Where is Polemarchus “coming from” when he breaks into the conversation between Socrates and Cephalus? To put it less colloquially, what is the context from which Polemarchus reenters the conversation?

The last time Polemarchus had spoken — in terms of dramatic time, only a few minutes ago — in his next-to-last speech — he was assuring Socrates that Socrates would not be able to persuade them to let him go because they were determined not to listen to him. That was his next-to-last speech. After that, in his very last speech prior to his present interruption, Polemarchus had followed the lead of Adeimantus in trying to persuade Socrates to stay voluntarily by appealing to his interests. In other words, while Polemarchus was unwilling to allow himself to be persuaded to let Socrates and Glaucon go, he was willing to participate in trying to persuade them to stay. So it should not surprise us to find, when Polemarchus speaks again only 18 speeches later, that Plato’s text gives us a striking reminder of the still-unresolved issue of persuasion.

If you are reading the text only in English translation, however, you will most likely say, “What is he talking about? I don’t see anything here that reminds me of the issue of persuasion!” When Socrates says that telling the truth and giving back what one has taken is not the definition of justice, Polemarchus breaks into the conversation by saying, “It most certainly is, Socrates, at least if one ought to believe Simonides at all.” In English this sentence certainly doesn’t have anything to do with persuasion, but, if you look at the Greek word that Sachs and others translate as “believe,” this question answers itself. That word is “peithesthai,” whose root is “peitho,” which is one of the most important words in the Greek vocabulary (the entry for peitho is one of the longest in the LSJ). As a noun Peitho means persuasion, and it is also the name of the goddess of persuasion.

Here is the Lexicon entry for peitho as a noun: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/morph?l=pei%2Fqw&la=greek&can=pei%2Fqw0&prior=o/n#lexicon

And here is the entry for peitho as a verb: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/morph?l=pei%2Fqw&la=greek&can=pei%2Fqw0&prior=o/n#lexicon

The words that are translated as “persuade” in 327c are also forms of peitho. So in Greek it is obvious that the word that is translated as “believed” is closely related to “persuade”. In fact I suspect that the phrase containing peithesthei might well be translated as “should be persuaded by Simonides,” or “if Simonides should be obeyed (or complied with),” or even as “if Simonides should to be listened to.” If we recall that Polemarchus has very emphatically refused to listen to Socrates, we may begin to suspect that this last will turn out to be the meaning of peithesthai that will shed the most light on the present passage.

The fact — if I am right — that Plato brings the question of persuasion back into view in this somewhat oblique way when Polemarchus reenters the conversation is, perhaps, enough to reinforce my earlier insistence, the first time we encountered it at 327c, that the question of persuasion is important and should not be passed over as if it was of no consequence. But we still don’t know what this means for our interpretation of this new conversation between Socrates and Polemarchus that we are about to consider. Should we suppose that Plato wants us to think that Polemarchus still has the question of persuasion on his mind and that that is why he uses a word related to the word for persuasion when he cites Simonides in his attempt to rehabilitate his father’s definition of justice?

I think not. To suppose that would, I think, attribute too much consciousness to Polemarchus, whereas it seems to me that Polemarchus is largely unconscious; he is in the condition that Kant called “dogmatic slumber,” and this fact is precisely the problem by which Socrates is confronted in attempting to get justice from Polemarchus. In other words, the problem confronting Socrates is that of awakening Polemarchus from his dogmatic slumber.

But that leaves us to ask, if the question of persuasion does not come into the conversation at this point because Polemarchus is still thinking about it, why does it come up at all? We might be tempted to suggest that this is simply a case in which Plato is speaking over the heads of his characters to remind his readers of the question of persuasion, but in my opinion this would be inconsistent with the principle of logographic necessity. There is nothing necessary about the supposition that Plato at this point wants to remind his readers of the question of persuasion. So we need to ask, how is the use of a word connected to the question of persuasion dictated by the action of the dialogue at this point?

