South African Journal of Philosophy

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Socrates’ wisdom in definition

Dylan B. Futter

To cite this article: Dylan B. Futter (2019) Socrates’ wisdom in definition, South African Journal of
Philosophy, 38:4, 383-391, DOI: 10.1080/02580136.2019.1694294

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South African Journal of Philosophy 2019, 38(4): 383–391 Copyright © South African Journal of Philosophy
Printed in South Africa — All rights reserved
S O U T H A F R I C A N J O U R NA L
O F P H I LO S O P H Y
ISSN 0258-0136 EISSN 2073-4867
https://doi.org/10.1080/02580136.2019.1694294

Socrates’ wisdom in definition

Dylan B. Futter
Department of Philosophy, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa
Dylan.Futter@wits.ac.za

Why does Socrates favour definitional speech discussion of virtue’s instances and
attributes? Why does he take such a dim view of applied ethics? In this article, I
criticise the received answers to these questions and offer a different view. I argue
that Socrates favours definitional dialogue because it actualises knowledge that the
logic of his argument shows to be essential to virtue. By leading the interlocutor to a
paradoxical definition of virtue as knowledge, Socrates engenders this knowledge in
his soul.

Socrates’ preference for definitional discourse

Socrates loves to talk. But not about anything. Unlike Theophrastus’s garrulous man, he isn’t
interested in conversations about the weather, the price of wheat, or how many foreigners there are
in town (Theophrastus 1909, §18). The intensity of his love for speech is matched by the narrowness
of its concern. Not only does he restrict his discussions to the topic of virtue, he is almost entirely
preoccupied with defining it.1
Socrates’ preference for definitional talk is revealed in the questions that he asks and does not
ask. In all of Plato’s writings, he only once considers a question of applied ethics.2 He does not
investigate the morality of war, infanticide, or the rightness of holding slaves.3 Instead he asks,
“what is virtue?”, and “what is justice, temperance, courage and piety?”4 In this way he focuses
attention on a definitional question, calling on his interlocutor to say what the nature of virtue might
be.
Socrates’ preoccupation with definitional speech manifests also in the way that he changes topic,
and what he says about these changes. Many of Plato’s dialogues are framed so as to invite practical
questions of action: Is it pious to prosecute my father? Should I teach my sons how to fight in
armour? How can I seduce my beloved?5 Instead of tackling these questions directly, Socrates
contrives to evade them, substituting a “what is x?” question in their stead. And when evasion
proves difficult, or he is for some reason carried away from the definitional inquiry, he almost
always indicates the need for a return, sometimes even reprimanding himself for losing focus.6 In
short, while Socrates is on occasion willing to discuss an “is x F?” question, such conversations are
clearly designated as “second best sailings” (Phd. 99d).

Definitional priority and Socratic intellectualism

Why does Socrates favour definitional speech discussion of virtue’s instances and attributes? Why

1 By “Socrates”, I mean the character in Plato’s dialogues. On the historical Socrates and definition, see e.g. Aristotle, Metaphysics,
1078b17-29.
2 See Crito. It is noteworthy that Socrates does not present the argument in his own voice, but by ventriloquising the Laws of Athens (see
50a ff.).
3 Socrates seems to express opinions about infanticide, war, and slavery, in the Republic (461a-c; 468a ff.); but he does not interrogate these
opinions. See also his remarks on suicide in the Phaedo (61b-62e).
4 See Meno, Republic, Charmides, Laches, and Euthyphro.
5 See Euthyphro, Laches, and Lysis.
6 See Men. 86d, Prot. 329b ff., Rep. 348b ff., and Rep. 354b-c.

