[COM] Symposium
Introduction
Set at a banquet to celebrate the tragedian Agathon, who has just won his first dramatic contest in the Lenaia, the Symposium is one of the most charming dialogues in terms of its literary qualities. Rather than a dry treatise, the Symposium shows prominent members of the Athenian aristocracy drinking and bantering in an evening of leisure and celebration. It is in this joyful setting that Plato sets the stage for his characters to engage in a complex exposition of Platonic thought.
Too hungover from yesterday’s partying, the speakers decide on an evening of relaxed drinking, conversation and philosophy. For their enjoyment, they decide to hold a competition – who can give the best speech in praise of Eros, the god of love and desire? What follows is a set of speeches given with plenty of wit and humor, dealing with all matters of love and virtue. These speeches culminate in a mystical vision of love as a spiritual ascension towards the Supreme Reality, envisioned as perfect beauty.
These high musings are unceremoniously brought to an end when a drunken Alcibiades arrives at the scene. After making his own speech on love, the drunken statesman turns the calm evening into a night of wild revelry that would not be out of place at any frat party. In this way, the Symposium weaves together wit and levity with profound philosophical and spiritual insights, giving a glimpse of life at its sweetest.
Of all the Platonic dialogues, I regard the Symposium as the finest. It is in many ways a microcosm of Platonic thought, containing narrative, social critique, discussions on virtue and the way of the philosopher, myth-making, discussions on proper dialectic and an account of a transcendent state that can be reached through purification and contemplation. For this reason it is the one I most often recommend to new readers of Greek philosophy. Learning to decode the Symposium is what gives the key to understanding not just the Platonic way of reasoning, but also the environment in which Classical philosophy developed.
It is fitting, therefore, to begin my own commentaries on the Platonic texts with the Symposium, in the hopes of bringing to the fore precisely what makes this dialogue exceptional. Before we begin looking at the text itself, I want to make a few comments that I think are important to understanding the Symposium.
On Reading Plato
One of the difficulties of reading Plato lies in the complex way in which his ideas are presented. For those used to reading modern textbooks, which try to present their ideas in a concise manner, the Platonic dialogues are not entirely easy to approach. A variety of topics are under discussion, mixed together with a fictional narrative structure centered around dialogue. It is easy to lose sight of where the argument is going, and to miss the point being made.
This, I believe, is intentional. Plato himself, you see, is conspicuously absent from the dialogues. They are presented as being recollections of discussions between Socrates and various other figures, but we would be remiss to take this presentation at face value. The dialogues are almost certainly fictional. Take the Protagoras as an example. It depicts a young Socrates, yet Socrates was in his forties by the time Plato was born. Plato, therefore, could not have been present at this discussion.
So Plato chose to present his ideas in this way, and I believe he did so for three reasons. The first is that the execution of Socrates by the Athenians made Plato wary of his countrymen. He saw that being too free-spoken could get a man killed, and since he was a student of Socrates he would have recognized the risk to himself by this association. So he presents his ideas through the mouths of others – chiefly Socrates – in order to give himself plausible deniability. The layered and complex structure of many dialogues furthers this end by making it difficult to interpret precisely what Plato is saying. In this way, he would have made it difficult for his fellow Athenians to persecute him.
The second reason is because of the role that the dialogue as a teaching method plays in Plato’s work. Socrates taught in this way, and as we will see in the Symposium, Plato saw dialectic as a necessary process for philosophical development. The dialogues would serve as examples and starting points for his students to discuss and reason, and it was in this way they would have been taught. The role of the mentor here is central, and it is he who would have helped the students interpret the works to glean their full meaning, not unlike the role of the guru in the Indian tradition.
So when reading Plato we need to keep in mind that it is he who speaks through the mouth of every character, and that the dialogues themselves were supposed to be interpreted by a mentor in an environment of discussion and debate meant to bring the student into further philosophical understanding. They are not supposed to be clear, but are rather meant to be unpacked.
The third and perhaps most important reason is because the presentation itself allows highly abstract ideas to be discussed using concrete imagery. Here is another of the great values of the Symposium as an introductory text to the study of Plato, because Plato makes this very point explicit at the end of the text.
“I didn’t say this at the beginning, but [Socrates’] arguments, when you really look at them, are also just like Silenus-figures. If you decided to listen to one, it would strike you at first as ludicrous. On the face of it, it’s just a collection of irrelevant words and phrases; but those are just the outer skin of the trouble-making satyr. It’s all donkeys and bronzesmiths, shoemakers and tanners. […]But look beneath the surface, and get inside them, and you’ll find two things. In the first place, they’re the only arguments which really make any sense; on top of that they’re extremely inspiring, because they contain countless models of excellence and pointers towards it. In fact, they deal with everything you should be concerned about, if you want to lead a good and noble life.” (Symposium 221d-222a)
In other words, we must look beneath the surface of what is being talked about in order to understand the ideas that Plato presents. The argument is rarely what it seems, and subtext is everything.
With a few exceptions, the Symposium does not contain the usual back-and-forth of other Platonic dialogues. Rather, it is a set of seven speeches delivered by the notables at the banquet. The speeches are delivered in turn, often building on one another, and in this way Plato defines the topic as he goes along. Much like a sculptor working a piece of stone into a statue, Plato starts with a very crude idea of love and begins to systematically cut into it until the true point he is making becomes apparent.
The Symposium and Homosexuality
This crude starting point that Plato uses, from the first speech by Phaedrus and onwards, is the phenomenon of Athenian pederasty. As students of antiquity should know, it was common among the upper classes of Classical Athenian society for older men to take younger men and boys as sex partners. To the modern reader, the reason for starting the discussion of love and Eros here is not easy to comprehend, and it is a source of much misunderstanding regarding the Symposium.
Leftist readers in particular take the Symposium as an example of the “normative bisexuality” which they claim was a part of Classical Greek culture, usually as a way to subvert the Classical heritage of the West. They get very smug about the supposed “queerness” of the Ancients, but this is a gross misreading of the Symposium. Plato isn’t praising male homosexuality – he is rejecting it. This makes the Symposium a text which sorts the wheat from the chaff. Ask someone their thoughts on it and you can tell instantly whether they understand Plato or not.
When reading the excerpts that I have gathered below, it is important to understand that the Ancients did not have a concept of homosexuality in the way that we do, though they were certainly aware of its existence. Part of why Plato starts his discussion of love here is that he is trying to disentangle two separate phenomena in his time, namely male homosexuality and mentorship.
In the time of Plato, these two were deeply intertwined, such that older men would take younger men as sex partners while also mentoring them. It was believed that this was a positive arrangement for the youth because he could benefit from the education that the older man could provide. But this was far from an uncontroversial practice, and many decried it as being vulgar and immoral. Plato himself mentions this in the text.
So what Plato does, as we shall see, is painstakingly divide the phenomena of male homosexuality and mentorship, positing a kind of love that rises far above mere sexual lust. This is what we in our day have come to call Platonic love, or love without a sexual component. One of the aims of Plato with the Symposium is therefore to cleanse the student-mentor relationship of its sexual component, and to show how this aim of his relates to the higher goals of philosophy.
With these considerations in place, I think it is important to note that I don’t intend to dwell on this topic more than is necessary. It is the least interesting part of the Symposium. The question of sex is something that Plato cuts away in order to reveal a much higher form of existence, and it is that gem of wisdom which I intend to focus my attention on.
We are now ready to look at the text itself. We begin, as Plato does, with the speech of Phaedrus.
Phaedrus – Love and Virtue
Phaedrus begins his speech by stating that Eros is the oldest and most primordial of the gods, sprung into being out of Chaos at the beginning of time.
“[Eros] is entitled to our respects, as the oldest of the gods […]” (Symposium 178b)
While this statement will be contradicted in later speeches, I think it is important to note the reason why Plato chooses to make it. By speaking about the primordial forces that, according to certain of the poets, existed before the beginning of time, Plato is drawing our attention towards fundamental principles. We are not talking about love as an emotion but as a metaphysical phenomenon that underlies all of reality. In this way, we are primed to look at the topic philosophically.
