Plato and the ÒSocratic FallacyÓ

WILLIAM J. PRIOR

ABSTRACT
Since Peter Geach coined the phrase in 1966 there has been much discussion
among scholars of the ÒSocratic fallacy.Ó No consensus presently exists on
whether Socrates commits the ÒSocratic fallacyÓ; almost all scholars agree, how-
ever, that the ÒSocratic fallacyÓ is a bad thing and that Socrates has good reason
to avoid it. I think that this consensus of scholars is mistaken. I think that what
Geach has labeled a fallacy is no fallacy at all, but a perfectly innocent conse-
quence of Platonic epistemology.
The ÒSocratic fallacyÓ arises from the ÒPriority of DeŽ nitionÓ principle (PD).
Plato is committed to (PD) in the Meno. The Meno also contains a famous dis-
cussion of the difference between episteme and doxa (97a ff.). If we understand
what Plato meant by episteme we can see that he must be committed to (PD);
but we can also see that (PD) has none of the harmful consequences Geach attrib-
utes to it.
GeachÕs view is indebted to WittgensteinÕs philosophy of language. (PD) is
implausible on this reading of the verb Òto know,Ó but not on PlatoÕs. Plato claims
that a demand for an explanation is appropriate wherever a claim to knowledge
is made. Plato links the concept of episteme explicitly with the concept of logos;
the connection between the terms may have been analytic.
It does not follow from the Platonic conception of knowledge, as Geach
argues, that it is Òno useÓ using examples to establish general deŽ nitions. All that
follows is that one cannot know that an alleged example of a term T is a genuine
example until one has a general account of what it is to be T. Without the stronger
conclusion, Geach cannot establish that the ÒSocratic fallacyÓ is a fallacy.

I. Introduction
Since Peter Geach coined the phrase in 1966 there has been much dis-
cussion among scholars of the ÒSocratic fallacy.Ó According to Geach, this
fallacy consists of two propositions:
(A) that if you know that you are correctly predicating a given term
ÒTÓ you must Òknow what it is to be a T,Ó in the sense of being
able to give a general criterion for a thingÕs being T, and
(B) that it is no use to try and arrive at the meaning of ÒTÓ by giving
examples of things that are T.1

Accepted September 1997

1
P.T. Geach, ÒPlatoÕs Euthyphro: An Analysis and Commentary,Ó The Monist 50
(1966), 371.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 1998 Phronesis XLIII/2

98 WILLIAM J. PRIOR

Geach believed that Ò(B) in fact follows from (A).Ó2 He believed that these
two propositions constitute a fallacy because they present an incorrect
view of knowledge:
We know heaps of things without being able to deŽ ne the terms in which we
express our knowledge. Formal deŽ nitions are only one way of elucidating terms;
a set of examples may in a given case be more useful than a formal deŽ nition. 3

Geach also believed that Socrates is committed to the ÒSocratic fallacyÓ in

the early dialogues of Plato.
Geach has had many respondents. All have wanted to show that the
Socrates of the early Platonic dialogues is innocent of GeachÕs charge. In
general their strategy has been to argue that Socrates is not committed
to GeachÕs principle (A), which has come to be known as the ÒPriority of
DeŽ nitionÓ principle (PD). This task is made possible by the fact that
Plato nowhere puts (A), in so many words, into SocratesÕ mouth. He says
many things that suggest that he believes in (A), but Robinson speaks
correctly of Òthe impression vaguely given by the early dialoguesÓ4 that
he accepts it. Gregory Vlastos, who believed that the early dialogues
represent the views of the historical Socrates, argued that the principle
only emerges in a set of Òtransitional dialoguesÓ in which PlatoÕs views
were supplanting those of Socrates.5 Other scholars have argued that the
Socrates of the early dialogues is committed not to (PD) but to some
weaker principle or principles that do not have the epistemological con-
sequences of (PD).6 Some scholars have also argued for a distinction in
two kinds of knowledge: for Vlastos, the distinction was between ÒcertainÓ
and ÒelencticÓ knowledge; for Woodruff and Reeve, it is between Òordi-

2
Ibid.
3
Ibid. I think that the general view of knowledge underlying GeachÕs position,
which I shall discuss further below, bears some resemblance to the view Protagoras
defends in the ÒGreat SpeechÓ (Protagoras 320c-328d), especially at 327e-328a, where
he indicates that every Greek has sufŽ cient knowledge of the Greek language to be
able to teach it. I donÕt mean to suggest that ProtagorasÕs view and GeachÕs are iden-
tical, however, or that they have the same roots.
4
Richard Robinson, PlatoÕs Earlier Dialectic (Oxford 1953), 53.
5
Gregory Vlastos, ÒSocratesÕ Disavowal of Knowledge,Ó Philosophy 35 (1985), 23-
26, esp. nn. 54, 56 (which refers to 1, n. 1), 60, and 65.
6
For example, Gerasimos Santas, ÒThe Socratic Fallacy,Ó Journal of the History
of Philosophy 10 (1972), 127-141; Alexander Nehamas, ÒSocratic Intellectualism,Ó
Proceedings of the Boston Area Colloquium in Ancient Philosophy 2 (1986), 275-316
(cf. esp. 277-293); and John Beversluis, ÒDoes Socrates Commit the Socratic Fal-
lacy?,Ó American Philosophical Quarterly 24 (1987), 211-223.
 PLATO AND THE ÒSOCRATIC FALLACYÓ 99

