The Relevance of the

The Relevance of the

Historical Meno’s Character

in Plato’s Dialogue Meno

William M. Schneider

G.M.A. Grube, in introductory notes to his

translation of Plato’s dialogue Meno, recommends the choice of the historical Meno mainly because it adds to the ironic effects of the dialogue. Grube explains:

Meno’s character is not immediately relevant to the discussion, but Plato seems to expect his readers to know of his reputation, for this knowledge adds something to the bitter irony of certain statements made by and about him, "the hereditary friend of the great King."

While Grube’s observation fits well with the traditional emphasis on Plato’s use of irony in the Sokratic dialogues, it badly misses the most important contribution to the dialogue played by this historical reference. In what follows, I will attempt to make clear a far more important use for the well-known character of Meno, one which works not only in the context of the dialogue which bears his name but which stretches beyond to form part of the organic work on education Plato presents in the early dialogues.

The dialogues of Plato may be assessed on a number of different levels of interpretation. For example, they may be read on a fairly superficial level, as accounts (some fairly accurate, others clearly fictional) of the daily life of the philosopher Sokrates. On this level, the dialogues give us ". . . a picture of Greek life, above all, of the intensity of interest the Athenians took in the purely intellectual" as Edith Hamilton writes in her introduction to Plato’s dialogue Protagoras.

The same dialogues, at a slightly deeper level, can be read as an introduction to most of the important philosophical issues and puzzles of Plato’s day. Many of these are of enduring quality. We detect the growth of a philosophic system, from its nascent stages in the so-called early dialogues, whose ostensible concern is with the definition of various moral concepts, through the development of positions in epistemology and metaphysics, whose mature expression we see in the so-called middle-period dialogues. It is apparently in these epistemological and metaphysical doctrines that we must hope to find the answers to the earlier moral inquiries. Plato’s late dialogues serve, at least in part, to probe the strengths and weaknesses of the middle-period doctrines.

Analysis of the dialogues at either of these two levels is done from outside the dialogue, from a coign of vantage that allows us to observe the activity, both dramatic and philosophic, without running the risk of personal commitment. At these levels, we appreciate the work of Plato as the tourist, camera in hand, appreciates her stroll through the Uffizi. But there is a still deeper level of analysis to which we may proceed in our reading of the dialogues. It is at this deeper level that we ourselves become participants in the dialogue. We are there, on the king-Archon’s porch, silently witnessing the investigation of piety between Euthyphro and Sokrates. We, too, sit in the house of Anytus, quietly listening to Meno and Sokrates struggle alternately toward a definition of ‘virtue’ and an answer to the question "Is virtue teachable?". We find ourselves in the prison chambers, among Sokrates’ other friends, listening to the searching questions of Simmias and Cebes, and hearing Sokrates’ forceful responses. And all the while, we are trying hard to forget that this lively discussion of the immortality of the soul is not academic; our friend Sokrates is about to die. Plato has written these dialogues so that, at a deeper level, we can find ourselves there among the listeners, yet with one peculiar advantage: we are vouchedsafe a knowledge denied to the other characters. We hear Sokrates’ request that Euthyphro teach him about piety so that Sokrates may better defend himself in court, knowing that Sokrates will be convicted of impiety and sentenced to die. We witness Sokrates’ final request of Meno, that he convince Anytus ". . . of these very things of which you yourself have been convinced, in order that he may be more amenable" [100b], knowing that he will fail and that Anytus himself will be in the van of those who accuse Sokrates of crimes against the state.

If we focus our analysis of the Meno in terms of either of the first two interpretive approaches, our extra-dialogic knowledge of Meno’s vicious character seems irrelevant. We can read the dialogues and appreciate any number of elements of the sort called to our attention at the first and second levels of interpretation without ever troubling to connect these with the popular view of Meno’s wicked character. It seems possible, on either of these interpretive tacks, to replace Meno with some other contemporary of Sokrates, even a figure who is virtuous rather than vicious or about whom nothing is known beyond his description in the dialogue. We could even create an altogether fictitious character in place of Meno and learn as much from the dialogues with respect to those issues featured in either of the first two levels of interpretation.

It is only when we reach the third, much deeper level of interpretation, that our extra-dialogic knowledge of Meno’s wicked character becomes important to the lesson Plato hopes, I think, to impart. As we silently watch the halting progress of the conversation between Meno and Sokrates, we begin to wonder if we could answer Sokrates’ questions or if we, too, are as confused about the nature of this topic about which we thought we had such fine knowledge. We reflect on how we thought we knew quite well what virtue is and could easily give its characteristics. But now we begin to doubt. Our ignorance is exposed by the penetrating questions Sokrates asks. What if he turns to question us? It becomes clear that we, too, lack knowledge of the proper definition of ‘virtue’, that this concept, for us, is not tied down and will not remain in place [98a]. This is the first crucial step in our moral education.

But what are the consequences of lacking knowledge of the proper definition of ‘virtue’? We see in the Euthyphro that knowledge of the proper definition of a moral concept would serve us as a map and make it possible for us to guide ourselves reliably toward our desired goal: the pious life. Moreover, we learn in the Meno that, while true belief could guide us to the same goal as knowledge, it could desert us at any time, leaving us without a guide; trusting in true belief as a guide is to trust in luck to carry us safely home. We want more than luck when the stakes are always high, as they are in choosing those actions which make up the good life.