“I can see nothing better in life for a young boy, as soon as he is old enough, than finding a good lover, nor for a lover than finding a boyfriend.” (Symposium 178c)
As mentioned previously, Plato quickly establishes the discussion as beginning at Eros as it relates to the practices of his time. Why is he speaking about this practice, and why with such warm words? Plato reveals his reasons directly.
“Love, more than anything (more than family, or position, or wealth), implants in men the thing which must be their guide if they are to live a good life. And what is that? It is a horror of what is degrading, and a passionate desire for what is good.” (Symposium 178c-d)
Already in these words we can see the distinction Plato is making between higher and lower, which, as we will see, runs throughout the dialogue. Plato is not praising the practices of his time here – he is revealing his intention to cut them apart in order to find what is truly good about them while discarding the rest. The true value of Eros lies in the ability to drive us past what is degrading and towards what is good.
In what way does Eros do this? Plato gives an example.
“[…] no one is such a coward as not to be inspired with courage by Eros, making him the equal of the naturally brave man.” (Symposium 179a-b)
Readers of Plato will recognize courage as one of the four Platonic virtues, the others being wisdom, temperance and justice. Plato explains that love makes us strive towards the good because of the immense shame we feel when we fail to live up to the standard set by the good. For everything we love we take as being good, and whether we are conscious of it or not we begin to see it as a focal point of our values. When we love, we are forced to admit that there are things in this world that matter, and we are forced to consider whether we measure up or not.
“Homer says, and rightly, that god breathes fire into some of his heroes. And it is just this quality, whose origin is to be found within himself, that Eros imparts to lovers.” (Symposium 179b)
Eros breathes into our hearts this desire to measure up to the beloved, and through this he makes us as like unto the heroes. It brings us higher and makes us want to abandon that which lowers us. For Eros himself is this very quality of seeking the higher, as we shall see the further we go into the text.
“What is more, lovers are the only people prepared to die for others.” (Symposium 179b)
Because love is directed at something higher than ourselves, we naturally feel compelled to renounce ourselves for its sake. We see here how Plato is pointing towards love as that which can make us transcend ourselves. When we love something, we ourselves do not matter, because we are in service to something higher.
Plato takes multiple examples of this from Greek literature, most notably Homer’s Achilles, who was willing to give his own life to avenge the death of Patroclus. It should be noted here that there is no evidence in the Homeric corpus that the friendship between Achilles and Patroclus was sexual, in contrast to what midwit academics may claim. Plato is actively choosing as his example of the great heights of love between men the Platonic love between Achilles and Patroclus.
That the self-sacrifice of love is noble because it directs us to something higher than ourselves is made explicit by Plato.
“[…] it is an undoubted fact that the gods, though they always value courage which comes from love, are most impressed and pleased, and grant the greatest rewards, when the younger man is loyal to his lover, than when the lover is loyal to him. That’s because the lover is a more divine creature than the younger man, since he is divinely inspired.” (Symposium 180b)
So in this speech by Phaedrus we see how Plato is framing his discussion on Eros as being about the fundamental reality of the world, how this reality is something high and noble, and of the kind of distinctions that need to be made in order to discern and realize this reality for ourselves. In the next speech by Pausanias, these themes will be built upon further.
Pausanias – Distinctions of Love
The Pausanias speech begins with Plato saying that what has been said so far about Eros needs to be clarified further.
“[Praising Eros] would be fine, if there were just one Eros. In fact, however, there isn’t.” (Symposium 180d)
There is not one Eros, but two, and we must separate them before it is possible for us to speak of Eros in the right way. We’ve already touched upon what these two types of Eros are – the higher and the lower, which Plato sets out to define in this speech.
Higher and Lower
“If there were only one Aphrodite, there would be one Eros. However, since there are in fact two Aphrodites, it follows that Eros likewise must be two. There’s no doubt about there being two Aphrodites; the older has no mother, and is the daughter of Heaven. We call her Heavenly Aphrodite. The younger is the daughter of Zeus and Dione, and we call her Common Aphrodite.” (Symposium 180d-e)
We see here an example of Plato’s exegetical interpretation of Greek myth. Since there were two differing stories as to the birth of Aphrodite, goddess of beauty, Plato reasons that these must be indicative of two natures to beauty. There must be an earthly, common and particular beauty, and there must likewise by a heavenly, universal and transcendent beauty. Love – which, as Plato will show us, is always love of beauty – must therefore differ as well. One directs us to the lower forms of beauty, the other to the higher.
This distinction is central to the Symposium. As we have seen so far, Plato is trying to find that love which leads us to a higher mode of being, and to do so he must separate it from pure sexual lust. He makes this explicit in the following passage.
“It is in general true of any activity that, simply in itself, it is neither good nor bad. […]And it’s just the same way with loving, and Eros. It’s not all good, and doesn’t all deserve praise. The Eros we should praise is the one which encourages people to love in the right way.” (Symposium 181a)
To Plato, we cannot simply hide behind tautologies such as “love is love”. There are gradations of love, and they do not have the same effect on those they touch. Plato elaborates on the nature of those touched by the Common Eros, or sexual lust.
“For a start, he is as likely to fall in love with women as with boys. Secondly, he falls in love with their bodies rather than their minds. Thirdly, he picks the most unintelligent people he can find, since all he’s interested in is the sexual act.” (Symposium 181b)
The Common Eros is a degrading form of love that reduces us to seeking mere sexual gratification. It arises from both a feminine and a masculine element, which is why it is inherently sexual. We can tell from the phrasing used by Plato that he holds little regard for those who seek the company of women, since these relationships are necessarily motivated by sexual desire.
He contrasts this with the Heavenly Eros, or the transcendent love of beauty.
“The other Eros springs from Heavenly Aphrodite, and in the first place is composed solely of the male element, with none of the female […] and in the second place is older, and hence free from lust.” (Symposium 181c)
The higher form of love is wholly masculine in nature, and therefore lacks the sexual element inherent in the polarity between masculine and feminine. It is a primordial form of love, meaning that the metaphysical Eros which we were speaking of in the Phaedrus speech is, in fact, this higher love. The other form of love, the sexual lust, is a second-order phenomenon.
What does it mean that the higher love is strictly masculine in nature? Plato says the following.
“In consequence, those inspired by this love turn to the male, attracted by what is naturally stronger and of superior intelligence.” (Symposium 181c)
In the Ancient Greek conception, the woman is a lesser being than the man. She is the passive and receptive counterpart to his active and creative, and where he embodies order and culture, she embodies chaos and misery. Aristotle famously argued that women were deficient or deformed men; Hesiod’s poems depict women as a curse from the gods, something men desire but which will cause them nothing but misery.
That the higher love lacks the feminine element means that it – and its object – are without deficiencies. Therefore, they are the only path to true lasting happiness, as we shall see further on in the text. The man driven by this higher love will therefore spurn women, seeing them as a lesser concern. He will prefer the company of other men like himself.
It should be noted here that this stern view of women was not shared by later Platonists, who occasionally taught and were taught by women. The most well-known example of this is Hypatia, who embodied the Platonic idea of this higher, non-sexual love in a heterosexual context.
Love Between Men
But what kind of company is it that Plato says men should seek with other men? As we have discussed previously, it is not of a sexual nature. Plato actively speaks out against men who are looking to take advantage of youths for sexual gratification.
“And even among those who love boys you can tell the ones whose love is purely heavenly. They only fall in love with boys who can think for themselves – in other words, with boys who are nearly grown up. […] The others are deceivers, who take advantage of youthful folly, and then quite cheerfully abandon their victims in search of others.” (Symposium 181d)
This statement runs counter to many modern misreadings of Plato. What we see here is a clear condemnation of pederasty as it was practiced in Plato’s Athens. He goes on to condemn it further.