South African Journal of Philosophy is co-published by NISC (Pty) Ltd and Informa UK Limited (trading as Taylor & Francis Group)
384 Futter

does he take such a dim view of applied ethics? One way to answer such questions is by ascribing a
principle of definitional priority (PD) to him.7 According to this principle, knowledge of a definition
is necessary for knowing whether any action or person is just or pious; and so too for knowledge of
virtue’s attributes, such as whether or not it is teachable, or advantageous to its possessor.
The principle of definitional priority is an element of an “intellectualist” reading of Socrates’
moral psychology.8 According to this line of interpretation, knowledge of a definition of virtue is,
for Socrates, both necessary and sufficient for practical discernment and moral motivation. One
cannot know and be motivated to do the virtuous thing if one cannot define virtue; and also, from
the other direction, somebody who had a definition of virtue would both know what to do and be
inclined to do it.
While more than a few scholars have attributed intellectualism of this kind to Socrates, there
are reasons for hesitation. For, not only is the account implausible, it is incompatible with his
philosophical practice. Socrates is on occasion willing to admit that an act is virtuous even as
he disavows definitional knowledge (e.g. Lach. 191a).9 And, moreover, interlocutors sometimes
propose good accounts, while appearing to all the world to lack the relevant virtue (see Lach.
194c-d; also Euthyp. 14c). Considerations of this type justify the search for an alternative to
“despotic intellectualism”.10

Socratic anti-intellectualism
For scholars of an “anti-intellectualist” persuasion, Socrates’ goal in dialogue is not the attainment
of a formula or definition; it is, rather, the cultivation of some desirable state of soul. Different
accounts of this state of soul are given. On one view, Socrates uses definitional discourse to refute
his interlocutor, thus engendering humility and self-knowledge.11 On another, he attempts to
facilitate understanding of the truth contained in an ethical tradition.12 And, on a third but related
account, he seeks to cultivate non-propositional, self-reflexive knowledge, which is in some sense
constitutive of virtue.13
Anti-intellectualists deny that definitional dialogues aim at finding or expressing definitions.14
This basic commitment is open to objection. First, if Socrates were positively uninterested in correct
definitions, then he would have no reason to help his interlocutor to formulate a better account. Yet,
this is precisely what he does in several places (see Euthyp. 11e f.; also Laches 192a-b, Lysis and
Hippias Major, passim). Secondly, and more fundamentally, readings of this type do not actually
explain why Socrates concentrates on definitional questions. Why, after all, could he not foster
the relevant epistemic virtue by means of non-definitional discourse? Socratic anti-intellectualism
seems to be, at best, incomplete.

Virtue as epistemic power: narrowness of mind

Both intellectualists and anti-intellectualists have, I believe, fastened on part of the truth.
Intellectualists are right to claim that Socrates is concerned to find and communicate a definition
of virtue. But they are wrong in their account of what this communication involves. Knowing
the definition of virtue is not a propositional “taking-to-be-true” of a formula; it is rather the
development of certain spiritual powers, which actually constitute the knowledge in terms of which
virtue is to be defined.15 In this regard, anti-intellectualist interpretations of Socrates’ discursive
practice are somewhat closer to the truth.

7 For discussion, see Wolfsdorf (2004) and Benson (2013).

8 The account of intellectualism is sketched in outline so as to incorporate several variations. See e.g. Nehamas (1987), Benson (2000), and
Brickhouse and Smith (2010).
9 See Benson (2013, 144).
10 On this phrase, see Nehamas (1987, 276 note 5).
11 See Benson (2000, ch. 2).
12 See Kosman (1983; 2007, 126).
13 See Gonzalez (1998; 2000). See also Halper (1993) and Lear (2006).
14 For an anti-intellectualist account of Socrates’ priority of definition principle, see Gonzalez (1998, 26–28).
15 On the Socratic paradoxes, see Santas (1964).
South African Journal of Philosophy 2019, 38(4): 383–391 385

