10 The Euthyphro

The Euthyphro, according to general opinion, is Plato’s dialogue on the nature of piety or holiness.^[1] This view arises expectedly, because Socrates argues with Euthyphro about piety; if one wants to know the Platonic-Socratic position on piety, one is pointed in the direction of this piece. It is, however, as much a mistake to assume that any of the dialogues is about what the personae dramatis discuss as it would be of Shakespeare’s plays. Lear is not about how much the old king’s various daughters love him: it is about self-delusion, madness, and nature. The Euthyphro is about the self-delusion that drives a man to act with absolute certitude; it is about self-delusion so intense that it thrives even when the hollowness of its foundation is absolutely manifest. Such delusion can have profound consequences for man and state, Plato warns.

The little play begins as Euthyphro expresses surprise to see Socra­tes at the royal porch, a law court, instead of at the Lyceum, where he could talk to youngsters as usual.^[2] Socrates explains that he has been indicted by Meletus, a young man he doesn’t know, on the serious charges of corruption of youth by not believing in the old gods and by making new ones. The very fact of the charge is evidence of Meletus’s excellence, says Socrates, for to bring such a charge he must care a lot about the young. Surely, he adds, Meletus will have a great future (2A-3B). Right from the start Socrates displays his usual irony, praising Meletus for his care (and punning on Meletus’s name—which means “care”—just as he will pun during the trial).

Euthyphro suspects that the charge arises from Socrates’ references to his special “sign,” the voice that sometimes keeps him from doing things he shouldn’t. Euthyphro scoffs at the charge even while ac­knowledging how easy it is for such things to be misrepresented in court; he says he suffers a similar fate: when he makes predictions in the assembly, the Athenians laugh at him, even though his predictions are always right. The character Euthyphro presents himself as a man infinitely confident of his abilities. A moment later Euthyphro predicts that Socrates’ case will come out well (3E)-and we realize from the dramatic irony how good a prophet he is.

It turns out that Euthyphro has come to court to bring an indictment against his father for murder. Although his family has scolded him quite severely, he knows he is doing the right thing. Socrates expresses amazement and says that Euthyphro must be far advanced in wisdom to do so unusual a thing as prosecute his own father (4A). Yes, says Euthyphro in another self-praise, he is very far advanced indeed (4B). Euthyphro begins his account with some very Socratic-sounding statements. We must not consider whether or not a man is related when making prosecutions, only whether or not the prosecution is right. We learn, however, that the case is not a simple one. As Euthyphro tells the story, a laborer became drunk and killed one of the domestic slaves. Euthyphro’s father tied up the culprit, threw him into a ditch, and sent a servant to Athens to ask what to do. In the meantime, the man died. The delay is, presumably, accounted for by the fact that the incident occurred on the family farm in Naxos, an Athenian possession.^[3] Those, Euthyphro says, who criticize him for prosecuting his father surely do not know what divinity is or its relationship to holiness! Socrates asks Euthyphro whether his knowl­edge of divine things is so excellent that in the circumstances he has described he can rightly accuse his father (4E). And again (5A) Euthy­phro boasts about his special knowledge.

The play begins, then, with a young man absolutely convinced of the rightness of his case. He is plagued with not a single doubt, not a single moment’s hesitation, not a single question. The case he has described is by no means an obvious one; it certainly cannot have been self-evident to Plato’s audience that Euthyphro is acting rightly. On the surface it seems as though the drunken laborer had death coming to him. Surely it does not seem as though Euthyphro’s father murdered him; at worse, he might be guilty of negligence. Of course we recognize that a commonsense view and a legal view, especially in litigious societies like our own and ancient Athens, are quite often diverse.^[4] No matter; however one looks at it, the case is complex and would give any reflective man pause. But not Euthyphro! He is totally sure that he knows just what the holy thing to do is.

What we have, of course, is a reflection of Socrates’ situation. Meletus, a young man like Euthyphro, is prosecuting Socrates, an old man like Euthyphro’s father.^[5] Both youngsters must be very sure of themselves to take such action upon themselves! What we shall see in the play, I think, is an arrogance in Euthyphro that we can assume to be present in Meletus. Even when Euthyphro will be given every cause to question his own judgment, he will persist in believing in the rightness of his accusation. Socrates will effect no change whatsoever in his young interlocutor. The audience will be left with this question: if Socrates has had no effect at all on Euthyphro, how then could he have dented the consciousness of any youth enough to have corrupted him? The true danger is the other way around: it comes from youth, who, without benefit of wisdom, experience, or knowledge, cavalierly prosecute their elders. Plato’s point is this: watch out for the young! If they’re not educated properly (as they would be in the Academy), look at all the trouble they can cause. We also see of course how very difficult it is for Socrates to convince anyone of anything. If he cannot convince the well-meaning if confused Euthyphro, how will he ever convince a jury full of people like him?

