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Socrates Stoicism

Video: The Choice of Hercules

Releasing a video today of me reciting The Choice of Hercules the famous speech of Prodicus, retold by Socrates, which inspired Zeno to embrace the life of a philosopher and then to go on and found the Stoic school.

 

 

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Socrates

Athens: The Delphic Oracle

Today, I visited the Delphic Oracle.  I asked her if there was anyone wiser than Socrates.  I just wanted to double check, to make sure.  Well, that’s what I’m going to tell my seven year old anyway. 😉

There’s so much to say about the importance of this site for the history of philosophy…  I think it might take more than one blog post.  The Delphic Temple of Apollo is in the mountains, roughly 2-3 days’ walk from Athens.  In the ancient world, the journey there was like a sort of pilgrimage.  Apollo was the god of prophecy and his priestess and oracle, known as the Pythia, was arguably the most important women in the whole of classical Greece.  People travelled to Delphi to ask the Oracle a question and she was known for giving cryptic answers that came true in unexpected ways – just ask Oedipus.

For philosophers, though, the most important event was when Chaerephon, the childhood friend of Socrates, asked the Delphic Oracle “Is any man wiser than Socrates?”  She replied “Of all men Socrates is most wise.”  Chaerephon was a bit of a character and the very fact he dared pose this question to the oracle seems to have been a cause for controversy.  When it’s mentioned during Socrates’ trial both Plato and Xenophon suggest that the jury of 500 Athenians reacted with uproar and had to be calmed down.  This is the version of the question and pronouncement in Diogenes Laertius, which is similar to Plato’s account in the Apology.

However, Xenophon gives a slightly different version in which the oracle says not only that Socrates is most wise of all men but also that he is more free and just than other men.

Once, when Chaerephon made an inquiry about me in Delphi, Apollo replied – and there were many witnesses – that I was the most free, just and wise [sophron] of all people. (Xenophon, Apology)

Socrates explains in this dialogue, in paradoxical fashion, that he is most free because he is less enslaved to bodily desires and does not accept gifts or payments, which would indebt him to others.  He says that he is most just because he accepts his immediate circumstances, having no need for anything more than he already has.  And he is most wise because he is always seeking to learn about everything good.  Notice that, ironically, Socrates is “wise” because he’s a committed student rather than because he claims to be an expert teacher like the Sophists.

In Plato’s Apology, Socrates likewise interpreted the oracle’s answer in a paradoxical manner, claiming that his philosophical method of questioning exposed that men lacked wisdom, at least with regard to the most important things in life.  He was only a tiny sliver wiser than anyone else because he realized that he knew nothing, whereas they presumptuously assumed that they had wisdom they didn’t really possess.

The Temple of Apollo where the oracle gave her pronouncements had several inscriptions.  The most famous, of course, was “Know thyself”, which became somewhat associated with Socrates’ philosophy.  In one of his dialogues, for instance, Xenophon portrays Socrates asking a young student of philosophy called Euthydemus “Have you ever been to Delphi?” (Memorabilia, 42.).  Euthydemus says he’s been twice so Socrates asks: “Did you notice somewhere on the temple the inscription ‘Know thyself’?” This leads to a discussion about the nature of self-knowledge.  Socrates asks Euthydemus whether he paid heed to the inscription at Delphi and tried to consider who he was. The youth says that he ignored it, though, because he took it for granted that he already knew who he was, at least as well as he grasped anything else in life.

However, Socrates asks “What must a man know in order to know himself?”  Surely not just his own name.  Must he not consider more deeply what sort of person he is and what his abilities are in life?  Someone buying a horse, says Socrates, doesn’t just settle for a superficial glance but checks whether the animal is docile or stubborn, strong or weak, fast or slow, and in general whether he’s useful as a horse or not.  So he concludes that a human being who doesn’t know his own abilities, in a similar fashion, is ignorant of himself and lacking in the sort of knowledge that the Delphic maxim advocates.

Socrates tells Euthydemus that it’s clear that men come to much good through self-knowledge and much harm through self-deception.  Someone who knows himself also knows what is useful for him to obtain and where his strengths and weaknesses lie.  As a result of that knowledge they’re more likely to prosper and flourish in life because they will refrain from doing things beyond their power, and avoid mistakes and failure.  On the other hand, those who are ignorant in this regard and self-deceived, not knowing their own strengths and weaknesses, do not know what they want or need.  Not knowing what benefits or harms them they don’t really understand their interactions with other people either.  They miss what is good for them and stumble into what is bad, live in dishonour, and appear ridiculous.

By contrast, those who have self-knowledge achieve their goals more easily in life and are honoured by other men.  People respect them and those who lack understanding themselves turn to them for advice and protection.  So those who truly know themselves are loved, says Socrates, for their wisdom.   Euthydemus asks how he can begin learning this self-knowledge.  Socrates tells him to begin by questioning which things in life are good or bad, beneficial or harmful, and so on.  This soon leads Euthydemus into confusion (aporia).  However, we’re told by Xenophon:

Now many of those who were brought to this pass by Socrates, never went near him again and were regarded by him as mere blockheads. But Euthydemus guessed that he would never be of much account unless he spent as much time as possible with Socrates. Henceforward, unless obliged to absent himself, he never left him, and even began to adopt some of his practices. Socrates, for his part, seeing how it was with him, avoided worrying him, and began to expound very plainly and clearly the knowledge that he thought most needful and the practices that he held to be most excellent.

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Socrates Stoicism

Athens: The Sophists, Socrates, and the Stoics at the Lyceum

Today I visited the ruins of the Lyceum palaestra, or wrestling school, in Athens.  Pomegranate trees grow around the edge of the archeological site and there were butterflies.  (These are some of my photos of the site.)  The Lyceum was named after Apollo Lyceus, Apollo “the wolf-god”, to whom the whole area was dedicated.  He seems to have been a rural version of the god, who helped shepherds protect their flocks from wolves.  Historians aren’t sure of its exact boundaries but the area known as the Lyceum was quite large, lay just outside the city wall to the east of Athens, and encompassed a gymnasium, running track, religious shrines, various other buildings, and extensive gardens where visitors could walk in the shade provided by the trees.

We normally associate the Lyceum with Aristotle.  After initially studying at Plato’s Academy, Aristotle parted ways with Plato.  He then left Athens and on his return, in 335 BC, finding that the Academy had a new head, Xenocrates, he rented some rooms at the Lyceum and founded a school there.  It was also called the “Peripatetic” (walking, or strolling) school because he allegedly used to lecture while walking around the grounds of the Lyceum.  Diogenes Laertius says that Aristotle lectured there for thirteen years before retiring to Chalcis in 321-322 BC.

However, philosophers had been teaching at the Lyceum long before Aristotle set up his school there.  According to Plato, two or three generations before Aristotle, Sophists including Protagoras and Prodicus, the two most famous among them, used to lecture and give speeches at the Lyceum.  It seems that Socrates would also frequently spend his days there discussing philosophy with the Sophists and others.  And as we’ll see, the Stoics would later teach there as well.