The argument for my interpretation rests on an account of the relationship between the speeches
and the deeds exhibited in the Socratic dialogue – for example, the way that an interlocutor’s
thinking is shown to improve, or be capable of improving, as the arguments progress. In order
to describe this relationship more conveniently, I wish to introduce, as a term of art, the phrase
conception of virtue. A conception of virtue is, as I define it, not a purely cognitive state, to be made
out in terms of beliefs that an interlocutor would ascribe to herself; it is to be understood, rather,
in a more holistic way, as subsuming patterns of thought and inference, as well as emotional and
behavioural dispositions and actions.
With terminology fixed, I move on now to consideration of the argumentative dimension of
the Socratic dialogues. In these dialogues, a great many definitions and kinds of definitions are
introduced and discussed. Yet, beneath this appearance of multiplicity, a certain unity in the logical
movement of the argument can be discerned.16 The interlocutor’s first answer to the “what is x?”
question is usually a specific act or act-type – for example, “what I am now doing”, “paying one’s
debts”, or “telling the truth”.17 Socrates objects to this sort of definition on the grounds that it is too
narrow. Even if the act or act-type were virtuous, it would not exhaust the ways in which virtue can
be realised. A satisfactory definition would need to refer, Socrates implies, to a quality capable of
being manifest in an unlimited number of actions.
When the Socratic interlocutor offers a definition by example, he makes a mistake. Yet the mistake
that he makes is not merely logical in character, but spiritual also, that is, expressive of a deficiency
in his conception of virtue. For example, Laches thinks and says that courage is holding the line and
fighting (190e) because his conception of courage is centred on hoplite warfare. So he forgets about
the importance of courage in retreat (191a), and the multitude of circumstances outside of war in
which the virtue may be required (191d-e). And something similar is true, I believe, of several other
interlocutors.
The discussant who offers a definition by example over-concentrates on a certain part or aspect
of virtue. This error is not quarantined within the domain of thought, as it were, but causes him to
act incorrectly in many circumstances. For example, Laches does not exhibit courage in retreat
(Symp. 221a) because he fails to integrate his recognition of the possibilities for courage in flight
(Lach. 191a-b) into action.18 And, similarly, Euthyphro’s preoccupation with impartial justice and
“blindness” to the significance of special ties of obligation lead him to prosecute his own father
(Euthyp. 4b). In both cases, the interlocutor goes wrong in his actions because he does not attend to
the complexity of virtue.
At the level of logic, Socrates’ objection to the first definition-type is that it is too narrow. At the
level of ethics and moral psychology, he invites his interlocutor to think about other ways in which
the virtue might be displayed. The form of his request is this: “yes, the action you have identified
is, or might well be, virtuous; but aren’t there also other ways of acting well?” By generalising
questions of this kind, Socrates expands his conception of virtue, asking him to attend more carefully
to ethical considerations to which he has not given proper weight. In this way, I suggest, he begins to
cultivate in his interlocutor certain powers of mind that constitute the knowledge in terms of which
virtue is to be defined.

Virtue as epistemic power: will and desire

After the failure of his first definition, the interlocutor tries again. His second attempt, which is often
couched in terms of desire, emotion or will, is superior to the first: it has, at least, the generality
required of a definition. But this type of account does not satisfy Socrates, who observes that
expressions of the desire or quality of will are on occasion in conflict with virtue. Shame is not
a good quality for a needy person (Charm. 161a-b); endurance is sometimes foolhardy and even
malign (Lach. 192d). In short, the definition fails because it is too broad.19

16 See Halper (1993).

17 See Euthyphro 5d and Republic 331c. See also Laches 190e and Hippias Major 287e ff.
18 For further discussion of this point, see Futter (2017).
19 See also Charmides 160e and Meno 77b.
386 Futter

