Is pleasure any good?

Weakness of will and the art of measurement in Plato’s Protagoras

Vivil Valvik Haraldsen, University of Oslo

Towards the end of the Protagoras, Socrates sets out a position according to which
pleasure is good, and pain bad, and all human motivation ultimately reducible to
pursuing pleasure and avoiding pain. This position is then used as the basis for an
argument to the effect that what the many, hoi polloi, call being weaker than pleasure,
or overcome by pleasure, is impossible.1 It is often claimed that Socrates is denying the
possibility of akrasia; this Greek term means literally lack of control, rule, or strength,
and the term is standardly translated as weakness of will. 2 For the sake of convenience
this expression will be used for the time being, with the reservation that it is not meant
to imply that Socrates operates with any notion of the will similar to common modern
senses of the term. Against the view just mentioned, this article will contend that
Socrates is in fact not denying the possibility of weakness of will in this part of the
Protagoras, but is instead constructing an argument of which the treatment of weakness
of will forms but a part. It will be maintained that this argument is ad hominem in the
sense that it is aimed at showing the impotence of the philosophical position of
Protagoras, the teacher who purports to be able to aid others to become powerful, as
well as to be in power himself as a successful representative of his lucrative, although
risky, profession.
The article will primarily be concerned with the passage towards the end of the
dialogue where the hedonistic thesis is discussed, from 351b3-358d4, although certain
points from the subsequent discussion of courage and the ending of the dialogue will
also be considered. In the article’s first part some influential lines of interpretation of
our main passage will be sketched briefly, and some issues concerning assumptions
about Socratic views and the development of Plato’s thought relevant to these lines of

 I wish to thank Hayden W. Ausland, Cynthia Freeland and Kristian Larsen, who have all read earlier
versions of the paper and offered constructive criticism and helpful suggestions. I also wish to thank the
participants and audience at the conference “Poetry and philosophy in the light of Plato’s Protagoras” at
the University of Bergen in 2014 for fruitful questions and comments.
1
The Greek phrasing is hêdonê ("pleasure") governed by the verbal expressions hessasthai and hessô
einai, which can both be rendered more literally as "being weaker than", or "inferior to", but more
idiomatically with "overcome by".
2
Another standard translation is “incontinence”, cf. e.g. Irwin (1995, 82).

1
interpretation will be discussed. In the second part we will turn to our main passage, and
look at some of the details of how the argument proceeds; we will, however, be less
concerned with the details of the different arguments found in the passage than with the
connection between them. A possible connection between the way the argument in this
part of the dialogue is presented and the way the doctrine of Protagoras is interpreted in
the Theaetetus will also be suggested.
In the third and final part of the article a parallel to the Phaedrus will be
considered. According to the interpretation presented here, an important point of the
argument in the last part of the Protagoras is to highlight the ambivalence of cleverness
in reasoning, underscoring that clever reasoning may still represent an impoverished
activity of reason and does not guarantee that one is able to discover the truth about the
good. The distinction between clever reasoning and clever speeches and the ability to
find truth is a theme found in several dialogues, the Phaedrus being a particularly
interesting case in connection with the Protagoras, since this theme is here closely
connected to the question how to distinguish philosophy from sophistry and rhetoric, a
question arguably also central to the Protagoras. Further, in the light of Socrates’ point
in the Phaedrus about the importance of adjusting one’s speech in accordance with the
soul of the listener (Phaedr. 271a4-272b1), it will be considered whether the argument
in the last part of the Protagoras is ad hominem in a second sense, tailored to have an
effect on Socrates’ companion, Hippocrates.

I. Socratic Hedonism? Perspectives in the Secondary Literature

In a section of our key passage, at 352d7-e1, Socrates states that weakness of will, or
not acting in accordance with what one thinks best, is described by the many as being
overcome by pleasure and pain (352d7-e1). However, if one substitutes ‘good’ and
‘bad’ for ‘pleasant’ and ‘painful’, as Socrates suggests one must because the many are
not able to point to a good that is not reducible to pleasure, this description becomes
absurd. For now it amounts to saying that this is a case where one does not choose what
one thinks is best, i.e. most pleasant, and rather chooses what one thinks is bad, i.e.
painful (or at least less pleasant), because one is overcome by pleasure. The problem in
such situations, Socrates holds, must really be an ignorance of the pleasant and the
painful. Therefore, being overcome by pleasure is not possible, and the expression is a
defective description of the phenomenon in question.

2
 The denial of the possibility of weakness of will is, according to an influential
tradition of interpretation of Plato’s dialogues, one of the paradoxes characteristically
advanced by Socrates, and in passages surrounding the one where this argument occurs
we also find other such paradoxes: the unity of virtue and the description of virtue as
knowledge. On the basis of the identification of pleasure and the good and the ensuing
argument against the possibility of weakness of will, Socrates also describes an art that,
he suggests, appears to be the salvation of our life. This is an art of measurement (hê
metrêtikê technê, 356d4) that will make us able to measure pleasure and pain correctly,
and thereby direct us to the right course of action.
How the identification of pleasure and the good, traditionally called the
hedonism of the Protagoras, and this art of measurement should be understood has,
unsurprisingly, been the subject of much debate in the secondary literature, and this will
also be the guiding question for this article. Several scholars have found reason to doubt
that the hedonism represents the view of Socrates.3 On the one hand, that it should do so
has been thought unlikely because it is regarded as a morally “base” position4 – and
indeed, the hedonism Socrates sets out certainly seems to be of a very basic form,
leaving no room for qualitative distinctions between pleasures at all (cf. 356a5-b1). On
the other, it has been thought unlikely that hedonism represents the view of Socrates
because it seems to fit badly with what Plato has Socrates say in other dialogues, the
Gorgias and the Republic being obvious examples (Grg. 495d2-e1, Rep. 505c6-11).
Some scholars therefore either doubt or outright reject that hedonism is the view of
Socrates, offering different explanations why Plato lets Socrates present his argument
on its behalf.5 In contrast, a second approach has been to take hedonism to be Socrates’
own premise, but to contend that it does not actually amount to hedonism as this is
ordinarily understood.6 A third line of interpretation is to read the thesis of Protagoras
as an ordinary hedonism that is nonetheless Socrates’ own, and also to see the

3
‘Socrates’ will here refer to the character in Plato’s dialogues; the question how to differentiate between
the views of Plato and the views of the historical Socrates will not concern us here.
4
Cf. Guthrie (1956, 22) and the discussion of objections to “the antihedonist” interpretation in Zeyl
(1980, 261).
5
Different versions of this line are found in e.g. Sullivan (1961, 22), Kahn (1996, 247), Zeyl (1980, 257),
and Ferrari (1990, 137). The interpretation presented here has many points of agreement with the latter,
but takes a somewhat different view of the role of the argument against the possibility of weakness of
will.
6
E.g. Vlastos (1956, xl-xli) and Guthrie (1956, 22-23). Woolf (2002, 248n44) also seems to fall under
this line of interpretation, and even endorses the position he takes Socrates to be advancing: “I do not
think it can be denied that the version of hedonism presented here is a reasonably plausible account of
human motivation, given the range of goods it purports to explain…”

3
measuring-art he describes on its basis as a sincere part of Socrates’ ethical teaching in
the dialogue. Terence Irwin (1977, 103 and 1995, 92-94) and Martha Nussbaum ([1986]
2001, 109-111) represent this third line, although their interpretations differ in various
other respects.7
Although the first two lines of interpretation mentioned, which either do not
regard the hedonism as Socrates’ own view, or regard it as an unusual hedonism,
certainly leave many questions to be answered, the third line of interpretation is perhaps
for many the one in most immediate need of defence, in view of what seems its blatant
discrepancy with what is commonly regarded as the Socratic outlook. We can quote R.
Hackforth’s short article, “Hedonism in Plato’s Protagoras”: “The puzzle of the
dialogue is that Socrates is made to propound a Hedonistic ethical theory, which
appears to be not merely contradictory of the views attributed to him in any other
dialogue, but inconsistent with the whole attitude and spirit of the man as we know him
from Plato’s general portrait.” (1928, 40)8
So what are the reasons for regarding the hedonism of the Protagoras as
Socrates’ own thesis? One seems to be the role it plays in its context. For as we will see,
on the basis of this thesis Socrates argues that a weakness of the will is impossible.9 On
the same basis Socrates also secures Protagoras’ agreement to the description of
courage as knowledge and wisdom, in this way suggesting that virtue is knowledge.10
These views are standardly recognized as “Socratic views”. Gregory Vlastos maintains,
in his introduction to the Protagoras of 1956, that Socrates does not usually argue from