Socrates and the Sophists at the Lyceum

According to Diogenes Laertius, the first famous Sophist, Protagoras, gave a public reading of his controversial book On the Gods at the Lyceum, at least according to some accounts.   (Or some say it was read in public by one of his students.)

As to the gods, I have no means of knowing either that they exist or that they do not exist. For many are the obstacles that impede knowledge, both the obscurity of the question and the shortness of human life.

That caused some controversy as you can imagine.  We’re told that, incensed by these words, the Athenians expelled Protagoras and burnt his writings in the agora, the city centre or marketplace of Athens.

However, according to Plato, Socrates would often walk to the Lyceum to discuss philosophy with the Sophists teaching there.  Socrates mentions being on his way to the Lyceum in Plato’s Lysis, returning from it in the Euthyphro, and in the Euthydemus he recounts a conversation he had there with two young Sophists.

Crito: Who was the person, Socrates, with whom you were talking yesterday at the Lyceum? There was such a crowd around you that I could not get within hearing, but I caught a sight of him over their heads, and I made out, as I thought, that he was a stranger with whom you were talking: who was he? […]
Socrates: He whom you mean, Crito, is Euthydemus; and on my left hand there was his brother Dionysodorus, who also took part in the conversation.
Crito: Neither of them are known to me, Socrates; they are a new importation of Sophists, as I should imagine. Of what country are they, and what is their line of wisdom? (Euthydemus)

In the pseudo-Platonic dialogue called the Eryxias, Critias is saying that if an intemperate man cannot refrain from over-indulging in food and drink, and other pleasures, then, paradoxically, it’s better for him to be poor than rich so that he can’t gratify his unhealthy desires.  In other words, as the Stoics later argued, money is neither good nor bad in itself, but can be used either well by the wise or badly by the foolish.  Socrates says that he heard the famous Sophist Prodicus using the same argument the day before in the Lyceum:

I heard that very argument used in the Lyceum yesterday by a wise man, Prodicus of Ceos; but the audience thought that he was talking mere nonsense, and no one could be persuaded that he was speaking the truth. And when at last a certain talkative young gentleman came in, and, taking his seat, began to laugh and jeer at Prodicus, tormenting him and demanding an explanation of his argument, he gained the ear of the audience far more than Prodicus. (Eryxias)

At the end of Plato’s Symposium, when everyone else is drunk and has fallen asleep, we’re told that Socrates leaves early in the morning to spend the rest of his day at the Lyceum, presumably discussing philosophy:

Socrates, having laid them to sleep, rose to depart; Aristodemus, as his manner was, following him. At the Lyceum he took a bath, and passed the day as usual. In the evening he retired to rest at his own home. (Symposium)

So long before Aristotle’s time, the Lyceum was associated with the Sophists and later with Socrates, who liked to go there to talk with them and their students.  What about the Stoics, though?

The Stoics at the Lyceum

After Zeno, the founder of Stoicism died, the Athenians honoured him with an official decree, which Diogenes Laertius quotes in full.   Curiously, it was permanently inscribed on two stone pillars installed at the Academy and the Lyceum, the homes of the Platonic and Aristotelian schools respectively.

Whereas Zeno of Citium, son of Mnaseas, has for many years been devoted to philosophy in the city and has continued to be a man of worth in all other respects, exhorting to virtue and temperance those of the youth who come to him to be taught, directing them to what is best, affording to all in his own conduct a pattern for imitation in perfect consistency with his teaching, it has seemed good to the people – and may it turn out well – to bestow praise upon Zeno of Citium, the son of Mnaseas, and to crown him with a golden crown according to the law, for his goodness and temperance, and to build him a tomb in the Ceramicus at the public cost. And that for the making of the crown and the building of the tomb, the people shall now elect five commissioners from all Athenians, and the Secretary of State shall inscribe this decree on two stone pillars and it shall be lawful for him to set up one in the Academy and the other in the Lyceum. And that the magistrate presiding over the administration shall apportion the expense incurred upon the pillars, that all may know that the Athenian people honour the good both in their life and after their death. Thraso of the deme Anacaea, Philocles of Peiraeus, Phaedrus of Anaphlystus, Medon of Acharnae, Micythus of Sypalettus, and Dion of Paeania have been elected commissioners for the making of the crown and the building. (Diogenes Laertius)

We’re also told that after Zeno’s death, the third head of the Stoic school, Chrysippus, actually lectured at the Lyceum, presumably in addition to speaking at the Stoa Poikile, the traditional home of the Stoic school.

Demetrius above mentioned is also our authority for the statement that Chrysippus was the first who ventured to hold a lecture-class in the open air in the Lyceum. (Diogenes Laertius)

It’s not clear what Diogenes Laertius means.  Perhaps that previous philosophers had either spoken to small groups while walking there or lectured inside buildings whereas Chrysippus was the first to hold formal lectures publicly in the grounds of Lyceum.  It’s possible, though, that he means Chrysippus was the first Stoic to hold lectures at the Lyceum, which by that time was mainly associated with the Aristotelian school, but certainly not off-limits to other philosophers.

Centuries later, the last famous Stoic, the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius, would formally reintroduce a chair of philosophy at the Lyceum, after visiting Athens, a few years before his death.

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Socrates Stoicism

Athens: Visiting the “Prison of Socrates”

The Greeks tell tourists this house carved into the Hill of the Muses is the “prison of Socrates” but there doesn’t seem to be any real evidence for that.  Still, it’s worth a visit.  You could maybe climb though the bars and imagine that you’re awaiting a cup of hemlock, if you want to relive the great philosopher’s last days.  (Here are some photos from my trip to the so-called “Prison of Socrates”.)

The Stoics were particularly interested in the way Socrates resigned himself to his fate after being condemned to death by the Athenians.  For example, Epictetus wrote:

What then is the punishment of those who do not accept? It is to be what they are. Is any person dissatisfied with being alone? let him be alone. Is a man dissatisfied with his parents? let him be a bad son, and lament. Is he dissatisfied with his children? let him be a bad father. Cast him into prison. What prison? Where he is already, for he is there against his will; and where a man is against his will, there he is in prison. So Socrates was not in prison, for he was there willingly. (Discourses, 1.12)

For the Stoics, in typically paradoxical fashion, anyone who resents his fate or craves more than he has effectively condemns himself to dwell in a psychological prison of his own making.  Socrates, by contrast, was as free as a bird, even as he sat chained in a cell.

Socrates was so indifferent to his own predicament that he spent his time discussing philosophy when his friends visited, or composing poems when alone.  This was something Epictetus saw as emblematic of his philosophical attitude toward death:

And we shall then be imitators of Socrates, when we are able to write paeans in prison. (Discourses, 2.6)

Epictetus would have his students say that it was not Socrates who was chained in prison but his body, while his mind remained as free as ever.

