Alambra, Ariel Denise Z.

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Socratic Era SOCRATES The philosopher Socrates remains, as he was in his lifetime (469399 B.C.E.), an enigma, an inscrutable individual who, despite having written nothing, is considered one of the handful of philosophers who forever changed how philosophy itself was to be conceived. All our information about him is second-hand and most of it vigorously disputed, but his trial and death at the hands of the Athenian democracy is nevertheless the founding myth of the academic discipline of philosophy, and his influence has been felt far beyond philosophy itself, and in every age. Because his life is widely considered paradigmatic for the philosophic life and, more generally, for how anyone ought to live, Socrates has been encumbered with the admiration and emulation normally reserved for founders of religious sectsJesus or Buddhastrange for someone who tried so hard to make others do their own thinking, and for someone convicted and executed on the charge of irreverence toward the gods. Certainly he was impressive, so impressive that many others were moved to write about him, all of whom found him strange by the conventions of fifth-century Athens: in his appearance, personality, and behavior, as well as in his views and methods. So thorny is the difficulty of distinguishing the historical Socrates from the Socrateses of the authors of the texts in which he appears and, moreover, from the Socrateses of scores of later interpreters, that the whole contested issue is generally referred to as the Socratic problem. Each age, each intellectual turn, produces a Socrates of its own. It is no less true now that, The real Socrates we have not: what we have is a set of interpretations each of which represents a theoretically possible Socrates, as Cornelia de Vogel (1955, 28) put it. In fact, de Vogel was writing as a new analytic paradigm for interpreting Socrates was about to become standardGregory Vlastos' model (2.2), which would hold sway until the mid 1990s. Who Socrates really was is fundamental to Vlastos' interpretation of the philosophical dialogues of Plato, as it is to virtually any interpretation, because Socrates is the dominant figure in most of Plato's dialogues.

Theory of Value:What knowledge and skills are worthwhile learning? What are the goals of education? Socrates believed that there were different kinds of knowledge, important and trivial. He acknowledges that most of us know many "trivial" things. He states that the craftsman possesses important knowledge, the practice of his craft, but this is important only to himself, the craftsman. But this is not the important knowledge that Socrates is referring to. The most important of all knowledge is "how best to live." He posits that this is not easily answered, and most people live in shameful ignorance regarding matters of ethics and morals. (Brickhouse & Smith 1, p.30) Through his method of powerfully questioning his students, he seeks to guide them to discover the subject matter rather than simply telling them what they need to know. The goals of education are to know what you can; and, even more importantly, to know what you do not know. Theory of Knowledge: What is knowledge? How is it different from belief? What is a mistake? A lie? Socrates makes the claim there are two very different sorts of knowledge. One is ordinary knowledge. This is of very specific (and ordinary) information. (Brickhouse & Smith 1, p.118) He claims that to have such knowledge does not give the possessor of said knowledge any expertise or wisdom worth mentioning. The higher knowledge could possibly be described as definitional knowledge. Socrates is extremely interested in defining words and concepts. He accepts the pursuit of definitional knowledge as a priority to philosophical discussion. (Brickhouse & Smith 1, p.118) Socrates devotes much thought to the concept of belief, through the use of logic. He spars with students early in his career and later with his accusers, at his trial, on the nature of his belief regarding the gods. To define belief, according to Socrates, was to use naturalistic explanations for phenomena traditionally explained in terms of Divine Agency. (Brickhouse & Smith 2, p. 181) His belief in the wisdom and goodness of gods is derived

from human logic and his natural skepticism. Any person who knows what goodness, or truth is, will live that way. The only lie or evil comes about when one is ignorant of good. Man will never knowingly lie even if he thinks he is. It is his ignorance of goodness and truth that prevents him from being a wise and honest man. The Morality of Socrates

For him, as for all the Greeks, one supreme question dominated the whole field of ethics, that of the supreme good of human life, which is eudaemonia, happiness, but happiness is not simply being favored by the gods -- good fortune, eutukhia, which depends on external conditions and the propitious accidents of chance or on an empirical research; happiness is at the same time acting well and perfect success in action, eupraxis, a term which envelops in its fecund equivocity the great drama of moral speculations which were at play in Hellenic and Hellenistic thought, for ought not acting well, or good conduct, being the perfect fulfilment of our nature, in fact be or involve by the same token the perfect satisfaction of the desires of our nature, which is what we call happiness? As our previous analyses have shown, Socrates' moral doctrine could not present itself as a system in which philosophical reflection had attained the state of science; it could be but a rough sketch, with strongly marked features, but whose potentialities were to develop in very different directions in the course of the history of Hellenic thought. It seems to me that in order to characterize the ethical thought of Socrates insofar as we can know it through Plato and Xenophon, and Aristotle -- we must construct the following picture:

The Good

First of all comes the idea of the Good. This idea, which is natural to the human intelligence, like that of being, was not disengaged without difficulty -- a long history was necessary for this. At first it was just a hidden ferment, which was manifested to the consciousness and in notional language only through substitutes in which its intelligible

value was concealed by the particularism of the senses and the imagination, and the prohibitions and myths of the social group. It took the intuitions of the first Sages and the reflection of the Tragedians on destiny, the passage from family law to the code of the city, then the action of the Mysteries and of Orphism stimulating in the constant hope of personal "salvation" which transcended the closed morality of the family and the city; and also the great effort, rational and mystical at the same time, of the Pythagorean Order, its undertaking of moral reform, its practices of purification, its recommendation of daily examination of the conscience; and finally, the critique of the Sophists and the summons served on reason by the apparently logical nihilism of their analysis of cases of conscience and of moral ideas -- all this was necessary in order that the idea of the Good should make its way in the depths of Hellenic thought and be disengaged for itself, -- as distinct front the particular goods, objects of the gregarious instinct or irrational opinion, which it encompasses in its universality, -- and finally, with Socrates, liberate and cause to surge up before the reason the intelligible value of an object proportioned to the amplitude and spirituality of the reason and to the freedom of the person -- a universal term as vast as the spirit and at the same time problematical in relation to desire. At the very moment when it thus appeared in full evidence, moreover, the idea of the Good dazzled the human mind. It seems that for Socrates the notion of metaphysical good and that of moral good were confused -- just as that of virtue and that of happiness. In the realm of human life, the good is to act well and not to miss out on one's life, it is to attain happiness.

The End

The second leading idea to be disengaged at the same time is that of the End. It certainly seems that for Socrates that end -- happiness, for the sake of which we have to act as we ought -- is implied in our action itself, as a fruit which is immediately attached to it. In this respect the Epicureans and the Stoics will only be returning to a primitive Socratic position, outlining more sharply, transforming into formal theses, views which with Socrates remained as it were ethereal and undifferentiated. The art of morality is not the art of living morally with a view to attaining happiness; it is the art of being happy because one lives morally.