The answer, I think, is connected to the fact that in Greek the passive verb for “to be persuaded” can also mean “to be obeyed” or, most relevant here, “to be listened to.” I am indebted to Hannah Arendt for teaching me that the connection of these words to one another is an essential and distinctive feature of the life of the polis (politeia), so allow me to quote something on that point from The Human Condition:

“To be political, to live in a polis, meant that everything was decided through words and persuasion and not through force and violence. In Greek self-understanding, to force people by violence, to command rather than persuade, were prepolitical ways to deal with people characteristic of life outside the polis, of home and family life, where the household head ruled with uncontested, despotic powers, or of life in the barbarian empires of Asia, whose despotism was frequently likened to the organization of the household.” (The Human Condition, p. 26f.)

Polemarchus, of course, first appears to us as an exception to this principle. I think I remarked on this fact when we discussed the initial confrontation between Polemarchus and Socrates. It appeared, I said, as if the behavior of Polemarchus was like a regression to the pre-political, or an intrusion of the extra-political into the space of the polis. Contrary to what Arendt says is characteristic of the polis, Polemarchus issues a command to Socrates and Glaucon, backed up by a threat of coercion by violence. And when Socrates asks about the possibility that they might be persuaded to let them do as they wish, Polemarchus rejected that possibility with a firm declaration that he would not listen to Socrates attempting to persuade him of anything.

Socrates and Glaucon agree, under the threat of coercion, to accompany Polemarchus to his house, where Socrates meets the aged father of Polemarchus and engages with him in a brief dialogue which ends when Cephalus acknowledges that Socrates is right when he said that what Cephalus had said, “is not the definition of justice.” And it is at this point that Polemarchus breaks in, saying, “It certainly is, at least if one ought to believe (or be persuaded by, or obey, or listen to) Simonides at all.”

Now let’s try to look at the situation from the point of view of Polemarchus. First of all, do we have any reason to think that Polemarchus has now changed his mind about listening to Socrates? No, quite the contrary! Polemarchus wants his father to be right. He observes that his father has been listening to Socrates, and as a consequence of listening to Socrates, Cephalus has been refuted and embarrassed.

To get some further insight into the disposition of Polemarchus at this point we should take a look at what happens immediately after the intervention of Polemarchus in defense of his father:

“Indeed,” said Cephalus, “and I hand over the discussion to you folks, since I need to take care of the sacrifices now.”
“So I’m heir to a share in what’s yours?” said Polemarchus.
“Quite so,” he said with a laugh, and as he did he went off to the sacrifices.

The translations of this passage differ quite a lot from one another, so it is hard (for me at least) to say exactly what the passage means. But my thought is that when Polemarchus underlines his status as the heir to what belongs to Cephalus this is an assertion that he is now taking over, not only his father’s logos, but also his authority.

Previously I argued that Polemarchus had taken Socrates as a prisoner and brought him as a gift to his father, so during his conversation with Cephalus, Socrates was in some sense subject to the authority of Cephalus, the paterfamilias of this household. With the announcement by Cephalus of his intention to withdraw, Socrates might think that his subjection to the authority of Cephalus was about to be suspended and that he would now be free to leave and go home. But before that possibility can even be expressed by Socrates, Polemarchus asks, “…so I’m heir to a share in what’s yours…” This looks like a reminder to Socrates of his status as a captive. Polemarchus, it seems, wants there to be no doubt that, when his father leaves the scene. a portion of his father’s property, his father’s opinions and his father’s authority will pass into the possession of his son Polemarchus. So it falls to Polemarchus to take custody of and defend his father’s opinions — even if those opinions are not exactly his own — and also to succeed to his father’s authority.

What Polemarchus wants is that his father, if possible, as well as the others present, should NOT listen to Socrates. But how can this be accomplished? Because this is a dialogue that is concerned in some way with the foundations of politics, and because attempts to restrain freedom of expression have a long history that is closely involved with the history of politics, it will, I think, be worth our while to take advantage of this opportunity to examine the present question in a larger context. Indeed I think we should assume that Plato intends his readers to think about the question in a larger context.