How strange then that Socrates should have been so treated by the Athenians. Slave, why do you say Socrates? Speak of the thing as it is: how strange that the poor body of Socrates should have been carried off and dragged to prison by stronger men, and that any one should have given hemlock to the poor body of Socrates, and that it should breathe out the life. Do these things seem strange, do they seem unjust, do you on account of these things blame God? Had Socrates then no equivalent for these things? Where then for him was the nature of good? Whom shall we listen to, you or him? And what does Socrates say? Anytus and Melitus can kill me, but they cannot hurt me: and further, he says, “If it so pleases God, so let it be.” (Discourses, 1.29)

Anytus and Melitus were the two main accusers who brought Socrates to trial.  This final part of the quote is also the closing line of the Handbook of Epictetus:

O Crito, if so it pleases the Gods, so let it be; Anytus and Melitus are able indeed to kill me, but they cannot harm me.

These two quotes, from the Crito and Apology respectively, were obviously of great significance to Epictetus and his students.  Moreover, we’re told that a one of Epictetus’ heroes, Thrasea, the leader of the Stoic Opposition, was known for saying: “Nero can kill me but he cannot harm me.”

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Socrates

Athens Day One: The Stoa Poikile

I arrived in Athens last night so this morning I decided to head straight for the Stoa Poikile, the home of Stoicism.  A Greek stoa is a colonnade: basically a row of columns supporting a roof.  The Stoa Poikile had a wall on one side giving shade, so it’s described as a portico or a plain old “porch”.  It’s also a bit like the ancient equivalent of what we might call a covered “arcade” today.  Stoa Poikile literally just means “painted porch” therefore.  It was so called because of the highly-regarded paintings that adorned the wall.  It was originally called the Porch of Peisianax, after the Athenian statesman who commissioned it in the 5th century BC.  (That’s my Photo of the Stoa Poikile in Athens, the other photos in this post are from the web.)

The part of the Athenian agora where it was located is now an archeological site in the middle of the city, although there’s not a whole lot to see there except the rubble walls of lots of ancient Athenian shops and many ruined wells, descending into the river that runs below.  There’s a bar situated beside and above the ruins, the Poikile Stoa, which is named after the ancient Stoa Poikile.  There wasn’t a lot of philosophy going on inside, though.  There was an assortment of classical paintings.

I asked the barman where exactly the ruined foundations of the Stoa Poikile were among the rubble below.  His version of the story was that the archeologists originally believed they’d found it but it turned out just to be the wall of another shop.  So they don’t know exactly where it is.  He said they know it must be somewhere nearby so they want to tear down his bar and “keep dig, dig, dig” underneath.  He was a bit annoyed about this and, pointing down toward the rubble, he ruefully observed: “Where you gonna drink beer?  You can’t drink beer in this, eh?”  Another young Greek at a table nearby having a drink with a young woman added: “We’re Greeks but we don’t know anything about history anymore; nobody cares”, shrugging and shaking his head sadly.  Someone else told me that the Stoa Poikile is there alright but they heard only a third of its ruined foundations remain.  (The picture here shows what’s left of the Stoa Poikile beside the ruins of some nearby shops.)

Anyway, there’s not much to see down there anymore.  Although the nearby reconstruction of the Stoa of Attalus, another colonnade, probably looked fairly similar to the one we’re after. (It’s shown in this picture.) Perhaps so little remaining of the Stoa Poikile is a reminder that nothing lasts forever, and that even great architecture eventually crumbles, disappears, and is forgotten.

We know that Zeno chose this as the home of his school, who were at first called Zenonians and later became known simply as the Stoics after the stoa where they gathered.  There are a few notable things about that…

Stories about the Stoa

The Stoa Poikile was a public building, a sort of porch offering protection from the sun.  The Cynics reputedly slept on such porches and it’s tempting to wonder whether Zeno, who had been a Cynic himself for many years, may have slept here at some point in his life, perhaps before founding his school.  It’s very public and situated among the shops on the edge of the Athenian agora, precisely where Socrates used to mingle with craftsmen discussing philosophy.  Zeno was undoubtedly aware of that historical connection and probably saw himself as teaching in public as Socrates had done before him.  By contrast, other schools of philosophy were typically located in gymnasia, or public spaces set aside for exercise and training, away from the hubbub of the marketplace.  Women were strictly prohibited from entering the grounds of gymnasia, although it’s not clear whether some may have been permitted to go to the Stoa Poikile, given that the Stoics appear to advocate teaching philosophy to women.  (There’s a story that two women attended Plato’s Academy but had to disguise themselves as men to do so.)  Then again, women generally seem to have had limited access to the agora as well.  The Stoa Poikile was presumably a more open and public location than a philosophical school built in the grounds of a gymnasium, though.  Some have even seen the name “Stoic” as implying something like “philosophy of the street”.

Moreover, whereas other schools were named after their founders, such as Pythagoreanism or Epicureanism, the Stoics rejected this notion.  I think that’s because the Stoics insisted that none of them, not even Zeno, were perfectly wise.  Unlike the Pythagoreans and Epicureans, who did consider their founders to be perfect sages, the Stoics didn’t memorize Zeno’s teachings by rote learning.  Instead they were encouraged to employ the Socratic method and think for themselves, something we tend to think of now as a hallmark of true philosophy.  Zeno, incidentally, used to pace rapidly up and down the length of the Stoa Poikile while discoursing on philosophy, according to Diogenes Laertius, “his object being to keep the spot clear of a concourse of idlers”.

The Stoa Poikile was, in a sense, a sort of Athenian art gallery.  Its wall was decorated with four large plates painted by Micon of Athens, Polygnotos of Thasos, and perhaps others.  They depict:

  1. The mythic battle between Theseus and the Amazons, a scene which may have been in Cleanthes’ mind, the second head of the Stoa, when he wrote that virtue is the same in men and women
  2. The legendary fall of Troy to the Greeks led by Agamemnon, after its defences had been breached by the Stoic hero Odysseus using the “Trojan Horse” trick
  3. The real, historical Battle of Oenoe where the Athenians defeated the Spartans, although the Stoics appear to have admired the Spartans for their self-discipline
  4. The historical Battle of Marathon (490 BC) where the Athenians won a great victory against the Persian army, during the reign of King Darius I

So Zeno lectured in front of these four huge paintings depicting various real and imaginary battles.  Possibly Epictetus was influenced by something the early Greek Stoics had said about the Amazonomachy scene dominating the location of their school, for instance, in Discourse 2.16.  He tells his own Stoic students “nor yet are you Theseus, able to purge away the evil things of Attica” but that instead of defeating monsters and barbarians to clear the region around Athens, they should clear away the evil things within themselves, such as sadness, fear, desire, envy, and intemperance, etc.  Epictetus also brings up the Trojan War several times, such as at Discourses 1.28 when he says:

When was Achilles ruined? Was it when Patroclus died? Not so. But it happened when he began to be angry, when he wept for a girl, when he forgot that he was at Troy not to get mistresses, but to fight. These things are the ruin of men, this is being besieged, this is the destruction of cities, when right opinions are destroyed, when they are corrupted.

