1 Cf. Emlyn-Jones, C., “Dramatic Structure and Cultural Context in Plato’s Laches,” Classical Quarterly 49 (1999): 128CrossRefGoogle Scholar. For a discussion of how best to translate the term andreia see Stokes, M. C., Plato’s Socratic Conversations: Drama and Dialectic in Three Dialogues (Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press, 1986), 45–8Google Scholar and Hobbs, A., Plato and the Hero: Courage, Manliness and the Impersonal Good (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 85–110CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

2 Cf. Ø. Rabbås, , “Definitions and Paradigms: Laches’ First Definition,” Phronesis LXIX/2 (2004): 166Google Scholar and C. Emlyn-Jones, op. cit., 123–4.

3 Emlyn-Jones touches upon this theme in passing, see C. Emlyn-Jones, op. cit., 130. Also cf. Ø. Rabbås, op. cit., 166–67.

4 Cf. Hippias Major, which also has a somewhat lengthy non-philosophical introduction (281a1–286c3). There, however, it is Socrates who is framing the discussion, whereas here it is Lysimachus, one of the fathers of the boys in question; a character who is of an older generation than that of Socrates and lacking in philosophical acumen.

5 Cf. C. Emlyn-Jones, op. cit., 124.

6 Lysimachus’s terminology for “taking care of” (epimelêthênai) the youths echoes that of Socrates in the Apology when he speaks of getting the Athenians to attend to (epimeleisthai) their souls. Quoted below, Apology 36c3–d1. Translations of the Laches are based upon Plato, Laches and Charmides, trans. with introduction and notes by R. K. Sprague (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing, 1992).

7 Cf. C. Emlyn-Jones, op. cit., 124–5. Also cf. C. Emlyn-Jones, Plato’s Laches, edited with introduction and commentary (Bristol: Bristol University Press, 1996), 63–4; R. K. Sprague, op. cit., 3; and Kahn, C., Plato and the Socratic Dialogue: The Philosophical Use of a Literary Form (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996),151Google Scholar.

8 For the significance of Lysimachus and Melesias’s returning the next day with Socrates to carry on the inquiry further, see n. 22.

9 At Symposium 220e7ff., Alcibiades speaks of Socrates’ bravery at the battle of Delium as well. What is significant about Alcibiades’ account in the present context is his comparison of Socrates with Laches. There we are told that in the heat of the retreat, Socrates remained much more collected than did Laches (“To begin, he was by far more sensible than Laches” [221a7–b1]). Thus, at least on the face of it, it would seem that Socrates is better able to perform brave deeds. This touches on the issue of whether any of those present are able to achieve the so-called Dorian mode, including Socrates. Also cf. Apology 28e3. For a discussion of the scope of Socrates’ military career, see M. Anderson, “Socrates as Hoplite,” Ancient Philosophy 25, no. 2 (2005), 277–81, 283–4.

10 For further discussion of the dramatic date of the Laches, see Hoerber, R. G., “Plato’s Laches,” Classical Philology 63, no. 2 (1968): 96CrossRefGoogle Scholar; C. Kahn, op. cit., 154; Santos, G., “Socrates at Work on Virtue and Knowledge in Plato’s Laches,” in The Philosophy of Socrates, ed. Vlastos, G. (New York: Anchor Books, 1971), 178Google Scholar; Guthrie, W. K. C., History of Ancient Greek Philosophy, vol. 4 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975), 125–6Google Scholar; and Schmid, W. T., On Manly Courage: A Study of Plato’s Laches (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1992), 1–3Google Scholar.

11 Buford, See T. O., “Plato on the Educational Consultant: An Interpretation of the Laches,” Idealistic Studies 7 (1977), 155CrossRefGoogle Scholar. Buford sums up the fifth-century debate as follows: “Plato was well aware of the conflict between the education offered by the sophists and the traditional education offered by the older Athenian aristocrats. While the conservative aristocrats believed aretê (virtue) was a matter of natural talent or gift and thus in a sense could not be taught, the sophists believed aretê could be instilled in young men by teaching.” Accordingly, the fifth-century sophist Antiphon attacks those who take the view that excellence is passed down from aristocratic father to son (Diels-Kranz Fr. 87/44B, cols. 1–2., 266ff.). He thinks the education that the sophists offer is sufficient to enable one to have a prominent role in the life of the polis (Diels-Kranz Fr. 87/60). Also cf. the opening of the Meno, where the question of the acquisition of virtue is explicitly raised. The possibilities canvassed there are through teaching and practice and by nature (70a1–3).