naryÓ and ÒexpertÓ knowledge. Given this distinction it is possible to argue

that (PD) applies only to claims of certain or expert knowledge; Socratic
claims of ordinary or elenctic knowledge do not succumb to the ÒSocratic
fallacy.Ó 7
All of these strategies have been challenged. The most thorough dis-
cussion of (PD) is Benson,8 who concludes that the best explanation for
SocratesÕ acceptance of principles weaker than (PD) is his acceptance of
(PD). Benson also questions the strategy of restricting (PD) to the transi-
tional dialogues. Lesher 9 has criticized the strategy of granting to Socrates
two kinds of knowledge or two senses of Òknowledge.Ó No consensus pre-
sently exists on whether Socrates commits the ÒSocratic fallacyÓ; almost
all scholars agree, however, that the ÒSocratic fallacyÓ is a bad thing and
that Socrates has good reason to avoid commitment to (PD).10
I think that this consensus of scholars is mistaken. I think that what
Geach has labeled a fallacy is no fallacy at all, but a perfectly innocent
consequence of Platonic epistemology. If we understand what Plato meant
by episteme we will see that he must be committed to (PD); but we will
also see that (PD) has none of the harmful consequences Geach attributes
to it. I hope to show both of these things in this paper.

II. Interpretive Strategy

Before I begin discussion of the ÒfallacyÓ itself, however, I want to note
a limitation that all of the above strategies share. They attempt to remove
the ÒfallacyÓ from the early dialogues, or at least from the pre-transitional,

7
Vlastos, op. cit., 1-31 (cf. esp. 23-26); Paul Woodruff, ÒExpert Knowledge in the
Apology and Laches: What a General Needs to Know,Ó Proceedings of the Boston
Area Colloquium in Ancient Philosophy 3 (1987), 79-115, and ÒPlatoÕs Early Theory
of Knowledge,Ó in Stephen Everson, ed., Epistemology (Cambridge 1990), 60-84; and
C.D.C. Reeve, Socrates in the Apology (Indianapolis 1989), 37-62.
8
Hugh H. Benson, ÒThe Priority of DeŽ nition and the Socratic Elenchus,Ó Oxford
Studies in Ancient Philosophy 8 (1990), 19-65.
9
James Lesher, ÒSocratesÕ Disavowal of Knowledge,Ó Journal of the History of
Philosophy 25 (1987), 275-288.
10
See Beversluis, op. cit., 212, who describes the result of accepting GeachÕs
premises as Òa hopeless epistemic impasse,Ó Woodruff, who writes that Òthe trouble
with believing in priority of deŽ nition is that it would paralyze inquiry if it were trueÓ
(ÒExpert Knowledge,Ó 91; Woodruff may only be interpreting Geach, not endorsing
his conclusion; however, he says Geach Òrepresents a fairly broad consensusÓ) and
Santas, op. cit., 129. Exceptions to this general rule are Terence Irwin, PlatoÕs Moral
Theory (Oxford 1977), 40-41, and Benson, op. cit.
100 WILLIAM J. PRIOR

elenctic dialogues, but not from the transitional dialogues, the dialogues
in which, according to a common account, Plato Ž rst introduces his own
views through the character of Socrates. This strategy is one of isolation
and containment: it attempts to keep the Socratic dialogues free of the
philosophical assumptions that give rise to the Òfallacy.Ó It attempts to
remove the fallacy from the elenctic dialogues, and thus from Socratic
philosophy, only to in ict it upon Plato. It attempts to save Socrates from
an infection that Plato carries.
Now I have little sympathy with the project that underlies this strategy,
the project of isolating a Òpure SocraticÓ phase of thought within the early
dialogues that is free from epistemological and metaphysical assumptions,
whether or not that Ž rst stage is taken to be a faithful record of the views
of the historical Socrates.11 But even if we accept the assumptions that
mark this project, it is hard to imagine a scenario that offers a convinc-
ing explanation of how Plato could have come to commit the ÒSocratic
fallacyÓ in some dialogues but not in others. If commission of the ÒSo-
cratic fallacyÓ is a blunder, how could Plato have carefully avoided com-
mitting this blunder in the early, elenctic dialogues (while asserting things
very much like it), only to embrace it in the transitional dialogues? Even
if his role in composing the early dialogues was more that of SocratesÕ
biographer than that of an original philosopher, is it reasonable to assume
that Plato simply recorded the views of Socrates without understanding
them? If Socrates avoided (PD) because he realized that its adoption
would have the disastrous epistemological consequences Geach claims it
has, is it reasonable to think that Plato did not realize this, and that, like
a fool, in the transitional dialogues he rushed in where his angel had pre-
viously feared to tread? Given what we know about PlatoÕs philosophical
abilities, this seems highly unlikely.
Now it seems clear that Plato is committed to (PD) in the Meno. Bevers-
luis distinguishes two forms or aspects of GeachÕs (A):
(A1) If you do not know the de Ž nition of F, you cannot know that any-
thing is an F, and
(A2) If you do not know the deŽ nition of F, you cannot know any-
thing about F (e.g. that F, say Justice, is Y, say bene Ž cial).12