Were scenes such as these, which he discusses with his Stoic students, also discussed by the early Greek Stoics while they paced up and  down before Polygnotus’ famous painting, which actually depicted the fall of Troy?

Given this visual backdrop to the Athenian Stoic school, it’s perhaps no surprise, indeed, that a range of both artistic and military metaphors find their way into Stoic writings  I like to imagine, for instance, that Zeno might have told his students that although the scenes of battle depicted looked realistic and showed graphic violence, no sane person was afraid of them, because they realize they’re just pictures (impressions) and not the things they represent, to borrow a phrase used centuries later by Epictetus.  That’s just speculation, of course.  Although, Marcus Aurelius, who painted himself and was actually first introduced to philosophy by his painting master, appears to be referring to visual aesthetics in the following remarkable passage:

And ears of corn bending towards the earth, and the wrinkled brows of a lion, and the foam dripping from the jaws of a wild boar, and many other things are far from beautiful if one views them in isolation, but nevertheless, the fact that they follow from natural processes gives them an added beauty and makes them attractive to us. So if a person is endowed with sensibility and has a deep enough insight into the workings of the universe, he will find scarcely anything which fails to please him in some way by its presence, even among those that arise as secondary effects. Such a person will view the gaping jaws of wild beasts in their physical reality with no less pleasure than the portrayals of them displayed by painters and sculptors, and he will be able to see in an old woman or old man a special kind of mature beauty, and to look on the youthful charms of his slave boys with chaste eyes. And one could cite many similar examples, which will not seem persuasive to everyone, but will only strike home with those who are genuinely familiar with nature and all her works. (Meditations, 3.2)

Note: Marcus says here that the Stoic wise man will regard the gaping jaws of ferocious beasts such as lions and wild boars with the same indifference that he views their depiction by artists and sculptors.  Could this remarkable idea go back to something Zeno may have said about the paintings on the porch  Marcus, of course, also says that “life is warfare”, a theme that may have occurred to Zeno and his students as they met each day to discuss philosophy before a backdrop depicting the carnage of ancient warfare.

Finally, Diogenes Laertius adds a shocking historical detail: “It was the spot where in the time of the Thirty 1,400 Athenian citizens had been put to death.”  If this is true, Zeno would have also known about it, and it therefore perhaps inspired some of the Stoic thoughts about the theme of death.  The Thirty Tyrants were basically a puppet oligarchic regime or junta installed over Athens at the end of the Peloponnesian War by the victorious Spartans.  They were vastly unpopular because they soon turned to into brutal tyrants, rounding up and executing foreign residents (metics, immigrants) and democrats.  They carried out summary executions of the wealthy in order to line their own pockets by seizing their assets.  Zeno would have known that Critias, the head of the Thirty Tyrants, and a former pupil of Socrates, allegedly tried to pass a law banning his old teacher from discussing politics or philosophy, because he was criticizing the regime indirectly.  Socrates said that a good shepherd does not diminish thus the size of his flock, which Critias rightly took to be a criticism of the mass executions being carried out by him.   Socrates seems to have ignored this ban.  Critias then employed a tactic used on others and ordered Socrates to join a small posse to arrest and summarily execute an innocent man called Leon of Salamis, another foreign resident, perhaps with democrat sympathies.  Socrates simply refused.  Critias had hoped either to implicate him in his crimes or, if he refused, to be provided with a pretext for executing him, for disobeying a direct order.  However, the oligarchy was overthrown by a democrat uprising before they could have Socrates executed, so he got away by the skin of his teeth.

Anyway, Zeno was probably also aware that Socrates had risked his own life defying the orders of Critias and the Thirty Tyrants in this way.  This famous example of courage in the face of injustice, demonstrated by Socrates, was likely also in his mind as he lectured every day at the Stoa Poikile, the scene where such executions were carried out.  I was tempted to tell my barman friend that 1,400 ancient Athenians were summarily executed on the ruined porch underneath his establishment, probably by strangulation rather than hemlock like Socrates, but I’m not sure he would have wanted to know that.

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Socrates Stories

Socrates on Finding Jobs for Refugees

Xenophon records several examples of situations in which Socrates helped his friends to cope with difficulties. He was perceived as having a talent for giving sound practical advice. When someone had a problem that could be resolved by knowledge, he would try to educate them. When they faced practical obstacles he would encourage his friends to help one another in various ways. In this dialogue, Xenophon reports a conversation between Socrates and an otherwise unknown man called Aristarchus about how to deal with refugees (Memorabilia, 2.7).  I’ve paraphrased it below, and added a few brief comments for clarification.

The context is perhaps the democrat uprising against the Thirty Tyrants, a pro-Spartan oligarchy that ruled Athens for eight months. Xenophon is believed to have left Athens for good a couple of years after this event. A rebel army led by the naval officer Thrasybulus had captured the port of Piraeus and many democrat exiles rallied there before the final battle that overthrew the oligarchy of the Thirty, and restored democracy in Athens.

The Dialogue

One day, Socrates noticed that Aristarchus appeared rather despondent. “You look as though you were weighed down by something, Aristarchus”, he said. “You ought to share the burden with your friends; perhaps we could even help relieve you a little.” Aristarchus explains his problem. He says that since the “civil war” broke out, and many Athenians fled to the nearby port of Piraeus, a large number of female refugees have gathered under his roof. Including his sisters, nieces, and cousins, there are now fourteen women seeking shelter in his household. Aristarchus is in dire straits. His family can get nothing from their farm because the land has been seized by their opponents. They cannot raise any money from other properties they own because he says the city is practically deserted. There are no potential buyers for one’s belongings and it’s impossible even to raise a loan from anyone. He jokes that you’ve a better chance of finding money by searching for it on the streets than by applying for a loan. Aristarchus is clearly in despair and he says it is very painful to “stand by and watch one’s family die by degrees” because in such difficult circumstances he lacks the resources even to feed so many of them.

Having heard this, Socrates asks how another man, called Ceramon, is able not only to provide for his large household, and feed them, but also to make a profit and become rich, at the same time Aristarchus’ family are dying of want. This is typical Socrates: he often begins by questioning whether other people might respond to the same situation differently. Aristarchus says this is because Ceramon’s household is full of slaves whereas his own problem is supporting free people, his relatives. Socrates asks whether Aristarchus views the free people in his own household as superior to the slaves in Ceramon’s. He says that he does. It’s a shame, muses Socrates, drawing attention to a paradox, that Ceramon should actually be prospering because of the size of his household whereas Aristarchus is struggling because of his, despite believing his guests to be better people.

Well, says, Aristarchus, that’s surely because he’s supporting slaves who work for him as craftsmen whereas I’m supporting people who were born and raised in freedom. Socrates responds by asking what it means to be a craftsman or artisan. Aristarchus agrees with his suggestion that it obviously means someone who knows how to make something useful. Now Socrates brainstorms a list of examples… So is hulled barley useful? What about bread? Men and women’s coats, shirts, cloaks, or tunics? Aristarchus agrees that all of these things are very useful.