7
Nussbaum, however, takes Socrates (and Plato) to have greater enthusiasm for the prospect of a
measuring-art than for hedonism: “Pleasure enters the argument as an attractive candidate for this role [a
unit of measure]: Socrates adopts it for the science it promises, rather than for its own intrinsic
plausibility” (2001, 110). Among the commentators who regard the hedonism as Socrates’ own view are
also Hackforth (1928) and (Dodds 1959, 21n3).
8
Hackforth nevertheless argues against interpretations that do not take the hedonism to be meant
seriously, which he describes as the prevailing view in his day, referring to amongst others Taylor and
Cornford (41). Hackforth regards the hedonistic thesis as “Plato’s first attempt” (42) to answer the
question what the standard of goodness in Socrates’ view could be, adding that “He soon advanced
beyond this view” (42). Cf. also Gregory Vlastos’ introduction to the Protagoras: “(…) hedonism is not
in keeping with the general temper or method of Socratic ethics” (1956, xl-xli), and Guthrie (1956, 9).
9
This fact is emphasized by many commentators, and in conjunction with the fact that it is Socrates who
talks the many into accepting the hedonistic thesis, it is, as Ferrari (1990, 133n29) notes, often taken to be
a point in favour of regarding the hedonism as Socrates’ view (e.g. Hackforth [1928], Vlastos [1956,
xxxix-xl], Irwin [1977, 106 and 1995, 94], Nussbaum [1986, 110-111], Woolf [2002, 226]); the present
interpretation will agree with Ferrari that although this suggests that the hedonism is not the view of the
many, it does not make it necessary to assume that it is the view of Socrates.
10
Significantly, Socrates does not, as we will see below, state that virtue is knowledge or that knowledge
is virtue in the Protagoras, a point noted by Ferrari (1990, 127).

4
premises that are not his own for views that clearly are his own.11 If Vlastos’ contention
is correct, his point can still be seen to support different lines of interpretation. One is to
regard the hedonism, that is, the premise from which Socrates argues, as Socrates’ own.
A second is to assume that something highly uncharacteristic is going on in Socrates’
argument at the end of the Protagoras, namely that Socrates is in fact arguing from
beliefs not his own to a conclusion that is his own. A third is to doubt that the views he
is arguing for on this premise are in fact his own. 12
The first option is, as already mentioned, adopted by both Irwin and Nussbaum.
A version of the second has been suggested by Donald Zeyl (1980, 257);13 he contends
that Socrates uses hedonistic premises dialectically in order to argue that even on such
premises, virtue is knowledge.14 Roslyn Weiss, in her book The Socratic paradox and
its enemies (2006), to which the present article is indebted, opts for the third; her view is
that Socrates uses hedonistic premises to argue that only on such premises is virtue
knowledge.15 She also argues that we should doubt that the denial of the possibility of
weakness of will and the proposal of the art of measurement that is argued for on the
basis of the hedonistic thesis form part of the view of Socrates.16 The plausibility of the
two last points will also be argued for in the following. It will further be argued that the
argument against the possibility of being overcome by pleasure based on the hedonistic
thesis forms part of a reductio ad absurdum aimed at exposing the position of
Protagoras as deeply problematic, by displaying the inconsistencies embedded in the
relation between his doctrine of measurement and his claim to be able to act as an
educator.17 But answering the question how we should understand the suggestion that

11
Vlastos (1956, xln50). The view Vlastos identifies as clearly Socrates’ own is what he calls his “great
proposition”: ‘Knowledge is virtue’.
12
The examples cited here of different ways of reading the hedonism and the passage in which it is found
obviously do not make up an exhaustive list. Examples of some recent readings are Woolf (2002) and
Russell (2000), who both, although in different ways, discuss Socrates’ argument in the passage as an
example of elenchos, and Callard (2014), who offers a thorough discussion of the argument against the
possibility of being overcome by pleasure. Callard argues that Socrates’ argument “does not constitute a
rejection of the possibility of akrasia” (31), a point with which the present interpretation agrees, but
offers a different view of the function of the argument than the one presented here.
13
The interpretation of Sullivan (1961) is along similar lines.
14
Kahn’s interpretation is similar in the view of the hedonistic thesis; he regards “both hedonism and the
denial of akrasia as dialectical devices designed to provide a persuasive defence of the Socratic paradox
that no one is voluntarily bad.” (1996, 247).
15
Weiss (2006, 48n32).
16
Weiss (2006, 47-63).
17
It is not suggested that there is a formal reductio, but rather that it leaves Protagoras in a position that is
laughable (cf. katagelân, 361a3-5). The interpretation presented here shares several points of agreement
with the explanation of hedonism in the light of the overall concern of the dialogue presented in Weiss
(1990). For discussion of the question how to understand the characterizations of different statements or

5
virtue is knowledge is a complex undertaking. It will be suggested that the Protagoras
tells us something about a kind of knowledge that is involved in virtue, in particular by
telling us in some way what it is not, by way of showing that it is not something one
may learn from Protagoras. At the same time, the dialogue tells us something about the
functioning of human reason, showing that the ability to discover what the good is is not
primarily a question of cleverness in reasoning.
Before we turn to the key passage in the Protagoras, a few more comments
about other lines of interpretation are in order. The first concerns the denial of the
possibility of weakness of will, or, as it is standardly referred to in the literature, the
denial of akrasia. This has often been regarded as something that is most certainly a
Socratic view, and one important reason why many scholars are inclined to regard it as
such is the fact that Aristotle ascribes it to Socrates, criticizing him for it, in Book 7 of
the Nicomachean Ethics (VII. ii. 1145b24-25). But it might be that the basis for
Aristotle’s ascription is the Protagoras itself. He refers to Socrates as one of those who
thought akrasia impossible on the grounds that it would be strange if, when knowledge
was in a man, something else could master it and “drag it about like a slave”, evidently
enough an allusion to something Socrates says at Prot. 352c1-2. So the testimony of
Aristotle might be as good as Aristotle was as a reader of the Protagoras, and whether
he was a good reader of Platonic dialogues – especially when it comes to attention to
detail – is a matter for debate.
Further, when considering whether the denial of akrasia is a Socratic view, it is
worth keeping in mind that this view is in fact not argued for anywhere else than in the
Protagoras. And we should rather call it the denial that it is possible to be overcome or
conquered by pleasure and pain, which is, as mentioned above, the phrasing found in
the text (352d8-e1). Socrates tells Protagoras that this expression is used in the
explanation most people give to the situation they see as one in which people who
recognize (gignoskein) what is best are unwilling to act on it (ouk ethelein prattein
352d6-7). The use of the term akrasia in the characterization of the argument seems to
come from Aristotle, since akrasia is neither found in the passage nor anywhere else in
the dialogue.18 Both in the Gorgias and in the Republic, on the other hand, we find

views in this part of the dialogue as laughable or ridiculous (geloion, 355a6, 355b4, 355d1, gelâv 355c8,
katagelân 357d2-3), see e.g. Dyson (1976, 36).
18
Cf. Denyer (2008, 183).