After Euthyphro’s repeated assertion of theological brilliance, Soc­rates asks him for instruction. Teach me about holiness, he begs, so that I can answer Meletus’s charges. Then, if I hold wrong views, prosecute Euthyphro for corrupting his elders!

Euthyphro is eager to help Socrates and is sure that if Meletus brought him to court, he’d easily show Meletus up (5B-C). After a bit more banter and Socrates’ observation that for some reason Meletus is indicting not Euthyphro–who goes unnoticed-but Socrates, the conversation begins.

Define holiness, Socrates asks. Euthyphro’s first definition grows out of his own situation; it shows his failure to understand what a definition is, and it shows how unabstracted his views are from his personal life. “Holy” means to prosecute the wrongdoer. As proofs he offers the example of Zeus, who chained his father Cronus for swallowing his children, and of Cronus, who castrated his father Uranus. The example is in keeping with Euthyphro’s lack of humility: his own actions are imitations of the actions of the gods.

Socrates explains that people think him impious because he does not believe such stories about the gods, and he asks Euthyphro whether he believes them. Euthyphro affirms that he does believe these stories and in addition believes a lot more stories he could tell Socrates. Perhaps Socrates sees that it will be vain to question Euthyphro’s beliefs about the gods. He tries another tack, pointing out that ­ Euthyphro has given an example, not the underlying essence of holiness.

Euthyphro’s second definition is that holiness is what pleases the gods (6E-7A). This definition is easily refuted, for since (as Euthy­phro’s tale of Zeus’s punishment of his father shows) the gods disagree among themselves about the nature of good and evil, what pleases some gods must displease others, and thus the same thing would be simul­taneously holy and unholy. Socrates brings the point home to Euthy­phro (8B), pointing out how it would not be strange if the gods disagreed on Euthyphro’ s prosecution of his father.^[6] Again Euthyphro declares the infallibility of his knowledge: the gods don’t disagree on punishing someone who kills wrongfully. The question, as Socrates observes, is not whether wrongdoers should be punished—all agree on this—but whether a particular action is right or wrong. And again (9 A-B) Socrates asks Euthyphro what proof he has that the gods would agree that the hireling had died unjustly. He asks Euthyphro to make it clear beyond any doubt whatsoever that the gods would approve his conduct. Prove it, Socrates repeats, and I’ll never stop praising your wisdom.

Euthyphro now twice insists that he could prove it: I could prove it to you, but it would not be easy (9B). When Socrates observes that to prosecute his father successfully he will have to demonstrate it to the judges, Euthyphro says he will prove it absolutely. Socrates responds with a sly joke mocking clever rhetoricians: yes, if you give a good speech (9C).

Again and again we see Euthyphro affirming his knowledge to Socrates, his ability to make these matters absolutely clear, and again and again we see the emptiness of his views. Perhaps each person in Plato’s audience will pause and say to himself, “It is no easy question Socrates is asking Euthyphro. Could I be certain about these issues? Could I proclaim to know with certainty about whether the gods approve of this or that?” The member of the audience will surely respond, “Of course not!” After all, the presumptuousness of such a claim is easy to expose, as the example of Euthyphro shows. Isn’t this the point of the dialogue and doesn’t it show the folly of Socrates’ situation? If claims about the gods and holiness and so on are so obscure, how can the charge against Socrates of not believing properly in the gods have any validity? Can Meletus’ s charge of Socratic impiety be based on any firmer knowledge or wisdom than Euthyphro’s charge?

Well, says Socrates, let’s assume that the gods agree. What then is holiness? Is something holy because the gods love it, or do the gods love it because it is holy (10 A)? The argument is based on the difference in relation between active and passive; the conclusion (10D) is that the gods love something because it is holy.^[7] This definition will not satisfy either, for though it reveals an attribute of holiness, it does not reveal its essence.

In these arguments Socrates confuses Euthyphro by some simple tricks of logic. What they generally show is that Euthyphro, despite his claims to an other-worldly wisdom, is not familiar with basic rational discourse. Can Plato be suggesting the importance of logic in reflection and for arriving at conclusions even about matters theologi­cal?

