PLATONIC DIALOGUE AND THE COMMUNICATIVE
VIRTUES: A RECONSIDERATION

Deborah Kerdeman
University of Washington

Socratic dialogue, Christopher Higgins maintains, suffers from misunderstanding. The conventional view — that dialogue serves primarily to advance abstract argument — simply misses the psychological drama that occurs whenever Socrates engages an interlocutor. Less a solitary act of cognition than a social practice, Socratic dialectic results in “katharsis,” a kind of therapeutic education Higgins likens to the dialectical interplay of sympathy and distance characteristic of Aristotelian tragedy. On Higgins’s view, katharsis is beneficial. In his words, “many of Socrates’ dialectical cross-examinations lead to nothing if not a deeply felt psychological transformation in the interlocutor.”

Using the Meno as an example, Higgins analyzes the process and effect of educational katharsis. The case of Meno is especially challenging, because Meno exhibits the worst possible kind of ignorance: ignorance coupled with arrogance. Socrates’ task is to help Meno recognize that despite pretensions to the contrary, Meno in fact does not know all that he claims. Acquiring this type of self-knowledge, in turn, opens Meno to the possibility of genuine learning.

How does Socrates confute Meno’s vain conceit of wisdom? Not by assuming the role of “mirror,” Higgins avers. Socrates’ own lack of knowledge does not reflect Meno’s confusion. Nor does Socrates’ argumentative acumen automatically compel Meno to recognize his self-deception. Quite the contrary: Socrates actively frustrates Meno and puts him on the defensive. Glib, rude, and condescending, Socrates tricks the resistant Meno and manipulates him for his own purposes. For his part, Meno sarcastically acquiesces to Socrates’ machinations. This hardly is a model of joint inquiry, Higgins observes.

You and I no doubt wonder: what kind of dialogue is this? Yet, the strategy works. By Section 80, “Meno begins to doubt that he knew what he thought he knew and thus grows somewhat more modest.” His “frustration finally gets the best of him,” Higgins tells us, “and his demeanor changes abruptly in a moment he himself characterizes as aporetic.” In short, Socrates succeeds in dissolving Meno’s arrogance, “making Meno feel empty and thus desirous of knowledge.” At the same time, Socrates recognizes that “too much emptiness can lead to despair.” He thus proceeds to restore Meno’s confidence by presenting him with religious mysteries and poetry about the soul. Additionally, Socrates employs the slave boy to help Meno see that he, too, is capable of recollecting knowledge. In the end, “Meno is open, cooperative, eager, curious, non-adversarial, sincere, and malleable.” His transformation, Higgins stresses, is completed not by means of logical refutation, but rather through the vehicle of “dramatic presentation.”

There are a number of directions one might take to challenge Higgins’s argument. Engaging in a point-by-point refutation, however, diverts attention from the richly suggestive nature of his project. In particular, Higgins’s clear and convincing interpretation of Socratic dialogue pushes us to reconsider assumptions we have come to hold about the relationship between education and the so-called communicative virtues. Rather than challenge Higgins, therefore, I would like to use his interpretation as a lens through which to view the role that communicative virtues play in educational practice, as articulated by Suzanne Rice and Nicholas Burbules in their paper, “Communicative Virtues and Educational Relations” (referred to hereafter as RB).¹

In brief, RB argue that dialogue which is truly educative exhibits a number of virtues: “patience, tolerance for alternative points of view, respect for differences, the willingness and ability to listen thoughtfully and attentively, an openness to giving and receiving criticism, and honest and sincere self-expression.”² Without these virtues, RB contend, “it is impossible to pursue new knowledge or to embody a moral character that is sensitive to the needs and desires of disparate others. Indeed, it appears to us that these capacities for conversation are the fundamental virtues of an educated person.”³

In making these claims, RB are responding to post-modernism. Whereas for postmodernists there are no standards for communicative competence but only arbitrary constructions which reflect and perpetuate existing power relations, RB maintain that communicative virtues both signal and insure “open, inclusive, and undistorted communication.”⁴ Put differently, it is only when communicative virtues are lacking that certain voices come to dominate.⁵ Moreover, the communicative virtues, while varying from context to context, nevertheless display certain commonalities. Specifically, they tend to promote our general well-being, guard against the temptation to view our own initial perspectives as the most accurate and legitimate, and, “if Dewey is right,” facilitate “our very ability to think.”⁶ In sum, the communicative virtues, conceived as constellations of dispositions that vary from context to context, display “both the necessary regularities of human practice and the possibilities of diversity in judgment and action consistent within those regularities.”⁷ With this summary in mind, let us consider RB’s argument in light of Higgins’s essay. What questions and insights does Higgins evoke with respect to the communicative virtues? Several points come to mind.

