A Sweet and Virtuous Soul

That is “Virtue” by George Herbert. The idea is intriguing. Of all the sweet things (day, rose, spring, soul), only the virtuous soul does not die. Virtue outlives the days and season. If you could give a gift to someone you love, it is far better to bequeath virtue than a rose.

Ah, but can you give virtue to another? Is virtue something which can be taught? Enter Socrates.

Meno by Plato is an extended attempt to answer that very question. Just like every time Socrates joins a conversation, the whole matter ends up being tied in more knots than you imagined could have existed. Indeed, this particular dialogue has a marvelous interaction (Jowett translation):

Meno O Socrates, I used to be told, before I knew you, that you were always doubting yourself and making others doubt; and now you are casting your spells over me, and I am simply getting bewitched and enchanted, and am at my wits’ end. And if I may venture to make a jest upon you, you seem to me both in your appearance and in your power over others to be very like the flat torpedo fish, who torpifies those who come near him and touch him, as you have now torpified me, I think. For my soul and my tongue are really torpid, and I do not know how to answer you; and though I have been delivered of an infinite variety of speeches about virtue before now, and to many persons—and very good ones they were, as I thought—at this moment I cannot even say what virtue is. And I think that you are very wise in not voyaging and going away from home, for if you did in other places as do in Athens, you would be cast into prison as a magician.
Socrates You are a rogue, Meno, and had all but caught me.
Meno What do you mean, Socrates?
Socrates I can tell why you made a simile about me.
Meno Why?
Socrates In order that I might make another simile about you. For I know that all pretty young gentlemen like to have pretty similes made about them—as well they may—but I shall not return the compliment. As to my being a torpedo, if the torpedo is torpid as well as the cause of torpidity in others, then indeed I am a torpedo, but not otherwise; for I perplex others, not because I am clear, but because I am utterly perplexed myself. And now I know not what virtue is, and you seem to be in the same case, although you did once perhaps know before you touched me. However, I have no objection to join with you in the enquiry.

I truly love that shtick when Socrates insists he is not confusing others, but rather that he is the one being confused. (I have been known to use that line on occasion in assorted classes and reading groups. The classics never go out of style.)

But, let’s see if we can clear up the confusion. Can virtue be taught? First off, we have to figure out what virtue is, which leads Meno into all sorts of trouble. We all know about virtue and we would have no trouble rattling off a list of virtues, but what is the definition of virtue itself? What is virtue in the abstract, not in the particular example, but the essence of virtue? What is it that quality which unites honesty and faithfulness and temperance and courage and so on? Good luck.

So, let’s take the easier question. Assuming we all know virtue when we see it, can we teach it? First, we have to find out if virtue is a form of knowledge. That is also a bit tricky. Surely virtue is something we can know, and is thus a form of knowledge. Then, if virtue is a form of knowledge, it can be taught. Thus, if virtue cannot be taught, it must not be a form of knowledge. Can virtue be taught? It is easy enough to teach someone about virtue. But, is teaching someone about honesty the same thing as teaching someone to be honest? Obviously not. Which is virtue? Knowing about honesty or being honest?

The challenge is thus to teach someone to be virtuous, not to know about virtue. Can that be done? How? Surely we can agree that to teach virtue, one must be virtuous. To teach knowledge, one must have the knowledge to be taught, so to teach virtue, doesn’t it follow that someone must have the virtue to be taught? Thus, we need to find virtuous people to see how virtue is taught. We suddenly run into another problem: virtuous people would surely want to teach others to be virtuous. In particular, virtuous people would want their own children to be virtuous, and thus would teach their children to be virtuous. But the children of virtuous people are not always virtuous. Does that mean virtue cannot be taught?

If virtue cannot be taught, how then do we learn to be virtuous? How do we even learn what constitutes virtue? Socrates’ conclusion? “To sum up our enquiry—the result seems to be, if we are at all right in our view, that virtue is neither natural nor acquired, but an instinct given by God to the virtuous.”

Now that is a rather fascinating conclusion. It is exactly the argument Paul makes in his letter to the Romans. Man rebels against God, and is hopelessly mired in an unvirtuous state.

For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things.
Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! (ESV)

Man’s nature cannot teach him virtue. Virtue cannot be acquired through any of his own efforts. Which causes Paul to exclaim: “Who will deliver me from this body of death?” The answer: “To sum up our enquiry—the result seems to be, if we are at all right in our view, that virtue is neither natural nor acquired, but an instinct given by God to the virtuous.” Or as Paul actually put it: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

Athens and Jerusalem once again point at the same conclusion.

Related Posts
Plato, Phaedo “Do You Have a Soul?”
Nietzsche, Friedrich The Genealogy of Morals “Nietzsche and the Apostle Paul”