Well, says Socrates, don’t your guests know how to make any of these things? On the contrary, says Aristarchus, they presumably know how to make all of those. Don’t you know, says Socrates, that from one of these trades alone, hulling barley, Nausicydes supports not only himself and his servants but also a large number of pigs and cattle? He has so much to spare that he often carries out public services for the state as well. And didn’t you hear that Cyrebus maintains a whole household and lives in luxury just by baking bread? Then there’s Demeas of Collytus who makes a living by manufacturing cloaks, Meno who weaves blankets, and most of the Megarians earn their living making tunics.

That’s true, replies a hesitant Aristarchus, but these people all keep foreign slaves to do the work for them. They can force them to do whatever happens to be convenient to support the household but I’m dealing with free people, who are my relatives. Do you really think that just because they’re free born and related to you, exclaims Socrates, that they should do nothing but eat and sleep? What about other free people? Don’t you think that people who work and apply themselves energetically to doing something constructive have a better quality of life and aren’t they more fulfilled than those who do nothing useful? Or do you find that idleness and apathy help people to learn and improve, to gain physical health and fitness, and to prosper in life? Surely these female relatives of yours, asks Socrates, didn’t learn these arts because they regarded them as being of no practical benefit? Surely they learned them intending to practice them seriously in a manner that’s of benefit to themselves and others? So is it more sensible for humans to do no work at all or to occupy themselves useful in such things? And which person has more integrity: one who works or one who frets about how to obtain life’s necessities without working?

As things are right now, he adds, I would imagine that there’s no love lost between you and them. You feel that these women are imposing a great burden on you by seeking refuge in your home and they must be able to see that you’re growing irritated with them. So there’s a real danger that animosity will grow to replace your initial feelings of goodwill toward one another. However, if you encourage them to do work, you will naturally begin to feel more positively about their presence when you see that they’re doing something beneficial for you and they will grow more fond of you when they realize that you’re pleased to have them as your guests. Over time, you’ll feel more and more gratitude toward one another, and your relationship will improve – you’ll become good friends.

Now, of course, if the women in your household were forced into some dishonourable occupation in order to survive they might feel like their lives were not worth living anymore. However, as it stands, the work at which they’re already competent seems to be of the sort considered most respectable and appropriate for a woman. Moreover, people always do better, make faster progress, and take more enjoyment in work they understand well. So don’t hesitate to suggest this solution to them as it’s a course of action that will benefit both you and them. I’m sure they’ll be glad to comply. Aristarchus was convinced. He told Socrates that he thought that sounded like great advice. “Until now,” he said, “I’ve been too anxious to borrow because I knew I wouldn’t be able to pay it back but now I feel that I can justify a loan to get work started.”

Epilogue

Indeed, Xenophon tells us what happened afterwards. As a result of this conversation, he says Aristarchus obtained the capital required to purchase wool for the women. They would start work before breakfast and continue until supper, and became more cheerful as a result of their situation improving. Instead of looking askance at one another the two parties became better friends. The women came to look upon Aristarchus as their guardian, and he came to respect them for helping to support the household. Eventually, he went to visit Socrates and was delighted to tell him how well things had worked out. He jokes that although at first he was worried about putting them to work now the women criticize him for being the only person in the household who’s not weaving.

“You should tell them the story about the dog,” said Socrates. They say that back when animals could talk a sheep said to its shepherd: “I don’t understand. We sheep provide you with wool and lambs and cheese but you give us nothing except grass to eat. The dog gives you nothing but you treat him as if he’s special, and share your own meals with him.” The dog overheard and replied: “Quite right too! I am the one to whom you owe your safety. I protect you from being stolen by men or seized by wolves. If I didn’t keep watch over the flock you wouldn’t even be able to graze in peace for fear of being killed.” When they heard this argument, says Socrates, even the sheep admitted that the dog deserved his privileges. So you should tell the women who are guests in your home that you’re like the dog in that story, guarding them and taking care of them. That should remind them that it’s through your goodwill that they’re able to live and work in safety, and be happy.”

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Socrates Stoicism

Video: Socrates, Stoicism, and Cognitive Therapy

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Socrates Stoicism

The Stoic Socrates: Four Emotional Resilience Strategies

There’s a remarkable series of passages in Plato’s Republic, where Socrates is portrayed describing four reasons why wise men don’t allow themselves to indulge in excessive grief when faced with misfortune.  We can also view these as four cognitive (thinking) strategies for coping with adversity, and building emotional resilience.  These appear to foreshadow Stoic advice for coping with adversity or themes found in the Hellenistic “consolation” (consolatio) literature written by both Stoics and Platonists, most notably including Seneca and Plutarch.   (If you want to learn more about Socrates, incidentally, check out my free mini-course on his life and philosophy.)

This first comes up in Book 3 of the Republic, where Socrates argues that the heroes depicted in tragic poetry often provide people with negative role models, insofar as they’re made to give pitiful speeches lamenting their misfortune to excess (387d-388d).  He says that a good man doesn’t regard death as a catastrophic thing for someone to suffer, even the death of one of his friends.  A wise man, therefore, will not grieve as terribly over the loss of his loved ones as tragic heroes did such as, say, Achilles.  The wise and good man is surely someone as self-sufficient as can be, Socrates says, and the least dependent on others of all men.  So to lose his son, brother, possessions, or any such thing, would seem less dreadful to the wise and good man than it would to other people.  Therefore, concludes Socrates, he will give way to lamentation less and bear misfortune more calmly and quietly than others.  He doesn’t, though, say that the wise man would not grieve or lament at all.

The idea that good (or wise) men somehow cope better than others with misfortune is finally picked back up again in Book 10 of the Republic (603e-604d).  Socrates now appears to claim, unsurprisingly, that training in philosophy can contribute to emotional resilience.  He begins by recalling his earlier assertion that a good man who has the misfortune to lose his son, or anything else dear to him, will bear the loss with greater equanimity than others would.  Although such a man cannot help feeling sorrow, he will moderate his sorrow.  There is, he says, a “principle of law and reason” in man that bids him resist being overwhelmed by the feeling of misfortune, although grief pulls him in the other direction.  (He then proceeds to use this observation in order to provide support for Plato’s tripartite division of the soul, which the Stoics rejected, and which was probably an alien notion to the real Socrates.)

Socrates claims that the intellect of the wise and good man is willing to follow the law of reason, which tells us it is best to be patient in the face of suffering.  He adds that reason (or presumably also philosophy) tells us that we should not give way to impatience for the following reasons:

  1. There is no way to be certain whether the events that befall us will turn out to be good or bad for us.  (Many of our greatest setbacks in life turn out to be for the best, and they’re often opportunities or blessings in disguise, but what matters most is whether we respond wisely or foolishly to events.)
  2. We gain nothing by taking misfortunes badly, grieving overmuch simply adds another layer to our problem.
  3. No human affairs are of great importance anyway, in the grand scheme of things, so they’re not worth taking seriously enough to get highly upset about them.
  4. Grief actually stands in the way and prevents us from exercising reason, the very thing that would help us most when faced with adversity.