“There ought really to be a law against falling in love with young boys […] Good men voluntarily observe this rule, but the common lovers I am talking about should be compelled to do the same, just as we stop them, so far as we can, from falling in love with free women. They are actually the people who have brought the thing into disrepute […]” (Symposium 181e-182a)
Plato suggests that laws should be in place to prevent the sexual exploitation of young men, just like women are protected from the same. Note the last sentence. It is those whose interest is purely in sexual gratification and exploitation of young men who have brought the practice of deep friendship and dedicated mentorship between men into disrepute. Plato is making a clear distinction between these two phenomena.
Plato continues on with a discussion on when it is proper for men to “satisfy” each other. Though Plato is being subtle, it is clear he is not referring to sexual satisfaction.
“[…] it is the common lover they have in mind when they say [that it is wrong to satisfy a man], regarding his demands as premature and unfair to the boy. Surely nothing done with restraint and decency can reasonably incur criticism.” (Symposium 182a)
The common lover, as we have seen, is the one who is driven by sexual lust. He is described throughout the text as being indecent and unrestrained, and thus someone who deserves the criticism which Plato is giving. The heavenly lover by comparison, has no interest in sexual satisfaction, but satisfaction of a different kind – an intellectual or spiritual satisfaction. Plato makes this explicit in the following passage.
“So it can only be regarded as right for a boy to satisfy his lover if both of these conditions are satisfied – both the lover’s behaviour, and the boy’s desire for wisdom and goodness. […] So if the lover has something to offer in the way of sound judgment and moral goodness, and if the boy is eager to accept this contribution to his education and growing wisdom, then, and only then, this favorable combination makes it right for a boy to satisfy his lover. In no other situation is it right. […] This is the love which comes from the heavenly goddess; it is itself heavenly, and of great value to state and individual alike, since it compels both lover and boy to devote a lot of attention to their own moral improvement. All other sorts of love derive from the other goddess, the common one.” (Symposium 184d-185c)
The only kind of satisfaction which it is proper for an older man and a younger man to derive from each other is the satisfaction of intellectual and spiritual development which comes about through the mentorship given by the older man to the younger. Plato makes it clear that both the character of the older man and the younger needs to be tested before any friendship may be established by the two.
For the heavenly love to be possible there can be no ulterior motives from either part. Sex, money, power or fame – none of these are proper foundations for the kind of friendship that Plato is espousing.
We will look at one more passage from this speech before moving forward.
“In short, the convention that satisfying your lover is wrong is a result of the moral weakness of those who observe the convention – the rulers’ desire for power, and their subjects’ cowardice. The belief that it is always right can be attributed to mental laziness.” (Symposium 182d)
The kind of deep friendship that Plato is describing is an inherent threat to tyrants – he specifically mentions Harmodius and Aristogeiton as proof of this. Tyrants will therefore seek to forbid these kinds of relationships between men. However, those who give carte blanche to any kind of behavior between men are being mentally lazy. They are not properly distinguishing between what is indecent behavior and what is proper for virtuous men.
With the Pausanias speech, Plato achieves one of the goals of his texts, namely that of making distinctions between homosexuality and mentorship. As we have mentioned, these distinctions were blurred in the Athens of his time, and so while this may seem like an untoward discussion in a work of philosophy, it was necessary for Plato to establish this distinction.
Moving forward, we will see how Plato deepens the metaphysical understanding of Eros and the importance of having a proper relationship to it.
Eryximachus – Love as Universal Force
In the Eryximachus speech, Plato is speaking through the character of a physician. In this way, Plato is telling us that he is not content discussing Eros only as a psychological phenomenon in humans. The conclusions so far, while a necessary step given the practices of his time, is not the aim or the end goal of this dialogue. Instead, he wants to direct us away from the human realm and upwards towards the transcendent.
This change of focus is made explicit by Plato in the following passage.
“But I cannot accept his implication that Eros is found only in human hearts, and is aroused only by human beauty. I am a doctor by profession, and it has been my observation, I would say, throughout my professional career, that Eros is aroused by many other things as well, and that he is also found in nature – in the physical life of all animals, in plants that grow in the ground, and in virtually all living organisms. […] his influence is unbounded, both in the human realm and in the divine.” (Symposium 186a-b)
The choice of a doctor as the speaker has other implications. A doctor practices medicine, and medicine is a favorite comparison used by Plato throughout his dialogues. As medicine is to the body, so is philosophy to the soul. We can begin to see where Plato is headed with this in the following passage.
“The nature of the human body shows this twofold Eros, since it is generally agreed that health and sickness in the body are separate and unalike […] So there is one force of attraction for the healthy, and another for the sick. Pausanias was talking just now about it being right to satisfy men, if they are good men, but wrong if all they are interested in is physical pleasure. It is just the same with the body. It is right to satisfy the good and healthy elements of the body, and one should do so. […] Conversely, it is wrong to satisfy the bad, unhealthy elements […]” (Symposium 186b-c)
Just as the twofold Eros can cause men to love either what degrades them or what ennobles them, so likewise does the twofold Eros of the body drives it toward sickness or health. Medicine, therefore, is the practice of furthering the higher Eros within the body, rather than the lower.
“The man who can distinguish healthy desires from the unhealthy is the best doctor. […] He must, in fact, be able to reconcile and harmonise the most disparate elements of the body.” (Symposium 186d)
We see here how Plato is further clarifying the nature of the higher Eros. It not only leads us to love the mind rather than the body, towards spiritual fulfillment rather than mere sexual satisfaction, nor does it further health rather than sickness within the body. Its primary mode of action is to reconcile and harmonize – that is, to put things into their proper place. Health, after all, is everything within the body working in harmony, as opposed to sickness, which is physical disharmony.
Plato goes on to describe what this harmony actually is.
“Clearly there could be no harmony between high and low, if they were still in conflict. […] Or take rhythm as another example; it arises out of conflict of quick and slow, but only when they cease to conflict. Here it is the art of music which imposes harmony on all the elements, by producing mutual attraction and agreement between them, whereas in the body it is the art of medicine. So music, again, is the art of Eros applied to harmony and rhythm.” (Symposium 187b-c)
Harmony is a force which causes attraction and agreement on all the elements of a particular composition. It is not just a force which puts things in order, but something that unifies us and makes us whole.
Those familiar with Plato will recognize this focus on harmony and proper ordering as the Platonic virtue of justice, described in detail in Plato’s Republic. This harmony, which is studied in the body through medicine, is present everywhere in nature, and Plato mentions a number of disciplines which deal with their respective expression of Eros.
“Medicine, then, as I say, is completely governed by this god. Likewise physical training, and farming. Music too is no exception […] Knowledge of Eros in connection with the movements of the stars and the seasons of the year is called astronomy. Then again, all sacrifices, and everything which comes under the direction of the prophetic arts (that is to say, the whole relationship of gods and men to one another) have as their sole concern the observance and correct treatment of Eros.” (Symposium 187a, 188b-c)
Philosophy, then, is the study of the higher Eros in relationship to the inner reality of man, of his character and his own self. This also means that philosophy is the study of the unity inherent in man’s essential nature.
The Eryximachus speech ends with pointing towards this unity of divine and human, foreshadowing the topic of the coming speech by Aristophanes.
“So great and widespread – in fact, universal – is the power possessed, in general by all Eros, but in particular by the Eros which, in the moral sphere, acts with good sense and justice both among us and among the gods. And not only does it possess absolute power; it also brings us complete happiness, enabling us to be companions and friends both of each other and of our superiors, the gods.” (Symposium 188d)
Aristophanes – Love as Unity
One of the hallmarks of Plato is the creation of his own myths to illustrate his ideas. The reason why he does this is because myth is a more natural way for humans to describe highly abstract ideas than philosophy. Myths come earlier than philosophy, and philosophy often begins as mythological exegesis. Great philosophies are born from myth – we see this both in the Greek tradition and in the Indian tradition.