Happiness is one with Virtue

And so there is produced an interiorization of the idea of happiness. Happiness becomes internal, and it is determined rationally according to what man is; it is by the essence of the human being that his happiness is known. Know thyself -- descend into the depths where your daemon lives and where you become conscious of the exigencies of your essence and of the value of your soul, which is a universe unto itself. To be happy is not to possess riches or good health, it is to have a good soul. Happiness is identical with good conduct. The more experience seems to give the lie to this axiom, the more heroically the sage affirms it -- it is discredited by experience only in the eyes of the fool. Happiness and the Good are identified, but with insistence primarily on the Good; it is the Good which constitutes Happiness. Happiness does not consist in the perishable things of the exterior world, it consists in the goods which are proper to the soul, and to the essence of man, the specific mark and distinctive force of which is the power of knowledge and rational discernment. Happiness consists in the lasting goods which are within us, it consists in having a mind free of agitation, dedicated to lofty knowledge and to truth, it consists in knowing how to think. It is within our grasp, we have only to look for it where it is.

Virtue is Knowledge

The history of the word virtue is itself full of significance. It meant first, in a very general way, the proper and characteristic power or excellence by which a certain nature exercised its fundamental activity: virtue of the magnet, virtues of herbs, virtue of music, virtue of the architect or of the artisan. But what is the virtue -- the power or excellence most characteristic of the human being if not the solidly established disposition which intrinsically perfects his rational activity in a given line, and above all in the line of the proper conduct of his life, and which, if we put it to work, causes us without fail to act well? It is thus that the notion of virtue which was current in the time of the Sophists and of Socrates was finally delineated, although the philosophical definition and the theory of moral virtues date only from Aristotle. Socrates' idea, the thesis which was to become celebrated under his name throughout the history of moral philosophy, is that virtue consists in knowing and in thinking well. The virtues are all sure and true knowledges, sciences: "He thought that all the virtues were sciences," says Aristotle.{1}All sinners are ignorant. One is not wicked because one wills evil, but because one does not know the good.

These aphorisms were to be interpreted in all kinds of ways. But for Socrates they carried their full force and must be understood literally. It seems that he did not make a clear distinction (that was to be the work of Aristotle) between speculative knowledge and practical knowledge. He was probably thinking of a practical knowledge, of a moral knowledge, primarily, but conceiving of it as a theoretical knowledge of the object of the virtues, in such a way that he identified moral excellence with the knowledge of morality. We find here a remarkable example of an intuition of central importance wrongly conceptualized. What Socrates saw in a decisive fashion, the truth, then quite new, that everything revealed and recalled to him, was the rational dignity of the human being, and the essential rationality inherent in the good act. And he had also that insight -- which I express here in a thoroughly banal fashion but which in itself is capable of filling a heart and making a man give life to a missionary task -- that we all want to be happy, that we wish for true happiness, but that we do not know where it is. Stumbling against all the obstacles, we all seek the reality which delivers and the true meaning of our existence, and in our ignorance we grope blindly along, and in place of what we are seeking we grasp phantoms. What he saw thus he saw for all time. But he concentualized it too hastily. What is reason, if not the power of knowing in all its excellence? What is rationality inherent in the good act, if not the mastery of knowledge over the action it lights and conducts? Therefore -and it is here that Socrates makes a mistake, that he goes too fast -- therefore the immediate principle of the good act, the stable excellence which causes us to act well each time it is brought into play, in other words the virtue, is knowledge. It suffices to know well in order to do well. Is it not true that the soul is good when it knows how to make use of riches, health, power or pleasure as it should? Yes, no doubt; but Socrates does not distinguish between this knowing how to make use of which is entirely practical and derives from the prudence of the virtuous man, not from science, and knowing (through the science of the moralist) how one ought to make use of. Therein lies the paradox of Socratic thought: a general inspiration, a fundamental impulse, which is above all practical -- even pragmatist - issues in systematic conclusions which reduce morality to knowledge, to knowing, to the vision of what is. Every moral fault comes from ignorance, is involuntary. But the practical had to have its revenge. It is a question of knowing. But of knowing what? What is the content of this knowledge? In order to make us discern what our

comportment ought or ought not to be in the concrete, what principle of determination does it grasp, what criterion of the good and proper and virtuous? At this stage of philosophical reflection, no other criterion than utility. Socrates aimed too high -- the world of essences. Coming back to earth he has nothing in his hands, as implement of his theoretical knowledge and his speculative judgment concerning the occurrences of conduct, but the calculation of utility. In the end it is utilitarianism which gets the upper hand. Socrates himself and the essential inspiration of his thought are nowise utilitarian. There was nothing of Bentham in him; he did not die like a utilitarian. The idea that happiness consists in having a good soul is as little utilitarian as possible. But in its application, or rather in its philosophical explication, he was caught in the trap of the "science" he was searching for. The only instrument of "science" at his disposal is the notion of that which serves expediently, of the means proportioned to its end. A transcendent utilitarianism no doubt, since that end is to have a good soul and goes beyond our moral existence. But how are we to know how or why this or that is conducive to making the soul good? When Socrates comes down to explications and reasons, to talking about various particular examples of virtue, he descends to the commonplaces of the immediate utilitarianism of popular morality. No doubt Socrates himself had an experiential knowledge of the virtues he spoke of prior to any conceptualization or explanation -- a knowledge "by inclination" or "by connaturality", which had nothing to do with these commonplaces. From another point of view, his recourse to the platitudes of popular morality must have been in large part a sort of outer camouflage well designed to afford him secret amusement. I am well aware that Xenophon (whom I have no desire to defend against the sarcasms of Kierkegaard) was unable to discern the ironical intent hidden therein. The fact remains, however, that his report probably gives us the most exact image of the letter of the Socratic teachings. We must endure privations because the hardened man is more vigorously healthy; we must be modest because in provoking jealousies the arrogant man soon makes trouble for himself; we must be obliging because it is always useful to make friends; and so on. The Socratic insistence on science, intelligence and speculative truth in moral matters, the very theory of knowledge-virtue ends up in utilitarian criteria.

Popular Mores and Philosophical Morality

A fifth remark must be made, which has to do rather with a disparity, an internal weakness. This weakness, which is very noticeable in Socrates, is also to be found in the majority of those who were to come after him. In fact, it poses a critical problem prejudicial to the whole of moral philosophy. We have just observed that there exists a void, a discontinuity, a fault, between the general principles of Socratic morality and the justification it gives of the particular values and norms of the moral life. Socrates is not the only one in this situation. Let us add now that the norms and values in question are those of an already established morality, a morality already in existence which reigns and prevails in the common opinion of the historical and social milieu. For men did not await the coming of the moralists in order to have moral rules, and the moralists justify a given which antedates them and which has more practical consistency and more existential density than the theories by means of which they attempt to account for it. They are educators and reformers of customs, and they depend on customs. Fine reformers, who in the end justify what the baker and the candlestick-maker already firmly believed in (even if they did not act accordingly). The fact is that here, as elsewhere (but in an entirely different way than in speculative philosophy), it is a question of discerning the necessary beneath the accidental and the contingent. The specifically Hellenic notion of "beauty-goodness" (kalo-kagathia) refers to a complex of qualities -- beauty of body and of character, nobility of stock, culture of mind, magnanimity, liberality, and rage -- a complex which formed the ideal of the popular conscience in a given period and in a given society; it is not however impossible to draw from universal content which is useful in reflection on the idea of value in moral Philosophy. Socrates founded moral philosophy in the Occident. His inspiration awakened the intelligence to the supreme principles of human conduct, the subjects he dwelt on were to nourish the thought of moralists for centuries, and the contrasting virtualities of his doctrine were to be actualized in the opposing systems of the great schools of Greece. In the application to particular cases he simply defends against the Sophists the morality of common sense{2} prevalent in his age; the particular rules of conduct, the ethical values that he justifies, were those which guided the moral judgements of the good citizen of Athens in the second half of the fifth century. Knowing and Doing Socrates set as his golden goal the search for the basis of stable and certain