Polemarchus, then, presumably would like to prevent the others from listening to Socrates. Polemarchus thinks — and it appeared that Glaucon agreed — that, based entirely on his own efforts, he can manage to prevent himself from listening to Socrates. (I suggested that even that is open to question.) But how can Polemarchus prevent other people from listening to Socrates? Tyrants have always found this to be a very difficult task. You can prevent people from saying or writing things that you don’t want others to hear if you have the ability to monitor what everybody says and to punish those who dare to say the prohibited things. But then you need to employ an army of secret informers who will listen to what people are saying, and these informers at least will have to be authorized to listen to the things that it is forbidden to say. Thus, however difficult it is to prevent people from saying or writing the things you don’t want people to hear or read, once somebody says these things it is practically impossible to prevent people from listening to them. In fact, one of the most effective ways of getting people to listen to something is to tell them that they are forbidden to listen.

If you can’t effectively forbid people to listen to something (or someone), is there any alternative that would prevent or effectively discourage people from listening to the things you don’t want them to hear? Yes, there is, and it is done all the time: The alternative is to let people know that they should listen to something, or someone, else. This is called the citation of an authority, and it is exactly what Polemarchus is doing when he cites Simonides in attempting to defend his father’s definition of justice from the devastating critique of it that Socrates has just made.

Authority is one of the fundamental terms of governance, one that clearly antedates both polis and democracy. Therefore it is useful that Plato here gives us an opportunity to see how the citation of authority works and also to see — in the way Socrates responds to the citation of Simonides — how it is possible to effectively challenge the cited authority.
What does it mean when we invoke the name of some other person while making an assertion? In legal briefs and scholarly articles, this is called the citation of an authority. But we also do it in ordinary speech, and it’s one of those things that people do so routinely that we rarely even think about why we do it or what it means.

Let’s consider some examples:

—After the President of the US has nominated someone to be a justice of the US Supreme Court, I can imagine somebody saying, “This person must be well-qualified. The American Bar Association says so.”
—“This medication must be safe. It’s been approved by the FDA.”
—“That law must be unconstitutional, based on what the Court decided in Colgrove v. Green.”
—“You have to go to bed now. Your mother said so.”

In each of these cases we have a sentence that expresses an assertion, a recommendation, or an injunction. In each case, we recognize two things from the addition of a citation: (a) that the speaker desires to evoke some particular behavior from the hearer, and (b) that the speaker is doubtful whether his or her utterance, by itself, would be sufficient to persuade the hearer to act in the desired manner. So the citation is intended to add something to the utterance, something that will empower the utterance to persuade, where the voice of the speaker alone might not.

But how can the citation do that? After all, the citation is just another utterance by the speaker? Why should it be more persuasive than the first utterance by itself? It seems to me that what the citation does is this: It acknowledges the difference between speaker and listener, and then attempts to move beyond that difference by requesting that the listener consider the first utterance as one that expresses the opinion or command of somebody with whom the listener already agrees.

To say it again, when we cite an authority, what we are doing, it seems to me, is pointing away from a region of difference, toward a region of agreement, which the speaker hopes will be large enough to encompass both the listener and the speaker’s utterance. And, of course, this appeal may fail. I may say, “What do I care what the American Bar Association says about the qualifications of this nominee to be a Supreme Court Justice? After all, they’re just a bunch of lawyers!” And it is precisely for that reason that the appeal to authority serves at the same time as a question which defines group membership. We will see shortly that this aspect of authority is of crucial importance for Polemarchus, for whom the essential distinction relating to jutice is the distinction between friends and enemies.

As an exercise, you might want to try this out: See if you can find any use of the notion of authority where there is no appeal, implicit or explicit, to an area of already existing agreement. Clearly, the authority of the law has that character in relation to the law court. In citing the law, the judge implicitly says, “We have agreed to be bound by the law, so the law itself is not at issue. Therefore the only possible area of disagreement concerns what the law means in relation to some particular case.”