So Plato, being situated at a point in history where the Greeks were transitioning to a philosophical rather than mythological mode of thinking, uses myth to communicate his ideas. To ensure that the myth fulfills the purpose of explaining his idea, he crafts his own myths.
Spherical Man
This is precisely what Plato does in the Aristophanes speech. Plato begins this part of the Symposium by making it clear that he is changing his mode of communication.
“Well, Eryximachus, I do intend to make a rather different kind of speech from the kind you and Pausanias made.” (Symposium 189c)
He continues to give an account of how the original form of man was spherical, with two heads, four arms, four legs, and so forth – an amalgamation of two people. This idea is ridiculous to imagine, and Plato is well aware of this. Rather than shying away from the obvious silliness of his myth, he owns up to it and lets it be silly. This explains why he chose Aristophanes the comedic poet as his mouthpiece for this speech. Plato admits as much in the following passage.
“I’m worried enough already about what I’m going to say – not that it may arouse laughter (after all, there would be some point in that, and it would be appropriate to my profession), but that it may be laughed out of court.” (Symposium 189b)
In this way, Plato invites us to look past the comedic particulars of his myth and consider instead the point being made. And what is that point? Unity, and the unifying power of Eros. To understand this, we must look at the particulars of Plato’s myth of man’s original state.
“Our original nature was not as it is now, but quite different. For one thing there were three sexes, rather than two (male and female). The third sex was a combination of these two. Its name [hermaphrodite] has survived, though the phenomenon itself has disappeared. […] Secondly, each human being formed a complete whole, spherical, with back and ribs forming a circle. […] The reason for having three sexes, and of this kind, was this: the male was originally the offspring of the sun, the female of the earth, and the one which was half-and-half was the offspring of the moon, because the moon likewise is half-sun and half-earth.” (Symposium 189d-190b)
The original human form was a composite, forming three distinct sexes – fully female, fully male, and a mix between male and female. This form was very powerful, and man behaved so disgracefully against the gods that Zeus decided to punish man by making him weaker. To this end, he split each of these spherical humans into two parts. These parts, now separate individuals, began searching for their counterparts. Driven by Eros, they tried to become whole again.
“When man’s natural form was split in two, each half went round looking for its other half. […] That is why we have this innate love of one another. It brings us back to our original state, trying to reunite us and restore us to our true human form.” (Symposium 191a-d)
This original form was perfect, since it was made in the image of the celestial bodies.
“They were circular, both in themselves and in their motion, because of their similarity to their parents.” (Symposium 190b)
Those who are familiar with Platonic thought will recognize that significance of the spherical form. The Platonists regarded it as the most perfect and divine of the solid geometries.
What is the significance of what Plato is saying here? Since he is speaking from the mouth of a comedian, we are not meant to take this literally. What we are meant to take from this is that there is a part of us – an essence or inner reality – which is perfect. This part, however, is imperfectly expressed in us. Through the higher Eros, we are driven towards this inner perfection, which is the transcendent nature underlying all of reality. Once again, Plato makes this explicit.
“So that’s the explanation; it’s because our original nature was as I have described, and because we were once complete. And the name of this desire and pursuit of completeness is Eros, or love.” (Symposium 193a)
But while we may become complete through the higher Eros, Plato likewise recognizes that a different fate could befall us.
“ […] the danger is that, if we don’t treat the gods with respect, we may be divided again […] We’re trying to avoid this fate, and achieve the other. So we take Eros as our guide and leader.” (Symposium 193a-b)
As the perceptive reader may recall, the force that causes us to treat the gods with proper respect is the higher Eros, while the lower Eros causes discord between gods and men. Though he is not explicit here, it is clear that Plato believes that following the path of the lower Eros risks bringing us to a subhuman state, one where we may become “divided again”.
The higher Eros, therefore, unifies and harmonizes us, bringing us into a divine or perfect state. The lower Eros causes dissolution and degradation, causing us to become even more degenerated and less like the divine.
The Sexual Typologies
This is the core idea of the Aristophanes speech. However, Plato does dwell to some extent on this myth as an explanation of the presence of sexual lust between, and within, the sexes.
“Men who are fragments of the common sex (the one called hermaphrodite) are womanisers, and most adulterers are to be found in this category. Similarly, women of this type are nymphomaniacs and adulteresses. On the other hand, women who are part of an original woman pay very little attention to men. Their interest is in women; lesbians are found in this class. And those who are part of a male pursue what is male.” (Symposium 191d-e)
As we have noted earlier, the Ancients had no concept of sexual orientation as such. What Plato is doing is establishing a distinction between various forms of sexual lust, in keeping with the distinctions made previously regarding sexuality. It is not just that there are separate gradations of love, but they also differ in their object.
Note the low view Plato had of heterosexual relations. As we have mentioned earlier, this is because he sees heterosexual relations as fundamentally sexual and therefore ruled by the lower Eros. This is in contrast to male brotherhood, friendship and mentorship, which is not sexual in nature and therefore ruled by the higher Eros. Plato makes it explicit that his ideal of love as a spiritually unifying force is not sexual.
“These are people who spend their whole lives together, and yet they cannot find words for what they want from one another. No one imagines that it’s simply sexual intercourse, or that sex is the reason why one gets such enormous pleasure out of the other’s company. No, it’s obvious that the soul of each has some other desire, which it cannot express.” (Symposium 192c-d)
We have now seen how the ever-present and harmonizing force of the higher Eros acts to perfect us and brings us towards higher states of being. The next step that Plato takes is to raise our eyes even further, which we shall see in the next speech.
Agathon – Love Itself
Having concluded that this most divine love orders our life, brings us fulfillment and happiness, perfects us and brings us to higher states of being that connect us with the transcendent reality underlying all things, what more is there really for Plato to offer us? Plato answers this question in the Agathon speech.
“I want first to talk about how I should talk, and then talk. All the speakers so far have given me the impression that they were not so much praising the god as congratulating mankind on the good things the god provides. No one has told us what the giver of these benefits is like, in himself. […] That is how we too should by rights be praising Eros, describing first his nature, then his gifts.” (Symposium 194e-195a)
All these various good things which come as a result of the higher Eros are mere particular expressions of Eros. What Plato does in the Agathon speech is invite us to consider their source. In the Platonic worldview, the particulars receive their properties from the universals, and yet we can only clearly see the particulars at first. Only by properly interrogating the nature of these particulars, as we have done so far with Eros, can we see the transcendent universal behind them. This is what Plato means with “first his nature, then his gifts”. He has but one universal nature, which causes many particular gifts.
So what, then, is Eros?
Transcendent and Universal
“I claim, then, that though all the gods are blessed, Eros, if I may say this without offending the other gods, is the most blessed, since he is the most beautiful and the best.” (Symposium 195a)
Eros is that which is most beautiful and the best. Beauty and goodness – this is his nature, and thus what he gives rise to are beautiful and good things. But there is more to him than just this.
“[…] he is the youngest of the gods. He proves this himself by running away at top speed from old age. […] It is Eros’ nature to hate old age, and steer well clear of it. […] I would say he’s the youngest of the gods – eternally young, in fact.” (Symposium 195b)
Here, Plato has Agathon contradict Phaedrus, who said that Eros is the oldest of the gods. What is the meaning of this contradiction? When we said that Eros was the oldest of the gods, we were saying that he is primordial and Plato was making it clear from the start that we were speaking of fundamental principles. When Plato now says that Eros is eternally young, he is making it clear that those fundamental principles are transcendent, meaning that they are outside of time.
When we say that something is old, we are saying that it exists in time and has done so for a long time. But when we say that something is eternally young, we have ourselves almost a contradiction in terms. How can something be both eternal, which we understand to mean “a very long time”, and youngest, which we understand to mean “a short time”? This is only possible if the thing exists outside of time. Then it would both eternal, since it exists throughout all time, and young, since time does not affect it.