knowledge and the pursuit of the truth. For Socrates, knowing and doing were linked in such a way that to know the good is to do the good, that is, knowledge is virtue. When we know how to do something means that you do that particular thing. Therefore, according to Socrates, man does not do good because he doesnt know what good is. Knowledge is virtue. This is called moral opinion. Socrates was a moral optimist.

Contributions Socrates was a Greek philosopher, born in Athens in 469 B.C., whose beliefs were a great influence on philosophy. He started his early life as an apprentice for his father, a sculptor, and practiced it for several years, prior to giving nearly all of his time to intellectual pursuits. Socrates, himself, wrote nothing, and our knowledge of his ideas is reliant on the writings of Xenophon, Aristophanes, and most of all, Plato. His relentless dedication to philosophy profoundly affected his contemporaries, and, because of what we have learned through Plato, on resultant philosophy. Plato's interpretation of Socrates, however, is partially his own formation. However, it is feasible to determine certain ideas that are truly from Socrates. He searched for definitions of words, wondering, "What is justice?" and, "What is courage?" for example. Without them, he believed, true wisdom would not be achievable. He had his own formula of questions and answers to grasp the definitions.

Socrates wondered if goodness, like the sophists thought, would be learned. He felt that there was a connection between goodness and knowledge of what is good, and so, he thought that anyone who achieved that knowledge could not purposely act badly. All of Socrates' intellectual study was precisely for attaining happiness in life by living the right way. Not surprisingly, Socrates' ideas made him quite unpopular with other townspeople. He made the conclusion that intellect embodied the knowledge of one's own ignorance and believed that others simply were not aware of their own. What we now refer to as the "Socratic method" of philosophical questioning included questioning people on their affirmed positions and helping them to question themselves to the point of outright contradictions, which would prove each one's own ignorance. The Socratic method gave birth to dialectic, the belief that truth must be approached by changing one's position by questioning and exposing them to contrary beliefs.

One thing that Socrates affirmed to have knowledge of was "the art of love." He connected this concept with that of the "love of wisdom," or philosophy. He never straight out declared to be wise, he just claimed to understand the way a lover of wisdom must go to aspire to it. PLATO

Plato is one of the worlds best known and most widely read and studied philosophers. He was the student of Socrates and the teacher of Aristotle, and he wrote in the middle of the fourth century B.C.E. in ancient Greece. Though influenced primarily by Socrates, to the extent that Socrates is usually the main character in many of Platos writings, he was also influenced by Heraclitus, Parmenides, and the Pythagoreans. Both aspects of the genius of Socrates were first united in Plato of Athens (428-348 BCE), who also combined with them many the principles established by earlier philosophers, and developed the whole of this material into the unity of a comprehensive system. The groundwork of Platos scheme, though nowhere expressly stated by him, is the threefold division of philosophy into dialectic, ethics, and physics; its central point is the theory of forms. This theory is a combination of the Eleatic doctrine of the One with Heraclituss theory of a perpetual flux and with the Socratic method of concepts. The multitude of objects of sense, being involved in perpetual change, are thereby deprived of all genuine existence. The only true being in them is founded upon the forms, the eternal, unchangeable (independent of all that is accidental, and therefore perfect) archetypes, of which the particular objects of sense are imperfect copies. The quantity of the forms is defined by the number of universal concepts which can be derived from the particular objects of sense. The highest form is that of the Good, which is the ultimate basis of the rest, and the first cause of being and knowledge. Apprehensions derived from the impression of sense can never give us the knowledge of true being i.e. of the forms. It can only be obtained by the souls activity within itself, apart from the troubles and disturbances of sense; that is to say, by the exercise of reason. Dialectic, as the instrument in this process, leading us to knowledge of the ideas, and finally of the highest idea of the Good, is the first of sciences (scientia scientiarum). In physics, Plato adhered (though not without original modifications)

to the views of the Pythagoreans, making Nature a harmonic unity in multiplicity. His ethics are founded throughout on the Socratic; with him, too, virtue is knowledge, the cognition of the supreme form of the Good. And since in this cognition the three parts of the soul cognitive, spirited, and appetitive all have their share, we get the three virtues: Wisdom, Courage, and Temperance or Continence. The bond which unites the other virtues is the virtue of Justice, by which each several part of the soul is confined to the performance of its proper function. The school founded by Plato, called the Academy(from the name of the grove of the Attic hero Academus where he used to deliver his lectures) continued for long after. In regard to the main tendencies of its members, it was divided into the three periods of the Old, Middle, and New Academy. The chief personages in the first of these were Speusippus (son of Platos sister), who succeeded him as the head of the school (till 339 BCE), and Xenocrates of Chalcedon (till 314 BCE). Both of them sought to fuse Pythagorean speculations on number with Platos theory of ideas. The two other Academies were still further removed from the specific doctrines of Plato, and advocated skepticism. Theory of Knowledge Plato's theory of Forms and his theory of knowledge are so interrelated that they must be discussed together. Influenced by Socrates, Plato was convinced that knowledge is attainable. He was also convinced of two essential characteristics of knowledge. First, knowledge must be certain and infallible. Second, knowledge must have as its object that which is genuinely real as contrasted with that which is an appearance only. Because that which is fully real must, for Plato, be fixed, permanent, and unchanging, he identified the real with the ideal realm of being as opposed to the physical world of becoming. One consequence of this view was Plato's rejection of empiricism, the claim that knowledge is derived from sense experience. He thought that propositions derived from sense experience have, at most, a degree of probability. They are not certain. Furthermore, the objects of sense experience are changeable phenomena of the physical world. Hence, objects of sense experience are not proper objects of knowledge. Plato's own theory of knowledge is found in the Republic, particularly in his discussion of the image of the divided line and the myth of the cave. In the former, Plato distinguishes between two levels of awareness: opinion and knowledge. Claims or assertions about the physical or visible world, including both commonsense observations and the propositions of science, are opinions