Coming back, then, to the text, in citing Simonides Polemarchus acknowledges that his own opinion might not be decisive (and in any case the intention of Polemarchus at this point is not to argue for an opinion of his own but to defend what he takes to be his father's position), so he is appealing to Simonides as a figure whose opinion might command the respect of both Socrates and Cephalus.

Polemarchus cites Simonides in what appears to be a conditional way, “…if we should believe (or obey, or trust, be persuaded by or listen to) Simonides.” Is Polemarchus going to offer a reason why we should believe or obey Simonides. Clearly he does not offer one, nor would he think it necessary to offer a reason. The conditionality of Polemarchus’s citation of Simonides is simply an explicit version of the conditionality that I have argued is present in every citation of authority. The question for Polemarchus is not about the reason for being persuaded by Simonides; it is about whether or not you (Socrates in this case) are a member of the group of people who are already persuaded by what Simonides has to say, or, to put it again in terms of listening, the question is whether or not you are a member of the group of people who already agree that Simonides should be listened to.

What, then, about Socrates? If Socrates agrees that Simonides should be listened to, does that mean that Polemarchus will now listen to Socrates? No, not necessarily. This question reveals something interesting about the nature of authority. To be an authority involves two things and so far we have only stated one of them. The one we have already seen is that an authority is someone to whom we have granted our listening. In this case Polemarchus indicates that the person to whom he has granted his listening on the question of justice is Simonides. Now we come to the second thing about authority: Does Polemarchus expect that Simonides will listen to him? No, of course not! Simonides is dead. But suppose Simonides happened to be still alive — or miraculously came back to life. Would Polemarchus expect that Simonides would listen to him and carry on a dialogue with him about the nature of justice such as the one that Socrates had with Cephalus? If he did, I think it is safe to say that for Polemarchus — and most other people — Simonides would cease to be an authority and would become merely an interlocutor. So it appears that an authority is (1) someone to whom we have granted our listening, but (2) we have granted that listening without requiring that we be listened to by him in return.
What, then, can Socrates do in order to get Polemarchus to listen to him?

With this question we have come full circle, back to the confrontation near the very beginning of the dialogue in which Polemarchus challenges Socrates to either be stronger than the more numerous group who are with Polemarchus or to stay here with them. Socrates replied by asking, isn’t there a third possibility, that we might persuade you that you must let us go? To which Polemarchus responded, do you have the power to persuade people who don’t listen? To this question Glaucon, but not Socrates, answered, “Not at all.”

At that point in our earlier discussion I suggested that Socrates might not have agreed with Glaucon’s answer, and, after discussing a passage from Xenophon’s Socratic Memorabilia in which Xenophon reports a revealing conversation between Socrates and Glaucon, I offered a proposal about what Socrates might have done to get Polemarchus to listen to him.
I said above that we have now come back to the question about what Socrates could have done to get Polemarchus to listen to him. But that is not quite accurate, because we have not come back to exactly the same place. Before there was no actual evidence that Glaucon might be wrong — the only evidence was the strangeness of the silence of Socrates and the general observation that public speakers deal successfully all the time with people not listening to them, so on that basis it seemed probable that Glaucon was wrong. But it looked as if the will of Polemarchus had prevailed; Socrates and Glaucon did what he ordered them to do, and we saw no evidence that Polemarchus was listening to Socrates, much less being persuaded by him.

So how is the present situation different? It is different because, if you read the conversation between Socrates and Polemarchus all the way to its end (at 336a), it is obvious that now Polemarchus DOES listen to Socrates (despite his declared intention not to listen to him), and is also persuaded by him. So the question is no longer the hypothetical one, how might Socrates get Polemarchus to listen to him? Instead the question is now, how DID Socrates get Polemarchus to listen to him?

I think that the speculative suggestion I offered about how Glaucon could get his uncle to listen to him will turn out to be essentially correct as a description of what Socrates did in order to get Polemarchus to listen to him. For that reason I think it will be useful if I take the time to repeat some of what I said earlier about the conversation between Socrates and Glaucon as reported by Xenophon.

Lance