6
Socrates using another form, akrateia (Grg. 525a6, Rep. 461b1), but here Socrates is
represented as assuming that it is possible.
Another relevant point is the issue of chronology and the development of Plato’s
thought. Several of the scholars who regard the hedonistic thesis as representing
Socrates’ – or Plato’s view – have a particular idea of the chronology of the dialogues
and the development of Plato’s thought in mind. Irwin, for example, regards the
Protagoras as presenting the views of the historical Socrates as well as of Plato at the
time Plato was writing it. Irwin regards the account of the tripartite soul of the Republic
as the expression of a development in Plato’s thought that provides the solution to a
problem, i.e., the denial of akrasia, which Plato had come to regard as psychologically
implausible. And so Irwin may identify a plausible progress in Plato’s thought (1995,
87, 209-11). Nussbaum likewise has a developmental perspective, although it seems
that in her view real progress is not made until Aristotle (2001, 9-10).19
In this article no specific view of chronology or development is assumed, and so
no attempt to read the Protagoras as some particular stage on the path from one point to
another will be made. It will be considered legitimate to draw parallels to any Platonic
dialogue, wherever it seems relevant to do so, and irrespective of its placement in the
traditional chronology. Moreover, we will, as mentioned above, be less concerned with
the details of the different arguments in the passage – the details of the argument against
the possibility of being weaker than pleasure, for example, have been minutely
discussed, often in isolation from the hedonism on which it follows – but rather with the
role the arguments in the passage might be taken to play in the context of the dialogue
as a whole.

II. Pleasure as the Good: Conversations with the Many

19
The widespread line of interpretation which identifies the denial of akrasia as a Socratic doctrine of the
supposedly early dialogues and regards the account of the tripartite soul in the Republic as fashioned to
account for akrasia, thereby marking a break with ”Socratic psychology”, should at least regard it as a
challenge that Socrates in the Crito, a dialogue few scholars engaged in considerations of chronology
would regard as of the same period as the Republic, seems to recognize the possibility of acting against
one’s best judgement. Socrates here states the following: “for I am not only now but always a man who
follows nothing but the reasoning which on consideration seems to me best.” (Cr. 46b4-6). The quotation
in itself suggests that it would be possible for him not always to be such a man, and the context of 46b-c
clearly suggests that not everyone is like that, and that Socrates could also, were he a different kind of
man, fail to act in accordance with his argument, in fear of the power of the many “as children are
frightened with goblins” (46c4-6). The terms are not the same as those used by the many in the
Protagoras, but it looks like Socrates is saying that he will not let something else, e.g. fear, conquer his
recognition of what seems best.

7
Let us now turn to the passage where the hedonistic thesis is introduced. The theme of
pleasure is brought in by Socrates right after Protagoras has effectively resisted
Socrates’ attempt to get him to agree that courage is wisdom (at 349a6-351b2), stating
that courage comes from nature along with good nurture of souls (apo physeôs kai
eutrophias tôn psychôn, 351b2). Socrates now changes the subject, and asks whether
Protagoras would say that some human beings live well and others badly. When
Protagoras has agreed, Socrates proceeds to ask whether it seems to him that a human
being lives well if he lives in pain and suffering. Protagoras unsurprisingly answers that
it does not. The next question put to Protagoras is whether it seems to him that someone
who gets to the end of his life and has lived pleasantly has lived well. Protagoras allows
that it does. Socrates now suggests that the conclusion that follows is that it is good to
live pleasantly and bad to live unpleasantly. Here Protagoras agrees only with a
reservation: “So long as it’s beautiful things (ta kala) that he lives his life taking
pleasure in” (351c1-2).20 So Protagoras at this point seems to want to make a distinction
between what is beautiful or noble, kalon, and what is pleasant – only some things one
may take pleasure in are kala. To this Socrates exclaims: “What, Protagoras? You don’t
mean that you too, like the general run of people (hoi polloi 351c3), call some pleasant
things bad and some painful things good?” (351c2-3)
At this first stage, then, Socrates shows that Protagoras and the many have
ground in common in the form of an intuition that goes against a simple hedonism that
claims that the pleasant life is good. Socrates’ likening of Protagoras to the many, hoi
polloi, does not seem to be to Protagoras’ liking. He objects to Socrates’ putting the
question in so simplistic a manner, but he stays with his answer, adding that it seems
safer (asphalesteron 351d3) for him, “in connection not only with the present answer
but also with the rest of my life” to give an answer that upholds the distinctions Socrates
seemingly challenges.21 He states that there are among pleasant things some that are
bad, while among the painful things in turn there are some that are not bad, and a third
sort that are neither bad nor good. We can note Protagoras’ concern for safety, a point to
which we will return later.

20
All translations from the Protagoras are, unless otherwise stated, from Sachs (2011), sometimes
slightly modified.
21
Weiss (2006, 48) emphasizes that Socrates presents hedonism as a common ground for Protagoras and
the many, and reads Protagoras’ comment about safety as an admission that the reservation that some
pleasures are bad and some painful things good is “just his way of playing it safe” (49).

8
 Socrates continues: doesn’t Protagoras call pleasant such things that have some
pleasure in them or produce pleasure, and are they then not good to the extent that they
are pleasant? (351d-e). At this point Protagoras breaks off and declines to give an
answer stating his opinion. He says: “It’s just as you keep saying all the time, Socrates,
let’s examine it, and if the point under examination seems to be agreeable to reason, and
the pleasant and the good appear to be the same thing, then we’ll get together on that”
(351e3-6). Here we should notice that what Socrates has suggested in his question is
that pleasant things are good – leaving open the possibility that the pleasant things may
be two types of thing, both those that have pleasure in them and those that produce
(poiein) pleasure. Furthermore, this suggestion does not amount to saying that the good
and pleasure are the same thing, i.e. that pleasant things exhaust the good things; these
pleasant things could be one among several types of things that are good. It is
Protagoras who brings in the suggestion that the pleasant and the good may appear to be
the same thing. We can here further note that Protagoras suggests that they may appear
(phainesthai 351e5) to be the same. Words denoting how things seem and appear
abound in the passage, a point to which we will also return.
Socrates’ next move seems at first a bit surprising: likening himself to someone
who wants to examine a human being by his looks, he says he wants something of the
same in their mutual examination, but in regard to Protagoras’ thought, dianoia.
Socrates says: “Now that I behold the condition you’re in on the matter of the good and
the pleasant, that it’s the way you say, I feel the need to say something like: Come then
Protagoras, and uncover this part of your thinking for me as well” (352a6-b2). So even
if Protagoras just declined to give his own opinion, Socrates proceeds as if Protagoras
has made clear his view on the good and pleasure – and in the light of the immediate
context one may wonder whether that means that Socrates is content with his first
statement, preserving the distinction between pleasure and the good and the beautiful, or
takes Protagoras to accept the simple hedonistic thesis.
If the latter is implied, one could wonder why Protagoras does not at once object
and clarify his position on the matter. Perhaps he is distracted by Socrates’ next
question; for the part of Protagoras’ thinking that he now wants to see uncovered does
not concern pleasure or the good, but knowledge. And while Socrates earlier practically
mocked Protagoras for agreeing with the many, he here serves up an opportunity for
him to disagree with them. This is how he presents the alternatives:

9
 The way it seems to the many (dokei tois pollois 352b3) about knowledge (epistêmê) is
something along the lines that it is not a strong or guiding or ruling thing, and since they don’t
think of it as being of that sort, when knowledge is present in a human being, as it often is, they
think it’s not knowledge that rules him but something else, sometimes spiritedness (thymos),
sometimes pleasure, sometimes pain, occasionally lust (erôs), frequently fear, literally thinking
of knowledge as they would of a slave that could be dragged around by everyone else. So is
something like that the way it seems (dokei 352c2-3) about it to you too, or does knowledge
seem to you to be a beautiful thing of such a kind as to rule a human being, [. . .] and [does it
seem to you] that intelligence (phronêsis) is strong enough (hikanos) to provide support for
(boêthein) a human being?” (352b3-c7).

