Gregory Vlastos claims that in the Gorgias Socrates is confident that the elenchos is the only and the final arbiter of moral truth. Traditionally, the object of elenchos has been viewed as not one of moral truth, but one of simply revealing to Socratic interlocutors confusions and muddles within themselves, thereby jarring their unquestioning adherence to some moral dogma. On Vlastos' view, however, Socrates claims that he proves by elenchos that an interlocutor's thesis is false. How can he, when in (...) point of logic all he has proved is that the thesis is inconsistent with the agreed-upon premises in that argument whose truth Socrates does not undertake to establish? While Vlastos attempts to solve what he calls "the problem of elenchos" with all the ingenuity that we have come to expect from him, I argue that there are two major obstacles in his way. First, elenchos is not the only arbiter of moral truth in the Gorgias Socrates has a number of other reasons for believing certain things, but according to Vlastos, Socrates looks to elenchos, and to nothing but that, for the truth of his beliefs. I argue that, first, Vlastos' characterization of elenchos is unsatisfactory, for on his criteria it is difficult to distinguish it from other kinds of arguments. This in turn seriously hampers a proper evaluation of elenctic arguments. I then show that at least in this dialogue Socrates has certain religious beliefs that he holds without relying on elenchos, and so elenchos is not the only avenue for acquiring moral knowledge. ;Under Vlastos' correcting lenses, Socrates emerges also as a morally upright philosopher who would never knowingly conduct fallacious arguments. I argue that Socrates cheats at elenchos, and he does so in order to win over his interlocutors. I conclude that because of certain assumptions Vlastos makes about the character of the model philosopher and the model method, he exaggerates the strength of elenchos. If I am right, the Gorgias is witness to, not the power of elenchos as Vlastos would have us believe, but its limitations. (shrink)

With this new book the gap between Straussian and analytic approaches to Plato’s dialogues begins to look like it is unbridgeable. While the analytic side has been furiously fussing over the critical minutia regarding the dating and authenticity of the Platonic dialogues in order to determine what we can know of Socrates through Plato, Lutz without so much as a nod toward that project simply takes any Platonic dialogue to be a reliable guide to “Socrates” and his thought. This will (...) sit poorly with those who think that we can no more know about Socrates from reading Platonic dialogues than we can about Jesus from reading the Gospels. Further, in the drama-versus-doctrine debate that is the great divide among Anglo-American scholars today, Lutz, like many a Straussian, opts for drama in the dialogues, rather than arguments in them, as the “least arbitrary and most revealing way” to philosophy. Lutz’s thesis is that Plato uses drama to support substantive Socratic theses, one of which is, according to Lutz, that “by nature we are moved by an erotic need to know we are ‘noble and good’”. Also according to Lutz, the recognition of this need is Socrates’ meaningful insight into human motivation, that of philosopher and scientist alike. He warns, however, that Socrates never decisively refutes his interlocutors’ rival conceptions of nobility and goodness. This is especially evident in the ongoing dialectic among the interlocutors in Plato’s Republic, which Lutz believes is dedicated to an examination of civic virtue. In addition, the dramatic portrayal of Socrates’ inability to educate Alcibiades shows, according to Lutz, “a fundamental limit on the power of reason to reform political life”. The value of Socratic education therefore consists in the idea that the content of virtue and efficacy of rationality are open to interpretation and must necessarily remain so. This essentially searching education, Lutz believes, may thus help us in our fragmented postmodern world, especially in bringing together competing conceptions of virtue in literature, politics, law, and science, and perhaps even Straussian and analytic philosophy. (shrink)

Although the recent generation of philosophers remembers him mostly from his massive onevolume abridged edition of the Aristotelian Corpus, Richard McKeon wrote extensively on many other subjects including Abelard, science, and democratic culture. He was a student of Frederick Woodbridge and John Dewey at Columbia University, and made his published debut with his work on Spinoza. He also wrote on medieval thought, to which Spinoza inevitably led him. McKeon’s years in Paris working with Etienne Gilson were formative in producing what (...) has become his trademark—finding patterns and unity in philosophical diversity. McKeon spent the greater part of his life in Chicago holding both academic and administrative posts; he was also active in the formation of the United Nations charter of human rights. Under the auspices of UNESCO he helped found the International Institute of Philosophy as well. (shrink)