only. Some of these opinions are well founded; some are not; but none of them counts as genuine knowledge. The higher level of awareness is knowledge, because there reason, rather than sense experience, is involved. Reason, properly used, results in intellectual insights that are certain, and the objects of these rational insights are the abiding universals, the eternal Forms or substances that constitute the real world. The myth of the cave describes individuals chained deep within the recesses of a cave. Bound so that vision is restricted, they cannot see one another. The only thing visible is the wall of the cave upon which appear shadows cast by models or statues of animals and objects that are passed before a brightly burning fire. Breaking free, one of the individuals escapes from the cave into the light of day. With the aid of the sun, that person sees for the first time the real world and returns to the cave with the message that the only things they have seen heretofore are shadows and appearances and that the real world awaits them if they are willing to struggle free of their bonds. The shadowy environment of the cave symbolizes for Plato the physical world of appearances. Escape into the sun-filled setting outside the cavesymbolizes the transition to the real world, the world of full and perfect being, the world of Forms, which is the proper object of knowledge. Plato holds that in a sense there are two separate worlds or realms; or, to put the point a little more tamely, that there are two very different kinds of things, ordinary physical objects and Forms. Here are some of the main differences between the two. The Visible World The visible world consists of the things below the (main) line in the metaphor of the Divided Line: physical objects and their images, shadows, and reflections. Physical objects are constantly changing (in flux, to use the Heraclitean term). They are transient and ephemeral. Physical objects are less real than the Forms. Physical objects get what reality they have by their participation in the Forms. We learn about physical objects empirically, by means of the senses: we look at them, taste them, listen to them, and so on. But none of the information we gain in this way is reliable or trustworthy: we dont have real knowledge of the visible world, just mere "opinion."In a sense, though, knowledge of the forms also enables us to better understand the visible world. When we understand the Forms, we know what the visible world is a pale imitation of (as the person who returns to the cave better understands the shadows on the wall by virtue of knowing what they are shadows of). The sun is what allows us to see physical objects. We have parts

corresponding to the two worlds. Our physical bodies are a part of the visible world. Our bodies are responsible for our appetites. Our sense organs, by means of which we learn about the visible world, are also part of our physical body. The Intelligible World The intelligible world consists of the things above the (main) line in the metaphor of the Divided line: images and Forms. The Forms are unchanging and eternal. The Forms are what really exists; the physical world is a kind of shadow or reflection of the world of the Forms. We learn about the Forms not by means of the sense but by means of Reason. We dont need to look at the Forms or listen to them; indeed we cannot do so. We figure out what they are by thinking about them. Empirical evidence is at best irrelevant, at worst misleading. The Good is what allows us to understand the Forms. (This is why the genuinely just person cant be a creep. Were just to the extent that our appetites and our reason are both properly developed and work together harmoniously. But when reason is developed, it makes us aware of the Good, and -- Plato thinks -- we cant know the Good without wanting to do it. So unless we do the good, we will inevitably be in inner turmoil.) But theres also another part of us which links us with the eternal realm of the Forms, namely our soul (which for Plato is more or less identical with our reason). So one result of coming to learn about the Forms is that we will become less concerned with physical matters; we will be less governed by our appetites, and less reliant on our unreliable senses for knowledge. Allegory of the Cave We can see the Plato's Cave story or allegory, as presented in the seventh book of Plato's The Republic, as discussing how far people may claim to be enlightened or unenlightened. It may well be that it has religious overtones relating to the Orphic mysticism that was a strong faith background to the works of Socrates and Plato. Many people accept that in his famous Allegory of the Cave Plato seems to be suggesting that a philosophic realisation is possible and can help to lead people away from an unenlightened, into an enlightened, state.

Now then, I proceeded to say, go on to compare our natural condition, so far as education and ignorance are concerned, to the state of things like the following. Imagine a number of men living in an underground chamber, with an entrance open to the light, extending along the entire length of the chamber, in which they have been confined, from their childhood, with their legs and necks so shackled, that they are obliged to sit still and look straight forwards, because their chains render it impossible for them to turn their heads round: and imagine a bright fire burning some way off, above and behind them, and an elevated roadway passing between the fire and the prisoners, with a low wall built along it, like the screens which conjurors put up in front of their audience, and above which they exhibit their wonders. I have it, he replied. Also figure to yourself a number of persons walking behind this wall, and carrying with them statues of men, and images of other animals, wrought in wood and stone and all kinds of materials, together with various other articles, which overtop the wall; and, as you might expect, let some of the passers-by be talking, and others silent. You are describing a strange scene, and strange prisoners. They resemble us, I replied. For let me ask you, in the first place, whether persons so confined could have seen anything of themselves or of each other, beyond the shadows thrown by the fire upon the part of the chamber facing them? Certainly not, if you suppose

them to have been compelled all their lifetime to keep their heads unmoved. And is not their knowledge of the things carried past them equally limited? Unquestionably it is. And if they were able to converse with one another, do you not think that they would be in the habit of giving names to the objects they saw before them? Doubtless they would. Again: if their prison-house returned an echo from the part facing them, whenever one of the passers-by opened his lips, to what, let me ask you, could they refer the voice, if not to the shadow which was passing? Unquestionably they would refer it to that. Then surely such persons would hold the shadows of those manufactured articles to be the only realities. Without a doubt they would. Now consider what would happen if the course of nature brought them a release from their fetters, and a remedy form their foolishness in the following manner. Let us suppose that one of them has been released, and compelled suddenly to stand up, and turn his neck round and walk with open eyes towards the light; let us suppose that he goes through all these actions with pain, and that the dazzling splendour renders him incapable of discerning those objects of which he formerly used to see the shadows. What answer should you expect him to make, if someone were to tell him that in those days he was watching foolish phantoms, but that now he is somewhat nearer to reality, and is turned toward things more real, and sees more correctly; above all, if he were to point out to him the several objects that are passing by, and question him, and compel him to answer what they are? Should you not expect him to be puzzled, and to regard his old visions as truer than the objects now forced upon his notice? Yes, much truer. And if he were further compelled to gaze at the light itself, would not his eyes, think you, be distressed, and would he not shrink and turn away to the things which he could see distinctly, and consider them to be really clearer than the things pointed out to him? Just so. And if some one were to drag him violently up the rough and steep ascent from the chamber, and refuse to let him go till he had drawn him out into the light of the sun, would he not, think you, be vexed and indignant at such treatment, and on reaching the light,

would he not find his eyes so dazzled by the glare as to be incapable of making out so much as one of the objects that are now called true? Yes, he would find it so at first. Hence, I suppose, habit will be necessary to enable him to perceive objects in that upper world. At first he will be most successful in distinguishing shadows; then he will discern the reflections of men and other things in water, and afterwards the realities; after this he will raise his eyes to encounter the light of the moon and stars, finding it less difficult to study the heavenly bodies and the heaven itself by night, than the sun and the sun's light by day. Doubtless. Last of all, I imagine, he will be able to observe and contemplate the nature of the sun, not as it appears in water or on alien ground, but as it is in itself in its own territory. Of course. His next step will be to draw the conclusion, that the sun is the author of the seasons and the years, and the guardian of all things in the visible world, and in a manner the cause of all those things which he and his companions used to see. Obviously this will be his next step. What then? When he recalls to mind his first habitation, and the wisdom of the place, and his old fellow- prisoners, do you not think he will congratulate himself on the change, and pity them? Assuredly he will. And if it was their practice in those days to receive honour and commendations one from another, and to give prizes to him who had the keenest eye for a passing object, and who remembered best all that used to precede and follow and accompany it, and from these data divined most ably what was going to come next, do you fancy that he will covet these prizes, and envy those who receive honour and exercise authority among them? Do you not rather imagine that he will rather imagine that he will feel what Homer describes, and wish extremely "To drudge on the lands of a master, Under a portionless wight."

and be ready to go through anything, rather than entertain those opinions, and live in that fashion?