In short, Socrates asks whether Protagoras thinks knowledge is something weak and
lowly, or something fine and strong. Protagoras opts for the latter, which is not
surprising in the light of the fact that he is a teacher, a teacher of euboulia, the ability to
make good decisions in one’s own affairs and the affairs of the city (cf. 318e4-319a2).
He adds that it would be shameful for him, if anyone, not to claim wisdom and
knowledge the most powerful of all things in human affairs.
At this point we may ask why Protagoras seems so happy to disagree with the
many, and why he seemed dismayed to be likened to them earlier; for in his so-called
Great Speech earlier in the dialogue he seemed to express a democratic sentiment,
saying the Athenians were reasonable in listening to everyone in matters pertaining to
the polis and virtue (323a5-c4). We are, however, given grounds for doubting
Protagoras’ sincerity in this matter, as both earlier in the dialogue and particularly in
this section he makes statements disparaging the many. At 317a he distinguishes
between the people in cities who have power to act and the many, hoi polloi, who are
described as hardly noticing anything, they “just sing whatever tune those others pass
on to them” (317a4-6). The Greek term that is translated as ‘to notice’ is aisthanesthai,
so Protagoras interestingly contends that the many do not even perceive things for
themselves. The others, those who have power, are not so easily deceived and
supposedly do perceive things for themselves (cf. 317a2-4). Here Protagoras clearly
draws a distinction between people capable of getting a correct or at least a more
accurate impression of things, and people not so capable, placing the many in the latter
group. The Theaetetus offers us an interesting perspective on this point. There,
Protagoras’ position is brought into the discussion in connection with Theaetetus’ first
suggestion that knowledge is perception, aisthesis, when Socrates suggests that this is

10
what Protagoras meant by his maxim that man is the measure (151e8-152a4).22
Protagoras’ remark about the many in the Protagoras may in this light seem to suggest
that in his view the many – in contrast to others like himself who are somehow on a
higher level – cannot obtain knowledge, inasmuch as they are unperceiving. The view
that the many are incapable of knowledge is a position often attributed to Socrates, or
Plato, who are often regarded as in this respect opposed to sophists like Protagoras.23
We see Protagoras’ disparaging attitude towards the many again in the passage
that follows directly on his assent to the view of knowledge as powerful. When Socrates
states that the many are not persuaded by Protagoras and himself and believe that many
people who recognize what is best are unwilling to act on it because they are overcome
by pleasure or pain, Protagoras answers: “I assume people (hoi anthrôpoi) say a lot of
other things too that aren’t right” (352e3-4). Socrates now asks him to take part in an
attempt to persuade them (again hoi anthrôpoi) and teach them what the experience
really is that they claim is to be overcome by pleasure. But Protagoras first balks:
“What, Socrates, do we really have to examine the opinion of most people? Whatever
happens to strike them, that’s what they say” (353a7-8). But when Socrates suggests
that the examination may help them find out what courage is, Protagoras agrees to
continue. We should also keep in mind that it seems that it is particularly the praise of
knowledge as something fine and strong, as well as the opportunity to disagree with the
many, that initially makes Protagoras sympathetic to the idea that being overcome by
pleasure and acting against one’s judgement of what is best, is not possible.
The stage is now set for a curious imaginary dialogue with the many, 24 where
Protagoras is given the role of stating how, as it seems or appears to him, things seem or

22
Pace Nussbaum, who regards a relativist or subjectivist reading of Protagoras’ position in the
Protagoras as the result of, among other things, “an unjustified assimilation of this dialogue to the
‘Protagorean’ doctrine of the Theaetetus” (2001, 448). In the absence of obvious reasons to the contrary,
evidence in the form of Socrates’ interpretation of Protagoras’ position in a Platonic dialogue seems a
good source of added elucidation of the way Socrates regards Protagoras’ position in another dialogue.
Why, in Nussbaum's view, it is unjustified to use Theaetetus in this way seems traceable to her
assumption of a particular development between dialogues, an assumption that could certainly be
questioned. Vlastos, on the contrary, sees the subjectivist position clearly implied in the Protagoras
(1956, xii-xx).
23
Dodds (1951, 183-4, 211), Vlastos (1956, xii-xviii), Guthrie (1956, 23).
24
Woolf notes the peculiarity of this dialogue, but does not seem to take notice of the fact that it is for the
most part Protagoras who “interprets” the views of the many, so that these are not simply put into “their
collective mouth” by Socrates (2002, 229). Woolf calls the role of the many as “interlocutor” in the
discussion “anomalous” (225), and does not remark on the fact that Socrates on several occasions in
different dialogues lets imaginary interlocutors take part in the conversation, either represented by himself
or by one of the other interlocutors (e.g. Cr. 50a7-54d2, Gorg. 452a1-d4, Soph., 246e2-248e5, Theaet.,
162d3-163a, 165e8-168c5 - there are also other examples in the Protagoras itself, e.g. the laughing
interlocutors at 355c2-e1 and 361a4-c2). Rather than an anomaly in the elenctic procedure, this looks like

11
appear to the many (synedokein, 354a1, 354a7, 354b5, 354c5, 356c3, dokein 354c3,
354d3, 357a4, phainesthai 353e5, 357a6, 357b2).25 In this conversation, the view of the
many, which did not initially equate pleasure with the good, is shown to amount to a
simple quantitative hedonism. The many are led to this conclusion because they, as it
seems to Socrates and Protagoras, will not be able to explain their first intuition that
some pleasant things are bad and some painful things good by appealing to any other
aim or end (telos, 354c1) than more pleasure or less pain: the pleasant things the many
assumed to be bad are so because they cause more pain overall whereas the painful
things they assumed to be good are so because they lead to more pleasure in the long
run.
Here a number of points should be considered. First of all one should note that
the hedonistic thesis is, in fact, a development or revision of the views of the many, and
among the views of the many the initial supposition that not all pleasant things are good
was shared by Protagoras. Further, the hedonism follows from the inability of the many
to state some further end (telos) other than pleasure, a fact thoroughly underlined by
Socrates at 354c and at 354e. 26 When Socrates next seeks to excuse his going on about
this, and signals that he will now turn to the demonstration of the impossibility of being
weaker than pleasure, he reinforces the point:

But it is still possible, even now, to retract a step (anathesthai), if in some way you can state that
the good is something other than the pleasant, or that the bad is something other than the
distressing. Or is it enough for you to live out your life pleasantly, in the absence of pains? If it is
enough, and you can't state that the good and bad is anything other than that which does not issue
in these, then listen to what comes next. (354e8-355a5, translation by Robert C. Bartlett [2008,
57])

And upon this follows the argument against the possibility of being overcome by
pleasure or pain, standardly referred to as the denial of the possibility of akrasia.
The verb Socrates uses when offering the many the possibility of giving an
alternative answer in the passage just quoted, anathesthai, suggests taking back a move

a device Plato uses in different varieties for different purposes, so that the question is for what purpose he
uses it here. Letting someone who is not so sympathetic towards the many speak for them could for one
thing bring out this interlocutor’s relation to and view of the many; this seems to be a point in a passage
in the Republic, where Adeimantus answers for the many (Rep. 499d4-500a2).
25
For this rendering of dokein, see note 37 below.
26
A point also noted by Kahn (1996, 241).

12
in a board game.27 The moves one would want to take back are clearly false moves, and
so this could be read as Socrates implying that the identification of the good with
pleasure is in fact a false move. This could still mean that Socrates is implying that it is
a false move for the many, if they want to keep to their account of the phenomenon they
call being weaker than pleasure, but it could also mean that he is implying that it is a
false move simpliciter. Which reading is most plausible depends on the understanding
of what follows, the argument against the possibility of weakness of will. In any event,
the metaphor serves to underscore the dependency of what follows on the failure of the
many to give an alternative answer to the question what the good is.
The argument that follows concludes to the effect that what appeared to the
many as the phenomenon of being overcome by pleasure is really just ignorance
concerning pleasure and pain and more specifically ignorance how to measure pleasure
and pain correctly. Socrates asks, “Since the salvation of our life has plainly appeared
(phainesthai) to us as consisting in a right choice of pleasure and pain, of the greater
and lesser, larger and smaller, farther and nearer, doesn’t it [the salvation] appear first of
all as an art of measurement (metrêtikê technê)? [. . .] And since it is [a kind of]
measurement, it is no doubt by necessity an art and knowledge” (357a5-b4). It seems to
Protagoras that the many would agree (357b5).
It is this art of measuring pleasure and pain that some commentators have
thought to be a sincere part of Socrates’ ethical teaching, which he regards as a
knowledge that really would be the salvation of our lives.
But there are several strange things about this purported knowledge. For one, we
may notice that whereas Protagoras earlier agreed with Socrates against the many that
knowledge was a strong and ruling thing, the argument directed against the view of the
many has actually shown knowledge to be ruler of nothing. As a consequence of the
hedonistic thesis and the argument against weakness of will based on it, knowledge
does not rule over or outdo pleasure, but rather functions as its servant; it works to
maximize pleasure through the art of measurement. As Roslyn Weiss puts it:
“Ironically, what threatens pleasure’s dominance is no longer knowledge but ignorance”
(2006, 59), ignorance about the way one maximizes pleasure.
A second textual detail that seems to count against accepting as sincere Socrates’
description of the art of measurement as the true salvation of our lives, is the fact that