Socrates elaborates upon the last point by saying that the thing most required when facing misfortune is that we take counsel with ourselves and deliberate rationally about the problem, “as we would the fall of the dice”.  We should plan the best response under the circumstances, or as psychologists today often say we should employ a rational problem-solving response.

We mustn’t, like children who have taken a fall, he says, keep hold of the part hurt and waste our time wailing.  Instead, we should train our minds to apply the psychological remedy as quickly as possible, healing what is sickly, fixing the problem, and banishing our cries of sorrow through the healing art.  That’s easily recognizable as a description of what we call today “emotional resilience”, or the ability to rebound after experiencing some misfortune.  That is how we should meet the attacks of fortune and not by indulging those irrational emotions, agrees Glaucon, his interlocutor.  On the other hand, those who indulge their unruly passions never tire of recalling troubles and lamenting over them, says Socrates, in an irrational, useless, and even cowardly manner.  That sounds like a description of what we would call “morbid rumination” in modern psychotherapy.

We might compare these reasons or cognitive strategies to four exercises found in Stoic literature:

  1. Remembering that external things, beyond our direct control, are neither good nor bad in themselves, but rather indifferent with regard to the goal of life.
  2. Contemplating the consequences of responding rationally versus passionately, which I call Stoic “functional analysis”.
  3. Grasping events from a broader and more comprehensive perspective, such as the “View from Above”.
  4. Asking ourselves what “What virtue has nature given me to deal with this?”, bearing in mind that the virtues of courage and moderation, which we praise in others, are designed to limit the emotion of fear and unruly desires, in accord with reason.

The foundation of this argument in Plato’s Republic, though, is undoubtedly the first of these, which amounts to the argument that external things are neither good nor bad in themselves, but should be viewed as indifferent.  What matters is whether we make use of them wisely or foolishly.  That basic notion crops up several times throughout the Socratic literature and becomes central to Stoic therapy of the passions.

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Socrates Stoicism

Three Strategies of the Stoic Socrates

When confronted by the troubling behaviour of others, there were three main strategies or ideas that Socrates employed, which were later assimilated into Stoic philosophy.  (If you want to learn more, incidentally, check out my free mini-course on Socrates.)

1. Other people’s behaviour is indifferent

Socrates liked to remind himself and others that external events, including the actions of others, are neither good nor bad in themselves, but only insofar as we respond to them wisely or foolishly.   Events that are neither good nor bad are indifferent.  For example, he explains to his eldest son Lamprocles that the notorious tongue-lashings they receive from Socrates’ wife Xanthippe are no worse than those delivered by actors on the stage.  But one actor is not upset when another yells abuse at him.  So the behaviour in itself is indifferent, it’s our interpretation of it that upsets us, and we should remind ourselves of that.

2. Nobody does evil willingly

Socrates famously argued that no man does evil knowingly, which means he cannot do it willingly.  Everyone believes what he is doing to be right, he says, in other words he does what he does for the sake of achieving what he considers to be good for himself.  Socrates therefore argued that when people act viciously or unjustly it’s because they’re making an error of judgement about the course of action that will lead to their own good.  Realizing this we should pity the unjust, if anything, rather than feeling anger toward them.  They’re making the same sort of mistakes that children often make before they’ve learned to see beyond the misleading initial impressions we have of certain things.

3. Other people provide us with an opportunity to exercise our own virtue

Once we realize that other people’s actions are neither good nor bad and that injustice is due to ignorance, it becomes apparent that what matters most is whether our own response is good or bad.  Challenging situations, where our initial impressions are potentially upsetting, give us an opportunity to exercise wisdom and virtue, and doing so repeatedly strengthens our own character.  Socrates was often asked by his friends why he put up with Xanthippe scolding him, throwing cold water over him, and even ripping the shirt from his back in the street.  Socrates said that the best trainers choose to work with spirited horses knowing that by doing so they improve their own skills and become more confident dealing with whatever type of horses they may encounter in the future.  (Xanthippe’s name means yellow or golden horse in Greek.)

In the same way, Socrates said that putting up with Xanthippe was good training to strengthen his own character.  He knew that she was a good wife and mother, fundamentally, it was just that her quick temper sometimes created a negative appearance but he considered that misleading and saw beyond it.  Socrates liked to say that as small children we at first fear others wearing scary masks (think Halloween costumes).  When we realize that underneath the mask, it’s just other children having fun, the fear is eliminated.  He said we should view other events in the same way as adults, treating our initial impressions like bugbear masks.  The wise man pauses to remove the mask, examining what’s really behind it rationally, and thus his fears are often eliminated by greater knowledge and understanding of the truth.

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Socrates

Was Socrates a Real Person? and Other Questions

I’ve noticed over the years that a surprising number of people out there are unsure whether Socrates actually existed or not.  Some people who aren’t familiar with the classics are just curious about the evidence, which is understandable.  Some people have the vague idea that he’s perhaps a character created by Plato.  There are a few people on the Internet who seem utterly convinced he’s a completely fictional character, though.

Quick note: If you’ve got about fifteen minutes to spare and want to learn more about Socrates then I would highly recommend taking a look at the Crash Course on Socrates I built for that purpose.  It’s completely free of charge and designed for complete newcomers.

Anyway, before we get into the evidence, here are are some of Google’s results for the most commonly searched questions about Socrates.  Sure enough, “Was Socrates a real person?” and “Was Socrates real?” are up there.  So are some more surprising questions and some most students of classics would probably expect to find.  I’m going to comment briefly on them all below:

Was Socrates a real person?

Yes.  At least no modern scholars really question the fact he existed.  Socrates was a very well-known figure at Athens during his own lifetime and his execution in 399 BC catapulted him into even greater and more lasting fame.  We obviously can’t go back and check but because of the nature of the evidence that survives someone would have to be unusually skeptical to believe he never existed.  We don’t have any surviving writings by Socrates, although as we’ll see below he reputedly did write some poetry.  So what evidence do we possess?

First of all, three major independent descriptions of his life and character survive today that were written by authors who were his contemporaries.  We have nearly a hundred dialogues written by two of his students, Plato and Xenophon, which portray him doing philosophy and include many details about his life.  The playwright Aristophanes, who also knew him in person, satirizes him in three surviving plays, which were well-known during his lifetime: The Clouds, The Frogs, and The Birds.  These were performed at annual Athenian festivals at which plays competed for prizes, and were undoubtedly quite famous at the time.  The Frogs took first prize at the Lenaia festival and The Birds second prize at the Dionysia festival.  The Clouds came last when it was performed at the latter festival but was then widely-circulated in a revised manuscript form.

In addition to those three major sources, though, we also have surviving references to Socrates from at least four other comic playwrights: Eupolis, Emeipsias, Theopompus, and one who is anonymous.  Moreover, we have additional fragments about Socrates from the speeches of two Athenian orators: Isocrates and Aeschines.  John Ferguson’s excellent Socrates: a Source Book (1970) contains these and many other passages from a variety of ancient authors who mention Socrates by name.