11
I Ž nd the critique of this project found in Charles H. KahnÕs classic essay, ÒDid
Plato Write Socratic Dialogues?,Ó Classical Quarterly 31 (1981), 305-324, and later
works completely convincing, though I do not agree with his alternative account of
the relations among the dialogues or his chronological placement of the Gorgias.
12
Beversluis, op. cit., 211-212; cf. Benson, op. cit., 20, n. 2.
 PLATO AND THE ÒSOCRATIC FALLACYÓ 101

At Meno 71b Socrates states, ÒI have no knowledge about virtue at all.

And how can I know a property of something when I donÕt even know
what it is?Ó The question clearly invites a negative reply; and, a negative
reply would commit Plato to BeversluisÕ (A2). He is not so clearly com-
mitted to (A1); however, as Benson has put it, the best explanation for
his acceptance of (A2) is his acceptance of (PD). Whether Socrates in this
dialogue represents the historical Socrates, Plato, or a combination of
both, he seems committed to the principle that gives rise to the ÒSocratic
fallacy.Ó
The Meno also contains a famous discussion of the difference between
episteme and doxa (97a ff.), which I shall discuss below. It seems rea-
sonable to assume that the concept of episteme Socrates employs when
he denies that he has any knowledge of virtue is the same as that he uses
when he distinguishes episteme and doxa, and that therefore we may
use the later discussion of knowledge to illuminate his meaning in the
former.13 That is what I shall attempt to do below. It is possible that Plato
wrote both passages without connecting them to each other; but this is
unlikely in so careful a writer as Plato. Even if he were unaware of the
connection between the two passages, however, we can fairly take both,
occurring as they do within a single dialogue, as indicative of his thought
on the ÒSocratic fallacyÓ at a certain period of his life.
It seems to me, then, that if the ÒSocratic fallacyÓ is indeed a fallacy,
it is committed in the Meno. If the person who commits it is Plato and
not Socrates, that really doesnÕt matter; what matters is the commission
itself. If these principles really do constitute a fallacy, they undermine, or
at least threaten to undermine, some central aspects of PlatoÕs epistemol-
ogy. Let us consider, then, whether or not this pattern of reasoning really
is a fallacy.

13
Irwin has used the distinction between episteme and doxa, though without speciŽ -
cally invoking the Meno passage, in developing his own answer to GeachÕs problem.
Irwin accepts the standard English translations of these terms as ÒknowledgeÓ and
ÒbeliefÓ; his solution is, in a nutshell, that Socrates denies he has knowledge but not
true belief. This solution is, of all the published responses to Geach I am aware of,
the closest to the one I propose below; unlike Irwin, however, I have serious reserva-
tions about the adequacy of the usual translations, and as will become clear below I
do not accept the claim that the alternative to Platonic episteme is a cognitive state
similar to what we would describe in English as true belief. Beversluis (op. cit., 217ff.)
discusses the Meno passage in the course of a critique of the Òtrue beliefÓ theory; his
discussion is an excellent example of the project of purifying the early dialogues from
the epistemology of middle Platonism. Since this paper concerns a dialogue in which
that epistemology emerges, his comments do not have a direct bearing on it.
102 WILLIAM J. PRIOR

III. Knowledge and De nition

First of all we must ask what Geach means when he labels (A) and (B)
a fallacy. I think he does not mean what logicians mean by a fallacy,
namely an invalid pattern of argument. For, though Geach thinks that there
is an inference from (A) to (B), he does not think that the inference is in-
valid, for he states that (A) entails (B). Rather, I think that Geach regards
(A) and (B) together as expressing a false conception of the nature of
knowledge, a Òstyle of mistaken thinkingÓ about knowledge. As noted
above, GeachÕs response to the ÒSocratic fallacyÓ is to claim that we know
Òheaps of thingsÓ we canÕt deŽ ne.
GeachÕs view is indebted to WittgensteinÕs philosophy of language, and
is based in part on the Wittgensteinian claim that one need not have ex-
plicit knowledge of the deŽ nition of a term to be justiŽ ed in oneÕs use of
that term. According to the slogan that once characterized this position,
Òmeaning is use.Ó This slogan conceals an ambiguity, however. It may
mean that in order to be justiŽ ed in saying that a is F one need not have
de Ž nitional knowledge of F-ness, but only the ability to apply the term
ÒFÓ to various objects in various situations. In this case what we know,
in GeachÕs terms, is how to apply ÒFÓ; and this might be a skill that has
no explicit knowledge of a semantic nature attached to it. This skill is
hardly different, if it is different at all, from the practical ability to iden-
tify F things. It is semantic knowledge only in a very minimal sense. Alter-
natively, the slogan might mean that in order to be justiŽ ed in applying
the term ÒFÓ to various things one must be able to give an account of
how ÒFÓ is used, but that this account need not take the form of an ex-
plicit de Ž nition or a set of necessary and sufŽ cient conditions for its appli-
cations. The second claim is less radical, and perhaps thus more plausible,
than the Ž rst. I suspect, however, that the Ž rst, stronger view is behind
GeachÕs objection.
Philosophers who accept this dictum and the philosophical framework
out of which it arises will think that Plato has made a straightforward and
simple error in demanding explicit de Ž nitional knowledge from his inter-
locutors. They may also argue that the error is not simply an error in the
philosophical theory of meaning, however, but an error in the philosoph-
ical conception of knowledge. It is then open to them to claim that, as
WittgensteinÕs predecessors in the English-speaking philosophical commu-
nity shared a mistaken understanding of the ordinary use of ÒknowledgeÓ
in English, so the Greek philosophers shared a mistaken understanding of
the ordinary use of episteme. Thus, the issue becomes not simply one
involving the use of certain Greek or English terms, but one of the legit-
 PLATO AND THE ÒSOCRATIC FALLACYÓ 103