Socrates’ handling of the second definition-type is, like his handling of the first, not merely
a matter of logic; he is concerned also with the answerer’s moral and intellectual character, as
exhibited in the attempt to speak his mind. For inasmuch as the interlocutor does not parrot the
opinions of others, the content of the second definition expresses something of his conception of
virtue, the way that he thinks, feels, and acts, in relation to the good.20
The conative definition-type introduces a further self-reflexive dimension into the dialogue, since
the quality of will to which the definiendum refers can, on account of its generality, apply to the
activity of definitional discussion. For example, Charmides’ account of temperance as calmness
(Charm. 159b) denotes a quality of control with which any act can be performed. Hence the
definition applies to the activity of giving definitions, which in his case is slow, restrained, and
hesitant (ibid.). As the subsequent argument will make clear, Charmides’ dialectical performance
sometimes lacks the quickness of beautiful “searchings” (Charm. 160a).
The second definition-type is then both pronounced and performed – in life, and so in
philosophical conversation. For this reason, logical problems in the account manifest ethically in
the performance of the dialogue – in the fact that living the content of the definition would produce
responses that are incompatible with virtue. For example, Charmides’ definition of temperance as
shame (Charm.160e) is expressed in a blush (Charm.158c); yet, shame does not always produce a
right response, a point that is dramatised in the way that it later impels Charmides to withdraw from
spiritual examination (Charm. 162c-d; see also 161c). Shame is not a good thing for a young man
who is in need of a remedy for his head and a charm for his soul (Charm.156a-157c).
Definitions of the second type cannot succeed, since no quality of will can ensure its own
correctness. For this reason, Socrates, or a more sophisticated interlocutor, introduces a third sort
of account, which defines virtue in terms of knowledge, either as a way of modifying a definition
of the second kind (Lach. 192d), or as a separate formula (Lach. 194d-195a, Charm. 164d; also
Euthyp. 12e ff. and Rep. 338c ff.).
The definition of virtue as knowledge promises to answer Socrates’ objections to the first and
second accounts. For, since knowledge can be manifested in every thought and deed, it has the
generality required by virtue. And if moral knowledge is understood in analogy with practical arts
such as medicine or seamanship, then it would seem to be able to produce good and beautiful deeds
in a wide range of circumstances. The agent of practical wisdom would have a “reliable sensitivity
to [the requirements] which situations impose on behaviour” (McDowell 1979, 331–332) knowing
when to endure and when to give up, when to break conventions, and when to abide by them (cf.
Aristotle, E.N. 1144b17-20).
The dialogue’s ascent to a definition of virtue as knowledge occurs not only at the level of
argument, but also in what is, or is not, done. In this regard, it is evident that Socrates directs his
interlocutor to perform certain acts of soul that would develop the power of knowing, and, in
particular, the ability to distinguish correct from incorrect manifestations of will. Evidence for this
reading can be gleaned from Charmides, once more, in the instructions that Socrates gives to the
young man before the articulation of his second definition, and also, in the refutation of that account
(160d-e; see also Theaet. 151c-d).
Socrates’ elenchus of Charmides is conducted on the assumption that temperance, if present in a
human soul, would manifest in a form of conscious awareness (Charm. 159a). Thus, after the failure
of the first definition, he invites the boy to “look into [himself] with greater concentration”,21 paying
attention to the effect of temperance on his thought (160d); he also asks him make an inference from
the effect of temperance to its underlying nature, “what sort of thing it must be to have this effect”
(160d), and then, finally, to draw these things together and “tell…what [temperance] appears to
[him] to be” (160d-e).22

20 In some cases, the second definition is a generalisation of the view that was expressed by the first account. For example, Laches’s emphasis
on martial courage is carried through to his suggestion that courage is a certain endurance of soul (Lach. 192d). He is himself a tough guy,
in terms of orientation to life.
21 The translation of Charmides is by Rosamond Kent Sprague, as printed in Cooper (1997). Revisions are noted, where appropriate.
22 The self-reflexive character of the virtue under discussion is here most apparent. Socrates seems to be asking Charmides to perform a
series of mental acts in order to discern and enunciate a nature that underwrites the performance of these very acts.
South African Journal of Philosophy 2019, 38(4): 383–391 387

Charmides almost does what Socrates asks of him: he pauses, reflects “very bravely”, and declares
that temperance makes one ashamed or embarrassed, so that it is, in sum, a sense of shame (160e).
This answer is not merely theoretical, something that “they say” (159b-c); for, as we have seen,
his own “temperance” had manifested earlier in a blush in response to Socrates’ question (158c).
Charmides has succeeded in identifying a perception that temperance might really produce in his
soul. Yet, he does not go quite deeply enough: for he does not look beyond the effect to consider
what the virtue would have to be like to produce goodness of response. Shame cannot fulfil this role,
as has already been indicated, since it does not preserve goodness across all contexts.
In these exchanges, Socrates plays the role of psychagogue, encouraging Charmides to form
himself by engaging in certain ethically significant patterns of thought. He directs him to exercise a
power of self-reflexive knowing – a power to identify the character of his own conscious awareness.
He also instructs him to ask a question about the value of this awareness, and, in particular, whether
it would be good. And he tries to get him to take responsibility for his conception of virtue, by
evaluating his shame or embarrassment in terms of the requirement that good causes always
produce good effects. The profundity of Socratic teaching is here fully on display, both in the
logical movement of the argument toward the definitions of temperance as doing good things and
self-knowledge (see 163e and 164d ff.), and in the attempt to compel his interlocutor to exercise
spiritual powers that incipiently constitute such knowledge.