We may even regularly choose the wrong actions in our ignorance of virtue. We may find ourselves among those who choose to do what is bad, believing it to be good and, in so doing, secure for ourselves a life of misery and unhappiness [77c-78b]. There is a clear positive correlation between ignorance and wickedness. This Plato wants us to recognize.

It becomes clear, as we read Plato’s Meno, that Meno lacks knowledge of virtue. He cannot give a proper definition of it. And how could it be otherwise? Meno throughout shows himself to be a lazy inquirer. Plato depicts Meno as an incapable student; he is only interested in being told things: "I would stay . . . if you could tell me more things like these: [77a]; "What do you say color is?" [76a]; "No, Socrates, but you tell me" [75b]; etc. But to be told is not to learn. Learning—recollection, as Sokrates explains that hypothesis to Meno—requires all the work of the Sokratic inquiry, and Meno lacks the discipline to carry out such an investigation. Any time Meno tries to engage in the Sokratic question-and-answer he becomes hopelessly lost. Meno can’t even remember how to apply lessons just concluded—as when he fails to notice that the Gorgias-style definition of ‘color’ he has just enthusiastically embraced may fail the very conditions for a proper definition that they had just finished outlining. Borrowing an image later used by Plato, it is clear that nothing is staying tied down in Meno’s soul (i.e., mind); true belief flies from Meno as fast as Sokrates points it out.

Now, consider Meno’s character as it is described by Xenophon (and as it would be generally known by Plato’s audience). He is a vicious person. He is greedy, unscrupulous, treacherous and ambitious for power. This character should not surprise us, since we have seen that Meno has neither knowledge nor true belief concerning virtue. Excepting luck (as a gift of the gods), how could Meno be other than a wicked person? Is it possible that Meno does have a knowledge of virtue and that he simply thinks it better to disregard that knowledge? Not according to Plato (or Sokrates). Recall the (77c-78b) interchange between Meno and Sokrates about desiring good and bad things: they agree that no one will desire what is bad (hence harmful). Thus, it can’t be that Meno desires to be wicked and so willingly chooses to do bad things. This must be done out of ignorance on his part. But look at the shocking result of this ignorance: Meno has become a horrible person (infamous among the Athenians, if Xenophon is to be accorded any degree of trust on this matter).

Just as in the Euthyphro, Plato here gives us a lesson in the importance of applied ethics: if a person fails to understand the general moral principles which define the virtues, he runs the risk of making terrible choices concerning his actions, choices which may have important consequences for both that individual and those around him. In the Euthyphro, it was Euthyphro’s ignorance of piety that threatened to trap him in the most impious of actions: offending the gods by harming his own father. At the close of that dialogue, we see Euthyphro running off (one hopes) to reconsider his understanding of piety and so reassess his actions in light of his new understanding. We understand that Euthyphro’s confusion at the close of the dialogue is the necessary first step in his coming to learn about piety. Having no knowledge of the life of a historical Euthyphro, we (students of Plato) may harbor some hope that, as a result of the Sokratic investigation, Euthyphro is on his way to living a better, more pious life—one characterized by wisdom, not ignorance.

But in the Meno, we clearly are not meant to have that hope. Plato realizes that we know only too well what happens to Meno after he leaves this conversation with Sokrates. He cannot convince Anytus to recognize the sense in Sokrates’ investigation. He does not start down the road to gaining wisdom. He continues to live in ignorance and, because of this ignorance, he continues to live wickedly. Since his head is stuffed with false beliefs about virtue, he lives poorly, for he is always deceiving himself, believing that he is living virtuously.

At the deeper level of interpretation with which we have been working, we can see ourselves in Meno’s place. We recognize who it is we could become if we fail to heed Sokrates’ call to learn. We might fail to search for the proper definition of ‘virtue’, so fail to make the right choices and come to live like Meno, oblivious to the fact that we’re leading a horrible life and harming ourselves terribly. Realization of the intimate connection between ignorance and wickedness and its embodiment in the person of Meno is the next step in our education, the prompt we need to motivate our search for the proper definition of ‘virtue’. If we know we are ignorant and that such ignorance may cause us to live miserably, we will be concerned to search for the proper definition of ‘virtue’. If Plato had used a character who wasn’t generally known for his wickedness, this strong message would be less real to us. Perhaps it would be lost to us altogether. In this way, I think, the character of Meno is crucial to the complete understanding, appreciation, and application of the main issues in Plato’s Meno.

The translator, G.M.A. Grube, must be aware of the deeper level of interpretation at which our extra-dialogic knowledge of Meno’s character becomes relevant, for it is at this level that irony must work. But I think Grube fails to see beyond Plato’s use of our understanding of the historical Meno’s character and its connection to ironic reference in the Meno. It is at this deeper level that we also see our own involvement in the issues under discussion, and the importance of fully understanding these issues for the way we live our life. I think that Plato wants us to go beyond the role of mere tourist in the dialogue; he wants us to feel the difficulties as our own and to recognize that the choices we make have far-reaching, often grave consequences for who we are and how we live (these two—who we are and how we live—are one, for Plato). Meno is held up to us as a clear and frightening example of who we might become if we are lazy inquirers. As Sokrates warns us: "I do not insist that my argument is right in all other respects, but I would contend at all costs both in word and deed as far as I could that we will be better men, braver and less idle, if we believe that one must search for the things one does not know, rather than if we believe that it is not possible to find out what we do not know and that we must not look for it" [86b-c].