imacy of certain epistemic criteria. Followers of Wittgenstein might also

argue that the enormous in uence of the Greek philosophers, including
Plato, on later philosophy is partially responsible for the perpetuation of
this erroneous view.
GeachÕs labeling of (A) and (B) a fallacy is thus tendentious: it depends
on the correctness of the Wittgensteinian semantics and epistemology that
underlie it. These were far from universally accepted when Geach wrote
in 1966, and they are less so today. But if the Wittgensteinian view, or
something like it, is not correct, it may not be the case that we know heaps
of things we canÕt deŽ ne; and if that is so, the Socratic view would not
be a fallacy. It would not be a mistaken account of criteria for knowledge
of the meaning of terms, whether we are speaking English or Greek. In
other words, (PD) is implausible only on a certain reading of the verb Òto
knowÓ; if we have reason to think Plato was committed to (PD) we have
reason to think that he did not understand the corresponding Greek verb
in that way.14
Now it is tempting to respond that Plato was not talking about knowl-
edge but about episteme, and that neither Plato nor the Greek philosophers
in general thought that we can have episteme of things we canÕt deŽ ne;
and that indeed will be part of my response to Geach. I want to say some-
thing about the general problem, however, that does not depend on the
peculiarities of the Greek terms Plato uses.
An examination of rival philosophical accounts of meaning and knowl-
edge is beyond the scope of this paper (and beyond the competence of its
author). I do want to note, however, that the Wittgensteinian position gains
credibility as the explicitness and precision of the knowledge demanded
by rival theories increases. It is not plausible that a mathematicianÕs knowl-
edge of the nature of the number 2 is required for an English speaker to
claim justiŽ ably that he or she knows that certain sentences containing
that term are true (for instance, that 2 + 3 = 5). On the other hand, it seems
reasonable to demand some account of the meaning of a term or the truth
of a statement containing that term from a person who claims to know
that the statement is true. That is, to use a Socratic example, if Laches
claims to know that this person or that type of conduct is courageous, it
seems reasonable to ask him what he means by ÒcourageÓ and what he
takes the condition for the ascription of courage to be.
This, at any rate, is the way Plato and his Socrates understand the mat-
ter. They assume that a demand for an explanation is appropriate wherever

14
I owe this formulation of the point to Hugh Benson.
104 WILLIAM J. PRIOR

a claim to knowledge is made. That is, when someone claims to know

that a is F, they think that it is always in order to ask for general criteria
for the application of F, or for a general account of the meaning of ÒF.Ó
This is the substantive issue on which Geach disagrees with them. Geach
need not reject the idea that any account is inappropriate, but he must
reject the idea that a general semantic account is always in order. He
might say, in other words, Òyes, itÕs appropriate to ask someone how he
or she knows that a is F, but it isnÕt appropriate to ask for a de Ž nition of
ÔFÕ.Ó This response is quite reasonable in those cases where we are think-
ing of perceptual or memory knowledge of particular states of affairs. The
right response to the question ÒHow do you know itÕs raining?Ó might be,
ÒIÕm looking out the window at the rain coming down right now.Ó The
right response to ÒHow do you know Susan lives on this street?Ó might
be, ÒIÕve given her a ride home dozens of times.Ó
These responses arenÕt appropriate in the cases that Plato is interested
in, however. As Socrates points out in the Euthyphro (7b ff.), the knowl-
edge he is seeking concerns terms about which there is disagreement, and
for which there is no universally recognized method for resolving the dis-
agreement, terms of moral evaluation (right and wrong, noble and base,
good and bad, and the names of the various virtues). As the early dia-
logues demonstrate repeatedly, it is not possible to give an ostensive de Ž -
nition of any of these terms. Piety and courage are not transparent moral
properties, which only need to be observed in a select number of cases in
order to be understood. Thus, it would seem that the Socratic method of
seeking an account of the nature of these terms is well founded.
Let us consider the matter from a slightly different perspective. On
GeachÕs view it is possible for a person to say, correctly, ÒI know how to
use the word X but I donÕt have any idea how to deŽ ne X, or say what
X essentially is.Ó For some terms, such as color terms and terms for com-
mon substances such as water or salt, this seems unproblematic; but even
here we must be aware of the problem of the borderline case. Is that color
a dark shade of yellow or a light shade of orange? The liquid in the glass
looks like water and tastes like water, but how can we be sure it is water?
How can we answer such questions if we lack criteria for determining
where yellow leaves off and orange starts, or what water is? If one canÕt
deal with the contentious cases, the borderline or disputed cases, it is
tempting to think that one doesnÕt know how to use the term in question
after all, or at least that oneÕs knowledge is incomplete; and if that is true
in the case of terms like ÒyellowÓ and Òwater,Ó it would seem a fortiori to
be true of terms like ÒbraveÓ and Òholy.Ó Indeed, even if one Ž nds the
 PLATO AND THE ÒSOCRATIC FALLACYÓ 105