For my own part, he replied, I am quite of that opinion. I believe he would consent to go through anything rather than live in that way. And now consider what would happen if such a man were to descend again and seat himself on his old seat? Coming so suddenly out of the sun, would he not find his eyes blinded with the gloom of the place? Certainly, he would. And if he were forced to deliver his opinion again, touching the shadows aforesaid, and to enter the lists against those who had always been prisoners, while his sight continued dim and his eyes unsteady, - and if this process of initiation lasted a considerable time, - would he not be made a laughingstock, and would it not be said of him, that he had gone up only to come back again with his eyesight destroyed, and that it was not worth while even to attempt the ascent? And if anyone endeavoured to set them free and carry them to the light, would they not go so far as to put him to death, if they could only manage to get him into their power? Yes, that they would. Now this imaginary case, my dear Glaucon, you must apply in all its parts to our former statements, by comparing the region which the eye reveals, to the prison-house, and the light of the fire therein to the power of the sun: and if, by the upward ascent and the contemplation of the upper world, you understand the mounting of the soul into the intellectual region, you will hit the tendency of my own surmises, since you desire to be told what they are; though, indeed, God only knows whether they are correct. But, be that as it may, the view which I take of the subject is to the following effect. In the world of knowledge, the essential Form of Good is the limit of our inquiries, and can barely be perceived; but, when perceived, we cannot help concluding that it is in every case the source of all that is bright and beautiful,- in the visible world giving birth to light and its master, and in the intellectual world dispensing, immediately and with full authority, truth and reason;- and that whosoever would act wisely, either in private or in public, must set the Form of Good before his eyes.

Plato later in this same seventh book of The Republic introduces the notion that there are four planes upon which people know about things. These planes are words, perception,

concepts, and ideas. These planes may be compared to the various levels depicted in the allegory of the Cave. Men start out in the realm of words - where shadows are thrown upon the wall. A more true reality is that of the road and the images being carried by the persons passing along it. These are as perceptions which cast the immediately apparent reality of shadows (words) upon the wall. The next approach to a fuller realisation of reality is more testing - it involves being out in the glare of the Sun and the conceptual recognition that the images being carried are not as real as the variously motivated people carrying them. The next phase suggested is that of ideas where people become, philosophic, observers of the world.

Theory of Form Plato is one of the most important philosophers in history. At the heart of his philosophy is his theory of forms or theory of ideas. In fact, his views on knowledge, ethics, psychology, the political state, and art are all tied to this theory.

According to Plato, reality consists of two realms. First, there is the physical world, the world that we can observe with our five senses. And second, there is a world made of eternal perfect forms or ideas.

What are forms? Plato says they are perfect templates that exist somewhere in another dimension (He does not tell us where). These forms are the ultimate reference points for all objects we observe in the physical world. They are more real than the physical objects you see in the world.

For example, a chair in your house is an inferior copy of a perfect chair that exists somewhere in another dimension. A horse you see in a stable is really an imperfect representation of some ideal horse that exists somewhere. In both cases, the chair in your house and the horse in the stable are just imperfect representations of the perfect chair and horse that exist somewhere else.

According to Plato, whenever you evaluate one thing as better than another, you assume that there is an absolute good from which two objects can be compared. For

example, how do you know a horse with four legs is better than a horse with three legs? Answer: You intuitively know that horseness involves having four legs.

Not all of Platos contemporaries agreed with Plato. One of his critics said, I see particular horses, but not horseness. To which Plato replied sharply, That is because you have eyes but no intelligence. Description of the Cave While describing the story, Socrates asks Glaucon to imagine a cave inhabited by people. These men are prisoners, and their hands and legs are shackled by chains. Moreover, the movement of their face is also restricted, so that they can see nothing but the wall in front of them. This restricted movement limits their visibility to the wall, thus circumscribing the scope of any encounter beyond it. There is an enormous fire on the ground, and between the wall and the fire is a walkway meant for objects to pass. The shadows of these objects fall directly on the wall providing the sole view for the prisoners. Hence, the only way for the prisoners to get acquainted with their surroundings is to decipher the shadows and consider them to be a part of the real world. They start naming each and every object, and amongst all the prisoners, the intellect of an individual is governed by his ability to judge those objects.

According to Socrates, the idea of the world for prisoners is limited within the boundaries of the cave. The shadows are treated as real objects and there are pseudo intellectuals who claim to understand the world based on these shadows. The prisoners are not able to perceive the truth of nature because of their limited view.

Escape of a Prisoner from the Cave Moving on with the description, Socrates says that if somehow a prisoner manages to break the shackles and escapes from the cave, the world he gets to see outside goes beyond his comprehension. He, like all the prisoners, is accustomed to dim light, and the light of the sun makes him turn his gaze away from it. Slowly he gets accustomed to the existence of the new world, which delineates the fallacy of that inside the cave. On his intellectual journey, he discovers the true reality, the beauty of mother nature and an almost divine experience of the newly found mystical world.

Interpretation of Plato's Allegory of the Cave Now as the prisoner returns back to the cave, he feels his moral duty to make others aware of the truth he has just discovered. He tries to persuade his companions that outside there is a more real world, and what all has been seen by them are mere shadows of the real objects. He tries to point out the deep rooted ignorance of the fellow prisoners who are trapped within their own confinement of pseudo intellectualism. But the prisoners try to resist enlightenment and condemn him for the moral misconduct and loss of ethical values. These values, which are not governed by the tautologies of nature but the fallacy of shadows casted on the wall, are considered to be the truth by the prisoners of the cave. Everything that goes beyond these values, tends to lie in the domain of unconventional thoughts, which are always resisted by human beings. This cave metaphor can be replaced by a movie theater, where the screen serves as wall of the cave and the projector as the fire. In this case also, the objects seen are not real ones, but a reflection on the movie screen.

Moral Doctrine The moral theory of Plato is unique in the sense that he believes the microcosm of the individual is a mirror of the macrocosm of the political/social state. To Plato, morality is an efficiency harmony of the whole achieved through the most effective use of the parts. Evil is nothing more than the parts of man or the parts of the state that are out of balance. Might does not make right to Plato because justice is not just strength and power but it is "harmonious strength-desires and men falling into that order which constitutes intelligence and organization; justice is not the right of the stronger, but the effective harmony of the whole" (Durant 39). Plato views all morality as being directly linked to the good of the whole. The communal nature of man mandates the individual resisting the tendency of all humans to go with their more animal instincts for self gain as opposed to their more rational, intellectual ones relating to the good of the whole, "Morality begins with association and interdependence and organization: life in society requires the concession of some part of the individual's sovereignty to the common order; and ultimately the norm of conduct becomes the welfare of the group. Nature will have it so, and her judgment is always final; a group survives, in competition or conflict with each other.