12 Perhaps, the most obvious and relevant example of this debate can be found in Aristophanes’ Clouds, which appeared shortly before the dramatic setting of the Laches. There we find Strepsiades abandoning the traditional education for his son, Pheidippides, in favour of sophistry and Socrates, who is portrayed as the head of their school, “The Thinkery” (ll. 112–18). In Clouds, the result of this sort of education is that the traditional values and customs and the roles of the father and son are undermined and the play concludes with Pheidippides, who by that time has received his sophistic education, punishing his father Strepsiades (ll. 1321–1422). In Plato’s Euthyphro, one also finds the theme of tension between a father and his son with Euthyphro’s prosecution of his father (4b7–e2). In that dialogue, as McPherran nicely sets out, we find Euthyphro contravening the traditional morality. See McPherran, Mark L., “Justice and Pollution in the Euthyphro,” in Plato’s Euthyphro, Apology, and Crito: Critical Essays, ed. Kamtekar, Rachana (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2005), 6Google Scholar. As McPherran goes on to show, the dialogue’s dramatic portrayal of Socrates and Euthyphro is such that the elder Socrates is paired with Euthyphro’s father and the young Euthyphro is associated with a young Meletus. See Mark L. McPherran, op. cit., 7, 16, n. 20, 19, n. 31. For additional support that Socrates endorsed the authority of the father figure, see Crito (50e2–51a2) and Mark L. McPherran, op. cit., 13, n. 5. I would like to thank one of the referees for the Euthyphro reference.

13 It should be noted that when Laches first introduces the Dorian mode (188d2–6), he does not understand it in the manner that Socrates does. What Laches initially understands by this mode is one’s actions living up to the quality of words one speaks. Through his discourse with Socrates he comes to see what Socrates means by this mode, namely being able to give a proper account of the virtue in question. I would like to thank one of the referees for this point.

14 The episode with Thersites at Iliad 2.246–50 is clear evidence of the significant role one’s birthright held in the Homeric world. Regardless of the quality of his speech, given Thersites does not come from the right bloodline, Odysseus feels justified in attacking him. Moreover, when Phoenix and Odysseus approach Achilles to return to the fighting, one of the points they emphasize is that Achilles should heed the advice that his father, Peleus, gave to him upon his departure for Troy (Iliad 9.254–48). But perhaps the most famous Homeric episode that expresses the idea of excellence being passed from father to son can be found in the twenty-first book of the Odyssey, with the stringing of the bow. There we see it is only Odysseus and his son Telemachus, not the suitors, who have the ability to string Odysseus’s bow (Odyssey 21.128–9). This traditional view of the role served by fathers in relation to their sons is not limited to Homer. It also has a prominent role in the writings of the sixth-century poet Pindar. To take but one example in Pyth. 8.44–5, we read: “By nature this noble temper shines out from fathers to sons.” The sort of fathers and sons Pindar had in mind were those of aristocratic bloodlines; see Nem. 3.40ff. and Olym. 2.85–88.

15 Cf. Rhodes, P. J., “Political Activity in Classical Athens,” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 106 (1986), 135CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

16 Cf. T.O. Buford, op. cit., 155.

17 Cf. C. Kahn, op. cit., 151; W. T. Schmid, op. cit., 3–6; and Ø. Rabbås, op. cit., 166–7.

18 Plato’s choice of terminology clearly recalls the Homeric tradition against which this discussion is drawn. The term akleeis is the “a” privative form of kleos, the latter being standard Homeric terminology employed by individuals when referring to reputation and glory. It is also a term that Pindar, a strong proponent of this traditional Homeric aristocratic view, employs on several occasions to emphasize the same theme. See Olym. 1.23.93, 7.53, 8.10, 9.101, 10.21.95; Pyth. 1.66, 3.111, 4.125.174, 5.73; Nem. 7.63, 8.36, 9.39; Isthm. 5.8, 6.25, 7.29; and Frg. Paian. 52gA.7. Also cf. Theognis, the sixth-century poet, in Elegiae Book I, ll. 245. 867. Herodotus, likewise, remarks at the outset of his Histories that the purpose of his enquiry is to ensure that the glorious and wondrous deeds of men are not forgotten (Proem). Cf. Dodds, E. R., The Greeks and the Irrational (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1951), 29Google Scholar.