problem of borderline cases unconvincing in the case of physical concepts,

one might Ž nd it persuasive in the case of moral concepts, such as those
with which Plato is concerned.
Geach might respond that his point holds at least for obvious and
uncontroversial cases of the term in question. Wittgenstein notes that the
answer to the question ÒHow do I know that this colour is red?Ó may be
ÒI have learnt English.Ó15 It is possible to respond that, until one is in pos-
session of explicit criteria for the application of a term, one cannot be cer-
tain of its application in apparently clear cases. This response has little
plausibility in the case of terms like ÒredÓ but somewhat more in the case
of terms like Òbrave,Ó where the applicability of the term depends on the
attribution to some agent of a psychological state he may or may not pos-
sess. Laches may be unable to tell whether a given hoplite who stands his
ground in battle is truly brave unless he can determine that hopliteÕs moti-
vation for so standing.16 I donÕt want to push skepticism about examples
this far, however. Doubtless it was fear of reaching just such a conclu-
sion that led Geach to object to principle (A) in the Ž rst place. Nor do I
think that Plato would want to do so. Though he might harbor doubts
about the ordinary hoplite, IÕm sure he would agree with Laches that
SocratesÕ behavior in the retreat from Delium was brave, and that we can
be certain it was (cf. Laches 181a-b). The question he would raise in such
situations is not whether the concept applied to the case but whether the
cognitive certainty on the part of the observer amounted to knowledge.
Now if we take seriously the account given in the Meno of the distinc-
tion between knowledge and right belief, I think it is clear that what Plato
requires for knowledge is something very close to what Geach attributes
to him in (A). According to Meno 97e-98a, what converts right opinion
into knowledge is the ÒtetheringÓ of opinion, its stabilization, by a reason-
ing out of the explanation (aitias logismoi). In other words, the person
who has knowledge is able to offer a reasoned explanation of the item in
question, whereas the person with true opinion is not. As the Meno indi-
cates, the opinions of this person are no less true than those of the person
with knowledge, and no less reliable a guide to action. Plato might have
added that the person with right opinion might be no less certain of the
truth of a given judgment than the person with knowledge. Though he
generally thought that opinion was less stable than knowledge because it

15
Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, 3d ed. (New York 1958), Part I,
para. 381, 117e.
16
I owe this point to Roslyn Weiss.
106 WILLIAM J. PRIOR

was subject to persuasion, whereas knowledge was not, there is nothing

inconsistent in a person with true opinion stubbornly sticking to that opin-
ion through all attempts to persuade him to change his mind. What makes
for knowledge, then, is not certainty or practical reliability but the ability
of the person who has knowledge to give a reasoned explanation of what
he or she knows. If the knowledge were knowledge of the meaning of a
term (the case with which Geach is dealing), this explanation might very
well involve the ability to give criteria for the application of the term in
question. Thus, PlatoÕs own account of the difference between knowledge
and right opinion would seem to commit him to GeachÕs (A).
Is this requirement a reasonable one? It seems to me that it is, at least
if we conŽ ne it to those cases of knowledge that donÕt admit of demon-
stration through some simple method like ostension. It can easily be made
to seem unreasonable by placing various constraints on the nature of an
acceptable account. Socrates says in the Euthyphro (6e) that he is look-
ing for something he can use as a standard to judge all cases of piety,
and this sounds very much like what Geach describes in (A). But he also
says there (6d) that this standard is a form; and, though scholars differ as
to whether that term commits Socrates to a theory of Forms, there is no
doubt that Plato does develop such a theory in the middle dialogues, and
that in the Phaedo he explicitly invokes Forms as principles of explana-
tion. The Meno passage links the ability to give an account with the
Doctrine of Recollection (98a). Although earlier in the Meno Plato sug-
gests that the speciŽ cation of a distinguishing mark is sufŽ cient for a
de Ž nition (as at 75b, where Socrates deŽ nes shape as what always accom-
panies color), in the Euthyphro he rejects such a deŽ nition of piety (piety
is what is dear to all the gods) because it gives only an attribute of piety,
not its essence. In the Meno, Phaedo and Republic Plato indicates that he
believes that knowledge is a uniŽ ed whole, so that one has adequate
knowledge of a Form only when he has understood its relation to others.17
This would mean that knowledge had to meet some pretty stringent cri-
teria of completeness. It is one thing to say that a person with knowledge