Contributions

Plato's philosophy was based on his theory of a soul divided into three components, reason, will and appetite. He contended that one can identify the parts of the soul because they sometimes clash with each other. A person may crave or have an appetite for something, yet resist the craving with willpower. A correctly operating soul requires the highest part, reason, to control the lowest part, appetite, with assistance from the will. Plato regarded the body and soul as separate entities. As a dualist, he also posited an "unreal" world of the senses and physical processes, and a "real" world of ideal forms. Plato believed that though the body dies and disintegrates, the soul continues to live forever. After the death of the body, the soul migrates to what Plato called the realm of the pure forms. There, it exists without a body, contemplating the forms. After a time, the soul is reincarnated in another body and returns to the world. But the reincarnated soul retains a dim recollection of the realm of forms and yearns for it. . . . In the Meno, Plato has Socrates teach an ignorant slave boy a truth of geometry by simply asking a series of questions. Because the boy learns this truth without being given any information, Plato concluded that learning consists of recalling what the soul experienced in the realm of the forms. (World Book, p. 570) Plato thought that only the soul could perceive the ideal forms. When the body and the soul combine, the body obstructs the soul's ability to recall the ideal forms. "Knowledge is not given by the senses but acquired thought them as reason organizes and makes sense out of that which is perceived ( Zusne, p. 6)." Reason unveils the ideal forms behind appearances. Plato's philosophy was influential in the development of early Christian thought through the ideas of Plotinus [ca. 205-270, Roman philosopher who developed Neoplatoism, a philosophy based on Plato's ideas] and the writing of St. Augustine. The idea of the separation of the body and soul, and an immortal soul also began with Plato. During the 13th century, Aristotle's ideas replaced Plato's ideas as the most influential philosophy in Christian thought.

ARISTOTLE Aristotle was born at Stagira, in Thrace, in 384 B.C. His father was a physician to the king of Macedon, so science was in his background. At the age of seventeen, he went to Athens and joined Plato's school, where he stayed until Plato's death in 347. A few years

later, he became the tutor to the young prince of Macedon, Alexander the Great. Although Alexander was a stellar pupil, Aristotle returned to Athens three years later, founded his own school, the Lyceum, and taught and studied there for twelve years. Because Alexander began conquering all of the known world, Macedonians became somewhat unwelcome in Athens and Aristotle was accordingly shown the door in 323. He died a year later.

Theory of Knowledge In Theory of knowledge, Plato proves both the point: First, perception isnt the knowledge; second, opinion isnt the knowledge. Plato had to give Theory of knowledge, because the teachings of Sophists, Cynics, and Heracleitus had perverted the meaning of knowledge, as they couldnt objectify the knowledge in its true universal sense, and believed what appears to senses is right and lost in their own assumptions. But, Plato strongly refuted by telling that perception and opinion arent the knowledge.

Perception isnt the knowledge

Future event: Sophists used to believe that whatever appears true to an individual is certainly true; suppose, you think, tomorrow you will get a surprise promotion, but instead, you get fired. So, its look irrelevant what appears true to you, is actually true.

Impressions: You see a building from far away, and think it is small. When you come nearby, you see its huge. So the reality doesnt depend upon the impression of your mind.

Experience: If the two perceptions are true, then a problem should look similar to both the student and the teacher. But, it doesnt happen this way.

Animal: If two perceptions are true than the perception of an animal should similar to the perception of a man.

Truth: if whatever one thinks is true, then, if one thinks that the teachings of Sophists are false, then, it must also be true.

Contradictions: Whatever appears true to an individual may look false to another, and this false is true for this person. So this way, the real truth, which is universal would never exist.

So, its totally refuted that Perception is knowledge.

The definition of knowledge

In Socratic sense, knowledge is universal (true for all) and it depends upon concepts. And, if we further explore, concepts depend upon the reasons. Knowledge is a complete understanding in itself. Plato also doesnt differ from the Socratess point that Knowledge is concept, universal and equally true to all.

Doctrine of the Golden Mean The concept of Aristotle's theory of golden mean is represented in his work called Nicomachean Ethics, in which Aristotle explains the origin, nature and development of virtues which are essential for achieving the ultimate goal, happiness (Greek: eudaimonia), which must be desired for itself. It must not be confused with carnal or material pleasures, although there are many people who consider this to be real happiness, since they are the most basic form of pleasures. It is a way of life that enables us to live in accordance with our nature, to improve our character, to better deal with the inevitable hardships of life and to strive for the good of the whole, not just of the individual. Aristotle's ethics is strongly teleological, practical, which means that it should be the action that leads to the realization of the good of the human being as well as the whole. This end is realized through continuous acting in accordance with virtues which, like happiness, must be desired for themselves, not for the short term pleasures that can be derived from them. This is not to say that happiness is void of pleasures, but that pleasures are a natural effect, not the purpose. In order to act virtuously, we must first acquire virtues, by parental upbringing, experience and reason. It is very important to develop certain principles in the early stages of life, for this will profoundly affect the later life. Aristotle's ethics is centered at a person's character, because by improving it, we also improve our virtues. A person must have knowledge, he must choose virtues for their own sake and his activities must originate from a firm and unshakeable character, which represents the conditions for having

virtues. If we behave like this, our happiness will have a positive influence on other people as well, and will improve their characters. The golden mean represents a balance between extremes, i.e. vices. For example, courage is the middle between one extreme of deficiency (cowardness) and the other extreme of excess (recklessness). A coward would be a warrior who flees from the battlefield and a reckless warrior would charge at fifty enemy soldiers. This doesn't mean that the golden mean is the exact arithmetical middle between extremes, but that the middle depends on the situation. There is no universal middle that would apply to every situation. Aristotle said, "It's easy to be angry, but to be angry at the right time, for the right reason, at the right person and in the right intensity must truly be brilliant." Because of the difficulty the balance in certain situations can represent, constant moral improvement of the character is crucial for recognizing it. This, however, doesn't imply that Aristotle upheld moral relativism because he listed certain emotions and actions (hate, envy, jealousy, theft, murder) as always wrong, regardless of the situation at hand. The golden mean applies only for virtues, not vices. In some ethical systems, however, murder can be justified in certain situations, like self-defense. The importance of the golden mean is that it re-affirms the balance needed in life. It remains puzzling how this ancient wisdom, known before Aristotle re-introduced it, (it is present in the myth of Icarus, in a Doryc saying carved in the front of the temple at Delphi: "Nothing in Excess," in the teachings of Pythagoras, Socrates and Plato) can be so forgotten and neglected in the modern society. Today's modern man usually succumbs in the extreme of excess, which can be seen in the uncontrollable accumulation of material wealth, food, alcohol, drugs, but he can descend into deficiency as well, like inadequate attention to education, healthy sport activities, intellectual pursuits, etc. Since Aristotle was interested in the studying of nature, he, like any great person, quickly realized the importance of balance in nature and the tremendous effect it has on keeping up so many forms of life in nature going. Since human beings are from nature, which gives them life, isn't it reasonable to conclude that humans should also uphold the balance, just like nature? The problem is that the vast majority of people are unwilling to admit that they are not at the top of nature, just a part of it. The reason for this are the limits of human perception, which cannot grasp the complex ways that nature, that vastly intricate and greater system, operates, so they fear it because they don't fully understand it. That's why people invent god who is primarily concerned with them, because it is their arrogance and pride that propells their desperate

need of wanting to be the center of everything, wanting to know everything, or at least pretend so. They explain away death, pain, suffering, thus robbing their lives of its natural aspects, turning it into a bus station to heaven, where they just keep waiting and waiting for a ride, while doing nothing.