27
Cf. Bartlett (2008, 57).

13
right after he has emphasized that it must be an art and a kind of knowledge, he adds:
“what sort of art and knowledge it is, we’ll look into another time” (357b5-6). This
might be taken to mean that Socrates is hinting that the actual measuring-art or
knowledge that he believes is the salvation of our lives is not identified in the
Protagoras – in the sense that there is such an art, just not the one described here. 28
Another possible interpretation, suggested by Weiss, is that Socrates is emphasizing that
the exact nature of the hedonistic measuring-art has been left vague. 29 For, as several
scholars have noted,30 there seem to be some obvious difficulties for the art of
measuring pleasure, for example how to weigh or measure future and hypothetical
pleasures and pains, and in any case how to quantify pleasures and pains precisely.
Interesting to note is the way Socrates in the Gorgias holds that one who has technê
knows what is best, while pleasure can only be guessed at (Grg. 464e2-465a6), so that
he seems to be saying in that dialogue that a technê of pleasure is impossible. The
comment that what sort of art and knowledge the metrêtikê technê is must be examined
further might then be taken as a hint from Socrates that it is not really a technê or an
epistêmê at all.
Socrates now concludes his conversation with the many, going through the main
steps of the argument and spelling out directly that the phenomenon that appeared to the
many as being weaker than pleasure was really ignorance. Socrates reminds the many
that when he and Protagoras agreed that knowledge was strong and ruling, the many
objected that pleasure often overpowers (kratein) even the man who knows (357c3).
Socrates and Protagoras disagreed with them, and the many then asked what this
phenomenon is if it is not being worsted by pleasure. As Socrates retraces the answer he
and Protagoras gave the many, he again emphasizes the central role of the hedonistic
premise in the argument:

(…) [Y]ou folks have also agreed that those who go astray (exhamartanein) in choosing pleasant
and painful things – that is, good and bad things – do so through a defect of knowledge, and not
merely of knowledge but of a knowledge you’ve further agreed just now is an art of

28
E.g. Kahn (1996, 251). Different varieties of this suggestion are discussed by Ferrari (1990, 125-6) and
Weiss (2006, 58n44).
29
Weiss (2006, 58n44).
30
Dyson (1967, 40) and Taylor (1991, 195-98).

14
 measurement. And an action that goes astray in the absence of knowledge, you yourselves surely
know is committed through ignorance (357d2-e2).31

We may further note that Socrates here also emphasizes that the many agreed that the
knowledge in question, which would remove the ignorance responsible for errors in
choices of pleasure and pain, was a measuring art. He then points out that Protagoras,
Prodicus and Hippias claim to be doctors of ignorance, and, still within the imagined
dialogue, explains to the many that the reason why they do not do well in private and in
public is that they have been confused about these matters as well as stingy with their
money, and thus have not gone to the sophists or sent their children to them. The
conclusion to the conversation with the many is that they should realize that it is all a
question of ignorance and go to Protagoras or one of the other sophists, and all will be
better.
When Socrates now asks the three sophists whether he seems to them to speak
things true or speak falsely, they together reply that what he has said seems wondrously
true. And Socrates does not just let them agree to the suggestion that everyone should
come to them and pay to be their students; he makes sure they take the whole package.
He immediately asks explicitly if they agree that what’s pleasant is good, adding
“beautiful” (kalon): “Aren’t all actions aimed at this, at living painlessly and pleasantly,
[and are these actions not also] beautiful? And isn’t a beautiful deed good and
advantageous?” (358b3-6) It appears so to all three.
We can here note that Protagoras now accepts the hedonistic thesis in its simple
form that he rejected not so long ago. What came in between was an argument that
showed him to be the teacher who could cure the ignorance that was consequent upon

31
A peculiar aspect of this part of the argument is that it does not really answer the question of the many:
“[I]f this experience (pathêma) isn’t being overcome by pleasure, what in the world is it?” (357c 6-7; here
posed for the third time, cf. 353a4-6 and 353c1-3). The line of argument Socrates presents only identifies
ignorance as the source of mistakes, i.e. thinking that something is best, i.e. most pleasant, when it is not.
Neither this, nor the hedonistic thesis, nor the comparison with perspectival distortion explains how the
phenomenon the many call being overcome by pleasure comes to feel the way the many say it does.
According to them being overcome by pleasure is experienced as not being willing to do what one
recognizes as the best course of action, apparently because some other course of action seems more
pleasant. Socrates’ explanation does not explain why the many experience that they are pulled in two
directions; on the hedonistic premise their experience would mean that one line of action seems most
pleasant while another seems more pleasant, which does seem laughable. Protagoras is perhaps too
content with asserting the power of knowledge and making the many look ridiculous to notice, and the
many cannot protest themselves. The fact that an alternative explanation is not offered counts in favour of
the reading suggested here, that it is not the many who are ridiculous on this account. Ferrari (1990) also
emphasizes the fact that Socrates’ conclusion does not explain how weakness of will feels, and argues
that this is intended, in order to provoke puzzlement and reflection in the many, and in the reader (130-
32).

15
the lack of knowledge of measurement – an argument that seems to identify Protagoras
as the teacher of the art that is the salvation of our lives. This is perhaps no trifling
reason for changing one’s mind on the nature of the good, if one professes to be a
teacher of men.
But Socrates is not yet finished with Protagoras. When the agreement of
Protagoras, Hippias and Prodicus to the hedonistic premise is clearly established, it is
again this premise Socrates uses in the next argument, which will end with Protagoras’
being forced to agree that courage is wisdom. Socrates first goes a step further and
suggests that if what is pleasant is good, it is simply not in human nature to go towards
things one believes are bad instead of towards good things (358b6-c1, 358c6-d2). The
next step is to secure all three sophists’ agreement to the suggestion that what people
fear are things they regard as bad, which according to the hedonistic thesis are the
things they regard as painful. Then the road is open for a description of courage that
leaves only one difference between the courageous man and the coward, namely the
former’s knowledge which things are truly pleasant. In the course of the argument
Protagoras several times makes clear that it is the argument that has gone before that
makes the conclusions of this argument necessary (359d4-5, 360a5, 360e3-5), trying to
distance himself from what has been agreed upon earlier.
When Protagoras in the course of this discussion of courage is asked what
courageous people are willing to go towards, he asserts that it is actions that are noble,
fine or beautiful (tas [. . .] kalas praxeis, 359e6-7), and thus emphasizes the strong
connection between courage as a virtue and what is noble, to kalon. At the end of the
discussion, however, Protagoras is left with an account of courage that could seem to
leave no place for the noble. The courageous man does not distinguish himself from the
coward by brave actions in the face of danger, the difference lies only in calculating
what is truly pleasant; the coward is merely ignorant, not lacking in moral fibre. 32
This picture is evidently unsatisfactory to Protagoras, as he seems quite
disgruntled by the conclusion that cowardice is ignorance (cf. 360c2-e5). But although
this conclusion seems to be a version of the view that virtue is knowledge, we should
not rashly assume that the picture of courage that Socrates has presented would be
satisfactory to Socrates either.

32
Cf. Weiss (2006, 67): “By making courage a matter of knowledge, Socrates has all but effaced the
difference between courage and cowardice: the courageous man is simply a coward who is adept at
measuring pleasure and pain.”