17
At Meno 81d Socrates states that, since all nature is akin, when one has recol-
lected a single item of knowledge one may eventually recollect everything else. At
Phaedo 101d he suggests that the hypothesis that there are Forms is to be justiŽ ed by
appeal to higher hypotheses, and that one must continue to ascend the hypothetical
ladder until one reaches Òsomething adequate.Ó In the Republic (VI, 511c-d) it is made
clear that the unhypothetical Ž rst principle that puts an end to the ascent is the Form
of the Good.
 PLATO AND THE ÒSOCRATIC FALLACYÓ 107

must be able to give an account of what he knows (cf. Phaedo 76b), and
quite another to require complete knowledge, expressed in essential de-
Ž nitions of a Form reached through the process of Recollection. But it
does not follow from the fact that the metaphysical and epistemological
elaboration Plato gives to the simple criterion may be unreasonable that
the criterion itself is; and it should be remembered that it is the simple
criterion, and not its metaphysical elaboration, that Geach objects to.

IV. Episteme and Logos

If it is reasonable to expect that someone claiming knowledge should be
able to provide some rational explanation of the fact known, it is even
more reasonable to expect this of someone claiming episteme. The concept
of episteme is explicitly linked with the concept of logos, rational account
or explanation, in Greek philosophy. Fine18 mentions Meno 98a, Phaedo
76d, Republic VII, 531e and 534b as passages in which Plato links the
possession of episteme to the ability to give a logos of what one knows;
and, though the attempt to deŽ ne episteme as true opinion with the addi-
tion of an account in the Theaetetus ends in apparent failure, the con-
nection between episteme and logos seems reafŽ rmed in the rhetorical
question at 202d: Òhow can there ever be knowledge without an account?Ó
One may well think that the connection between episteme and logos was
for Plato analytic.
Nor is PlatoÕs connection between episteme and logos idiosyncratic.
When Aristotle de Ž nes episteme in Posterior Analytics 2, he says that we
have episteme of a fact when we Òknow the cause on which the fact
depends, as the cause of that fact and no other, and further, that the fact
could not be other than it is.Ó (71b10 ff.) As he deŽ nes the faculty of epis-
teme in Nicomachean Ethics VI.3, it is Òthe capacity to demonstrateÓ
(1139b31). Aristotle limits the scope of episteme to necessary truths, and
demands for these not just a rational account but a demonstration that
shows their necessity. These restrictions are so different from those we
place on knowledge that translators are prone to mark them by translat-
ing episteme as ÒscientiŽ c knowledgeÓ rather than simply as Òknowledge.Ó

18
Gail Fine, ÒKnowledge and Belief in Republic V-VII,Ó in Stephen Everson, ed.,
Epistemology (Cambridge 1990), 106. For a detailed discussion of the relation between
episteme and logos, with many additional references to passages in the Platonic corpus,
see Jon Moline, PlatoÕs Theory of Understanding (Madison 1981), ch. 2, esp. 33-43.
108 WILLIAM J. PRIOR

This is not the place to discuss the propriety of this translation; I simply
note that the term on which Aristotle places these restrictions is the same
term that translators translate as ÒknowledgeÓ in Plato: episteme. Episteme
is the state with which GeachÕs principle (A) is concerned.
We are now in a position to understand what Plato meant to afŽ rm
when he afŽ rmed (A) or, more precisely, when he afŽ rmed the more spe-
ciŽ c statements that have led scholars to attribute (A) to him. Consider the
question from the Meno: Òhow can I know a property of something when
I donÕt even know what it is?Ó (71b) What this implies in context is that
Socrates does not believe that he can know whether virtue is teachable
without knowing what the nature of virtue is. I suggest that what this im-
plies is that Socrates thinks he can have no logos, no rational account of
the teachability of virtue without a logos of the nature of virtue. In general,
he can have no rational account of the properties of an object without
having a rational account of the nature of the object.
Is this a false view of the nature of knowledge? It certainly seems to
have been a feature of ancient essentialist epistemology that knowledge
of something begins (logically, not temporally) with knowledge of the
thingÕs essence, proceeds to knowledge of properties that follow neces-
sarily from the essence, and concludes with whatever accidental proper-
ties may be knowable. It does not seem to me to be a relevant objection
to this scheme to say that there is a perfectly good use of the English
word ÒknowÓ in which I can say ÒI know that the apple is redÓ without
being able to give an account of the nature of an apple; for if a rational
account is demanded that explains why this apple, or apples of this kind,
are red, then I think I canÕt know what that account would be without
knowing the nature of the apple.
Similarly, it does not seem to be a relevant objection to SocratesÕ claim
that he canÕt know whether virtue is teachable unless he knows what it is
that there is a perfectly good use of the English word ÒknowÓ in which I
can claim to know that virtue can be taught without being able to give an
account of the nature of virtue, namely that in which I say, ÒI know virtue
can be taught, for IÕve seen it done. X passed on his virtue to Y by teach-
ing; I donÕt know how he did it, but he did it nonetheless.Ó For again,
what Socrates is looking for is a rational account that explains how virtue
can be taught, and it seems reasonable to think that such an account
requires an account of what virtue is. It does not matter that there is a
sense of ÒknowÓ in English that dispenses with the rational account, for
that sense isnÕt the one Socrates has in mind. He is not waiting for infor-
mation about cases of successful teaching of virtue; rather, he is seeking
to understand how those instances could have taken place.
 PLATO AND THE ÒSOCRATIC FALLACYÓ 109