Form and Matter The complementary notions of form and matter are wholly central to the metaphysical theories of Plato and Aristotle , indeed to all ancient and modern metaphysical inquiry. Most primitively, the matter of any item is the stuff, the material of which it is made, for example clay or iron; the form is the organization, shape, pattern given to that stuff by a craftsman, for example by a potter in making a bowl. From such elementary beginnings the most difficult and exciting metaphysical theses have evolved, such as Plato's theory of Forms (or Ideas), where Forms were conceived of as separate existents which were, somehow, responsible for particulars being of the kind they were. Aristotle, by contrast, believed in immanent forms; the only real existents are already parcels of informed matter or enmattered form. Neither prime matter (formless and inchoate), nor pure forms, can exist independently. Debates over matter and form merge into debates over universals; and, although not central to the current agenda of metaphysical debate, these notions are, in some fashion or another, indispensable in thinking about the world and its structure. Concept of change Change is often described (both by Aristotle and his predecessors) as coming-to-be (genesis), and Aristotle gives an example of an argument against coming-to-be that sounds typically Parmenidean (191a28-29): What is cannot come to be (since it already is), while nothing can come to be from what is not. The argument is basically that there are only two ways that something can come to be: either from what is, or from what is not. But neither is possible. Therefore, nothing can come to be. He insists that there must be threebasic ingredients in every case of change. (Platos treatment only mentions two: a pair of opposites). In addition to a pair of opposites, there must be an underlying subject of change.

The basic case of change involves a pair of opposed or contrary properties and a subject that loses one of them and gains the other. But Aristotle does not even insist that there be an opposed pair of properties (191a6-7): In another way, however, there need not be two [contraries]; for just one of the contraries is enough, by its absence or presence, to produce the thing. So the ingredients Aristotle insists on are: an underlying subject, a form (i.e., a positive property) and a lack (or privation) of that form. Aristotles examples illustrate these ingredients:

A man who was unmusical becomes musical. Some bronze (which was shapeless) becomes a statue.

In case (a), the subject is man, the form is musical and the privation is unmusical. In case (b), the subject is bronze, the form is statue and the privation is shapeless. The subjectthe man, or the bronzepersists through the change. Of the other terms involved, the earlier ones (unmusicality, shapelessness) cease to exist, while the later ones (musicality, the statue) come into existence. These were cases of coming into being (generation), since lacks or privations were replaced by forms. Ceasing to be (destruction) occurs when a form is replaced by a privationwhen matter is deprived of form. This would happen, for example, when a statue is melted down into a shapeless pool of bronze. The bronze persists, but the statue has ceased to exist. We thus see two different kinds of change in Aristotles account: y Accidental change (e.g., alteration of a substance): the subject is a substance. E.g., the man becomes a musician, Socrates becomes pale. y Substantial change (generation and destruction of a substance): the subject is matter, the form is the form of a substance. E.g., the bronze becomes a statue, a seed becomes a tiger, an acorn becomes an oak tree.

Doctrine of the Four Causes We must inquire into the nature of causes (aitia ), and see what the various kinds of cause are and how many there are. Since our treatment of the subject aims at knowledge, and since we believe that we know a thing only when we can say why it is as it iswhich in fact means grasping its primary causesplainly we must try to achieve this with regard to the way things come into existence and pass away out of it, and all other natural change, so that we may know what their principles are and may refer to these principles in order to explain everything into which we inquire. The four causes are: 1) Material cause, or the elements out of which an object is created; 2)Efficient cause, or the means by which it is created;3)Formal cause, or the expression of what it is; 4) Final cause, or the end for which it is. In one sense, what is described as a cause is that material out of which a thing comes into being and which remains present in it. Such, for instance, is bronze in the case of a statue, or silver in the case of a cup, as well as the genera to which these materials belong.1 In another sense, the form and pattern are a cause, that is to say the statement of the essence genera to which it belongs; such, for instance, in the case of the octave, are the ratio of two to one, and number in general; and the constituent terms in a definition are included in the wider class of a definition.2 Then there is the initiating source of change or rest: the person who advises an action, for instance, is a cause of the action; the father is the cause of his child; and in general, what produces is the cause of what is changed.3 Then there is what is a cause insofar as it is an end (telos): this is the purpose of a thing; in this sense, health, for instance, is the cause of a man's going for a walk. "Why," someone asks, "is he going for a walk?" "For the good of his health," we reply, and when we say this we think that we have given the cause of his doing so. All the intermediate things, too, that come into being through the agency of something else for this same end have this as their cause: slimming, purging, drugs, and surgical instrumentsall have the same purpose, health, as their cause, although they differ from each other in that some of them are activities, others are instruments. These are pretty well all the senses in which we talk of causes; the consequence of our using the term in all these senses is that there are many causes of the same thing. Both the art of sculpture and the bronze, for instance, are causes of the statue, without either of

them being its cause in respect to its being anything other than a statue; they are, however, causes in different ways, the one being its matter, the other the source of the movement that produced it. There are some things that are even each other's causes; working hard, for instance, is a cause of one's fitness, and one's fitness is a cause of one's working hard; but they are not causes in the same way; the one is an end, the other is a source of movement. Again, the same thing will be the case of two contraries, for we will sometimes describe what is by its presence the cause of one thing, as being by its absence the cause of that thing's contrary: for instance, we describe the absence of the pilot as the cause of the ship's being sunk, whereas his presence would have been the cause of its preservation. But all the causes that we have just mentioned fall into the four most obvious groups. The letters of a syllable, the raw material of a manufactured article, fire and such things in bodies, the parts of a whole, and the premises of a syllogismall these are causes in the sense of being what a thing comes from; but whereas some are causes in the sense of being a substratum (the parts of a whole are, for instance), others are causes by virtue of being a thing's essence: the whole, the combination, and the form. The seed, the doctor, the adviser, and the producer, in general, are all sources of change or rest. Other things are causes by virtue of being the end and the good of everything else. For being the purpose means being the best of things and the end of everything elseand let us understand that it makes no difference whether we speak of the real or of the apparent good. Contribution in the Philosophical World Aristotle represents for most of us an icon of difficult or abstruse philosophical thinking; to know Aristotle often provokes hushed whispers even from highly educated people. For all this reputation, though, Aristotle is actually quite an easy read, for the man thought with an incredible clarity and wrote with a superhuman precision. It really is not possible to talk about Western culture (or modern, global culture) without coming to terms with this often difficult and often inspiring philosopher who didn't get along with his famous teacher, Plato, and, in fact, didn't get along with just about everybody (no-one likes a knowit-all). We can say without exaggeration that we live in an Aristotelean world; wherever you see modern, Western science dominating a culture in any meaningful way (which is just about everywhere), Aristotle is there in some form. Although he studied under Plato, Aristotle fundamentally disagreed with his teacher on just about everything. He could not bring himself to think of the world in abstract terms