First, Higgins reminds us that we need to be careful when thinking about how virtues relate to one other. RB aggregate patience, tolerance, respect, attentive listening, openness to giving and receiving criticism, and sincere, honest self-expression. They go on to suggest that these virtues are pre-requisite, both for pursuing new knowledge and for being sensitive to the needs of others. Intuitively, this move seems correct. Higgins’s interpretation of Socrates, however, muddles the picture. We may perhaps agree that Socrates is patient; he certainly attends to Meno. But it is not so obvious that Socrates is open to criticism. Nor does his self-expression seem honest and sincere. The point is that we cannot assume certain virtues logically or practically entail others. And without more attention to entailment, it is difficult to claim that one set of virtues is somehow fundamental. Socrates is very sensitive to what Meno needs; this does not make him any less intolerant or disingenuous. Moreover, it is precisely Socrates’ attitude that confutes the conceit of wisdom. On Higgins’s account, a tolerant, patient, sincere Socrates might never have succeeded in helping Meno pursue new knowledge.

This observation leads to a question. If enumerating fundamental virtues is so difficult, are we forced to embrace relativism? RB’s response is persuasive. Virtues are context-specific, they stress. “One cannot know in advance of actual communicative interaction precisely what it would mean to be patient, tolerant, and so on.”⁸ Following this logic, we need not reject RB’s claim that some virtues, indeed, are better than others and tend to be evidenced across various contexts. Higgins rather challenges us to take RB’s conclusion and rigorously examine it, using Socrates as a “strong” test case. Is it possible, for example, that tolerance is being exhibited by Socrates? If so, what might this tell us about conditions and forms of tolerant behavior that might not ordinarily be recognized? Engaging in such an exercise encourages us to nuance the virtues with greater subtlety. It also invites us to think critically about the dispositions RB identify as “regularities.”

It is not enough, however, to use Socrates as a test of RB’s argument. RB also can be used to test Higgins’s Socrates. Making this move, a salient question emerges: how can Socrates’ manipulations possibly be called virtuous? And if we cannot call Socrates’ behavior virtuous, can we say that it is educative?

On the strength of Higgins’s claim about katharsis, it becomes difficult to conclude that Socrates is not educating Meno. This leaves us with two options. Either we can say that Socrates is manipulative and not virtuous, or we can say that in this particular context, Socrates’ machinations do indeed constitute an instance of virtue. The latter move allows us to uphold the strong relation between communicative virtue and education for which RB argue. What would allow us to entertain such a notion?

What is required is a re-evaluation of assumptions we typically hold about power. Our tendency, I think, is to associate power with forms of domination that always distort, repress, and marginalize. By the same token, we tend to think that silence represents limitation (RB, I think, come close to making this move). But if Higgins is right, then sometimes acquiescence is a good sign. And in certain contexts, even manipulation may be right and proper. Making this determination, of course, requires us to distinguish cases where power is wielded arbitrarily from instances where power is exercised reflectively and with justification.

This last point bears repeating: determinations of virtue require reasoned judgment. Or, as Socrates might put it, virtue is associated in part, at least, with knowledge. I underscore this claim, because I think that RB’s position here is not altogether clear. On the one hand, RB stress that without judgment, it is impossible to discern whether in particular contexts a virtue is being exhibited. But when it comes to identifying the constellation of dispositions that count as regularities, judgment appears to be absent from RB’s list of criteria. Following MacIntyre, Wittgenstein, and Dewey, RB posit orderliness, internal consistency, and sustainability as signs that a practice is intrinsically worthwhile.⁹ Virtue, however, is not an intrinsic quality of practice. Virtue is a function of how people choose to behave. Choosing good behavior requires good judgment. Fostering good judgment is the task of education.

One last point. In two respects, there is a critical difference between RB’s claims about communication and Higgins’s interpretation of Socratic dialogue. On Higgins’s view, Socrates deals with an individual. RB, by contrast, focus on groups. RB further assume that what interlocutors have to say is important and worthwhile. Socrates’ interlocutor is not only wrong but deluded.

Both these factors — the unit of analysis and the worthiness of interlocutors’ claims — are essential to bear in mind. Who, exactly, is participating in a conversation: individuals or groups? What kind of reading does a conversation suggest: suspicious or generous? In a time when community stands front and center, Higgins reminds us that sometimes it is important to focus on the individual. In an era which too easily forsakes generosity, Higgins urges us not to forget that suspicion, too, can be appropriate for our educational aims.

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1. Suzanne Rice and Nicholas C. Burbules, “Communicative Virtues and Educational Relations,” Philosophy of Education 1993, ed. Audrey Thompson (Urbana, Ill.: Philosophy of Education Society, 1994), 34-44.

2. Ibid., 35.

3. Ibid., 35.

4. Ibid., 37.

5. Ibid., 38.

6. Ibid., 38, 39, 36.

7. Ibid., 43.

8. Ibid., 38.

9. Ibid., 43.