Plato restricts episteme to matters for which we possess a rational

account. Nothing in this restriction requires him to deny that we might be
in a cognitive state, on the question, say, of the teachability of virtue, that
possesses many of the other features of knowledge. I might be, as in the
case mentioned above, familiar with instances of the successful teaching
of virtue. I might therefore be certain that virtue could be taught. I might
be so certain that virtue could be taught, and so certain that the cases I
had observed were instances of the teaching of virtue, that I was imper-
vious to argument or evidence of any sort to the contrary. When Plato
denies that, for all that, the state IÕm in is that of episteme, he need not
be taken to deny that I might be in a state that English speakers might
correctly identify as empirical knowledge. I think that people have found
(A) unreasonable because they thought that it committed Plato to the view
that we couldnÕt be morally certain of some feature of a thing without a
rational account of its nature.19 But (A) is not a claim about the certainty,20
or the empirical basis of our beliefs; it is about the kind of account
required to turn a belief, even an empirically grounded and dogmatically
held belief, into episteme. It may in the end turn out to be a mistaken
principle, but it doesnÕt seem to me to wear its falsity on its face. It isnÕt
so obviously false a principle that IÕd want to label it a fallacy.

V. The Use of Examples

The reader might well object at this point that showing that (A) is not as
harmful a principle as Geach suggested is only half the battle; for it is
(A) and (B) together that constitute the fallacy, and Geach believes that
(A) entails (B). Let us turn, then, to an examination of (B). It states Òthat
it is no use to try and arrive at the meaning of ÔTÕ by giving examples
of things that are T.Ó Now scholars have noted that SocratesÕ actual prac-
tice in the dialogues is not in accord with this principle: he uses examples

19
This seems to be what Geach means when he suggests that the principle is
morally harmful because someone who proved unable after repeated attempts to
explain why swindling is unjust might come to doubt that it was unjust (372). It is
true that someone might come to that conclusion, but there is nothing in (A) to sug-
gest that he or she should. Note that Socrates, who sees more deŽ nitions go down in
 ames than anyone, never succumbs to such moral uncertainty.
20
As Woodruff notes, in ÒPlatoÕs Early Theory of Knowledge,Ó 65, ÒYou can
be quite certain in the ordinary way of any number of things, without being able to
give a Socratic deŽ nition.Ó Note also AristotleÕs claim in Nicomachean Ethics VII.3,
1146b26-7 that ÒSome people have no doubts when they have an opinion, and think
they have exact knowledge.
110 WILLIAM J. PRIOR

frequently to develop, reŽ ne, and critically assess deŽ nitions. As Bevers-
luis notes,
the dialogues of search abound with passages in which he not only unproblem-
atically accepts examples of the virtue under discussion from interlocutors who
manifestly lack a deŽ nition of it but heartily endorses examples as the primary
data from which the deŽ nition is to be extracted.21

But Geach might respond, ÒSo much the worse for SocratesÕ practice. If
(B) follows from (A), Socrates is not entitled to make use of examples in
any of these ways.Ó To answer this challenge we must attempt to discover
whether (B) does indeed follow from (A). Before we investigate this ques-
tion, however, I want to note that, even if some general prohibition on the
use of examples did follow from (A) that would not mean that the search
for general criteria was pointless. A process such as recollection might put
one directly in touch with general criteria, bypassing examples entirely;
and if the metaphysics of recollection seems too extravagant to offer much
hope in this regard, there might be other less implausible methods of direct
apprehension of general semantic criteria.
Still, it seems intuitively obvious that the quest for general criteria is im-
measurably aided by the use of examples, so let us ask how the prohibi-
tion of the use of examples is supposed to follow from (A). Here is GeachÕs
argument:
If you can already give a general account of what ÒTÓ means, then you need no
examples to arrive at the meaning of ÒTÓ; if on the other hand you lack such a
general account, then, by assumption (A), you cannot know that any examples
of things that are T are genuine ones, for you do not know when you are pred-
icating ÒTÓ correctly.22

But is Geach right about this? (A) says that one cannot know that a term
ÒTÓ is correctly predicated unless one can give a general criterion for the
correct predication of ÒT.Ó When applied to examples, this means that one
cannot know that an alleged example of T is a genuine example until one
has a general account of what it is to be T. If Geach were to say only
this about examples, he would be quite correct. But he says more; he says
it is no use trying to reach a general criterion by the use of examples;
and it seems to me that this is not the case.
It is not necessary for me to know that an alleged example of a gen-
eral term T is a genuine example in order to use this example in my search