19 Cf. M.C. Stokes, op. cit., 38–9 and W. T. Schmid, op. cit., 4–6.

20 Cf. C. Emlyn-Jones, op. cit., 127. Emlyn-Jones notes that even the language used by Nicias echoes that of the sophists.

21 Lysimachus is not alone in his belief that to speak frankly (parrêsiazesthai) is important. Socrates in the Gorgias has this to say about the matter: “For I understand that he who is about to examine a soul sufficiently concerning whether it lives rightly or not must have three things, all of which you have: knowledge, good will, and frankness” (486e6–487a3). Interestingly, Socrates then goes on to accuse Gorgias the sophist and his associate Polus of not speaking frankly with him: “With respect to these two strangers, Gorgias and Polus, both are wise and like me, but are more lacking in frankness and more ashamed than is necessary” (487a7–b2).

22 Cf. C. Emlyn-Jones, op. cit., 125–6. I disagree with Emlyn-Jones’s portrayal of Lysimachus as simply an inept intellectually lacking figure. Accordingly, Emlyn-Jones remarks: “One wonders what on earth Socrates and Lysimachus would have to say to each other the next day!” (p. 126). There can be little doubt that Lysimachus lacks the philosophical acuity to engage properly in a dialectical discussion with Socrates, a point that will be reinforced with the actual introduction of Socrates, but nonetheless it is Lysimachus who is to carry on the discussion the next day with Socrates about the youths’ education. One could argue that the reason for this is that at least Lysimachus knows that he is lacking and has no knowledge of how to educate the youths but is willing, regardless of whether he is able or not, to try to learn in these matters. As already quoted, Lysimachus remarks that he is most eager “to go to school with the youths” (205b7–8). In short, if one takes Lysimachus in the manner that Emlyn-Jones does, it makes little sense for Plato to portray him as coming back the next day. By contrast, Laches and Nicias, even after being refuted by Socrates, still have trouble accepting that they do not know what courage is. In the case of Laches, he says as much at 194b1–2. Likewise, Nicias tells his fellow interlocutors that if any point in the discussion has not been covered adequately, he will go over and correct it with the help of Damon (200b2–c1). Laches and Nicias simply do not appreciate the extent to which they are lacking. Consequently, neither of them is properly equipped to nurture the souls of the youths in question and, as a result, there is no need for them to return the next day. Emlyn-Jones’s comparison of Lysimachus with Cephalus in Republic Book I is helpful. They both set the discussion in motion and serve as minor participants from an older generation. However, Lysimachus, unlike Cephalus, is not set in his ways but is willing to learn and is open to suggestions about how to improve the condition of the youths. Cepahlus, it must be remembered, is portrayed as being unable to partake in any sort of philosophical discourse. He offers his definition of what justice is, then is quickly refuted by Socrates, and immediately goes off, appropriately enough, to sacrifice to the gods, passing the argument on to his son Polemarchus (329a1–331d5). He does not in any way attempt to defend his position. And there is no reference whatsoever to Cephalus’s ever returning to partake in the philosophical discussion in the Republic. See C. Emlyn-Jones, op. cit., 125. For a different view about Cephalus’s significance as a father figure, see Myles Burnyeat, “Fathers and Sons in Plato’s Republic and Philebus,” Classical Quarterly 54 (2004): 82–4. Burnyeat takes the view that in Cephalus one has the unification of both the biological and dialectical roles. As a consequence, Burnyeat maintains, Polemarchus turned out the way he did, i.e., converted to philosophy (Phaedrus 257b3–4). I would be inclined to say that it is Socrates who fulfills this dialectical role, given that he is the one, and not Cephalus, who engages in philosophical discourse with Polemarchus in Book I. Thus, if anyone is responsible for Polemarchus’s philosophical conversion, it would be Socrates, not Cephalus. See n. 33.

23 This traditional relationship to Socrates is further emphasized by Lysimachus’s subsequent remarks, when he tells Socrates that he should have come to see him before, given the close association between their families (181c1–6). All of this highlights the traditional perspective from which both Lysimachus and Melesias view things.