“So, he is young. And not only young, but delicate. […] he lives and moves among the softest of all things, making his home in the hearts and minds of gods and men. And not in all hearts equally. He avoids any hard hearts he comes across, and settles among the tender-hearted. He must therefore be extremely delicate, since he only ever touches […] the softest of the soft.” (Symposium 195d-e)
Plato continues by saying that Eros is soft and delicate, as opposed to hard and rough. This is a further comment on the transcendental nature of Eros. He is not a material thing, hard and rough, but something immaterial. He makes his home in the mind and within the heart, in the inner reality of man, which is itself immaterial. Eros is known by the mind and the heart, not by the senses which perceive only material things.
Plato mentions more examples of Eros’ transcendent nature.
“The main thing about Eros is that no one, god or man, wrongs him or his wronged by him. […] Force cannot touch Eros. When he acts, he acts without force, since everyone serves Eros quite willingly […]” (Symposium 196b-c)
Transcendent universals have primacy over concrete particulars. Particulars cannot affect a universal, nor can particulars resist the universal. Everything that a particular is, it is by virtue of the universal.
That Plato says that “no one is wronged by him” is significant, because what this means is that particulars have no moral claim on the universal. This is a drier way of expressing the same idea Nietzsche meant when he said that men have no exalted position from which to judge the world as lacking or faulty. There is no goodness or virtue that we can point to that does not derive from the universal, so we cannot judge the universal as lacking. Plato says the following:
“Ugliness and Eros are ever at odds with one another.” (Symposium 196a)
If Eros is the source of goodness and beauty, and ugliness and Eros are ever at odds with one another, this means that no ugliness comes from Eros. Only beauty comes from him. Likewise, the universal is perfect, and imperfection belongs to the particulars. Evil has no independent existence, but can only exist to the extent that the good does not.
The Source of Virtue
As Plato continues, he ascribes the following virtues to Eros. Once again, these are properties of Eros himself, and these can exist as particular expressions in us through the influence of Eros.
“So much for the god’s justice, virtue, and courage. Now for his wisdom.” (Symposium 196d)
These are the four Platonic virtues – justice, temperance (called virtue in this translation), courage and wisdom. We have already seen in the Phaedrus speech how Eros causes courage by putting a passionate desire for the good in our hearts and an equally passionate hatred of what degrades us. In the Eryximachus speech, he describes how Eros harmonizes and brings agreement to the world, similar to Plato’s description of justice in the Republic. Here Plato completes the tetrad.
He claims that all other desires must answer to Eros, and so Eros rules over all the lower passions. This, then, is the definition of temperance, or moderation. Finally, Eros is wise and the source of wisdom, as Plato explains in the following passage.
“Eros is an accomplished poet, so accomplished that he can turn others into poets. […] We should take this as an indication that, in general, Eros is master of all forms of literary or artistic creation. […] And who will deny that the creation of all living things is the work of Eros’ wisdom, which makes all living things come into being and grow?” (Symposium 196d-197a)
Eros is the master of all creative endeavors whether human, natural or divine. Since mastery requires the skillful application of knowledge, it is equivalent to wisdom.
Thus, all the core attributes of goodness flow from Eros, and from the transcendent universals. Plato makes this explicit.
“And if we asked why the quarrels of the god were settled as soon as Eros appeared, without doubt the reason was love of beauty (there being no love of ugliness). […] all manner of good has resulted, for gods and men, from the love of beauty.” (Symposium 197b)
Plato concludes the Agathon speech by once again asserting its chief premise – that the beauty and excellence of Eros is an attribute he possess in himself first and foremost, and that the particular expressions of beauty and excellence have their ultimate source in him. He says the following:
“[Eros] stands out as beautiful and excellent in himself; and secondly, he is the origin of similar qualities in others.” (Symposium 197c)
As we conclude the Agathon speech and continue on to the Socrates speech, Socrates first takes the time to question Agathon in his usual way. Through this questioning, Socrates reveals that what Agathon has said so far about Eros has been premature. We have not yet reached as far as we can, and to do so we must look beyond Eros himself.
Socrates – The Limitations of Love
With the description of Eros that we have given so far – that he is fundamental, transcendent, not just the source of beauty and goodness but beauty and goodness itself – the most obvious question is if we can even call it Eros anymore. Eros means love, desire, lust. Yet what we have described so far is something different from what we understand Eros to be. If we simply attach the word Eros to it, than the concept of Eros itself becomes meaningless.
Plato himself was aware of this, and in Socrates’ response to Agathon he makes it clear that what we have described is not Eros. We have simply used Eros to point us to it. Our goal, however, lies beyond. Plato makes this clear by bringing our high-minded ideas back to the reality of desire.
“Consider this proposition: anything that desires something desires what it does not have, and only desires when it is lacking something.” (Symposium 200b)
We begin immediately with the crux of the question. How can desire be absolute, when desire itself is a lack of something? For what we have tried to describe so far is the absolute principle of the world, the Supreme Reality behind all things. And we have concluded that it must be primordial, transcendent and universal; it must be a unity; it must be that from which order arises within the world; and it is both the source of beauty and perfection as well as beauty and perfection itself. Such a thing, naturally, cannot be lacking. Therefore, it cannot be Eros.
“Eros has an existence of his own; he is in the first place love of something, and secondly, he is love of that which he is without. […] And this being so, Eros must have an existence as love of beauty, and not love of ugliness, mustn’t he? […] So Eros lacks, and does not possess beauty.” (Symposium 200e-201b)
Plato admits that Eros does have an existence of his own, but that this existence is defined by something external to him, and that he is further defined by his lack of that external something. This presupposes something above and beyond Eros. Plato continues.
“So if Eros lacks beauty, and if what is good is beautiful, then Eros would lack what is good also.” (Symposium 201c)
Since beauty and goodness are the same, and Eros is defined by lack, he cannot be by nature beautiful and good. That is, he must be imperfect. As we have discussed earlier, only the particulars are imperfect. Eros must therefore be a second-order effect of something which has primacy over him. Even the divine love must ultimately be second to the divine thing being loved.
What Plato is giving us here, more than two millennia ahead of us, is perhaps the strongest refutation of Schopenhauer that can be made. For while it is clear that some element of willing or desiring underlies the nature of existence, it cannot be absolute, for something which is lacking cannot be absolute. The Absolute, therefore, cannot be the Will as Schopenhauer suggested. The Will must want something, desire something.
While Nietzsche made a moral argument against Schopenhauer, stating that his pessimism was evidence of a sick character, Plato provides a metaphysical argument against the same. In both cases, what is rejected is the judgment passed on the world that it is somehow lacking or hollow, when we are neither morally nor metaphysically justified in making that claim.
This concludes Socrates’ questioning of Agathon. What follows next is an account given by Socrates of what the Mantinean priestess Diotima taught him about love. I have chosen to separate this as if it were a separate speech among the others. The reason for Socrates speaking through Diotima is likely because it is in keeping with his own denial of knowing anything,
Diotima – Love as Ascension towards Beauty
Plato begins the Diotima speech with Socrates saying that, like Agathon, he had made the mistake of thinking that Eros was beautiful and good – that is, of taking desire as the absolute principle. It was Diotima who taught him the truth, just like Socrates did to Agathon. But when Diotima had proven this to Socrates, he had mistakenly thought she meant that Eros must be ugly and bad. Diotima sets him straight.
Intermediary States
“Do you think what is not beautiful must necessarily be ugly? […] and that what is not wise is ignorant? Don’t you realize there is an intermediate state, between wisdom and ignorance?” (Symposium 201e-202a)”
That there are intermediary states between higher and lower is significant because it means we can transition from one to the other. Plato continues.