Virtue as epistemic power: saying and being

It is now time to face the fact that no account given in the definitional dialogues survives the
elenchus: Socrates refutes every proposed answer to the “what is x?” question, including some of
his own (e.g. Euthyp. 11e f.; Lach. 192a-b). How, then, can it be reasonable to claim that he accepts
the paradox that virtue is knowledge, and tries to lead his interlocutor to this position?
The answer to this question is that the definition of virtue as knowledge is not overturned, but
merely shown to be misunderstood. For example, when Socrates suggests that wisdom be added
to the account of courage as endurance (192d7-10), Laches assents; but he is then reduced to the
perplexity of being unable to speak his knowledge of courage (194a6-d4; also 194b1). Or again,
after embracing Socrates’ proposed definition of piety as the part of justice concerned with the
care of the gods (11e), Euthyphro proves unable to specify the knowledge of care (therapeia)
(13e-14b).23 What he lacks is the ability to speak the knowledge inherent in piety (see 11b-c and
15b-c; see also Rep.331e ff.), that is, the power that would constitute the knowledge of care in terms
of which piety is to be defined.
Though Socrates’ objections to the epistemic definitions are presented in speech, the inadequacies
of the accounts are, as before, manifest also in the action of the dialogue. The problem is no longer
that the enactment of the quality referred to by the definiendum deviates from the requirements of
virtue, for this would refute the account. Rather, it is implied that the interlocutor has not performed
the knowledge required by the dialogue. To perform this knowledge would be to speak the nature of
virtue, so that the inquiry achieved its formal goal.
Saying and being converge in the state of psychological aporia. The incompleteness of the
discussion is not merely logical, but existential also. The character of the aporia is self-reflexive
and epistemic: an inability to properly express the knowledge seen to be inherent in virtue. For
this reason, the interlocutor must continue in the endeavour to speak his wisdom by formulating
discursively the knowledge that he takes to be his own – and in this way we arrive at an account of
the protreptic dimension of the dialogue and an exhortation to philosophy as care of the self.
The incompleteness of the definition to which Socrates leads the interlocutor is fundamental for
understanding the protreptic dimension of the dialogue, and, also, how wisdom might be formed in
a soul. For, just as the interlocutor would not come to a more refined ethical sensitivity by being
told that virtue is a particular course of action, he would not become wiser by being informed that it
is, or involves, some kind of knowledge. To come to know that virtue is knowledge, in the relevant

23 On the pedagogical function of Socrates’ pretence that Euthyphro is unwilling rather than unable to articulate the nature of piety, see Futter
(2013).
388 Futter

sense, would be to form the power of knowing by attempting to speak it. In this way, the content of
the Socratic paradox would be communicated by being “embodied” in the soul.
While support for this reading can be found in several Platonic dialogues, I restrict discussion to
the Laches, where the main points are, I believe, clearest. In this dialogue, Socrates draws attention
to the self-reflexive character of aporia immediately after Laches has failed to speak his mind
(193d1-10), remarking that they are not “tuned in the Dorian mode” (193d11; Allen trans.; see
188d f.). Somebody would likely say, he suggests, that both he and Laches have a share of courage
in deed; but, if this person overheard their discussion, he would not say that they had a share
of courage in speech (193e2-4). Yet Socrates immediately undermines this distinction when he
suggests that they should hold the line and endure in the search (194a1-5). His remarks are carefully
chosen to focus Laches’s attention on the applicability of a certain speech, that is, an account
of courage as endurance, to his current course of action.24 The definition is relevant not only to
warfare and seafaring, or any other domain for that matter, but to this very thing that he is currently
doing (194a3-5; cf. 192a1-6). Laches should apply the “concept” of endurance to the action of
philosophical inquiry; he would, in this way, avoid the disharmony of cowardice in pursuit of
courage (194a1-5).
Socrates’ suggestion that Laches self-reflexively apply the definition of courage as endurance
to the action of the inquiry indicates that he is not recommending a merely theoretical search, but
a way of expressing and forming character. His point seems to be that Laches could resolve his
perplexity and attain a “Dorian harmony” of speeches and deeds by further definitional inquiry. This
recommendation only makes sense if the definition of courage would be complete when Laches had
developed wisdom in his soul.25