16
 As we have seen, each step in the argument in this section of the dialogue is
based on the hedonistic thesis, a fact emphasized by Socrates as well as by Protagoras
several times. And the hedonistic thesis emerges, in the course of Socrates’ questioning,
from the presumably unreflective views of the many who are unable to identify an end
we could aim for that is not reducible to pleasure. It is in no way obvious that Socrates
would be equally unable to suggest such an answer. 33 If we are not committed to taking
the denial of weakness of will seriously as a Socratic doctrine, very different readings of
this section of the Protagoras become possible. Here it will be suggested that the
argument against the possibility of being overcome by pleasure, the proposal of a
measuring-art, and the final argument concerning courage function collectively as a
reductio ad absurdum of the hedonistic thesis. Concerning the denial that it is possible
to be overcome by pleasure we can remember that it is introduced as what follows if
one has nothing one can say is good or bad other than pleasure and pain (355a1-4).
What follows, says Socrates, is that the view of the many, namely that it is possible to
be overcome by pleasure, is laughable, geloion. Socrates may be implying that what is
really laughable is the denial of the possibility of a phenomenon Socrates elsewhere
introduces as obvious, as for example in the Republic Book 4 (e.g. 439e5-440b4, cf.
also Crito 46b-c).34
But if the hedonistic thesis does not come from Socrates, but is rather the target
of his attack, where does it come from? Here it will be argued that it does not simply
come from the many, hoi polloi, and that they are not the real target of the attack. First
of all, it is not actually presented as their immediate answer to the question about the
good and pleasure. Further, in this passage, as in several passages in other dialogues,
Socrates is not as contemptuous of the many as is often thought; he thinks they are
capable of changing their view if they are properly instructed (cf. 352e5-353a6).35
Rather, it is Protagoras who has shown contempt for the many. 36

33
Pace Vlastos, on whose reading the passage “doesn’t in the least imply that there is some such other
standard” (1956, xl).
34
We can here note that Socrates at 357d2-7 suggests that the many might still, after Socrates’ and
Protagoras’ attempt at persuasion (cf. 352e5-6), laugh at the explanation of weakness of will as ignorance,
but reminds them that they will now, since they have accepted the premise of hedonism and the art of
measurement, also be laughing at themselves.
35
Cf. Rep. 499d8-500a7, where Socrates admonishes Adeimantus for being too harsh with the many,
suggesting that they will change their opinion about philosophers when they are taught who the
philosophers really are.
36
This is noted by, for example, Vlastos (1956, xx with n44) and Zeyl (1980, 254).

17
 When considering the question where the hedonistic thesis comes from, it seems
significant to remember that Protagoras at first resists simple hedonism, although
Socrates still treats him as its supporter; but later accepts it, even though he seemingly
comes to regret it. In the passage where the hedonistic thesis is established, it is striking
that words denoting appearing and seeming are found again and again (phainesthai and
dokein).37 It is tempting to see this as Plato pointing to Protagoras’ doctrine that man is
the measure, on the interpretation that things are to each of us as they seem to each.
This is the interpretation that is offered of the man-as-measure doctrine in the
Theaetetus (Theaet. 152a6-8), together with the interpretation mentioned above that
knowledge on this view is perception. And Protagoras himself may be taken to refer to
his doctrine earlier in the dialogue, inasmuch as this doctrine may be understood as
what underlies his outburst at 334a3-c6, when he states that what is good is relative to
the party for whom or the thing for which it is good. Another detail that points to the
same inference is the very name Socrates gives the art that appears to be the salvation of
our lives, hê metrêtikê technê. It is difficult not to regard this as meant to remind the
interlocutors – and the reader – of Protagoras’ maxim that man is the measure, metron,
of all things, “of those that are, that (or how) they are, and of those that are not, that (or
how) they are not”.38 If this association is intended, it strongly suggests that Socrates
ties the measuring-art to Protagoras rather than to himself – it is also Protagoras and the
other sophists present who are soon presented as the teachers of this art, since they
claim to cure ignorance (357e2-4), and they themselves acknowledge being such
teachers (358a1-5).
In a certain sense it is ironic that Socrates gets Protagoras to agree that a
measuring-art is what is needed. For how can man be the measure, in the sense that each
man is the sole measure of the nature and manner in which things are for him, and
therefore also of the character of what is good for him, and as such is infallible in his
measurement, if he regularly fails to measure correctly? The same kind of irony applies
to the alternatives with which Socrates presents Protagoras in this passage. Socrates
inquires as follows:

37
Dokein means “to think”, “to have an opinion” and “to seem”; its impersonal use, e.g. emoi dokei, can
be translated “I think…”, but a more literal rendering is “It seems to me…”. The connection to doxa can
moreover suggest that what one thinks depends on how things seem, or how they are thought about in
general. At Theaet. 166e2-167b4 Socrates connects perceiving and the way things appear (using the verbs
aisthanesthai and phainesthai) closely with opinion and opining (doxa, doxazein) in his interpretation of
Protagoras’ view.
38
DK80 b1, cf. Denyer (2008, 192).

18
 So if doing well consisted for us in this, in acting on and taking large distances while avoiding
and not acting on small ones, what would appear to us as our salvation in life? Would it be the
art of measurement or the power of what appears (hê tou phainomenou dynamis)? Didn’t the
latter lead us astray and make us mistake the same things back and forth and over and over again
and have regrets in both our actions and our choices of large and small things, when
measurement would have deprived this appearance of its authority (akuron men an epoiêse touto
to phantasma), and by revealing what was true (to alêthes), would have made the soul hold itself
at rest, abiding in truth, and would have been the salvation of our life? In response to this, would
human beings (hoi anthropoi) agree that measuring is the art that keeps us safe (sôzein), or say
it’s some other?” (356c8-e4).

To this Protagoras replies that they (the many) would agree that it is measurement. But
how can Protagoras opt for an alternative to the power of appearance, which deprives
appearance of authority, if he holds that what appears is what is, as Socrates’
interpretation of his maxim in the Theaetetus suggests? Socrates is here making
Protagoras give up the view that what appears is what is, since he accepts that what
appears good may not turn out to be good when measured correctly.39 Simultaneously,
he is getting Protagoras to abandon the view that man is the measure, since he accepts
that people may not of themselves be able to measure correctly, and need an art, which
then seems to embody the measure, rather than this measure’s being man himself. The
irony becomes complete when we consider that the whole argument resulting in
Protagoras’ acceptance of these views is based on a premise that represents how
pleasure, in Protagoras’ view, appears to the many; for the appearance of pleasure has
been affirmed to be fundamentally deceptive, and Protagoras has repeatedly voiced his
utter lack of respect for the capacity of the many to perceive things correctly.
If the above is correct, and this is Socrates’ strategy, one may ask why
Protagoras agrees to these apparent contradictions of his position. What he gets in
return, as we have seen, is the offer of a thoroughly safe position; namely to be called
the teacher of this art, a teacher to whom all who wish to live well should come in order
to enlist as his students.
It is not here suggested that Socrates’ point is that Protagoras’ doctrine leads
inevitably to the hedonistic thesis, but rather that it seems plausible that Socrates is

39
Vlastos, although his overall reading of the passage is very different from the one presented here, reads
these lines in a somewhat similar way: “what can this “power of appearance” be but an indirect reference
to the appearance-is-reality doctrine in its bearing on the good life?” (1956, xviii).