“The same thing is equally true of Eros; just because, as you yourself admit, he is not good or beautiful, you need not regard him as ugly and bad, but as something between these extremes.” (Symposium 202b)
Eros himself is such an intermediary state. As I have stated above, desire is a second-order effect of something higher than desire. Remember that we are speaking here about the higher and not the lower Eros. Despite all the good things it brings to us, it is ultimately just an intermediary.
Plato makes this explicit when he explains the true nature of Eros.
“[Eros is] A great spirit, Socrates. Spirits are midway between what is divine and what is human. […] He acts as an interpreter and means of communication between gods and men. […] There is no direct contact between god and man. All association and communication between them, waking or sleeping, takes place through Eros.” (Symposium 202e-203a)
There is no direct means for the particulars to come into contact with the universals. It is the higher Eros, which is the love of transcendent beauty, which allows such a contact to occur. It is because of this that Eros can grant the many good things we have so far credited him with. It is through “a passionate desire for what is good”, to quote the Phaedrus speech, that we may become good.
This may seem like a trivial point, but it is not. The primary reason why men choose what is bad over what is good is because they desire it. No one becomes an addict, or a pervert, or a sloth, or a coward, if there is not a part of them that wants it. This would be the actions of the lower Eros. Therefore, if we wish to be good, we must want to be good. This comes to us through the action of the higher Eros.
Plato continues by giving us an account of Eros’ parentage. He is a child of Resource and Poverty – or, if I am allowed to paraphrase, of Perfection and Flaw – and this accounts for his properties as an intermediary force. Plato says the following.
“So Eros’ attributes are what you’d expect from a child of Resource and Poverty. […] He has his mother’s nature, and need is his constant companion. On the other hand, from his father he has inherited an eye for beauty and the good. […] But his resources are always running out, so that Eros is never either totally destitute or affluent. Similarly he is midway between wisdom and folly […]” (Symposium 203c-e)
What characterizes the intermediary state is that it possesses both a lack and a certain capacity. This is important, since it means that the intermediary state of Eros both contains a drive and the capacity to fulfill that drive. If we are so well-endowed as to possess a genuine desire for what is higher, then we also possess some capacity for achieving it. Plato makes this explicit.
“None of the gods searches for wisdom, or tries to become wise – they are wise already. Nor does anyone else wise search for wisdom. On the other hand, the foolish do not search for wisdom or try to become wise either, since folly is precisely the failing that consists in not being fine and good, or intelligent – and yet being quite satisfied with the way one is. You cannot desire what you do not realize you lack.” (Symposium 204a)
The striving for a higher state is shared neither by the perfect nor by the hopeless. The former already possess it, the latter cannot possess it. Only those who possess enough of the higher element to recognize what they are lacking truly search for what is higher.
Note how Plato keeps moving the speech back to the topic of wisdom. There is a reason for this, as we shall see.
The Philosopher
“[The lovers of wisdom] must be the intermediate class, among them Eros. […] Eros is a lover of wisdom (lovers of wisdom being the intermediate class between the wise and the foolish).” (Symposium 204b)
The observant reader should already have noted that “lovers of wisdom” is this translation’s rendering of the word philosopher. Plato, who championed the cause of the philosopher as opposed to the cause of statesmen and sophists, is here making the definite statement on what philosophy is. It is the striving for attaining wisdom, truth, goodness, beauty and perfection in a spiritual and intellectual sense.
This attitude towards philosophy is perhaps best demonstrated by Socrates himself, who claimed that the only thing he knew was that he did not know. Philosophy is the realization both of one’s own limitations and of one’s own capacities, and the desire to use the latter to overcome the former.
The Desire for Immortality
Having now dealt with the nature of the lover, Plato turns his attention back towards love itself.
“Let me put it more clearly: what is it that the lover of beauty desires? […] Socrates, what does the lover of goodness want?” (Symposium 204d-e)
The answer given is that the lover of beauty (and of goodness, wisdom, etc. as these are all the same) wishes to possess it. And not just to possess it at one time, but to possess it forever. Plato makes this explicit.
“In short, then, love is the desire for permanent possession of the good.” (Symposium 206a)
We have now arrived at the final definition of the higher love. It is the desire to permanently possess the source of all beauty, goodness and truth. This makes it clear what the purpose of the lover of beauty and wisdom is, for he is wholly defined by this desire.
But for someone to possess the good permanently, he himself must become immortal.
“So if we were right in describing love as the desire always to possess the good, then the inevitable conclusion is that we desire immortality as well as goodness. On this argument, love must be desire for immortality as much as for beauty.” (Symposium 207a)
When we are driven by love, we are driven not just towards the good but towards immortality. But how can mortal beings become immortal?
“What is mortal tries, to the best of its ability, to be everlasting and immortal. It does this in the only way it can, by always leaving a successor to replace what decays. […] It is not the case that creatures remain always, in every detail, precisely the same – only the divine does that. It is rather that what is lost, and what decays, always leaves behind a fresh copy of itself. This, Socrates, is the mechanism by which mortal creatures can taste immortality – both physical immortality and other sorts.” (Symposium 207d-208b)
Mortal beings are always subject to change. Our bodies change as we live, age and die; our minds change as we learn, remember and forget. Our bodies are in constant motion from the physiological changes within, just as our minds are constantly changing from their inner psychological processes. Only the divine remains unchanging. This mirrors our previous discussion on the nature of universals and particulars.
What I find lacking with Plato here is that he does not arrive to the truly sublime conclusion that the Vedantins have arrived to. For since it is so that our bodies and minds change, yet it is still so that we continue to experience them as ourselves. The sense of being ourselves does not change, even as the thing we see as ourselves does. By Plato’s own argument, selfhood itself must be divine, and must therefore be the absolute principle behind all things.
At any rate, Plato recognizes that as mortal beings decay, they replace themselves with copies of themselves. The lover of beauty must, therefore, continuously shed what makes him lesser as he grows in wisdom, and as he does so, he must also give birth to beautiful things. These things can be of a physical or mental kind.
“[Love] is the use of what is beautiful for the purpose of reproduction, whether physical or mental.” (Symposium 206b)
This distinction is important. As we have seen previously, Plato takes a low view of heterosexual relations, as they are purely sexual and only concerned with physical reproduction. The philosopher, who is not concerned with sexuality, must therefore concern himself with a different form of reproduction.
“Those whose creative urge is physical tend to turn to women, and pursue Eros by this route. […] In others the impulse is mental or spiritual – people who are creative mentally, much more than physically. They produce what you would expect the mind to conceive and produce. And what is that? Thought, and all other human excellence.” (Symposium 208e-209a)
Those who choose to reproduce themselves in a non-physical sense do it through intellectual, artistic or spiritual means. While many would perhaps say that this is a paltry alternative to children, Plato maintains that those great minds who give birth to masterpieces are the ones who are truly to be envied.
“We look with envy at Homer and Hesiod, and the other great poets, and the marvelous progeny they left behind, which have brought them undying fame and memory.” (Symposium 209d)
In this desire for recognition we see the truly Greek element of Plato come to the fore. Like any Greek of his time, Plato wished to live forever in the esteem of those who would come after, achieving that undying fame which belonged to the great heroes.
And, to the credit of his ideas, he achieved it. One would be hard-pressed to argue that Plato would have been remembered had he left the pursuit of philosophy behind in order to marry and have children.
Regardless, Plato recognizes that in both cases, it is the desire for immortality that drives us, and that this is strongly felt by all of a noble disposition.
“The desire for undying nobility, and the good reputation which goes with it, is a universal human emotion. The nobler people are, the more strongly they feel it. They desire immortality.” (Symposium 208d-e)
The Highest Beauty
So the higher Eros drives us to seek what is good, and to become good ourselves, and to reproduce what is most noble in us in a suitable medium – be it physical or mental – that we may achieve a kind of immortality. But even this, says Plato, is just a preliminary mystery of the higher Eros.