Virtue as dialectical understanding

Socrates does not delineate the nature of the knowledge inherent in virtue with any clarity, and, as
we have seen, interlocutors always fail to give a satisfactory account. The paradox that virtue is
knowledge remains, qua definition, not only paradoxical: is also incomplete. But what more, one
might wonder, can be said about this knowledge?26
The knowledge constitutive of virtue is not a techne understood on the model of production, or,
for that matter, arithmetic (Charm. 165c ff.); it does not generate any product outside of the soul
of the inquirer and it has no external object. Furthermore, this wisdom is not an ethically neutral
craft that is capable of producing opposite effects (Rep. 334a-b); it is intimately connected to the
good, involving “the ability to sort through…relevant [ethical] considerations when it comes to any
action type or token”.27 Moreover, it is self-reflexive, and, Socrates tells us in the Republic, present
in everyone’s soul, being natural to a human being and standing only in need of re-direction and
development (Rep. 518b-c). It is, in short, as I have argued, the fully actualised power (dunamis)
of dialectical understanding that is drawn upon, and enhanced, in the activity of definitional
self-examination.

Knowing virtue and non-definitional discourse

I have argued above that while anti-intellectualist interpretations provide illuminating accounts of
Socrates’ ethical goals, they do not explain why he focuses so persistently on definitional discussion.
Perhaps it might be contended that my reading is vulnerable to a similar objection. Why, in other
words, couldn’t Socrates inscribe wisdom in the interlocutor’s soul by means of non-definitional
discussion? Why couldn’t he help somebody to greater understanding by doing applied ethics
with her? In order to complete my argument, I need to say more about the relationship between
definitional inquiry and the development of wisdom, which I have identified with the actualisation
of the dialectical power.
24 For Socrates’ capacity to correctly apply partial definitions to his actions, see e.g. Charm. 155c-d; 165b-c; Euthyp. 15c-d.
25 We recall, also, that Socrates had earlier on in the conversation spoken of virtue as a power of mind akin to sight (189e-190a).
26 Since an adequate discussion of this topic would take us beyond the scope of the present article, I restrict myself to certain programmatic
remarks.
27 I owe this useful formulation to an anonymous referee for the South African Journal of Philosophy.
South African Journal of Philosophy 2019, 38(4): 383–391 389