19
pointing out that Protagoras has difficulties helping the many avoid it. When Socrates
repeatedly emphasizes that the many can go another way if they can find another
account of the good, it is almost as if he is inviting Protagoras, who claims to be able to
help people come towards the beautiful and good (328b1-3), to help them. But what
could Protagoras really say, if it seems to the many that the pleasant is the good? All he
does say is that it seems to him that it would seem that way to them.
And what about the measuring-art, the salvation of our life? Some reasons why
we should be sceptical of the sincerity of Socrates’ description of this art have already
been presented. There are, however, some hints in the passage where Socrates suggests
what would be needed in order to get us on the right track, and these hints cast some
light on the suggestion that virtue is knowledge. We need something that would deprive
appearance of its authority and reveal the truth, causing the soul to rest in truth (356d6-
e2). The sincerity of this description of what we need, need not be doubted along with
the identification of this as the art of measurement of pleasure and pain. One may
reasonably expect, however, that that which could have this effect of depriving
appearance of its authority would have to be a kind of knowledge, or insight, that makes
one able to look beyond appearance and recognize not simply that one pleasure is really
larger than another although it appears smaller, but, for example, that what is
pleasurable is not eo ipso good, even if it might appear that way. This is not to say that
Socrates implies that pleasure is bad, or never good; in the final passage of the dialogue
he states that he would find it most pleasant (hêdista, 361d6) to discuss the issues they
have talked about further with Protagoras. Finding out what is really most pleasant, and
why, could be (at least part of) what is needed to become able to take forethought for
the whole of one’s life, and Socrates in this final passage of the dialogue states that this
is his aim in laying down so much effort in examining these matters (361d3-5). That
achievement, however, seems to require something quite different from a measurement
of pleasure. It would instead require critical reflection on one’s opinions and desires,
something for which there seems to be no place if what appears is what is.
But if the measuring-art is not a true art of salvation, what is it? We should
notice that although it might seem that it is Socrates himself who introduces it as the
salvation of our life, this happens in a passage first listing two conditionals: “If doing
well consisted for us in this, in acting on and taking large distances while avoiding and
not acting on smaller ones…”(356c8-d3), and next: “And what if the salvation of our
life consisted for us in choosing what was odd over even…” (356e5-6) Then Socrates

20
turns to the case at hand: “Now since the salvation of our life has plainly appeared
(phainesthai) to us as consisting in the right choice of pleasure and pain [. . .] doesn’t it
appear (phainesthai) first of all as measurement [. . .]?” (357a5-b2) The conclusion that
the art of measurement is the salvation of our life is clearly marked as depending on the
hedonistic thesis, and we see again the language of appearance, which at least invites
reflection on the fact that the correctness of the thesis as well as the conclusion depends
on the correctness of the appearance.

III. Miserly Moderation and Calculating Courage: The Art of Measurement as

Misdirected Reason
This hypothetically salvational means to measurement is called an art and knowledge
(although possibly with a reservation, as mentioned above), but it is, significantly, not
called a virtue. And the art of measurement does not look much like virtue, or much like
philosophy. In fact, it looks much more like what Socrates in the Phaedrus calls the
miserly, and merely mortal good sense or moderation, sôphrosynê, of the non-lover in
the speech of Lysias in the beginning of this dialogue (Phaedr. 256e5, cf. 230e6-
234c5).40 We will take a short look at what we learn about this mortal kind of
sôphrosynê in the Phaedrus in order to compare it with the measuring-art found in the
Protagoras.
In the Phaedrus the speechwriter Lysias, a man who, like Protagoras, is clever
with words, has enchanted Phaedrus with a speech where an anonymous man advices a
young boy to grant his sexual favours to him, who is not in love with him, rather than to
a lover, whom he claims is rendered mad and ill by eros. The “non-lover” argues that
the lover is therefore unaccountable, and that an affair with a lover is likely to harm the
boy more than it will benefit him. The non-lover, on the contrary, is not mad, but sound-
minded and moderate, sôphron, and able to secure various kinds of benefits for the boy,
without the risks connected with love. The central strand in the non-lover’s argument is
prudential concern for one’s own interests, with the aim of maximizing benefits and
minimizing risks. Although the beneficial and the harmful rather than the pleasant and
the painful are the main terms here, the non-lover seems to be demonstrating an art of
measurement of benefit and risk, although confined to the limited field of the pederastic
relationship, and recommending that the young boy follow him in his calculations and

40
The parallel to the “non-lover” in Lysias’ speech in the Phaedrus is also noted by Ferrari (1990,
133n29).

21
accept his conclusion. He also suggests that his company will make the young boy
better (beltios, 233a4), in contrast to the company of the lover, who is unable to see
pleasures and pains accurately because of his passionate predicament (233a4-b6). The
non-lover implies that he is able to do exactly this, and will associate with the boy “with
an eye not to present pleasure (tên parousan hêdonen), but also to the benefit which is
to come” (233b6-c1),41 and thus presents himself as able to avoid the perspectival
distortion regarding pleasure from which the art of measurement in the Protagoras is
supposed to be able to save us.
The similarity between the sôphrosynê of the non-lover and the art of
measurement as it is presented in the Protagoras should hereby be clear. The Socrates
of the Phaedrus, however, does not present the mortal sôphrosynê as a salvation; on the
contrary he states that a relationship based on this good sense “engenders in the soul
which is the object of the attachment a meanness (aneleutheria) that is praised by the
majority as a virtue” (256e6-257a1). Rather than save the soul, it will doom it to roam
around and under the earth for thousands of years (257a1-2). In contrast to this
relationship, Socrates has described that of the philosophical lover, who has let his soul
be touched by the divine madness of eros and thereby turned his reason to higher
insights (249d4-256b7).
In the course of the Phaedrus, Socrates makes clear that he is attempting to
divert Phaedrus’ interest in clever rhetorical speeches into an interest in philosophy. In
the discussion of speeches and rhetoric in the latter part of the Phaedrus, Socrates points
to the importance of fashioning one’s speech in accordance with the soul of the listener,
“whether for the purposes of teaching or persuading” (277c5-6). Arguably this is also
what he has done in the course of the dialogue; to Phaedrus, the lover of speeches and
rhetoric (228a5-c1, 242a7-b4, 258e1-2), he has offered two speeches and a discussion of
rhetoric. At the end of Socrates’ second speech he expresses his hope that Phaedrus will
turn his life towards eros accompanied by philosophical speeches (257b1-6), which is
clearly intended to remind us of the life of the philosophical lover, which Socrates has
contrasted with the sound-minded and risk-minimizing non-lover (256a7-b7, 256e3-
257a1).
Even so, at the end of the dialogue, it is not made evident whether Socrates has
succeeded in his effort to turn Phaedrus to philosophy, and away from the clever, but

41
Translations from the Phaedrus are from Rowe (1986).

22
not truth-seeking rhetoric of Lysias; the last words of the dialogue are Socrates’ simple:
“Let’s go”. This is another point where one may see a parallel between the Protagoras
and the Phaedrus. For in the Protagoras we find a similar uncertainty in the very end of
the dialogue; the last words, “we went away”, do not in their context make it quite clear
who “we” are – has Hippocrates, who in the beginning of the dialogue was so eager to
get hold of Protagoras’ wisdom, come with Socrates or not? Perhaps this points to a
deeper parallel to the Phaedrus: Has Socrates in his conversation with Protagoras
fashioned his speech to suit the soul of Hippocrates, making the direction and
conclusion of the argument especially apt to dissuade him from his plan to become
Protagoras’ pupil? And could the argument resulting in the art of measurement being
hailed as the salvation of our lives be part of this “rhetorical strategy”? When we
consider some points from the characterization of Hippocrates and Socrates’ attitude
towards him in the beginning of the dialogue, this suggestion can be seen as making
good sense of the development of the argument in the last part of the dialogue.
Hippocrates is depicted as an impetuous young man and a man of action. He
comes barging into Socrates’ room before dawn, and Socrates says that he noticed his
forcefulness or courage (andreia) and excitement (ptoiêsis) (310d3); earlier Hippocrates
has rushed off chasing his slave (310c3-5). The latter further suggests a man who is
preoccupied with his standing and how people behave towards him.42 That his interest
lies in honour and reputation is suggested by his eagerness to be made wise by
Protagoras, which he apparently understands as to become clever at speaking (312d5-7),
and this also seems to be Socrates’ view of him, since he tells Protagoras that
Hippocrates seems to have a desire to get a good name in the city (316b10-c2). Nothing
in the description of Hippocrates suggests that he is a man whose life is particularly
concerned with pleasure, while it does suggest that he would be the kind of man that
would be interested in the virtue of courage.
In the conversation Socrates has with Hippocrates in his bedroom, before they
venture out to meet the great sophist, Socrates warns Hippocrates of the dangers of
buying the wares of which perhaps neither he nor the salesman is competent to evaluate
the quality, all the more so because he is not buying food for the body, but things to be
learned (mathemata, 313c7), to be consumed by the soul. Socrates’ analogy, the doctor
who is competent to judge what is healthy and true nourishment for the body and what

42
This is also suggested by his wisecrack to the effect that Protagoras has done him an injustice by being
wise and not making him so (310d5-6).