“But all this, rightly pursued, is a mere preliminary to the full rites, and final revelation, which might well be beyond you.” (Symposium 210a)
It is now, at the end of the Diotima speech, that we reach the apex of the Symposium. Plato walks us through what I would call a meditative technique by which we may come to know the absolute principle, the highest beauty and source of all goodness which the higher Eros points us towards. This is the full rite of love, and its result is the final revelation.
“The true follower of this subject must begin, as a young man, with the pursuit of physical beauty. […] Next he should realize that the physical beauty of one body is akin to that of any other body. […] The next stage is to put a higher value on mental than on physical beauty. […] as the next step, he should be compelled to contemplate the beauty of customs and institutions, to see that all beauty of this sort [i.e. mental] is related, and consequently to regard physical beauty as trivial. […] From human institutions the teacher should direct him to knowledge, so that he may, in turn, see the beauty of different types of knowledge.” (Symposium 210a-c)
Beginning with a single beautiful thing – Plato mentions bodies, but it could reasonably be any one beautiful thing – we learn to love it deeply and intensely. We then see that there are other things like it, which are also beautiful. As we extend our gaze from one particular instance of beauty to many such instances, we may see that they are unalike. Perhaps it is human bodies, or the forms of animals, or the trees and rivers, the mountains and forests, the ocean and its beaches, the sun, moon and stars, etc. – it does not matter, for we now come to see that all beautiful things have this thing called beauty in common.
So we go further. We concern ourselves now with abstract things and find the beauty in them. Ideas, thoughts, patterns, processes, and so forth – things not seen by the eye but by the mind. We recognize that these, too, are beautiful. Whether we look outside to the world of things, or inside of our own minds, we can see beauty. And just as we saw that the beauty of concrete things was something shared by all concrete things, though they may be unalike, likewise we see that abstract things all share the same beauty, though they be unalike.
From seeing beauty in one thing, to seeing it in many, and finally to seeing it even without having to see, we are now ready for the final step.
“[…] now he directs his eyes to what is beautiful in general, as he turns to gaze upon the limitless ocean of beauty. […] Such is the experience of the man who approaches, or is guided towards, love in the right way, beginning with the particular examples of beauty, but always returning from them to search for that one beauty. He uses them as a ladder […] Then at last he understands what true beauty is. That, if ever, is the moment, my dear Socrates, when a man’s life is worth living, as he contemplates beauty itself.” (Symposium 210d, 211c-d)
The final step is for all else to fade away until the only thing we see is endless, limitless beauty. Not the beauty shining through things, concrete or abstract, but Beauty itself shining for itself, by itself, one without a second, eternal and endless. This is the final stage, where we have left all behind to become one with Beauty in the contemplation of it. Then, and only then, can we say that this limited human life of ours is truly worth living.
The world itself, and all the things in it – including our own inner world, and the things within it – are all just stepping stones, rungs on a ladder or puzzle pieces pointing towards this Supreme Reality, which is Beauty itself. And it is through love of beauty – there being no other kind of love – that we see how each piece fits together. It is love that guides us as we climb each thing we perceive or think, and that makes us ascend into the ultimate truth of reality.
Make no mistake, the Symposium is no work of dry philosophy, but a manual of sorts for attaining mystical realization. It has more in common with Hindu treatises on yoga than it does with what passes for philosophy in academia today.
Plato describes what realizing this Supreme Reality is like, and as the observant reader can see, the whole dialogue prior to this has already touched on much of this.
“It is eternal, neither coming to be nor passing away, neither increasing nor decreasing. Moreover it is not beautiful in part, and ugly in part, nor is it beautiful at one time, and not at another; nor beautiful in some respects, but not in others; nor beautiful here and ugly there, as if beautiful in some people’s eyes, but not in others. It will not appear to him as the beauty of a face, or hands, or anything physical – nor as an idea or branch of knowledge, nor as existing in any determinate place, such as a living creature, or the earth, or heaven, or anywhere like that. It exists for all time, by itself and with itself, unique. All other forms of beauty derive from it, but in such a way that their creation or destruction does not strengthen or weaken it, or affect it in any way at all.” (Symposium 211a-b)
This marks the apex of the Symposium, but the dialogue is not yet complete. Plato takes us back from these lofty heights and into everyday life once more as a drunken Alcibiades crashes the party.
Alcibiades – Distinctions in Practice
Alcibiades’ arrival at the party is one of my favorite scenes in Western literature, and should dispel any notion of Plato as a dry thinker. It is a charming scene full of wit and humor, and Alcibiades’ antics paint a vivid picture of perhaps one of the most interesting characters in Greek history.
After Socrates finishes his recollection of Diotima’s speech, a loud knocking is heard on the door to Agathon’s home. It is Alcibiades and his friends, drunk and boisterous, who have come to celebrate Agathon. The group invites Alcibiades in, and he quickly assumes the role of Master of Ceremonies to ensure that all present will become as drunk as he is. The group demands that Alcibiades joins them in giving a speech, and when Alcibiades sees that Socrates is present, he decides to give his speech in praise of Socrates rather than Eros.
The Philosopher and the Politician
As usual, the choice of character and approach to the topic being spoken about is significant in understanding what Plato wishes to say with this scene. To those readers not familiar with him, Alcibiades was a Greek statesman who distinguished himself early in life through his ambition and political acumen. He was an outrageous man in his time, and frequently scandalized the Greeks with his antics.
He rose to great prominence in Athens, and was one of the generals chosen to lead the expedition to Sicily against the Spartans. During this time, Alcibiades was accused by his political opponents of sacrilege, including revealing the secrets of the Mysteries and desecrating the hermai. Rather than face the trial, he defected to the Spartans and fought on their side against his former city. He eventually had to flee from Sparta to Persia after having seduced the wife of the Spartan king, allegedly siring a child with her. Plutarch notes that one of Alcibiades’ greatest strengths was that he was a social chameleon, capable of fitting in anywhere.
So what is the significance of Alcibiades in this dialogue? He represents the political man par excellence. The Greeks of Antiquity were an eminently political people, and a man’s place was in public life. But Plato developed a deep contempt for politics due to the execution of Socrates. For this reason, Plato frequently discusses the differences between the political and the philosophical man, and championing the cause of philosophy against the political life expected of a Greek man. The best example of this is the Gorgias.
The choice of having Alcibiades praise Socrates is therefore meant to contrast the philosopher and the political man, and to show the superiority of philosophy to politics. This is shown in the relative virtues of the two characters of Socrates and Alcibiades.
With this said, let us look at the text itself.
The Satyr
“I think he is very like one of those Silenus-figures sculptors have on their shelves. They’re made with flutes or pipes. You can open them up, and when you do you find little figures of the gods inside. I also think Socrates is like the satyr Marsyas.” (Symposium 215b)
The Alcibiades speech begins with Plato describing Socrates as akin to a Silenus figurine, which contains little images of gods inside, and Maryas, the flute-playing satyr that challenged Apollo. What Plato is saying with these two descriptions is that Socrates is not what he seems at first, and that he can evoke great enthusiasm in those who hear him speak.
This is a metaphor for the Platonic teaching itself. Plato uses many strange metaphors, myths and lines of reasoning to show us something which is very beautiful and compelling. The Symposium itself is like this – after having gone through a number of strange speeches, we are finally given the highest and most sublime image of beauty at the end of the Diotima speech.
But there is a special meaning in Alcibiades – the supreme political man – making this speech.
“When I hear [Socrates], it is like the worst kind of religious hysteria. […] I used to listen to Pericles and other powerful speakers, and I thought they spoke well. But they never had the effect on me of turning all my beliefs upside down, with the disturbing realization that my whole life is like that of a slave. Whereas this Marsyas here has often made me feel that, and decide that the kind of life I lead is just not worth living.” (Symposium 215e)
Alcibiades represents the political life, the public life, the life of one enmeshed in the social games and power struggles of society. Upon hearing Socrates speak, he realizes that this way of life is worthless compared to the vision of the highest beauty which Socrates teaches.