Socrates, in the aftermath of his execution, was pretty much the most famous person in Greece.  Many dialogues portraying him circulated at the time.  It would be very surprising indeed if these were all referring to a fictional character and even if they were, we’d expect other authors, especially those who viewed Socrates and his followers less favourably, to point this out.  It’s clear that his existence was taken for granted by all the ancient authors who mention him, though.  The main details of his life, such as the fact that he was executed, were clearly taken for granted as well, although there was an ancient rumour that in some of his dialogues Plato (sometimes but not always) used Socrates to express his own ideas, such as the famous Theory of Forms and his tripartite division of the soul.  It’s generally agreed that Plato did this to some extent although the scope and extent of it is uncertain.  Most scholars divide his dialogues into early, middle, and late periods and accept that the early ones are more accurate representations of Socrates whereas the middle and late ones often use Socrates as a mouthpiece for Plato’s own metaphysical ideas.  Diogenes Laertius, an ancient biographer of philosophers, wrote:

They say that, on hearing Plato read the Lysis, Socrates exclaimed, “By Heracles, what a number of lies this young man is telling about me!” For he has included in the dialogue much that Socrates never said.

However, the Lysis is usually classed as one of Plato’s early dialogues.  Xenophon’s dialogues are perhaps more faithful to the real Socrates.  He makes no mention of the Theory of Forms, which is usually thought to come from Plato rather than Socrates.

There are numerous brief references to Socrates throughout the writings of the philosopher Aristotle, who was fifteen when Socrates was executed.  Aristotle couldn’t have met Socrates himself because he only moved to Athens a few years after his death but he would certainly have met many people who had known Socrates in person.   Aristotle also attests that the Theory of Forms came from Plato and not Socrates.  Aristotle sometimes writes “the Socrates” (a common Greek convention) and at other times just “Socrates” – some modern scholars believe that when he uses the former he’s referring to the semi-true portrayal of Socrates in Plato’s middle and later dialogues.

In addition to Plato and Xenophon, Socrates also had several more followers who were well-known teachers or prolific writers, such as Antisthenes, Aristippus of Cyrene, Phaedo of Elis, and Euclid of Megara.  None of their writings survive but the existence of these and other “Socratic Schools” after his death provides additional, perhaps circumstantial, evidence, and many remarks about Socrates that survive today were attributed to them.  Only roughly 1% of classical literature survives today so we often find references in the ancient works that do survive to earlier authors whose texts are now lost.  There are therefore also numerous additional references to Socrates in the writings of pagan and Christian authors, throughout the following centuries, who are often alluding to early Greek literature that is lost to us now.

For example, I’ve also seen the claim online that no official documents relating to Socrates’ life exist.  Actually, this isn’t true.  Many centuries after his death, albeit in a biography of Socrates based on much earlier sources, Diogenes Laertius writes:

The affidavit in the case, which is still preserved, says Favorinus, in the Metron, ran as follows: “This indictment and affidavit is sworn by Meletus, the son of Meletus of Pitthos, against Socrates, the son of Sophroniscus of Alopece: Socrates is guilty of refusing to recognize the gods recognized by the state, and of introducing other new divinities. He is also guilty of corrupting the youth. The penalty demanded is death.”

So that does purport to be a fragment from an official document relating to the trial, which is plausible.  The various details it contains are all consistent with a variety of earlier sources.  With later sources like these we have to be cautious but they’re often just reproducing passages from earlier writings that survived down to their own time but not to ours.

So there’s no (reasonable) doubt that Socrates was a real person, although there’s some doubt over the reliability of information about his life and teachings.  This even has a name: it is known as the Socratic problem.  It’s a complex question but historians and philosophers have ways of trying to evaluate the available information.  For example, where several ancient authors appear to corroborate each other we can infer that what they’re saying is probably true.  It also helps that our sources are quite independent from one another another include authors from different orientations – poets, orators, philosophers – with views toward him ranging from very favourable to openly satirical, even hostile.

Was Socrates religious?

Yes.  He observed the same religious customs as most other Athenian citizens.  He seems to have had a particular affinity for the god Apollo, whose Oracle at Delphi reputedly pronounced that nobody was wiser than Socrates thereby inspiring him to find his vocation as a philosopher.  He had views of a religious nature that many Athenians saw as controversial, particularly his claim to have a “divine sign” (daimonion), like an inner voice or conscience, that guided him away from doing certain things.  Sometimes he was portrayed as raising questions skeptically about particular aspects of religion, such as whether there’s an afterlife, but he’s typically portrayed as quite pious in his religious beliefs.

Was Socrates guilty?

We don’t know.  The question is complicated by the fact that the charges against him were somewhat ambiguous and described in slightly different language by Plato and Xenophon in their accounts of his trial (Apology) and in Diogenes’ Laertius’ account of the indictment (see above).  The jury of 500 male Athenian citizens reputedly found him guilty by 280 votes to 220.  However, it’s widely believed that his trial was really about something else.  Socrates may have provoked hostility because of his skeptical questioning of powerful Athenian figures, or implied criticism of them, as well as his perceived political leanings, the behaviour of two of his notorious students (Alcibiades and Critias) and other aspects of his life.  There was an amnesty in effect at Athens at this time against many political charges, following the overthrow of a brutal oligarchic regime known as the Thirty Tyrants, set up by the Spartans after the Athenians lost the Peloponnesian War.   So Socrates’ trial actually raises some very complex historical questions, which scholars have wrestled over throughout the years.  Athenian courts at this time were easily swayed by orators whipping up their prejudices, as well as by bribes and threats, so it’s difficult to know how much faith to put in the jury.  The charges are vague enough that it’s hard to be sure how the jury would have interpreted them.  For example, scholars today have different views about what specifically they had in mind by “corrupting the youth” and “impiety” or “introducing new deities”.  Even at the time, there may have been an element of subjectivity in determining whether someone’s actions justified these charges or not.  Xenophon and Plato are perhaps biased, as his devoted students, but they were at pains to portray Socrates as a sincerely pious man who sought first and foremost to teach his students how to live virtuously and respect justice.

We have two accounts of Socrates’ defence from his students, as noted above, but no real account of the prosecution case.  So, unfortunately, it’s really impossible to give a decisive “yes” or “no” answer to this question, although most of us today are sympathetic enough to Socrates that we tend to be inclined to view him as innocent and the charges against him as trumped up by people who had a grudge against him.

Was Socrates vegetarian?

Probably not.  Most ancient Athenians ate little meat anyway.  In Book 2 of Plato’s Republic, Socrates does propose a vegetarian diet for the ideal state.  There are versions of this circulated on the Internet by pro-vegetarian groups, which significantly modify the original text.