23
is not (313d1-4), may make us wonder whether he himself possesses such a competence
concerning the soul. In all events, we may ask ourselves why he lets Hippocrates walk
into this possibly grave danger, when he seems quite obviously not competent to judge
for himself. One answer could be that Socrates uses his ability to customize his speech
so that Hippocrates has the greatest chance of coming to the conclusion that the power
Protagoras purports to possess is merely an appearance, or at least not the kind of power
he would find appealing.
On the one hand, there is, then, no indication that an identification of the good
with pleasure should be congenial to Hippocrates’ outlook. On the other, it is plausible
that an account of wisdom that reduces it to the ability to measure pleasure and pain
may seem less manly and appealing to someone who has been promised that he will
learn euboulia, well-advisedness, both about his own affairs and the affairs of his city
“so that he can be the most powerful in his city’s affairs in both action and speaking”
(318e5-319a2). And finally, it is likely that this man who is initially described with
reference to his andreia, courage, forcefulness or manliness, will not find very attractive
an account of courage according to which the courageous and the cowards approach the
same thing, while neither approaches what is frightening, the only difference between
them being that the courageous is better at measuring. The bold, impetuous Hippocrates
has been shown a Protagoras who is careful and clever, but still powerless to defend
himself against the strategies of Socrates, and who in the course of the discussion has
abandoned his main tenets, only to end up with a notion of the good, wise and
courageous life as one dominated by calculating pleasure and minimizing risk, with
which he is obviously unhappy. Protagoras even concludes the conversation by
congratulating Socrates, predicting that he will become notable for wisdom. Although
this remark has been read as a sign of a good-tempered and respectful atmosphere in
this dialogue (cf. Guthrie 1956, 20-21), it is tempting to see this rather as Protagoras’
way of minimizing the damage, quite true to character in the light of his concern for
safety. Whether this recommendation of Socrates, together with Protagoras’
performance, has been enough to turn Hippocrates away from Protagoras and make him
go with Socrates, we are left to wonder.
If the suggestion above is on the right track and Socrates’ argument in the last
part of the dialogue can be seen as directed at and aiming to have an effect on
Hippocrates in this way, it is still doubtful that this is the whole story; the complexities
of the argument and of the ways in which Protagoras’ conceited bearing and gradual

24
humiliation emerge, if lost on Hippocrates, can still be meant for us, the readers. Here
we will let the notions of calculation and minimizing risk direct us to two concluding
points. The first has to do with calculation and bears on remarks made earlier on the
dialogue’s statements concerning the conception of human reason. Several readers of
Plato appear to have formed the impression that Plato’s position involves an intellectual
elitism implying that only those who are endowed with an exceptional intelligence can
be truly virtuous and happy. 43 Whether this is the case is a complex question that cannot
be addressed here. The point here is simply that the dialogue Protagoras does offer
some material pertinent to such a discussion. Protagoras is certainly not depicted as
lacking in intelligence, but he still, as we can see, turns out to be lacking in his insight
into virtue. Intellectual sharpness does not seem to be what it takes – a point which is
also emphasized in the description of “the men who are said to be vicious but wise” in
Book 7 of the Republic (519a1-5): the important thing here is not the sharpness of
vision, but where the eye of the soul is turned.
In what way is Protagoras then lacking? Here we come to the notion of
minimizing risk. It is conspicuous how Protagoras is repeatedly described as concerned
with safety. Even when he brags about his courage in declaring himself openly to be a
sophist, he at the same time tells Socrates that he also made provisions to ensure his
safety (317b3-c1) – presumably offering this information to appear clever.44 He
certainly seems to be in possession of the art of measurement, calculating and weighing
pleasures against pains, as well as of the type of courage Socrates and Protagoras are
left with at the end of the dialogue, which consists in knowing how to avoid risk rather
than how to face it. So perhaps Protagoras’ euboulia, which he is proud to be able to
teach, turns out to be precisely the art of measurement, concerned with pleasures and
pains. We have seen that his regard for the people of Athens, to whom he in his great
speech first seems to accord both knowledge of the citizen’s virtues and the ability to
teach this to others, can be questioned in light of his disparaging statements about the
many. Protagoras claims to teach how to become a good citizen, but being well advised
about the good and noble seems to turn out, according to his teaching, to be nothing
more than being able to calculate self-interest cleverly.
The role the art of measurement plays in the last part of the dialogue counts in
favour of this reading, for this art only plays a role in the argument to get Protagoras to

43
Cf. e.g. Cooper (1999, 141) and Bobonich (2002, 3-8).
44
Coby (1987, 16) emphasizes this point.

25
admit that courage is wisdom, and thereby to contradict his previous statement. If
Socrates should be read as sincerely presenting the art of measurement of pleasure as
the salvation of our life and as presenting, in his own view, a satisfactory account of
courage, it would be natural to expect a reminder of how important it is to learn this art,
both in order to become courageous and in order to be able to take forethought for one’s
life in general. Moreover, given the conclusion of the discussion, namely that according
to what has been agreed upon, courage is wisdom and cowardice ignorance, an obvious
way of making the sophists sympathetic to this conclusion would be to give them the
chance of promoting themselves as teachers of courage. For they claim to be able to
cure ignorance, and this would in the light of Socrates’ and Protagoras’ conclusion
mean that they can cure cowardice, and a reasonable inference in the light of the
preceding discussion would then be that they can teach courage. As already noted,
Protagoras is obviously not content with the account of courage that he must accept on
the basis of their previous agreements, but Socrates does not attempt to allay his
discontent by repeating his advice to the many to go to the sophists in order to be cured
of their ignorance. This was, as we have seen, the move Socrates made earlier, with
which he succeeded in pleasing the sophists and securing their agreement to the
hedonistic thesis, as well as to the denial of weakness of will and the account of the art
of measurement developed on its basis. Why does Socrates not make this move again?
An answer could be that Socrates wanted their agreement simply in order to drive home
his comprehensive refutation of Protagoras.
What do we get instead of the advice to learn the art of measurement on the last
pages of the dialogue? In part in the form of the questions from a laughing anonymous
interlocutor (361a3-c2), we get something that looks like a withdrawal of the previous
agreements and an encouragement to reconsider what is teachable, what virtue and
knowledge are, and how we may best take forethought for our lives.45 This arguably is
an encouragement to engage one’s reasoning abilities, but not in an art of measuring
pleasure; rather in an activity that looks like philosophical enquiry into questions central
to how we may live well. This enquiry is one Protagoras prefers to postpone to another
occasion (361e5-6).

45
This point is also noted by Weiss (1990, 17). 360e8-361a3 and 361c2-d2 make it clear that Socrates
neither presents as established the account of virtue as wisdom, which rested on the hedonistic thesis, nor
treats Protagoras’ agreement to this account as standing.

26
 When Socrates recounts his and Hippocrates’ arrival at the house of Callias in
the beginning of the dialogue, he describes Protagoras amidst a band of followers and
explains that Protagoras is able to cast a spell over people with his voice just like
Orpheus (315a8-b1, cf. 316d3-7). Soon after, Socrates curiously likens the house of
Callias to Hades. In the Symposium, Phaedrus states that Orpheus was thought to be a
coward who did not dare to die to get to Hades, but schemed to get in there alive (Symp.
179d2-7). And then he did not manage to save his beloved Eurydice from the land of the
dead, because he, quite literally, turned his eyes in the wrong direction. It is tempting to
suggest that in the picture we get of him in the dialogue that carries his name,
Protagoras is as enchanting as Orpheus, but also a coward who uses his cleverness in
the wrong way – turning the eye of his soul in the wrong direction – and thus he cannot
save anyone.

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