Euthyphro, who has probably never even heard of the distinction between essence and attribute,^[8] admits that he is confused, that the argument keeps running away in a circle and won’t stay put. Socrates tries to console him, comparing himself to Daedalus, except, says Socrates, that he is better than Daedalus, for he can cause someone else’s words to move, not only his own. This similitude cheers ­ Euthyphro, and he returns to the argument (11E), only to be instantly confused again when Socrates tries to make another logical point, this one concerning genus and species. Is holiness a part of justice, or is justice a part of holiness? Socrates, losing patience with Euthyphro, sarcastically claims that the young man has grown lazy from being so advanced in wisdom.

To help Euthyphro he quotes a line of verse: “Where fear is, there too is reverence.” Socrates says he disagrees with the poet, for it is possible to have fear, of poverty, say, even where there is no rever­ence; but where there is fear, there is reverence: if one has reverence about something, he fears an evil reputation. The example is not especially good, for it could as easily have been turned around. Socrates might have said that if one fears poverty, it is because he reveres wealth. Just in case it is not clear that reverence is a species of fear, Socrates gives a better example: odd numbers are a species of all numbers. In the same way, then, is holiness a part of justice (12B-D)? When Euthyphro agrees, Socrates asks him which part of justice holiness is. Euthyphro answers that it is the part of justice that has to do with rendering service to the gods.

The question now is how mere mortals can render service to the gods. Euthyphro has a promising insight: there are two kinds of service, that of the herdsman for his cows, where the one rendering the service is clearly the superior, and that of servants for their masters, where those rendering service are inferior. It is the latter kind of service that we mortals render (13D). But this distinction proves to be valueless, for even servants perform actions that provide benefits, but what benefits can we provide the gods? Even as Socrates asks this question (13E), he reminds Euthyphro that he should be able to answer, for he is (so he has claimed) the best informed among mankind of things divine. Even here, amidst the crumbled ruins of his latest failed definition, with colossal arrogance, Euthyphro confirms his knowledge and superiority in divine matters (13E).

In his final attempt at a definition, Euthyphro says that holiness is the knowledge of saying things pleasing to the gods in prayer and sacrifice. Since prayer is the asking for things, and sacrifice the giving of things, holiness means knowing how to ask from and give to the gods. Of course, as Socrates points out (15A), the problem remains the same: what can we give the gods that they need? In defending his point, Euthyphro insists that the gods are pleased by prayers and sacrifices, and so we come round again to the earlier argument, that holiness is what the gods love.

As the argument has gone full circle, Socrates brings up his Daedalus reference again to remind Euthyphro that they have already covered this ground. Euthyphro readily agrees that they were wrong either now or before. When Socrates offers to pursue the question, once again bringing up Euthyphro’s wisdom in being able to prosecute his father, Euthyphro claims to be in too great a hurry. As the play ends, Socrates is alone on stage, lamenting his predicament: how can he answer Meletus’s charges without knowing about divine things?

The mention of Meletus at the end is a reminder of his similarity to Euthyphro. If Socrates could only talk to Meletus, isn’t it likely that he would reduce Meletus to the same position as Euthyphro? Must not Meletus too be absolutely certain about the justice of his case? Socra­tes, we are sure, would be able to talk circles around Meletus’s head too and to show that despite his claims to knowledge he has probably never reflected seriously on the matters he is bringing to court.

In the play Socrates disagrees with the traditional stories about the gods. In a sense, this is impiety. But in another sense, to believe the stories and to believe that the gods are capable of lawlessness is the real impiety. Thus the prior question is what views constitute impiety. In order to answer, one must have knowledge about the nature of the gods. How can we, the audience, say whether Socrates’ or Euthy­phro’s views are right or wrong—after all, who can know for sure about the gods? It may certainly be said, however, that Socrates is no worse and probably a lot better than Euthyphro; he is more reflective and less arrogant. Once, again, however, we see his utter inability to persuade Euthyphro. We may wonder as well whether his reliance on a chance encounter with a so-called prophet rather than a course of systematic instruction is the cause of his failure to reach a conclusion.^[9] I would link this dialogue with the Symposium, for both it and the Symposium show the cavalier presumption that dominates people’s pronouncements about the gods. If the results were good fun in the case of the party at Agathon’s house, we see here how dark is the flip side of such presumption: it can convict and execute a man.