Plato’s Crito

Week 3: Authority and belief

Premise: One should follow wise opinions, not necessarily the majority opinion, because this promotes a good life. 46b – 48a

This is one of the preliminary moves of Socrates’s argument. On the face it seems obvious; in some respects, however, it’s rather circular. It may be making some questionable distinctions, or failing to make some important ones.

If Socrates is simply saying (as it may appear) that one should follow wise or correct opinions, is this not merely a tautology? One could plausibly claim that a wise opinion is one that ought to be adopted and followed; but, if so, this seems to be saying nothing more than that one ought to follow those opinions that ought to be followed.

A closer reading, however, suggests that Plato (through Socrates) is making a slightly different distinction here, and it may be worth considering whether it is entirely supportable. He claims that one ought to follow the opinions of the wise (people), rather than (necessarily) the opinions of the multitude. Even if we define as the wise those who customarily or predominantly have good opinions, is it necessarily the case that each and every opinion a wise person has will be a wise opinion? If not, the categories are different.

In this light, then, Socrates’ distinction seems to be a case for relying on experts at one level or another to be able to identify which opinions are correct. If so — and if there is no other way of determining the correctness of a position than by gaining the assurance of it from someone else, ideally someone specially learned in the field — is this any longer an exercise in careful thought, or merely a study of plausible allegiance to one opinion-maker or another?

On the fact of it, certainly there seems to be no particular reason to think that the opinions of the multitude are better than the opinions of an expert in any given field. Having granted that, however, we also need to acknowledge that the possession of expertise is not itself a guarantee of infallibility in the subject domain, either. The foolish person might (and, in the course of randomized and chaotic thought, probably will) occasionally have a correct opinion, even where the expert might have a well-informed but erroneous one.

Any question pitting the opinions of the experts against the opinions of the multitude will have something to say about democracy (which seems to presuppose, for no particular reason, that the massed opinions of the many will on balance prove beneficial). Applied to a narrower exercise of democratic or collective process, this position might also call into question a jury trial — especially when (as we are expected to believe here) the voice of the many has been mistaken in its judgment of Socrates.

At the same time, one ought to weigh with these considerations Socrates’ own skepticism about the experts, as detailed in the Apology. From Benjamin Jowett’s translation:

I dare say, Athenians, that someone among you will reply, "Why is this, Socrates, and what is the origin of these accusations of you: for there must have been something strange which you have been doing? All this great fame and talk about you would never have arisen if you had been like other men: tell us, then, why this is, as we should be sorry to judge hastily of you." Now I regard this as a fair challenge, and I will endeavor to explain to you the origin of this name of "wise," and of this evil fame. Please to attend then. And although some of you may think I am joking, I declare that I will tell you the entire truth. Men of Athens, this reputation of mine has come of a certain sort of wisdom which I possess. If you ask me what kind of wisdom, I reply, such wisdom as is attainable by man, for to that extent I am inclined to believe that I am wise; whereas the persons of whom I was speaking have a superhuman wisdom, which I may fail to describe, because I have it not myself; and he who says that I have, speaks falsely, and is taking away my character. And here, O men of Athens, I must beg you not to interrupt me, even if I seem to say something extravagant. For the word which I will speak is not mine. I will refer you to a witness who is worthy of credit, and will tell you about my wisdom - whether I have any, and of what sort - and that witness shall be the god of Delphi. You must have known Chaerephon; he was early a friend of mine, and also a friend of yours, for he shared in the exile of the people, and returned with you. Well, Chaerephon, as you know, was very impetuous in all his doings, and he went to Delphi and boldly asked the oracle to tell him whether - as I was saying, I must beg you not to interrupt - he asked the oracle to tell him whether there was anyone wiser than I was, and the Pythian prophetess answered that there was no man wiser. Chaerephon is dead himself, but his brother, who is in court, will confirm the truth of this story.

Why do I mention this? Because I am going to explain to you why I have such an evil name. When I heard the answer, I said to myself, What can the god mean? and what is the interpretation of this riddle? for I know that I have no wisdom, small or great. What can he mean when he says that I am the wisest of men? And yet he is a god and cannot lie; that would be against his nature. After a long consideration, I at last thought of a method of trying the question. I reflected that if I could only find a man wiser than myself, then I might go to the god with a refutation in my hand. I should say to him, "Here is a man who is wiser than I am; but you said that I was the wisest." Accordingly I went to one who had the reputation of wisdom, and observed to him - his name I need not mention; he was a politician whom I selected for examination - and the result was as follows: When I began to talk with him, I could not help thinking that he was not really wise, although he was thought wise by many, and wiser still by himself; and I went and tried to explain to him that he thought himself wise, but was not really wise; and the consequence was that he hated me, and his enmity was shared by several who were present and heard me. So I left him, saying to myself, as I went away: Well, although I do not suppose that either of us knows anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is - for he knows nothing, and thinks that he knows. I neither know nor think that I know. In this latter particular, then, I seem to have slightly the advantage of him. Then I went to another, who had still higher philosophical pretensions, and my conclusion was exactly the same. I made another enemy of him, and of many others besides him.

After this I went to one man after another, being not unconscious of the enmity which I provoked, and I lamented and feared this: but necessity was laid upon me - the word of God, I thought, ought to be considered first. And I said to myself, Go I must to all who appear to know, and find out the meaning of the oracle. And I swear to you, Athenians, by the dog I swear! - for I must tell you the truth - the result of my mission was just this: I found that the men most in repute were all but the most foolish; and that some inferior men were really wiser and better. I will tell you the tale of my wanderings and of the "Herculean" labors, as I may call them, which I endured only to find at last the oracle irrefutable. When I left the politicians, I went to the poets; tragic, dithyrambic, and all sorts. And there, I said to myself, you will be detected; now you will find out that you are more ignorant than they are. Accordingly, I took them some of the most elaborate passages in their own writings, and asked what was the meaning of them - thinking that they would teach me something. Will you believe me? I am almost ashamed to speak of this, but still I must say that there is hardly a person present who would not have talked better about their poetry than they did themselves. That showed me in an instant that not by wisdom do poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration; they are like diviners or soothsayers who also say many fine things, but do not understand the meaning of them. And the poets appeared to me to be much in the same case; and I further observed that upon the strength of their poetry they believed themselves to be the wisest of men in other things in which they were not wise. So I departed, conceiving myself to be superior to them for the same reason that I was superior to the politicians.

At last I went to the artisans, for I was conscious that I knew nothing at all, as I may say, and I was sure that they knew many fine things; and in this I was not mistaken, for they did know many things of which I was ignorant, and in this they certainly were wiser than I was. But I observed that even the good artisans fell into the same error as the poets; because they were good workmen they thought that they also knew all sorts of high matters, and this defect in them overshadowed their wisdom - therefore I asked myself on behalf of the oracle, whether I would like to be as I was, neither having their knowledge nor their ignorance, or like them in both; and I made answer to myself and the oracle that I was better off as I was.

So...whom should one trust? How should one find out what opinions are to be embraced, and what opinions are to be rejected? Is it possible to reason from authority absolutely? Is it possible to reject authority? What kind of path can we find through these apparent contradictions?

If you’re reading along in Greek, cover 46b1-47c7.