the way Plato did; above all else, Aristotle believed that the world could be understood at a fundamental level through the detailed observation and cataloging of phenomenon. That is, knowledge (which is what the word science means) is fundamentally empirical. As a result of this belief, Aristotle literally wrote about everything: poetics, rhetoric, ethics, politics, meteorology, embryology, physics, mathematics, metaphysics, anatomy, physiology, logic, dreams, and so forth. We aren't certain if he wrote these works directly or if they represent his or somebody else's notes on his classes; what we can say for certain is that the words, "I don't know," never came out of his mouth. In addition to studying everything, Aristotle was the first person to really think out the problem of evidence. When he approached a problem, he would examine a.) what people had previously written or said on the subject, b.) the general consensus of opinion on the subject, c.) and a systematic study of everything else that is part of or related to the subject. In his treatise on animals, he studied over five hundred species; in studying government, he collected and read 158 individual constitutions of Greek states as his fundamental data. This is called inductive reasoning:observing as many examples as possible and then working out the underlying principles. Inductive reasoning is the foundation of the Western scientific method. Outside of the empirical method, three characteristics stand out in Aristotle's thought: the schematization of knowledge, the four causes, and the ethical doctrine of the mean. Actuality and Potentiality In Metaphysics , Aristotle introduces the distinction between matter and form synchronically, applying it to an individual substance at a particular time. The matter of a substance is the stuff it is composed of; the form is the way that stuff is put together so that the whole it constitutes can perform its characteristic functions. But soon he begins to apply the distinction diachronically, across time. This connects the matter/form distinction to another key Aristotelian distinction, that between potentiality (dunamis) and actuality (entelecheia or energeia). This distinction is the main topic of Book .

Aristotle distinguishes between two different senses of the term dunamis. In the strictest sense, a dunamis is the power that a thing has to produce a change. A thing has a dunamis in this sense when it has within it a source of change in something else (or

in itself qua other) ( .1, 1046a12; cf. .12). The exercise of such a power is a kinsis a movement or process. So, for example, the housebuilder's craft is a power whose exercise is the process of housebuilding. But there is a second sense of dunamis and it is the one in which Aristotle is mainly interested that might be better translated as potentiality. For, as Aristotle tells us, in this sense dunamis is related not to movement (kinsis) but to actuality (energeia)( .6, 1048a25). A dunamis in this sense is not a thing's power to produce a change but rather its capacity to be in a different and more completed state. Aristotle thinks that potentiality so understood is indefinable (1048a37), claiming that the general idea can be grasped from a consideration of cases. Actuality is to potentiality, Aristotle tells us, as someone waking is to someone sleeping, as someone seeing is to a sighted person with his eyes closed, as that which has been shaped out of some matter is to the matter from which it has been shaped (1048b1-3). This last illustration is particularly illuminating. Consider, for example, a piece of wood, which can be carved or shaped into a table or into a bowl. In Aristotle's terminology, the wood has (at least) two different potentialities, since it is potentially a table and also potentially a bowl. The matter (in this case, wood) is linked with potentialty; the substance (in this case, the table or the bowl) is linked with actuality. The as yet uncarved wood is only potentially a table, and so it might seem that once it is carved the wood is actually a table. Perhaps this is what Aristotle means, but it is possible that he does not wish to consider the wood to be a table. His idea might be that not only can a piece of raw wood in the carpenter's workshop be considered a potential table (since it can be transformed into one), but the wood composing the completed table is also, in a sense, a potential table. The idea here is that it is not the wood qua wood that is actually a table, but the wood qua table. Considered as matter, it remains only potentially the thing that it is the matter of. (A contemporary philosopher might make this point by refusing to identify the wood with the table, saying instead that the wood only constitutes the table and is not identical to the table it constitutes.) Since Aristotle gives form priority over matter, we would expect him similarly to give actuality priority over potentiality. And that is exactly what we find ( .8, 1049b4-5). Aristotle distinguishes between priority in logos (account or definition), in time, and in substance. (1) Actuality is prior in logos since we must cite the actuality when we give an account of its corresponding potentiality. Thus, visible means capable of being seen;

buildable means capable of being built(1049b14-16). (2) As regards temporal priority, by contrast, potentiality may well seem to be prior to actuality, since the wood precedes the table that is built from it, and the acorn precedes the oak that it grows into. Nevertheless, Aristotle finds that even temporally there is a sense in which actuality is prior to potentiality: the actual which is identical in species though not in number with a potentially existing thing is prior to it (1049b18-19). A particular acorn is, of course, temporally prior to the particular oak tree that it grows into, but it is preceded in time by the actual oak tree that produced it, with which it is identical in species. The seed (potential substance) must have been preceded by an adult (actual substance). So in this sense actuality is prior even in time. (3) Aristotle argues for the priority in substance of actuality over potentiality in two ways. (a) The first argument makes use of his notion of final causality. Things that come to be move toward an end (telos) the boy becomes a man, the acorn becomes an oak and the actuality is the end, and it is for the sake of this that the potentiality is acquired ... animals do not see in order that they may have sight, but they have sight that they may see ... matter exists in a potential state, just because it may come to its form; and when it exists actually, then it is in its form (1050a9-17). Form or actuality is the end toward which natural processes are directed. Actuality is therefore a cause in more than one sense of a thing's realizing its potential. As we noted in Section 11, one and the same thing may be the final, formal, and efficient cause of another. Suppose an acorn realizes its potential to become an oak tree. The efficient cause here is the actual oak tree that produced the acorn; the formal cause is the logos defining that actuality; the final cause is the telos toward which the acorn develops an actual (mature) oak tree. (b) Aristotle also offers (1050b6-1051a2) an even stricter argument for his claim that actuality is prior in substance to potentiality. A potentiality is for either of a pair of opposites; so anything that is capable of being is also capable of not being. What is capable of not being might possibly not be, and what might possibly not be is perishable. Hence anything with the mere potentiality to be is perishable. What is eternal is imperishable, and so nothing that is eternal can exist only potentially what is eternal must be fully actual. But the eternal is prior in substance to the perishable. For the eternal can exist without the perishable, but not conversely, and that is what priority in substance amounts to (cf. .11, 1019a2). So what is actual is prior in substance to what is potential.

http://www.trinity.edu/cbrown/intro/plato_two_worlds.html http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/socrates/ http://www.newfoundations.com/GALLERY/Socrates.html http://www.jstor.org/pss/1087522 - Socrates Thesis http://socyberty.com/philosophy/socrates-part-one/#ixzz1Pd3j6JtK