Plato is, in short, telling us that the highest truth dispels all petty desires for power and recognition. Once we have seen it, it will rub against our political ambitions until the tension becomes unbearable to us and we are forced to recognize that all our social pretensions are wretched and pathetic.
“He forces me to admit that with all my faults I do nothing to improve myself, but continue in public life just the same. […] He’s the only man who can appeal to my better nature […] I know I should do what he tells me, but when I leave him I have no defense against my own ambition and desire for recognition.” (Symposium 216b)
The vision of the highest truth, beauty and goodness compels us to lay aside all things petty, worthless and lesser, but we often find that we are incapable of standing against our own inclinations and desires. Seeing this highest vision, we realize that we ourselves have a higher nature, and that it is brought down by the lesser nature in us. We are called to be greater, and therefore we are pained to see how low we really are.
How can we overcome this? Plato presents Socrates, or the philosopher, as the ideal of one who takes this higher vision seriously. Consequently, he views all other things as frivolous.
“Take my word for it, it makes no difference at all how attractive you are, [Socrates] has an astonishing contempt for that kind of thing. Similarly with riches, or any other of the so-called advantages we possess. He regards all possessions as worthless, and us humans as insignificant. No, I mean it – he treats his whole life in human society as a game or puzzle.” (Symposium 216d-e)
Society is a mere circumstance for the philosopher. It has no meaning other than how it makes us rise towards our higher nature. The philosopher shows contempt for possessions and status, and therefore sees political activity as worthless. Human social status games are frivolous to the philosopher.
This makes the philosopher seem like a strange character, but what is not seen on the outside is just what the philosopher cultivates on the inside.
“But when he’s serious, when he opens up and you see the real Socrates – I don’t know if any of you has ever seen the figure inside. I saw it once, and it struck me as utterly godlike and golden and beautiful and wonderful. (Symposium 216e)”
Rather than strive for the vanities of petty things that the herd desires, the philosopher cultivates instead that vision of the highest beauty within himself. He contemplates it and strives to live in accordance with it.
Where the political man is driven by the very smallest of desires, and is forced to run after them endlessly without any control, the philosopher is the master of himself.
“Well, gentlemen, I started seeing [Socrates] – just the two of us – and I thought he would start talking to me as lovers do to their boyfriends when they’re alone together. I was very excited. But nothing like that happened at all. He spent the whole day talking to me as usual, then left.” (Symposium 217b)
In this speech, Alcibiades makes it clear how he desired Socrates and tried to take him for a lover. But Socrates was uninterested and maintained control of himself. What the philosopher has, the political man desires, but the political man possesses nothing that the philosopher desires. The former is pulled along, but the latter is unmoved.
The Measure of a Man
Alcibiades then reminisces on the character of Socrates in war, which shows the extent to which the philosopher has mastered himself and to what little extent his desires control him.
“That was the background to our military service together in Potidaea, where we were messmates. In the first place there was his toughness – not only greater than mine, but greater than anyone else’s.” (Symposium 219e)
Of all the soldiers, Socrates was the one who could endure privation the best. In the midst of nothing, he would bear it without complaint.
“He wouldn’t drink for choice, but if he had to, he drank us all under the table. Surprising as it may seem, no man has ever seen Socrates drunk.” (Symposium 220a)
In the midst of plenty, Socrates would not let it rule him. Though he would drink reluctantly, he did not let it overcome him, and none could outmatch him.
When we think of great difficulty, we often imagine great privation. It is not so clear to us that victory will test our mettle as much as defeat. The ability to pace ourselves in the face of all that we desire is an underestimated virtue. If you doubt this, consider the following: where there is not starvation in our time, there is rampant obesity.
“In these conditions [harsh cold] Socrates went out in the same cloak he always wore, and walked barefoot over the ice with less fuss than the rest of us who had our feet wrapped up.” (Symposium 220a)
When faced with pain and discomfort, Socrates would bear it as easily as he would bear comfort. To him, pleasure and pain are the same. Neither affects him.
“Should I say something about his conduct in action? […] my own life was saved by none other than Socrates. He refused to leave me when I was wounded, and saved both me and my weapons. So I recommended that the generals should give [Socrates] the decoration. […] the generals were inclined to favor me, because of my social position, and wanted to give it to me, but you were keener than they were that I should get it, rather than you.” (Symposium 220d-e)
Despite his courage in battle, Socrates cared little for honors, and gave them freely to others. The desire for recognition does not rule the philosopher. Many would argue – and likely did so in Plato’s time – that it is the philosopher’s inability to claim the honors of public life that makes him spurn them, but Plato chastises them with this example. The philosopher can have what the statesman wants, but he does not care for it.
“And you should have seen him, gentlemen, on the retreat from Delium. […] I thought your description of him, Aristophanes, was as accurate there as it is here in Athens, ‘marching along with his head in the air, staring at all around him’, calmly contemplating friend and foe alike.” (Symposium 221a-b)
The greatest test of a man is not privation or plenty, pleasure or pain, ambition or humility. The true test is death, and the monstrous fear we feel at the thought of our own demise. Socrates, in the face of death and defeat, maintains his composure and acts as the situation demands.
The relation of the philosopher to death is discussed at length in another Platonic dialogue, the Phaedo. This dialogue details Socrates’ final moments, and contains his famous saying that philosophy is preparation for death.
All these various descriptions of Socrates and his great virtues are meant to contrast the deficiencies of character on display in Alcibiades himself. He swoons over Socrates, he is drunk and boisterous, he is desirous of fame and recognition. And yet despite his own great success as a statesman, the things he desires are worthless compared to what the philosopher himself possesses.
Alcibiades represents the political man, who is overcome by drunkenness and lust, who possesses only superficial beauties and goods, and who may seem happy on the surface but is wretched in reality. Socrates represents the philosopher, who is completely in control of himself, who shows contempt for pleasure and pain, wealth and fame, danger and death. The philosopher is like a Silenus figurine – underneath what seems like a harsh exterior is the most godlike and beautiful soul.
This is the meaning of this final speech of the Symposium.
Ascension Through Love
Having considered at this point the entirety of the Symposium, I would like to make an attempt at distilling its wisdom. What Plato is teaching us is that all of life forms the stepping stones towards enlightenment. In all things can be seen the mark or presence of the Absolute, but it is because of our inability to distinguish things properly that we are blind to this fact. The problem is not just that we lack knowledge of things as they are, but that our desires delude us. They tie us up with things in the wrong way, forcing us to see them the wrong way.
But there is a kind of desire which pulls us up from this muck of entanglement. It is the love of beauty, and we must learn to distinguish this love from lust or any other base desire. How do we do this? Desire is a lack – the lower desires are a lack of things that break us, while the higher desires are a lack of things that make us whole.
When we follow the course of this love for beauty, we will take our beginning in the world around us. We will see that there is beauty in this world, and we will fall in love with this beauty. But we must not let our love of beautiful things or people prevent us from loving beauty itself. We must look past them to see this beauty in more and more places, shining through more and more things, different though they may be from each other.
We must look for this beauty beyond the things of the senses to the things of the mind. We must find it in thoughts and ideas, in characters and personalities. We must see that there is beauty in every pattern and process that governs the world. But we must look beyond even these subtle things. Just as we recognized that each sense object shared in the same beauty, we must recognize the same for the intelligible objects.
As we see this beauty shine through more and more things, and shine both in the inner world of the mind as well as the outer world of things, we must then focus our attention fully on this beauty and let go of all else. If we have been successful so far, we will reach our goal and see the True Form of the world. We stand then on the shores of the ocean of infinite beauty. It is then that we will recognize all vain striving as being only drops from this great ocean, and that he who has reached the shore has no use of them.
Only then are we free. Only then are we truly happy.
References
Plato. (1997) Symposium And The Death Of Socrates. Hertfordshire: Wordsworth Edition Limited. Translated by Tom Griffith.