike?”
“To all,” said Zeus, “Let everyone have his share. There could never be cities if only a few shared in these virtues, as in the other arts. Moreover, you must lay it down as my law that if anyone is incapable of acquiring his share of these two virtues he shall be put to death as a plague to the city.”[15]
Protagoras here draws his story to a close and produces the moral. All humans are beneficiaries of the great political virtues of respect and justice. If they were not, society would be impossible and the human race must have perished before now. That is why it is appropriate for the Athenians to accord to every citizen an equal right to discuss political matters.
“So much then,” Protagoras concludes, “for the point that men rightly take all alike into their counsels concerning virtue of this sort, because they believe that all have a share in it. I shall next try to demonstrate to you that they do not regard it as innate or automatic, but as acquired by instruction and taking thought.”[16] Here Protagoras must tread carefully. His myth suggests that, once Hermes has delivered the political virtues to humans, they belong to humans by nature: they are innate. But in order not to fall short of fully acquiring their share of those virtues, and hence become “a plague to the city,” humans may yet need instruction or guidance. Thus there would be need of sophistic instruction to make one a better citizen.
So he draws an analogy to some other human power that all share, yet all are not equally proficient in: the power of language. All children of a culture grow up speaking the language of their parents. Yet if you asked who taught them to speak it, no one could say. In fact, everyone they come in contact with provides an example of speech, and their parents, nurses, and acquaintances all correct their pronunciations and usages and supply them with new words. So all children grow up speaking their native language. Yet when it comes to speaking well and eloquently, only a few do that. Hence all members of the language community are competent, but few are masters of the skill.
So it is, Protagoras explains, with the political art. Everyone teaches the young the concepts of respect and justice by example, by precept, and by correction. There are, indeed, some who provide bad examples. But even they are paragons of virtue beside uncivilized savages, such as the characters presented in satyr plays. Yet as in the case of language speakers, some people are able to develop their skills through everyday conversation until one stands out among the crowd for eloquence. So in the case of social and political abilities, it is possible for an individual to develop those skills until one is second to none in leadership abilities. And now the person who has developed his political skills is in a position to impart them to others, and hence to be a teacher. “My claim is that I am such a teacher, rather better than anyone else at helping a man to acquire a good and noble character; worthy indeed of the fee which I charge, and even more, as my pupils themselves agree.”[17]
Protagoras then mentions a unique money-back guarantee to his students and brings his speech to an end.
Socrates sits spellbound for a minute, taking in the brilliance of Protagoras’ disquisition. He thanks Hippocrates profusely for bringing him to hear this great orator/educator explain the nature of the political art and how it is to be taught. “I used to think,” Socrates observes, “that it was by no human effort that good men acquired their goodness, but now I am convinced otherwise.” He pauses for effect. “There is just one tiny little worry holding me back…”[18]
[12].Plato Protagoras 320a-b.
[13]. See Guthrie 1971: 63-65 and 64 n. 1. Protagoras wrote a treatise On the Original State of Things (Diogenes Laertius 9.55). Whether Plato is reprising the actual argument of Protagoras is controversial, but possible.
[14].Plato Protagoras 320d-321a.
[15].Plato Protagoras 322c-d.
[16].Plato Protagoras 323c.
[17].Plato Protagoras 328b.
[18].Plato Protagoras 328e.