As I have noted above, an interlocutor would not benefit by being told a correct definition of
virtue. Telling him the answer would not make him any better. I think this insight can be extended
so as to outline certain limitations of non-definitional forms of examination. In non-definitional
discussion, participants are concerned, schematically, with the application of a predicate to a subject.
For example, the goal of the argument might be to determine whether the predicate “just” applies
to the action of returning weapons to a neighbour, or “impious” to the act of prosecuting one’s
father. Even if an argument for a specific conclusion were valid, sound, and persuasive, discussion
of this sort would not improve the interlocutor’s soul. For the deduction of the conclusion from true
premises accepted by the interlocutor would leave his conception of virtue largely unchanged.
There are two basic points here, corresponding to the deficiencies in each of the abovementioned
definition-types. First, a valid deduction would not alter the interlocutor’s structures of thought: he
would attend to largely the same things, and forget and overlook the same things, as he did before
the argument; at most, a certain subset of beliefs would change. And even if the implications of
the practical judgment reached in the discussion were far-reaching, for example, having to do with
the institution of slavery, the forms of attention brought about by the alteration in belief would not
facilitate the capacity for holistic integration of the different ethical considerations relevant to an
action. Yet this capacity is, I claim, a fundamental part of wisdom.
Secondly, non-definitional discourse does not require the interlocutor to attend to the way in
which his conception of virtue manifests in his thinking and response, both in general, and in
the action of the dialogue. Thus the logical argument would not help him to see the defects in his
conception of virtue as expressed in volition and desire. In short, the discourse would not create the
necessary forms of self-awareness for philosophy as care of the soul, but, at most, an attenuated
version of these.
By contrast, definitional discussion is conducive to the formation of the dialectical power. Since
the argument for this has already been given, consider only these points briefly, and by way of
emphasis. First, by asking his interlocutor to say what virtue is, Socrates invites him to express his
conception of virtue, in speeches, of course, but also in the way he conducts the discussion. The
interlocutor reveals himself to be sensitive to certain sorts of considerations, blind to others, and
subject to certain vicissitudes of will and desire. The “what is x?” question, in other words, enables
Socrates to discern the form, or look, of his soul. To adapt a phrase from Plato’s Charmides (154d-e),
the definitional discussion requires the interlocutor to show himself naked.28 And this nakedness is
required for a proper examination by a suitably qualified midwife of the soul (see Theaet. 149a ff.).
Secondly, the activity of definitional inquiry actually embodies a concern with holism of thought
because it forms the relevant connections and abilities. In the course of leading the interlocutor
towards a satisfactory definition, Socrates demands that he exercise certain powers of introspection
and evaluation; he thus changes his way of thinking in conformity with the definition that might
be reached by means of this very inquiry. He helps him to see and think more holistically and
more self-reflexively about virtue. Yet these abilities are, I have argued, constitutive, or partly
constitutive, of wisdom.

Definitional priority reconsidered

In the discussion above, I set to one side the so-called priority of definition principle (PD),
incorporating it into a more general account of Socratic intellectualism. I must now return to this
principle in order to show its compatibility with the interpretation that I have offered. For Socrates’s
preference for definitional discussion is commonly explained in terms of his acceptance of PD, and
not the general style of intellectualism that I have focused on.
PD is, roughly, the principle that definitions are necessary for knowledge of virtue’s instances
and attributes. Scholars have, however, misunderstood Socrates’ use of this principle. On the usual
reading, Socrates uses the principle to infer from the interlocutor’s inability to give a definition
that he does not know what virtue is, and, therefore, does not know that specific predications are

28 This point is in Klein (1989, 18).

390 Futter

true.29 But, as I have shown in other writings,30 Socrates actually reasons in the opposite direction,
assuming that the interlocutor knows what virtue is, and, on account of this knowledge, is capable of
expressing it in words. In other words, Socrates does not use PD to conclude from the interlocutor’s
failure to give a definition that he doesn’t know what virtue is. Rather, he moves in exactly the
opposite direction, inferring from the failure to give an account that he has not satisfactorily
articulated his knowledge of virtue. This is the content of the aporia of the dialogue, and one that
invites the interlocutor to continue the attempt to speak his mind.
Given this account, Socrates’ use of PD supports the claim that it is by means of definitional
discussion that virtue comes to be actualised in the soul. For what Socrates does is ascribe knowledge
of virtue to the interlocutor, asserting his capacity for self-articulation throughout. And in the
definitional exercise of dialogue, he generalises and refines his conception of virtue, “embodying”
it more fully in his soul. The fully actualised capacity to speak one’s knowledge of virtue is then, I
suggest, constitutive of wisdom. Socrates’ preference for definitional discussion explains his use of
the principle of definitional priority, and not the other way around.31

ORCID
Dylan B. Futter http://orcid.org/0000-0002-1863-6838

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29 This is the so-called Socratic fallacy. See Geach (1966).

30 For this argument in detail, see Futter (2019).
31 I would like to thank two anonymous referees for the South African Journal of Philosophy for their immensely constructive commentary
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Received 31 July 2019, revised 13 November 2019, accepted 14 November 2019