24 Cf. Strauss, B., Fathers and Sons in Athens (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 79CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

25 It should be noted that at the conclusion of the dialogue Nicias too goes so far as to say that he would gladly have Socrates take care of his own son Niceratus’s education (200c8–d2).

26 This is not the only instance of associating the musical modes with that of character. In the Republic, Socrates speaks of how, when the modes of music are altered, so too are the laws of the city (425c5–6).

27 Cf. R. G. Hoerber, op. cit., 95–105 and O’Brien, M. J., “The Unity of the Laches,” Yale Classical Studies 18 (1963), 133–47Google Scholar.

28 For references to Socrates as a father figure, see Apology quote below 31b1–5 and n. 34.

29 See n. 12.

30 Cf. Emlyn-Jones, op. cit., 127.

31 Cf. M. C. Stokes, op. cit., 65.

32 Cf. A. Hobbs, op. cit., 84. For a similar emphasis of the importance of internal goods such as the well being of the soul as opposed to external goods, see Apology 36c3–d1, quoted above.

33 Similarly, in Republic Book I we see Socrates taking over the discussion with Polemarchus when the latter’s biological father, Cephalus, goes off to sacrifice to the gods after offering his definition of justice, showing no inclination to remain to defend it and engage in a philosophical discussion. This again could be taken as indicative of the traditional father figure’s being unable to educate his son properly, and of Socrates supplanting him in that very role. See n. 22.

34 This is not the only instance where Socrates is described as father figure. In the Symposium, Alcibiades says of Socrates that when they had spent the night together, it was as if he were with his father or elder brother (219c7–d2).

35 In this sense one could argue that he distinguishes himself from Cephalus, who is quite content to offer his definition then go off to sacrifice to the gods. He is completely unscathed by Socrates’ refutation and the subsequent argument. Lysimachus is at least aware that he is himself lacking.

36 Cf. B. Strauss, op. cit, 207–8.

37 It should be noted that in the context of the Apology, one could argue that Socrates’ words and deeds coincide nicely with one another in that his mission on behalf of the god, Apollo, is to engage his fellow Athenians and attempt to get them to better themselves through philosophical discourse (28e4–29a4) — so much so that, in the end, this mission gets him killed. I would like to thank one of my referees for this point.

38 See n. 14.

39 The Laches is not the only Platonic dialogue in which one finds manliness or courage connected with speaking well. In the Gorgias, Callicles expresses that exact sentiment: “When someone hears a man speaking inarticulately or sees him playing like a child, he appears both unmanly and worthy of a flogging” (485b7–c2). In the Meno, Socrates links manliness or courage with intellectual enquiry (81d3–4 and 86b7–c1). On being manly or courageous in both times of war and peace, cf. Myles Burnyeat, op. cit., 82.

40 It should be noted that courage perhaps also is chosen because that traditional virtue will now be Socratically reworked. It will be a matter of courage to face the potential shame of the elenctic encounter and to use that method; now words and deeds will very much cohere. I must thank one of my referees for this point.

41 See n. 39.

42 Cf. Ø. Rabbås, op.cit., 145–148. Rabbås takes the view that the proper reading of this initial definition is that of a paradigm case of courage, regarding the universal/particular distinction as unhelpful. Rabbås also stresses, rightly I think, the traditional nature of Laches’ definition, citing parallels between it and Pericles’ funeral oration. See Ø. Rabbås, op.cit., 158–59.

43 Cf. Ø. Rabbås, op.cit., 153–4.

44 It is worth noting that Laches, by attacking Nicias in the manner that he does, appears to be somewhat disdainful of the sophistic movement which in part is revealing of how he is approaching the matter in question, namely from a perspective closer to that of Lysimachus’s older, more traditional one. Laches accuses Nicias of twisting the arguments so as not to appear foolish: “It is not clear to me from this, Socrates, what he is trying to say. Because he does not select either the seer or the doctor or anyone else as the man he calls courageous, unless some god is the person he means. Nicias appears to me unwilling to make a gentlemanly admission that he is talking nonsense, but he twists this way and that in an attempt to cover up his difficulty. Even you and I could have executed a similar twist just now if we had wanted to avoid the appearance of contradicting ourselves. If we were making speeches in a court of law, there might be some point in doing this, but as things are, why should anyone adorn himself senselessly with empty words in a gathering like this?”(196a4–b7). And a bit further on, he actually goes so far as to accuse Nicias of being a sophist: “Well, Socrates, it is certainly more fitting for a sophist to make such clever distinctions than for a man the city thinks worthy to be its leader” (197d6–8). That Laches is viewing matters from a perspective more traditional than that of Nicias should come as no surprise. For when Laches initially introduced the Dorian mode (at 188d5ff.), he contrasted it with those speakers whose deeds were not in harmony with their words, remarking how much he hated to listen to them: “But the man who acts in the opposite way distresses me, and the better he speaks, the worse I feel, so that his discourse makes me look like a discussion-hater” (188e2–4). One could read that remark as an allusion to the sophists and those who are trained in rhetoric alone.