21
Beversluis, op. cit., 212. Cf. Santas, op. cit., 129-134.
22
Geach, op. cit., 371.
 PLATO AND THE ÒSOCRATIC FALLACYÓ 111

for a general criterion of meaning for ÒT.Ó It is a perfectly intelligible pro-

cedure, one followed in all forms of classiŽ catory endeavor, to consider
many alleged examples of a given term in the hope of coming up with a
general criterion or general criteria of classiŽ cation. Once one has devel-
oped or discovered such criteria, one can then use them to sort through
the initial set of alleged examples and separate those that truly belong to
the class from those that merely appear to. It is not necessary to know
beforehand that all of the putative examples in the initial set are genuine.
It is not necessary to know, in the case of any particular example, that it
is genuine. It is not even necessary to know that any of the examples in
the initial set is genuine (though if oneÕs initial choice of putative exam-
ples is that unfortunate the classiŽ catory project is unlikely to reach a suc-
cessful conclusion). All that is necessary is that one have a reasonable
amount of conŽ dence that at least some of the examples in the initial set
are genuine. It is the discovery of general criteria, which is the aim of the
classi Ž catory project, that will convert this conŽ dence into knowledge; so
it is hard to see how one could know, in advance of the discovery of these
criteria, that a given example is a genuine one.
I think that this is in fact the procedure followed by Socrates in the
early dialogues. Consider as a single example the passage in the Laches
wherein Socrates is attempting to expand LachesÕ understanding of the
scope of courage. Laches had identiŽ ed courage with the behavior of the
hoplite who remains in his position in battle. Socrates Ž rst points out that
other forms of behavior in combat may be courageous, then mentions
those
who are courageous in perils at sea, and who in disease, or in poverty, or again
in politics, are courageous, and not only who are courageous against pain or fear,
but mighty to contend against desires or pleasures . . . (191d-e; Jowett, trans.)

Is Socrates committed to the claim that he knows, in advance of having

a general de Ž nition of courage, that it can be found in all these settings?
I think not. He is committed at most to the view that these provide plau-
sible environments in which instances of courage can be sought. To pur-
sue his investigation he needs nothing more than this.
As we have seen, Plato is willing to say that someone knows some-
thing only when that person is able to give an account of what he knows.
When the case is that of predicating a term of an alleged example, the
kind of account required is an account of the meaning of ÒT,Ó which for
Plato means the formulation of a general criterion for the application of
that term. If one is searching for such a general criterion, one obviously is
112 WILLIAM J. PRIOR

not in conscious possession of it, and in that sense one cannot know that
the alleged example is a genuine one. As I also argued above, however,
the absence of an account need not lead to uncertainty about the fact
in question. In this case, the lack of an account of what makes something
a T need not produce a lack of conŽ dence in alleged examples of T. It
certainly need not lead an investigator to doubt his or her ability even pro-
visionally to identify examples of T.
I think that, for GeachÕs objection to hold, and for (B) to follow from
(A), it would have to be the case that a lack of a general criterion for
what it is to be a T must produce in the investigator such a degree of con-
fusion that he or she is unable even tentatively to identify examples of T.
We have seen that this is not the case. Therefore, (B) does not follow
from (A). Plato may, without logical error, make use of examples in seek-
ing general de Ž nitions of terms. It seems clear also that he may, without
logical error, follow another practice that he constantly employs in the
early dialogues: he may propose alleged examples as counterexamples to
de Ž nitions proposed by his interlocutors.
The procedures by which Socrates attempts to discover general criteria
for the use of terms in the early dialogues are not purely inductive ones;
he does not simply attempt to assemble a sufŽ cient sample of instances
of the term and then abstract from these examples a set of necessary and
sufŽ cient conditions for the application of the term. Rather, examples are
used to stimulate rational re ection on the nature of the things denoted by
the terms in question. As the Doctrine of Recollection has it, examples
serve to remind us of the metaphysical originals from which they are de-
rived. Though the Platonic procedure differs from the more familiar induc-
tivist model familiar to students of philosophy of science, it is a procedure
in which examples play a legitimate role, or in fact, more than one legit-
imate role.

VI. Conclusion
In this paper I have argued that the ÒSocratic fallacyÓ is not a fallacy. I
have argued that GeachÕs (A), which has come to be known as the Priority
of DeŽ nition principle (PD), is not part and parcel of a Òstyle of mistaken
thinkingÓ about knowledge and de Ž nition but a speciŽ c case of a general
Platonic principle of epistemology: the principle that episteme requires a
logos. The fact that this principle emerges explicitly for the Ž rst time in
a transitional dialogue, the Meno, means that we ought to be suitably cau-
tious about attributing it to Socrates in the early dialogues. On the other
 PLATO AND THE ÒSOCRATIC FALLACYÓ 113

hand, I have also argued that PlatoÕs acceptance of (A) does not commit
him to (B), so that the consequences Geach feared do not arise. Thus,
there is no reason not to use (PD), as Benson has argued, as a unifying
principle behind many speciŽ c Socratic remarks in the early dialogues
about what we can know, and under what conditions we can know it.23

Santa Clara University

23
I thank Hugh Benson and Elizabeth Radcliffe for their comments on an earlier
draft of this paper.