They will feed on barley-meal and flour of wheat, baking and kneading them, making noble cakes and loaves […] of course they must have a relish-salt, and olives, and cheese, and they will boil roots and herbs such as country people prepare; for a dessert we shall give them figs, and peas, and beans; and they will roast myrtle-berries and acorns at the fire, drinking in moderation. And with such a diet they may be expected to live in peace and health to a good old age, and bequeath a similar life to their children after them. (Republic, 372b-e)

Then he goes on to consider the consequences of a more luxurious life, including rearing animals for human consumption, as a potential cause of war of the need to acquire more territory.  However, the Republic, with the possible exception of Book 1, contains many instances where Plato is believed to be using Socrates as a mouthpiece for his own ideas or those derived from other philosophers such as the Pythagoreans.  So we can’t be certain these were really thoughts the real Socrates expressed  and it arguably sounds more like Plato is talking through him.

The argument against eating meat here is also somewhat vague.  It’s not that it’s inherently unhealthy or unethical but rather that combined with indulgence in other luxuries it might require expansion of the state bringing its citizens into conflict with neighbours.  You could read him as saying it’s not wrong to eat meat, it’s just that they can’t afford to let it become a habit.  The translator (of another edition) Prof. Paul Shorey comments on the passage above:

The unwholesomeness of this diet for the ordinary man proves nothing for Plato’s [or Socrates’] alleged vegetarianism. The Athenians ate but little meat.

By contrast, Xenophon, who’s often believed to portray a less adulterate version of Socrates, puts forward the familiar Argument from Design for the existence of a provident God.  Regarding non-human (“lower”) animals:

“Yes,” replied Socrates, “and is it not evident that they too receive life and food for the sake of man? For what creature reaps so many benefits as man from goats and sheep and horses and oxen and asses and the other animals? He owes more to them, in my opinion, than to the fruits of the earth. At the least they are not less valuable to him for food and commerce; in fact a large portion of mankind does not use the products [i.e., plants] of the earth for food, but lives on the milk and cheese and flesh they get from live stock.” (Memorabilia, 4.3)

In other words, Socrates is here portrayed as arguing that animals were create by God to provide humans with food, and other resources.

Was Socrates’ death tragic?

Not really.  It would depend on your definition of “tragedy” but Socrates is consistently portrayed as accepting his death and viewing it with indifference.  It’s easy to see how a modern reader would view it as tragic and Plato does portray his wife and friends as distressed but the point of the accounts that survive is that Socrates remained thoroughly unperturbed.  Xenophon was also at pains to emphasize that Socrates was very old, aged seventy, for an Athenian man at that time, and felt that he’d lived a long enough life already.

Was Socrates a student of Plato?

No.  It’s the other way round.  Plato was a student of Socrates.

Was Socrates rich?

No.  How much wealth he had is uncertain.  In Plato’s Apology he says he can afford one mina for the fine, which would be roughly 3 months’ earnings for a craftsman like a sculptor (maybe the equivalent of $15,000).  Then his more-affluent friends offer to club together and increase it to 30 minae on his behalf.  (Roughly seven and half year’s income – maybe $450,000.)

It’s often noted that Socrates could afford to buy his own armour and weapons to serve as a hoplite or heavy infantryman in the Athenian army.  That would be normal for a middle-class citizen such as a craftsman and reputedly Socrates followed his father’s trade, at first, and worked as a stonemason and sculptor.  On the other hand, he’s consistently portrayed as living a very modest life or even as having the appearance of a beggar.

There were, undoubtedly, people much worse off than him, though, and he apparently enjoyed the patronage of a number of very wealthy friends.  I would say that overall, it seems likely that Socrates lived a very modest life and was of humble means relative to other middle-class Athenians, although he probably often dined at the houses of wealthy friends and enjoyed their hospitality.  As far as I’m aware there’s no mention of him owning any slaves.  He was, however, able to support a wife (possibly two wives) and three children.  Diogenes Laertius says that he invested money and collected interest.  Aristippus, the first of Socrates’ students to charge a fee for teaching philosophy, defended this by saying that although Socrates didn’t charge he had several wealthy friends (such as Crito and Alcibiades) who supported him by sending him gifts, although he often returned some if it was more than he needed.

Was Socrates illiterate?

No.  We’re told by Plato that Socrates turned some Fables of Aesop into poems while in prison.  There was also a widespread rumour, apparently started during his lifetime, that Socrates somehow assisted the tragedian Euripides in writing some of his plays.  He was clearly very well-read, frequently quoting Homer and other poets as well as the earlier natural philosophers.  He refers several times to how cheaply valuable texts can be purchased in the stalls around the agora.  Xenophon also portrays him writing words on the ground, and sorting them into two columns, in one of his dialogues (Memorabilia, 4.2).

In Plato’s Apology he says that as a young man he obtained all the writings of the Milesian philosopher Anaxagoras and devoured their contents.  Xenophon even portrays Socrates saying that he would frequently read the books of wise men aloud to his friends.

And in company with my friends, I open and read from beginning to end the books in which the wise men of past times have written down and bequeathed to us their treasures; and when we see anything good, we take it for ourselves; and we regard our mutual friendship as great gain.’ (Memorabilia, 1.6)

So there are multiple references to him reading and writing from at least two different contemporary sources.

Did Socrates teach Aristotle?

No.  Aristotle was fifteen when Socrates died, and only arrived in Athens, where Socrates lived his whole life, a few years after his execution.   Plato, however, who had been a student of Socrates, became Aristotle’s teacher.  Aristotle reputedly studied in Plato’s Academy for twenty years.

Did Socrates die?

Yes.  Unless perhaps you believe in the immortality of the soul, which he is sometimes portrayed as saying he believes.  Obviously he died in the normal sense, though.  He was executed by the Athenian court in 399 BC.  He’s definitely not still around!

Did Socrates tutor Alexander the Great?

No.  Alexander wasn’t even born until a couple of generations after Socrates died.  Aristotle, however, is believed to have been a tutor to Alexander the Great.

Did Socrates live a good life?

That’s a matter of personal opinion but I would say yes.  The whole point of his philosophy was to live a good life, which he equated with living wisely and virtuously, even if he was poor and faced hostility from others.

Did Socrates get married?

Yes.  He had a notorious shrew of a wife called Xanthippe and three sons.  Plato says that as he awaited execution, in prison, Xanthippe was holding one of their children in her arms, so presumably he was an infant or thereabouts, and Xanthippe is therefore generally taken to have been about thirty years younger than Socrates.  Just to complicate things, though, Diogenes Laertius wrote:

Aristotle says that he [Socrates] married two wives: his first wife was Xanthippe, by whom he had a son, Lamprocles; his second wife was Myrto, the daughter of Aristides the Just, whom he took without a dowry. By her he had Sophroniscus and Menexenus. Others make Myrto his first wife; while some writers, including Satyrus and Hieronymus of Rhodes, affirm that they were both his wives at the same time. For they say that the Athenians were short of men and, wishing to increase the population, passed a decree permitting a citizen to marry one Athenian woman and have children by another; and that Socrates accordingly did so.