45 Rabbås, I think wrongly, aligns Nicias with proponents of the traditional views on courage. Such a reading would undermine the way in which Socrates, not to mention Laches, portrays him, especially given with whom he associates. See Ø. Rabbås, op.cit., 168.

46 See n. 9.

47 Obviously, given his definition, the irony of the nature of Nicias’s final military fate as involving such things as fear, hope, and prognostication would not be lost on Plato’s readers. See Thucydides, Books VI and VII.

48 Socrates in the Apology, when talking about the nature of his brave actions and his attitude toward death, goes so far as to compare himself to Achilles (28b3–29b9). I would like to thank one of my referees for this reference.

49 Odyssey XVII, l. 347.

50 In the Theaetetus, Socrates tells Theaetetus that Aristides, the son of Lysimachus, lost his way when he stopped keeping company with Socrates. And he was not the only one to whom this happened (150d8–151a5). Also cf. Theages 129e1–130e4, where Socrates makes the same point about Aristides and Thucydides. Another obvious (and perhaps the most famous) example of a young man who spent time with Socrates but who, ultimately, did not fare too well, was Alcibiades, cf. Symposium 212d3–223a9, Protagoras 309a1–c4, and Thucydides V–VIII.

51 Toward the end of the Meno, there is interesting discussion about fathers and their sons and how the latter turned out poorly, despite the fact that their fathers were great men (92d7–95c4). In the context of that discussion, it is argued that the reason the fathers in question were unable to pass on virtue (aretê) to their sons and make them better men is because it is not something that can be taught. In other words, it is not knowledge: “So it is not by some kind of wisdom, or by being wise, that such men lead their cities, those such as Themistocles and those mentioned by Anytus just now? That is the reason why they cannot make others be like themselves, because it is not knowledge which makes them what they are” (99b5–9). If it were knowledge, then presumably it could be taught and passed on from father to son. The dialogue concludes by stating that these great men are great not in virtue of having some sort of knowledge but rather by being divinely inspired: “We should be right to call divine also those soothsayers and prophets whom we just mentioned, and all the poets, and we should call no less divine and inspired those public men who are no less under the god’s influence and possession, as their speeches lead to success in many important matters, though they have no knowledge of what they are saying” (99c11–d5). That said, in the context of the Laches Socrates is treating the Dorian mode as if it were attainable and, as a result, a father figure could better the sons in question because he would be able to offer an intelligible account of the relevant matters at hand. In the case of the Meno, at least as far as excellence is concerned, it is beyond the reach of the father to be able to teach and pass it on to the son. I would like to thank one of my referees for this Meno reference.

52 See n. 50. On an analogous point, one could make the same claim against Socrates as Theaetetus’s teacher, as some have done. See Long, A. A., “Plato’s Apologies and Socrates in the Theaetetus,” in Method in Ancient Philosophy, ed. Gentzler, J. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), 113–36Google Scholar. As Long nicely brings out, in the dramatic sequel to the Theaetetus, the Sophist, Socrates is no longer leading the conversation. However, in Socrates’ defence as an adequate father figure, if one accepts that Socrates replaces Cephalus as a father figure and fulfills the dialectical or philosophical role, then one could argue that he was successful in that role with Polemarchus. For in the Phaedrus we read: “ … convert him (sc. Lysias) to philosophy like his brother Polemarchus so that his lover here may no longer play both sides as he presently does, but simply devote his life to Love through philosophical discussions” (257b3–6). In this instance, at least, it appears that Socrates did assist in Polemarchus’s leading a good life. See nn. 22, 33.